THE first object of a reader or speaker, is, to be clearly understood by his hearers. In order for this, it is necessary that he should pronounce his words distinct­ly, and deliberately; that he should carefully avoid the two extremes of uttering either too fast, or too slow; and that his tone of voice should be perfectly natural.

2. A reader or speaker should endeavor to acquire a perfect command of his voice; so as neither to stun his hearers by pitching it upon too high a key; nor tire their patience by obliging them to listen to sounds which are scarcely audible. It is not the loudest speaker, who is al­ways the best understood; but he who pronounces upon that key which fills the space occupied by the audience. That pitch of voice, which is used in ordinary conversa­tion, is usually the best for a public speaker.

3. Early attention ought to be paid to the pauses; but the rules for these are so indefinite and arbitrary, and so difficult to be comprehended, that long experience is ne­cessary in order to acquire a perfect knowledge of their use. With regard to the length of the several pauses, no precise rules can be given. This, together with the variety of tones which accompany them, depends much upon the nature of the subject.

4. Perhaps nothing is of more importance to a reader or speaker, than a proper attention to accent, emphasis, and cadence. Every word in our language, of more than one syllable, has, at least, one accented syllable. This syl­lable ought to be rightly known, and the word should be pronounced by the reader or speaker in the same manner as he would pronounce it in ordinary conversation.

[Page 6]5. By emphasis we distinguish those words in a sentence which we esteem the most important, by laying a greater stress of voice upon them than we do upon the others. And it is surprising to observe how the sense of a phrase may be altered by varying the emphasis. The following example will serve as an illustration.

6. This short question, "Will you ride to town to­day▪' may be understood in four different ways, and, consequently, may receive four different answers, accord­ing to the placing of the emphasis.

7. If it be pronounced thus; Will you ride to town to­day? the answer may properly be, no; I shall send my son. If thus; Will you ride to town to-day? Answer, no; I intend to walk. Will you ride to town to-day? No; I shall ride into the country. Will you ride to town to-day? No; but I shall to-morrow.

8. This shows how necessary it is that a reader or speaker should know where to place his emphasis. And the only rule for this is, that he study to attain a just con­ception of the force and spirit of the sentiments which he delivers. There is as great a difference between one who lays his emphasis properly, and one who pays no regard to it, or places it wrong, as there is between one who plays on an instrument with a masterly hand, and the most bungling performer.

9. Cadence is the reverse of emphasis. It is a depres­sion or lowering of the voice; and commonly falls upon the last syllable in a sentence. It is varied, however, accord­ing to the sense. When a question is asked, it seldom falls upon the last word; and many sentences require no cadence at all.

10. In addition to what has [...]en said, it is of great im­portance to attend particularly to tones and gestures. To almost every sentiment we utter, more especially, to every strong emotion, nature has adapted some peculiar tone of voice. And we may observe, that every man, when he is much in earnest in common discourse, when he is speaking on some subject which interests him nearly, has an eloquent or persuasive tone and manner.

11. If one were to tell another that he was very angry, or very much grieved, in a tone which did not suit such emo­tions, [Page 7] instead of being believed, he would be laughed at. The best direction which can be given, is, to copy the prop­er tones for expressing every sentiment from those which nature dictates to us in conversation with others.

12. With respect to gesture, the few following hints may be of some service. When speaking in public, one should endeavor to preserve as much dignity as possible in the whole attitude of the body. An erect posture is generally to be chosen; standing firm so as to have the fullest command of all his motions. Any inclination which is used, should be forwards towards the hearers, which is a natural expression of earnestness.

13. As for the countenance, the chief rule is, that it should correspond with the nature of the discourse; and when no particular emotion is expressed, a serious and manly look is always the best. The eyes should never be fixed close on any one object, but move easily round upon the whole audience.

14. In the motions made with the hands, consists the chief part of gesture in speaking. The right hand should be used more frequently than the left. Warm emotions demand the motion of both hands corresponding together. All the gestures should be free and easy. Perpendicular movements with the hands, that is, in a straight line up and down, are seldom good. Oblique motions are, in general, the most graceful.

15. Motions made with the hands should proceed rather from the shoulders than from the elbows; for they appear much more easy. Too sudden and nimble motions should be avoided. Earnestness can be fully expressed without them. Above all things, a speaker should guard against affectation, which is always disgustful.

TIME is more valuable to young people than to any others. They should not lose an hour in forming their taste, their manners, and their minds; for whatever they are, to a certain degree, at eighteen, they will be more or less so all the rest of their lives.

[Page 8]2. Nothing can be of greater service to a young man who has any degree of understanding, than an intimate con­versation with one of riper years, who is not only able to advise, but who knows the manner of advising. By this mean, youth can enjoy the benefit of the experience of age; and that, at a time of life when such experience will be of more service to a man▪ than when he has lived long enough to acquire it of himself.

3. The kindnesses which most men receive from others, are like traces drawn in the sand. The breath of every passion sweeps them away, and they are remembered no more. But injuries are like inscriptions on monuments of brass or pillars of marble, which endure, unimpaired, the revolutions of time.

4. View the groves in autumn, and observe the con­stant succession of falling leaves; in like manner the gene­rations of men silently drop from the stage of life, and are blended with the dust from whence they sprang.

5. Perfect happiness is not the growth of a terrestrial soil; it buds in the gardens of the virtuous on earth, but blooms with unfading verdure only in the celestial regions.

6. He who would pass the latter part of his life with honor and decency must, when he is young, consider that he shall one day be old; and remember, when he is old, that he has once been young.

7. He who governs his passions does more than he who commands armies. Socrates, being one day offended with his servant, said, "I would beat you, if I were not angry."

8. We too often judge of men by the splendor, and not by the merit of their actions. Alexander demanded of a pirate whom he had taken, by what right he infested the seas? By the same right, replied he boldly, that you en­slave the world. I am called a robber, because I have on­ly one small vessel; but you are styled a conqueror, because you command great fleets and armies.

9. Beauty, as the flowery blossom, soon fades; but the divine excellencies of the mind, like the medicinal virtues of the plant, remain in it when all those charms are withered.

10. There are two considerations which always em­bitter the heart of an avaricious man; the one is a perpet­ual thirst after more riches; the other, the prospect of leaving what he hath already acquired.

[Page 9]11. There cannot be a more glorious object in creation, than a human being replete with benevolence, meditating in what manner he may render himself most acceptable to his Creator, by doing most good to his creatures.

12. A man should never be ashamed to own he has been in the wrong; which is but saying, in other words, that he is wiser to-day than he was yesterday.

13. Knowledge will not be acquired without pains and application. It is troublesome digging for deep, pure wa­ters; but when once you come to the spring, they rise up and meet you.

14. The most unhappy effect of fashionable politeness is, that it teaches us the art of dispensing with virtues which it imitates. Let us be educated to cherish the principles of benevolence and humanity, and we shall have politeness enough, or shall stand in no need of it.

15. If we should not have that which is accompanied by the graces, we should have that which bespeaks the ho­nest man, and the good citizen. We should stand in no need of having recourse to the falsehood of appearances.

16. Man is the only being endowed with the power of laughter, and perhaps he is the only one who deserves to be laughed at.

17. It is the great privilege of poverty to be happy un­envied, to be healthful without physic, and secure without a guard: to obtain from the bounty of nature what the great and wealthy are compelled to procure by the help of artists, and the attendance of flatterers and spies.

18. Prudence is a duty which we owe ourselves, and if we will be so much our own enemies as to neglect it, we are not to wonder if the world is deficient in discharging their duty to us; for when a man lays the foundation of his own ruin, others too often are apt to build upon it.

19. There are no principles but those of religion to be depended on in cases of real distress; and these are able to encounter the worst emergencies, and to bear us up under all the changes and chances to which our lives are subject.

20. Riches without charity are worth nothing. They are a blessing only to him who makes them a blessing to others.

21. The tongue of a viper is less hurtful than that of a slanderer; and the gilded scales of a rattlesnake less dread­ful than the purse of the oppresior.

[Page 10]22. As benevolence is the most sociable of all the vir­tues, so it is of the largest extent; for there is not any man either so great or so little, but he is yet capable of giving and of receiving benefits.

23. When thou dost good, do it because it is good; not because men esteem it so. When thou avoidest evil, flee from it because it is evil; not because men speak against it. Be honest for the love of honesty, and thou shalt be uniformly so. He, who doth it without principle, is wavering.

24. Wish rather to be reproved by the wise, than to be applauded by him who hath no understanding. When they tell thee of a fault, they suppose thou canst improve; the other, when he praiseth thee, thinketh thee like unto himself.

25. Set not thy judgment above that of all the earth; neither condemn, as falsehood, what agreeth not with thine own apprehension. Who gave thee the power of deter­mining for others? or who took from the world the right of choice?

26. How many things have been rejected, which now are received as truth; how many, now received as truths, will in their turn be despised? Of what then can man be certain?

27. An immoderate desire of riches is a poison lodged in the soul. It contaminates and destroys every thing which was good in it. It is no sooner rooted there, than all virtue, all honesty, all natural affection, fly before the face of it.

28. Drunkenness is but voluntary madness; it embold­ens men to do all sorts of mischiefs; it both irritates wick­edness and discovers it; it does not merely make men vicious, but it shows them to be so.

29. Every man should mind his own business; for he who torments himself with other people's good or ill for­tune, will never be at rest.

30. To set about acquiring the habit of meditation and study late in life, is like getting into a go-cart with a grey beard, and learning to walk when we have lost the use of our legs. In general, the foundation of a happy old age must be laid in youth; and he, who has not cultivated his reason young, will be utterly unable to improve it when old.

[Page 11]31. Endeavor to be first in your profession, and let no one go before you in doing well. Nevertheless, do not envy the merits of another; but improve your own talents.

32. Never reveal your secrets to any, except it be as much their interest to keep them, as it is yours they should be kept. Entrust only thyself, and thou canst not be be­trayed.

33. Glory, like a shadow, flieth him who pursueth it; but it followeth at the heels of him who would fly from it. If thou court it without merit, thou shalt never attain unto it; if thou deserve it, though thou hide thyself, it will never forsake thee.

34. Pursue that which is honorable, do that which is right; and the applause of thine own conscience will be more joy to thee, than the shouts of millions who know not that thou deservest them.

35. Love labor. If you do not want it for food, you may for physic. The idle man is more perplexed to know what to do, than the industrious, in doing what he ought. There are few who know how to be idle, and in­nocent. By doing nothing, we learn to do ill.

36. Honor thy father with thy whole heart, and for­get not the sorrows of thy mother. How canst thou rec­ompense them the things which they have done for thee▪

37. It is a mark of a depraved mind, to sneer at de­crepid old age, or to ridicule any one who is deformed in his person, or lacketh understanding. Who maketh one to differ from another?

38. The merciful man is merciful to his beast; and he, who takes pleasure in tormenting any of God's creatures, although ever so inferior, ought to be banished from human society, and ranked among the brutes.

39. Admonish thy friend; it may be he hath not done it; and if he hath, that he do it no more. Admonish thy friend; it may be he hath not said it; or if he hath, that he speak it not again. Admonish a friend; for many times it is a slander; and believe not every tale.

40. Be not forward in leading the convers [...]tion. This belongs to the oldest persons in company. Display your learning only on particular occasions. Never oppose the opinion of another, but with great modesty.

[Page 12]41. On all occasions, avoid speaking of yourself, if possi­ble. Nothing that we can say ourselves will varnish our de­fects, or add lustre to our virtues; on the contrary, it will often make the former more visible, and the latter obscure.

42. Without a friend, the world is but a wilderness. A man may have a thousand intimate acquaintances, and not a friend among them all. If you have one friend, think yourself happy.

43. There is but one way of fortifying the soul against all gloomy presages and terrors of the mind; and that is, by securing to ourselves the friendship and protection of that Being who disposes of events, and governs futurity.

IT is to be wished that parents would consider what a variety of circumstances tend to render the evil reports of their children, respecting their teachers, false and ex­aggerated.

2. They judge hastily, partially, imperfectly, and im­properly, from the natural defects and weakness of their age. They, likewise, too often intentionally misrepresent things. They hate those who restrain them; they feel resentment for correction; they love change; they love idleness, and the indulgencies of their home.

3. Like all human creatures, they are apt not to know when they are well, and to complain. Let parents then consider these things impartially, and be cautious of aspersing the character, and disturbing the happiness of those who may probably deserve thanks rather than ill usage; whose office is at best full of care and anxiety; and, when it is in­terrupted by the injudicious interference or complaints of the parents, becomes intolerably burdensome.

4. If a father suspect his confidence to have been mis­placed, it is best to withdraw it immediately, without alter­cation and without reproaches. It would also be an excel­lent method of consulting their own peace, and the welfare of their other scholars, if masters made a rule to exclude from their schools the children of those parents who are unjustly discontented.

[Page 13]5. I have often heard old and experienced instructors declare, that the whole business of managing a large school, and training the pupils to learning and virtue, was nothing in comparison with the trouble which was given by whimsi­cal, ignorant, and d [...]scontented parents.

QUINTILIAN says, that he has included almost all the duty of scholars in this one piece of advice which he gives them; to love those who teach them, as they love the sciences they learn of them; and to look upon them as fa­thers, from whom they derive not the life of the body, but that instruction which is in a manner the life of the soul.

2. Indeed this sentiment of affection and respect suffices to make them apt to learn during the time of their studies, and full of gratitude all the rest of their lives. It seems to [...]e to include a great part of what is to be expected from them.

3. Do [...]ility, which consists in submitting to directions, in readily receiving the instructions of their master, and re­ducing them to practice, is properly the virtue of scholars, as that of masters is to teach well.

4. The one can do nothing without the other. As it is not sufficient for a laborer to fow the food, unless the earth, after having opened its bosom to receive it, in a manner warms and moistens it; so likewise the whole fruit of in­struction depends upon a good correspondence between the master and the scholars.

5. Gratitude for those who have labored in our edu­cation, is the character of an honest man, and the mark of a good heart. Who is there among us, says Cicero, who has been instructed with any care, and is not highly de­lighted with the sight, or even the bare remembrance of his preceptors, and the place where he was taught and brought up?

6. Seneca exhorts young men to preserve always a great respect for their teachers, to whose care they are indebted for the amendment of their faults, and for having imbibed sentiments of honor and probity.

[Page 14]7. Their exactness and severity displease sometimes, at an age when we are not in a condition to judge of the ob­ligations we owe them; but, when years have ripened our understanding and judgment, we then discern, that what made us dislike them, is exactly the very thing which should make us esteem and love them.

ISRAEL loved Joseph more than all his chil­dren, because he was the son of his old age; and he gave him a coat of many colours. But when his brethren saw their father's partiality to him, they hated him, and would not speak peaceably unto him. And Joseph dreamed a dream, and he told it to his brethren.

2. Behold, he said, we were binding sheaves in the field; and lo! my sheaf arose and stood upright; and your sheaves stood round about, and made obeisance to my sheaf. And his brethren said unto him, Shalt thou indeed have dominion over us? and they hated him the more for his dreams, and for his words.

3. It happened that his brethren went to feed their fa­ther's flock at Dothan. And Joseph went after his breth­ren; but, when they saw him afar off, they conspired against him to slay him; and they said one to another, We will tell our father that some evil beast hath devoured him.

4. But Reuben wished to deliver him out of their hands: and he said, Let us not kill him, but cast him into this pit, that is in the wilderness. And they followed his counsel, and cast him into the pit, which then contained no water.

5. A company of Ishmaelites from Gilead passed by, at this time, with their camels, bearing spicery, balm, and myrrh, which they were carrying into Egypt. And Judah said unto his brethren, Let us sell Joseph to the Ishmaelites, and let not our hands be upon him, for he is our brother and our flesh. And Joseph was sold for twenty pieces of silver.

6. And his brethren killed a kid, and dipped his coat in the blood thereof. And they brought it unto their father, [Page 15] and said, This have we found. And Jacob knew it; and believing that Joseph was devoured by an evil beast, he rent his clothes, and put sackcloth on his loins, and refused all comfort, saying, I will go down into the grave to my son, mourning.

7. Thus wept his father for him. But Joseph was car­ried into Egypt, and sold to Potiphar, the captain of Pha­raoh's guard. And the Lord was with him, and prospered him; and he found favor in the sight of his master. But by the wickedness of Potiphar's wife, he was cast into the prison, where the king's prisoners were bound.

8. Here also the Lord continued to show him mercy, and gave him favor in the sight of the keeper of the pris­on. And all the prisoners were committed to his care; amongst whom were two of Pharaoh's officers, the chief of the butlers, and the chief of the bakers.

9. And Joseph interpreted the dreams of the king's servants; and his interpretation being true, the chief butler recommended him to Pharaoh, who had dreamed a dream, which Joseph thus showed unto him. Behold there shall come seven years of great plenty, throughout all the land of Egypt. And there shall arise after them seven years of famine; and all the plenty shall be forgotten in the land of Egypt, and the famine shall consume the land.

10. And the king said unto Joseph, Forasmuch as God hath shown you all this, thou shalt be over mine house; and according to thy word shall all my people be ruled. And Joseph gathered up all the food of the seven years, and laid up the food in store houses. Then the seven years of dearth began to come, as Joseph had foretold.

11. But in all the land of Egypt there was bread; and people from all countries came unto Joseph to buy corn, because the famine was sore in all the lands. Now, amongst those who came, were the ten sons of Jacob, from the land of Canaan.

12. And Joseph saw his brethren, and he knew them, but made himself strange unto them, and spake roughly to them, saying, Ye are spies. And they said, Thy servants are twelve brethren, the sons of one man in the land of Ca­naan; and behold the youngest is this day with our father, and one is not.

[Page 16]13. But Joseph said unto them, Ye shall not go forth hence, except your youngest brother come hither. Let one of your brethren be bound in prison, and go ye to car­ry corn for the famine of your houses, and bring your young­est brother unto me.

14. And their consciences reproached them; and they said one to another, We are verily guilty concerning our brother, in that we saw the anguish of his soul, when he besought us, and we would not hear. Therefore is this distress come upon us.

15. And they knew not that Joseph understood them, for he spake unto them by an interpreter. And he turned himself about from them, and wept; and returned to them again, and commoned with them; and took from them Simeon, and bound him before their eyes. And they re­turned unto Jacob, their father, in the land of Canaan, and told him all that had befallen them.

16. And Jacob, their father, said unto them, Me ye have bereaved of my children. Joseph is not, and Simeon is not, and ye will take Benjamin away also. But my son shall not go down with you; for his brother is dead, and he is left alone. If mischief befal him in the way in which ye go, then shall ye bring down my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave.

17. But the famine continued sore in the land; and when they had eaten up the corn, which they had brought out of Egypt, Jacob said unto them, Go again and buy us food. And if it must be so, now take also your brother Benjamin, and arise, and go unto the man. And they brought presents unto Joseph, and bowed themselves to him to the earth.

18. And he asked them of their welfare; and said, Is your father well? Is he alive? And he lifted up his eyes and saw Benjamin his brother; and he was moved with com­passion; and he sought where to weep, and he entered his chamber and wept there. And he washed his face, and went out, and refrained himself.

19. Then he commanded the steward of his house, say­ing, Fill the men's sacks with food, as much as they can car­ry, and put my cup, the silver cup, into the sack of Benja­min the youngest. And the steward did according to the [Page 17] word that Joseph had spoken. As soon as the morning was light, the men were sent away, they and their asses.

20. But Joseph commanded his steward to follow them, and to search their sacks, and to bring them back. And when Judah and his brethren were returned into the city, Joseph said unto them, What deed is this ye have done? the man, in whose hands the cup is found, shall be my ser­vant; and as for you, get you in peace unto your father.

21. But they said, Our father will surely die, if he seeth that the lad is not with us; and we shall bring down the grey hairs of thy servant, our father, with sorrow to the grave. Then Joseph could not refrain himself before all them that stood by him; and he cried, Cause every man to go out from me; and there stood no man with him, whilst Joseph made himself known unto his brethren.

22. And he wept aloud, and said unto his brethren, I am Joseph; doth my father yet live? and his brethren could not answer him, for they were troubled at his presence. And Joseph said to his brethren, Come near to me, I pray you; and they came near. And he said, I am Joseph your brother, whom ye sold into Egypt.

23. Now therefore be not grieved, nor angry with your­selves, that ye sold me hither; for God did send me before you, to save your lives by a great deliverance. Haste you, and go up to my father; and say unto him, thus saith thy son Joseph, God hath made me lord over all Egypt. Come down unto me; tarry not.

24 And thou shalt dwell in the land of Goshen; and thou shalt be near unto me, thou, and thy children, and thy children's children, and thy flocks, and thy herds, and all that thou hast. And there will I nourish thee; for yet there are five years of famine; lest thou and thy household, and all that thou hast come to poverty.

25. And behold your eyes see, and the eyes of my brother Benjamin, that it is my mouth which speaketh unto you. And you shall tell my father of all my glory in Egypt, and all which you have seen; and ye shall haste, and bring down my father hither.

26. And he fell upon his brother Benjamin's neck and wept; and Benjamin wept upon his neck. Moreover, he kissed all his brethren, and wept upon them; and after that, [Page 18] his brethren talked with him. And the fame thereof was heard in Pharaoh's house; and it pleased Pharaoh well, and his servants.

27. And Pharaoh said unto Joseph, Invite hither thy fa­ther, and his household; and I will give them the good of the land of Egypt; and they shall eat the fat of the land.

28. And the spirit of Jacob was revived when he heard these tidings; and he said, My son is yet alive; I will go and see him before I die. And he took his journey, with all that he had. And Joseph made ready his chariot, and went up to meet Israel, his father, to Goshen; and present­ing himself before him, he fell on his neck, and wept for some time.

29. And Joseph placed his father, and his brethren, and gave them possessions in the land of Egypt, in the best of the land, as Pharaoh had commanded.

30. This interesting story contains a variety of affecting incidents; is related with the most beautiful simplicity; and furnishes many important lessons for instruction.

31. It displays the mischiefs of parental partiality; the fatal effects of envy, jealousy, and discord amongst brethren; the blessings and honors with which virtue is rewarded; the amiableness of forgetting injuries; and the tender joys which flow from fraternal love, and filial piety.

I WILL suppose a virtuous young man form­ing in his mind the principles of his future conduct, and ut­tering the result of his reflections in the following soliloquy.

2. At the age when I am approaching to maturity of reason, I perceive myself placed in a world abounding with external objects; and I also perceive within me powers and passions formed to be powerfully excited and affected by them. I am naturally tempted to interrogate myself, What am I? whence came I? and whither am I going?

3. With a view to satisfy my own inquiries, I consider others who appear to be just like myself; I listen to the in­struction [Page 19] of those who have obtained a reputation for wis­dom: and I examine, with serious attention, the volumes in which are written the words of the wise.

4. The result of the whole inquiry is a sincere conviction, that I am placed here to perform many duties; that I origi­nate from a supreme Creator; and that I am going on in the journey of life, to accomplish some of his gracious pur­poses at the close of it, as well as in its progress.

5. I divide my duty into three parts, according to the suggestions of my own reason, and the instruction of books. They consist of the obligations which I owe to myself, to others, and to Him, in whose hands are both they and my­self, the great Lord of the universe.

6. With respect to myself, as I consist of two parts, a body and a mind, my duty to myself again separates itself into two correspondent subdivisions. My body is a machine curiously organized, and easily deranged by excess and ir­regularity.

7. When disturbed in its economy, it subjects me to pain, and disables me from all necessary and pleasant exer­tion. I owe it therefore to myself, to taste the cup, and partake the banquet, and gratify all my senses, no further than those limits which are obviously prescribed by reason and experience.

8. I further learn from the religion of my country, that my body is the temple of the holy Spirit. To pollute it with presumptuous transgression cannot but be blasphemy; to devote myself to gluttony, drunkenness, and debauchery, is at once to deaden the growing energies of spiritual life, and to weaken and destroy the subordinate, yet necessary parts of me, my animal and material fabric; it is to shorten life, and to disable me from performing its duties while it continues.

9. But I have also a mind capable of rising to high im­provements by culture, and of sinking to a brutal stupidity by neglect. I will make use of all the advantages of education. I will devote my hours of leisure to reading and reflection.

10. Elegant letters, as well as useful sciences, shall claim my attention; for all which tends to polish the mind, tends also to sweeten the temper, and to mitigate the remains of natural ferocity.

[Page 20]11. My mind, as well as my body, is greatly concerned in avoiding intemperance. Eating to excess clouds its brightness, blunts its edge, and drags it down to all the grossness of materiality. Intemperate drinking not only reduces it, at the time of its immediate influence, to a star [...] of brutality, but gradually destroys all its vigor.

12. The sensual indulgencies in general, when they are inordinate and excessive, debase, corrupt, and brutalize. Their delights are transient, their pains severe and of long duration.

13. Instead then of running into the danger of tempta­tion, during the ardor of youth, I will fly from the conflict, in which my own passions are sure to fight against me, and will probably betray me to the enemy.

14. I see, indeed, thousands pursuing pleasure, and pro­fessing to have found it in perfection in the haunts of de­bauchery. But I see them but for a little while. Like the silly insect which flutters with delight around the taper, they soon receive some fatal injury in their minds, their per­sons or their fortunes, and drop into irrecoverable ruin.

15. Alas! I am too much inclined to vice, from the depravity of my nature, and the violence of my passions. I will not add fuel to the fire, nor increase the violence of that natural tempest within me, which of itself is sufficient to accomplish my destruction.

16. But, at the same time, I will not be a cynic. The world abounds with innocent enjoyments. The kind God of nature intended that I should taste them. But modera­tion is essential to true pleasure.

17. My own experience, and the experience of mankind from their origin, has declared, that whenever pleasure ex­ceeds the bo [...]nds of moderation, it is not only highly inju­rious, but disgustful. In order to enjoy pleasure, I see the necessity of pursu [...]ng some business with attention.

18. The vicissitude is necessary to excite an appetite and give a relish. Nay, the very performance of business with skill and success, is attended with a delightful satisfaction, which few of the most boasted pleasures are able to confer.

19. While I take care of myself, of my health, of my improvement in morals and understanding, I will not harbor pride, or look down with superciliousness or ill nature on [Page 21] those who live, as it were, at random, and who acknowledge no other guide of their conduct, but the sudden impulse of a temporary inclination.

20. With all my improvements and endeavors, I shall still feel imperfections enough to humble me. Candor and humility are some of the least fallible marks of sound sense and sincere virtue. I shall have sufficient employment in correcting myself; nor shall I presume to censure others, unless my profession or relative situation render it my duty.

21. My duty to myself is, indeed, intimately connected with my duty to oth [...]s. By preserving the faculties of my mind and body, and by improving them to the utmost, I am enabled to exert them with effect in the service of soci­ety. I am connected with others by the ties of consan­guinity and friendship, and by the common bond of parta­king in the same humanity.

22. As a son, I shall be tender and dutiful; as a brother, uniformly affectionate; as a husband, faithful and friendly; as a father, kind and provident; as a man, be­nevolent to men in whatever circumstances, and however separated from me by country, religion, or government.

23. But universal benevolence must not be an inactive principle. If it proceed not to real beneficence, I fear it will have more in it of ostentation than of sincerity. I will then prove its sincerity by doing good, and removing evil of every kind, as far as my abilities allow me, and my influence extends.

24. But before I pretend to generosity, I will be strict­ly just. Truth shall regulate my words, and equity my ac­tions. If I am engaged in a profession, I will do the duties of it; if in merchandize, I will take no advantage of the ignorant, nor debase my character, nor wound my con­science, for the sake of gain.

25. In all my intercourse with society, I will recollect that heavenly precept of doing to others as I wish they should do to me; and will endeavor to obey it. I may, I certainly shall offend from the violence of my passions, the weakness of my judgment, the perverseness of my will, and from mistake and misapprehension.

26. But while I keep the evangelical rule in view, and sincerely labor to conform to it, I shall seldom commit such [Page 22] offences against others, as will be either permanently or deeply injurious.

27. With respect to my duty to my Creator, I derive an argument in favor of religion, from the feelings of my own bosom, superior to the most elaborate subtilties of hu­man ingenuity. In the hour of distress, my heart as natu­rally flies for succor to the Deity, as when hungry and thirsty, I seek food and water; or when weary, repose.

28. In religion I look for comfort, and in religion I al­ways find it. Devotion supplies me with a pure and ex­alted pleasure. It elevates my soul, and teaches me to look down with proper contempt upon many objects which are eagerly sought, but which end in misery.

29. In this respect, and in many others, it effects in the best and most compendious method, what has been in vain pretended to by proud philosophy. And in selecting a mode or peculiar system of religion, I shall consider what that was in which my father lived and died.

30. I find it to have been the religion of Christ. I ex­amine it with reverence. I encounter many difficulties; but, at the same time, I feel within me an internal evidence, which, uniting its force with the external, forbids me to disbelieve.

31. When involuntary doubts arise, I immediately si­lence their importunity by recollecting the weakness of my judgment, and the vain presumption of hastily deciding on the most important of all subjects, against such powerful evidence, and against the major part of the civilized world.

32. I will learn humility of the humble Jesus, and grate­fully accept the beneficial doctrines and glorious offers, which his benign religion reaches out to all who sincerely seek him by prayer and penitence.

33. In vain shall the conceited philosophers, whom fashion and ignorance admire, attempt to weaken my belief, or undermine the principles of my morality. Without their aid, I can be sufficiently wicked, and sufficiently miserable.

34. Human life abounds with evil. I will seek balsams for the wounds of the heart in the sweets of innocence, and in the consolations of religion. Virtue, I am convinced, is the noblest ornament of humanity, and the source of the [Page 23] sublimest, and the sweetest pleasure; and piety leads to that peace, which the world, and all it possesses, cannot bestow.

35. Let others enjoy the pride and pleasure of being call­ed philosophers, deists, sceptics; be mine the real, unosten­tatious qualities of the honest, humble, and charitable Chris­tian. When the gaudy glories of fashion and vain philoso­phy shall have withered like a short-lived slower, sincere piety and moral honesty shall flourish as the cedar of Lebanon.

36. But I repress my triumphs. After all my improve­ments, and all my pantings for perfection, I shall still be greatly defective. Therefore, to whatever degree of ex­cellence I advance, let me never forget to show to others that indulgence, which my infirmities, my errors, and my voluntary misconduct, will require both from them, and from mine and their Almighty and most merciful Father.

IS any father so unnatural as to wish to have his son hanged, let him bring him up in idleness, and with­out putting him to any trade. Let him particularly inure him to spend the Lord's day in play and liversion, instead of attending on public worship; and instead of instruct­ing him, on that day, in the principles of the Christian re­ligion, let him rob a neighbouring hen-roost, while the pro­prietor of it is gone to divine service.

2. Astonishing it is to see so many of our young people growing up without being apprenticed to any business for procuring their future livelihood! The Jews had a proverb, "That whoever was not bred to a trade, was bred for the gallows." Every mussulman is commanded by the Koran to learn some handicraft or other; and to this precept, even the family of the grand Signior so far conform, as to learn as much about the mechanism of a watch, as to be able to take it in pieces, and to put it together again.

3. Are Christians the only people in the world, who are to live in idleness, when one of the injunctions of the [Page 24] decalogue is, to labor six days in the week; and an inspi­red apostle has commanded us to work, under the express penalty of not eating in default of it? "This we command­ed you," says he, "that if any would not work, neither should he eat." "Train up a child," says king Solomon, "in the way he should go; and when he is old, he will not depart from it."

4. But if you intend him for the gallows, train him up in the way he would go; and before he is old, he will prob­ably be hanged. In the age of vanity, restrain him not from the follies and allurements of it. In the age proper for learning and instruction, give him neither. As to cat­echising him, it is an old fashioned, puritanical, useless for­mality. Never heed it, lest his mind be [...]nhappily biassed by the influence of a religious education.

5. Moses indeed, after saying to the children of Israel, "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might," thought proper to subjoin, "and those words which I command thee this day, thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy children." But we know that Moses did not intend those children to be trained up for the gallows. His advice there­fore is not to the purpose.

6. Mine, which is immediately directed to the object in view, must consequently be very different. And para­mount to any other direction which I can possibly give, I would particularly advise, as an essential part of the course of this education, by which a child, when he arrives to man­hood, is intended to make so exalted a figure, that his pa­rents should suffer him every sabbath day, during summer and autumn, to patrol about the neighborhood, and to steal as much fruit as he can carry off.

7. To encourage him more in this branch of his educa­tion, in case the poor scrupulous lad should show any com­punctions of conscience about it, I would have his mother partake of the stolen fruit; and eat it with keener appe­tite than she does any of her own, or her husband's lawful­ly acquired earnings. For his further encouragement, both his parents should always take his part, whenever the pro­prietor of the stolen fruit prefers to them his complaint against him; and by all means refuse to chastise him for his thievery.

[Page 25]8. They should say, "Where is the harm of taking a little fruit? The gentleman does not want it all for his own use. He doubtless raised part of it for poor people." This will greatly smooth his way to more extensive, and more profitable robberies.

9. He will soon persuade himself, that many rich men have more wealth than they really want; and as they owe part of their affluence to the poor, upon the principle of char­ity, why should not the poor take their share without the formality of asking consent? He will now become a thief in good earnest; and finding it easier, at least as he imagines, to support himself by theft than by honest industry, he will continue the practice until he is detected, apprehended, con­victed, condemned, and gibbetted.

10. Then he will have exactly accomplished the destin­ed end of his education; and proved himself to have been an apt scholar. Under the gallows, and in his last dying speech, he will say, "Had my father whipped me for break­ing the sabbath; and had not my mother encouraged me to rob orchards, and gardens, and hen-roosts on that holy day, I should not have been brought to this ignominious punishment.

11. "But they have been the cause, by encouraging me i [...] my early youth in the ways of sin, of this my awful catastrophe, and probably, of the eternal ruin of my immor­tal soul." Parents, believe and tremble! and resolve to educate your children in opposition to the gallows.

BEFORE I enter upon the particular parts of Fidelia's character, it is necessary to preface, that she is the only child of a decrepid father, whose life is bound up in hers. This gentleman has used Fidelia from her infan­cy with all the tenderness imaginable; and has viewed her growing perfections with the partiality of a parent, who soon thought her accomplished above the children of all other men; but never thought she was come to the highest im­provement of which she herself was capable.

[Page 26]2. This fondness has had very pleasing effects upon his own happiness; for she reads, she dances, she sings, uses her spinet and guitar to the utmost perfection. And the young lady's use of all these excellencies, is to divert the old man in his easy chair, when he is out of the pangs of a chronical distemper.

3. Fidelia is now in the twenty-third year of her age; but the application of many admirers, her quick sense of all that is truly elegant and noble in the enjoyment of a plenti­ful fortune, are not able to draw her from the side of her good old father. Certain it is, that there is no kind of af­fection so pure and angelic, as that of a father to a daughter.

4. Fidelia on her part, as I was going to say, as accom­plished as she is, with all her beauty, wit, air and mien, em­ploys her whole time in care and attendance upon her fa­ther. How have I been charmed to see one of the most beauteous women the age has produced, kneeling to help on an old man's slipper! Her filial regard to him is what she makes her diversion, her business, and her glory.

5. When she was asked by a friend of her deceased mo­ther, to admit of the courtship of her son, she answered, that she had a great respect and gratitude to her for the over­ture in behalf of one so near to her, but that during her fa­ther's life, she would admit into her heart no value for any thing which should interfere with her endeavors to make his remains of life as happy and easy as could be expected in his circumstances.

6. The happy father has her declaration, that she will not marry during his life, and the pleasure of seeing that re­solution not uneasy to her. Were one to paint filial affec­tion in its utmost beauty, he could not have a more lively idea of it than in beholding Fidelia serving her father at his hours of rising, meals, and rest.

7. When the general croud of female youth are consult­ing their glasses, preparing for balls, assemblies, or plays; for a young lady, who could be rega [...]ed among the fore­most in those places, either for her person, wit, fortune, or conversation, and yet contemn all th [...]se entertainments, to sweeten the heavy hours of a decrepid parent, is a resigna­tion truly heroic.

[Page 27]8. Fidelia performs the duty of a nurse with all the beau­ty of a bride; nor does she neglect her person, because of her attendance upon him, when he is too ill to receive com­pany, to whom she may make an appearance.

9. Fidelia, who gives him up her youth, does not think it any great sacrifice to add to it the spoiling of her dress. Her care and exactness in her habit convince her father of the alacrity of her mind; and she has of all women the best foundation for affecting the praise of a seeming negligence.

10. Those who think themselves the pattern of good breeding, and refinement, would be astonished to hear, that, in those intervals, when the old gentleman is at ease, and can bear company, there are at his house in the most regu­lar order, assemblies of people of the highest merit; where there is conversation without mention of the absent, and the highest subjects of morality treated of as natural and accidental discourse.

11. All of which is owing to the genius of Fidelia, who at once makes her father's way to another world easy, and herself capable of being an honor to his name in this.

ACCORDING to Manetho, an Egyptian historian, Jerusalem was founded by the shepherds who in­vaded Egypt in an unknown period of antiquity. Accord­ing to Josephus, it was the capital of Melchizedeck's king­dom, and built in honor of that prince, by twelve neighbor­ing kings.

2. We know nothing of it with certainty, however, till the time of king David, who took it from the Jebusites, and made it the capital of his kingdom. It was first taken in the days of Jehoash, by Hazael, king of Assyria, who slew all the nobility, but did not destroy their city.

3. It was afterwards taken by Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon, who destroyed it, and carried away the inhab­itants. Seventy years after, permission was granted by Cyrus king of Persia to the Jews to rebuild their city, which was done; and it continued the capital of Judea till the [Page 28] time of Vespasian, emperor of Rome, by whose son Titus it was totally destroyed.

4. It was, however, rebuilt by Adrian, and seemed likely to recover its former grandeur; but it flourished for a short time only. When the empress Helena, mother of Constantine the great, came to visit it, she found it in a most forlorn and ruinous situation.

5. Having formed a design of restoring it to its ancient [...]stre, she caused, with a great deal of cost and labor, all the rubbish which had been thrown upon those places where our Saviour had suffered, been buried, &c. to be removed.

6. In doing this, they found the cross on which he died, as well as those of the two malefactors who suffered with him. She then caused a magnificent church to be built, which enclosed as many scenes of our Saviour's suf­ferings as could conveniently be done.

7. This church, which stands on mount Calvary, is still in good repair, being supported by the donations of pilgrims who are constantly resorting to it. Here is to be seen our Saviour's sepulchre, hewn out of a solid rock; and the very hole in the rock in which it is said the foot of the cross was fixed, with many other curiosities.

8. On mount Moriah stood the celebrated temple of Solomon, which was seven years in building, and employed no less than 163,300 men. The height of this building on one side was at least 960 feet; and the stones employ­ed about the ramparts, were, according to Josephus, 40 cu­bits long, 12 thick, and 8 high, all of polished marble, and so well joined as to appear like one solid rock.

9. After the destruction of this temple, it is said that the emperor Julian attempted to rebuild it, in order to give the lie to our Saviour's prophecy, namely, that it should be totally destroyed without one stone's being left upon an­other. In this, however, he was defeated by earthquakes, fiery eruptions, &c. which destroyed his materials, and kil­led many of his workmen.

10. At present, Jerusalem is but a poor, thinly inhabit­ed town, about three miles in circumference, surrounded with mountains on all sides except the north, with steep as­cents and deep vallies.

AN officer in the late American army, on his station at the westward, went out in the morning with his dog and gun, in quest of game. Venturing too far from the garrison, he was fired upon by an Indian, who was lurk­ing in the bushes, and instantly fell to the ground.

2. The Indian running to him, struck him on the head with his tomahawk in order to dispatch him; but the but­ton of his hat fortunately warding off the edge, he was on­ly stunned by the blow. With savage brutality he applied the scalping knife, and hastened away with this trophy of his horrid cruelty, leaving the officer for dead, and none to relieve or console him, but his faithful dog.

3. The afflicted creature gave every expression of his at­tachment, fidelity, and affection. He licked the wounds with inexpressible tenderness, and mourned the fate of his beloved master. Having performed every office which sym­pathy dictated, or sagacity could invent, without being able to remove his master from the fatal spot, or procure from him any signs of life, or his wonted expressions of affection to him, he ran off in quest of help.

4. Bending his course towards the river, where two men were fishing, he urged them by all the powers of native rhet­oric to accompany him to the woods. The men were sus­picious of a decoy to an ambuscade, and dared not venture to follow the dog; who, finding all his caresses fail, return­ed to the care of his master; and, licking his wounds a second time, renewed all his tendernesses; but with no better success than before.

5. Again he returned to the men; once more to try his skill in alluring them to his assistance. In this attempt he was more successful than in the other. The men seeing his solicitude, began to think the dog might have discovered some valuable game, and determined to hazard the conse­quences of following him.

6. Transported with his success, the affectionate crea­ture hurried them along by every expression of ardor. Pres­ently they arrive at the spot, where behold—an officer [Page 30] wounded, scalped, weltering in his own gore, and faint with the loss of blood.

7. Suffice it to say, he was yet alive. They carried him to the fort, where the first dressings were performed. A suppuration immediately took place, and he was soon con­veyed to the hospital at Albany, where in a few weeks, he entirely recovered, and was able to return to his duty.

8. This worthy officer owed his life, probably, to the fidelity of this sagacious dog. His tongue, which the gen­tleman afterwards declared gave him the most exquisite pleasure, clarified the wound in the most effectual manner, and his perseverance brought that assistance, without which he must soon have perished.

9.

THE Stork is generally esteemed an em­blem of filial love; insomuch, that it has ever acquired the name of pious, from the just regard it is said to pay to acts of filial piety and duty.

2. Storks live to a very advanced age; the consequence of which is, that their limbs grow feeble, their feathers fall off, and they are no ways capable of providing for their own food or safety. Being birds of passage, they are un­der another inconvenience also, which is, that they are not able to remove themselves from one country to another at the usual season.

3. In all these circumstances it is reported that their young ones assist them, covering them with their wings, and nourishing them with the warmth of their bodies; even bringing them provisions in their beaks, and carrying them from place to place on their backs, or supporting them with their wings.

4. In this manner they return, as much as lies in their power, the care which was bestowed on them when they [Page 31] were young ones in the nest. A striking example of filial piety, inspired by instinct; from which reason itself needs not be ashamed to take example.

5. "Honor thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long in the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee," was an express commandment, and the only one to which a promise was annexed. Among the Israelites, the slightest offence against a parent was punished in the most exemplary manner.

6. Certainly nothing can be more just or reasonable, than that we should love, honor, and succor those who are the very authors of our being, and to whose tender care (under Heaven) we owe the continuance of it, during the helpless state of our infancy.

7. Love, charity, and an intercourse of good offices, are what we undoubtedly owe to all mankind; and he who omits them is guilty of such a crime as generally carries its punishment with it.

8. But to our parents, more, much more than all this, is due; and, when we are serving them, we ought to reflect, that whatever difficulties we go through for their sakes, we cannot do more for them than they have done for us; and that there is no danger of our over-paying the vast debt of gratitude they have laid us under.

9. In fine, we should consider that it is a duty most pe­culiarly insisted on by Heaven itself; and, if we obey the command, there is no doubt but we shall also receive the re­ward annexed to it.

THE Bee is a noble pattern of industry and prudence. She settles upon every plant and flower, and makes the most insignificant, nay, even the most hurtful of them, useful to her purpose. Thus she toils all the summer, while the days are fair, in order to get a stock, which she lays by to serve for winter, when the herbs and flowers are dead, the trees deprived of their leaves, and the weather unfavorable.

[Page 32]2. Then the Bees retire to their hive, which is formed like a little state, and governed by a Queen, who dispenses justice to her subjects. It is said they bury their dead, pun­ish criminals, and drive the drones from their hive. They keep a regular order, whether in war or peace; and, as soon as their Queen dies, appoint another to succeed her, and rule their little state, which may serve as a pattern for a well ordered community.

3. The Bee is one of the aptest emblems of industry, and the art of extracting good out of evil, that can be found in nature. It is endued with an instinct, which justly ex­cites our admiration; and its perseverance is an admirable example for the wisest of us to follow.

4. As the Bee, in the summer, provides for itself that which may serve for its support in winter, so should we, in the summer of our days, take care to lay in a store of prof­itable virtues, and good qualities, which may render us just­ly admired in age, and enable us to set a good example to posterity.

5. Like that industrious insect, likewise, we should learn to make every occurrence of life serviceable to us; for nothing is so small [...]r minute but it may be made of use; nothing so bad in nature, but we may draw from it some profit or instruction And thus, by chusing the good, and avoiding the evil, we may purchase to ourselves peace here, and the hopes of a brighter reward hereafter.

WHEN we survey the whole earth at once, and the several planets which lie within its neighborhood, we are filled with a pleasing astonishment, to see so many worlds hanging one above another; and sliding round their axles in such an amazing pomp and solemnity.

2. If, after this, we contemplate those wild fields of ether, that reach in height as far as from Saturn to the fix­ed stars, and run abroad almost to an infinitude, our imag­ination finds its capacity filled with so immense a prospect, and puts itself upon the stretch to comprehend it.

[Page 33]3. But if we rise yet higher, and consider the sixed stars as so many vast oceans of flame, which are each of them attended with a different set of planets, and still dis­cover new firmaments and new lights which are sunk farther in those unfathomable depths of ether, so as not to be seen by the largest of our telescopes, we are lost in such a laby­rinth of suns and worlds, and confounded with the immen­sity and magnificence of nature.

MARY possessed few qualities either estima­ble or amiable. Her person was as little engaging as her manner. And, amidst the complication of vices which en­ [...]ered into her composition, obstinacy, bigotry, violence, cru­elty, we scarcely find any virtue but sincerity; unless we add vigor of mind, a quality, which seems to have been in­herent in her family.

2. During this queen's reign, persecution for religion was carried to the most terrible height. The mild counsels of cardinal Pole, who was inclined to toleration, was over­ruled by Gardner and Bonner; and multitudes of all con­ditions, ages, and sexes, were committed to the flames.

3. The persecutors began with Rogers, prebendary of St. Paul's; a man equally distinguished by his p [...]ty and learning; but whose domestic situation, it was hoped, would bring him to compliance.

4. He had a wife, whom he tenderly loved, and ten children; yet did he continue firm in his principles. And such was his serenity after condemnation, that the jailers, it is said, awaked him from a sound sleep, when the hour of his execution approached. He suffered at Smithfield.

5. Hooper, bishop of Gloucester, was condemned at the same time with Rogers, but was sent to his own diocese to be punished, in order to strike the greater terror into his flock. His constancy at his death, however, had a very contrary effect.

6. It was a scene of consolation to Hooper, to die in their sight, bearing testimony to that doctrine which he had [Page 34] f [...]rmerly [...]aught among them. And he continued to exhort them, till his tongue, swollen by the violence of his agony, denied him utterance.

7. Ferrar, bishop of St. David's, also suffered this terri­ble punishment in his own diocese; and Ridley, bishop of London, and Latimer, formerly bishop of Worcester, two prelates venerable by their years, their learning, and their piety, perished together in the same fire at Oxford, support­ing each other's constancy by their mutual exhortations.

8. Latimer, when tied to the stake, called to his com­panion, "Be of good cheer, my brother; we shall this day kindle such a flame in England, as I trust in God will never be extinguished."

9. Sanders, a respectable clergyman, was committed to the flames at Coventry. A pardon was offered him, if he would recant; but he rejected it with disdain, and em­braced the stake, saying, "Welcome, cross of Christ! welcome, everlasting life!"

10. Cranmer had less courage at first. Terrified by the prospect of those tortures which awaited him, or overcome by the fond love of life, and by the flattery of artful men, who pompously represented the dignities to which his char­acter still entitled him, if he would merit them by a recanta­tion, he agreed, in an unguarded hour, to subscribe to the doctrines of the papal supremacy, and the real presence.

11. But the court, no less perfidious than cruel, deter­mined that this recantation should avail him nothing; that he should acknowledge his errors in the church before the people, and afterwards be led to execution.

12. Whether Cranmer received secret intelligence of their design, or repented of his weakness, or both, is uncer­tain; but he surprised the audience by a declaration, very different from what was expected.

13. After explaining his sense of what he owed to God and his sovereign, "There is one miscarriage in my life, said he, of which, above all others, I severely repent; and that is, the insincere declaration of faith, to which I had the weakness to subscribe.

14. "But I take this opportunity of atoning for my error, by a sincere and open recantation; and am willing to seal with my blood that doctrine, which I firmly believe to be communicated from heaven."

[Page 35]15. As his hand, he added, had erred, by betraying his heart, it should first be punished by a severe, but just doom. He accordingly stretched it out, as soon as he came to the stake; and without discovering, either by his looks or motions, the least sign of weakness, or even feel­ing, he held it in the flames till it was entirely consumed.

16. His thoughts, to use the words of an elegant and learned historian, appeared to be totally occupied in reflect­ing on his former fault; and he called aloud several times, "This hand has offended! This wicked hand has of­fended!"

17. When it dropped off, he discovered a serenity in his countenance, as if satisfied with sacrificing to divine jus­tice the instrument of his crime. And when the fire at­tacked his body, his soul, totally collected within itself, seem­ed superior to every external accident, and altogether inac­cessible to pain.

IN the spring of the year 1774, a robbery and murder were committed on an inhabitant of the frontiers of Virginia by two Indians, of the Shawanese tribe. The neighboring whites, according to their custom, undertook to punish this outrage in a summary way. Colonel Cresap, a man infamous for the many murders he had committed on those much injured people, collected a party, and pro­ceeded down the Kanhaway in quest of vengeance.

2. Unfortunately, a canoe of women and children, with one man only, was seen coming from the opposite shore, un­armed, and unsuspecting any hostile attack from the whites. Cresap and his party concealed themselves on the bank of the river; and the moment the canoe reached the shore, singled out their objects, and, at one fire, killed every per­son in it.

3. This happened to be the family of Logan, who had long been distinguished as the friend of the whites. This unworthy return provoked his vengeance. He accordingly signalized himself in the war which ensued.

[Page 36]4. In the autumn of the same year, a decisive battle was fought at the mouth of the Great Kanhaway, between the collected forces of the Shawanese, Mingoes, and Delawares, and a detachment of the Virginia militia. The Indians were defeated, and sued for peace.

5. Logan, however, disdained to be seen among the sup­pliants; but, lest the sincerity of a treaty should be distrust­ed, from which so distinguished a chief absented himself, he sent by a messenger, the following speech, to be delivered to Lord Dunmore.

6. "I appeal to any white man to say if ever he enter­ed Logan's cabin hungry, and he gave him no meat; if ev­er he came cold and naked, and he clothed him not. Du­ring the last long and bloody war, Logan remained idle in his cabin, an advocate for peace."

7. "Such was my love for the whites, that my coun­trymen pointed as they passed by, and said, Logan is the friend of white men. I had even thought to have lived with you, had it not been for the injuries of one man. Colonel Cresap, the last spring, in cold blood, and unprovoked, murdered all the relations of Logan, not even sparing my women and children."

8. "There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature. This called on me for revenge. I have sought it; I have killed many; I have fully glutted my vengeance. For my country, I rejoice at the beams of peace; but do not harbor a thought that mine is the joy of fear. Logan never felt fear. He will not turn on his heel to save his life. Who is there to mourn for Logan? Not one."

NOWHERE else on earth, perhaps, has hu­man misery, by human means, been rendered so lasting, so complete, or so remediless as in that despotic prison, the Bastile. This the following case may suffice to evince; the particulars of which are translated from that elegant and energetic writer Mr. Mercier.

[Page 37]2. The heinous offence which merited an imprisonment surpassing torture, and rendering death a blessing, was no more than some unguarded expressions, implying disrespect towards the late Gallic monarch, Louis fifteenth.

3. Upon the accession of Louis sixteenth to the throne, the ministers then in office, moved by humanity, began their administration with an act of clemency and justice. They inspected the registers of the Bastile, and set many prisoners at liberty.

4. Among those, there was an old man who had groan­ed in confinement for forty seven years, between four thick and cold stone-walls. Hardened by adversity, which strengthens both the mind and constitution, when they are not overpowered by it, he had resisted the horrors of his long imprisonment with an invincible and manly spirit.

5. His locks, white, thin, and scattered, had almost ac­quired the rigidity of iron; whilst his body, environed for so long a time by a coffin of stone, had borrowed from it a firm and compact habit. The narrow door of his tomb, turning upon its grating hinges, opened not as usual by halves, and an unknown voice announced his liberty, and bade him depart.

6. Believing this to be a dream, he hesitated; but at length rose up and walked forth with trembling steps, ama­zed at the space he traversed. The stairs of the prison, the halls, the court seemed to him vast, immense, and almost without bounds.

7. He stopped from time to time, and gazed around like a bewildered traveller. His vision was with difficulty reconciled to the clear light of day. He contemplated the heavens as a new object. His eyes remained fixed, and he could not even weep.

8. Stupified with the newly acquired power of changing his position, his limbs, like his tongue, refused in spite of his efforts, to perform their office. At length he got through the formidable gate.

9. When he felt the motion of the carriage, which was prepared to transport him to his former habitation, he screamed out, and uttered some inarticulate sounds; and as he could not bear this new movement, he was obliged to descend. Supported by a benevolent arm, he sought out [Page 38] the street where he had formerly resided; he found it, but no trace of his house remained; one of the public edifices occupied the spot where it had stood.

10. He now saw nothing which brought to his recol­lection, either that particular quarter, the city itself, or the objects with which he was formerly acquainted. The houses of his nearest neighbors, which were fresh in his memory, had assumed a new appearance.

11. In vain were his looks directed to all the objects around him; he could discover nothing of which he had the smallest remembrance. Terrified, he stopped and fetch­ed a deep sigh. To him what did it import, that the city was peopled with living creatures? None of them were alive to him; he was unknown to all the world, and he knew nobody; and whilst he wept, he regretted his dungeon.

12. At the name of the Bastile, which he often pro­nounced and even claimed as an asylum, and the sight of his clothes which marked his former age, the croud gathered around him; curiosity, blended with pity, excited their at­tention. The most aged asked him many questions, but had no remembrance of the circumstances which he recap­itulated.

13. At length accident brought to his way an ancient domestic, now a superannuated porter, who, confined to his lodge for fifteen years, had barely sufficient strength to open the gate. Even he did not know the master he had served; but informed him that grief and misfortune had brought his wife to the grave thirty years before; that his children were gone abroad to distant climes, and that of all his relations and friends, none now remained.

14. This recital was made with the indifference which people discover for events long passed and almost forgotten. The miserable man groaned, and groaned alone. The croud around, offering only unknown features to his view, made him feel the excess of his calamities even more than he would have done in the dreadful solitude which he had left.

15. Overcome with sorrow, he presented himself before the minister, to whose humanity he owed that liberty which was now a burden to him. Bowing down, he said, "Re­store me again to that prison from which you have taken me. I cannot survive the loss of my nearest relations; of my [Page 39] friends; and in one word, of a whole generation. Is it possible in the same moment to be informed of this universal destruction, and not to wish for death?

16. "This general mortality, which to others comes slowly and by degrees, has to me been instantaneous, the operation of a moment. Whilst secluded from society, I lived with myself only; but here I can neither live with myself, nor with this new race, to whom my anguish and despair appear only as a dream."

17. The minister was melted; he caused the old domes­tic to attend this unfortunate person, as only he could talk to him of his family.

18. This discourse was the single consolation which he received; for he shunned intercourse with the new race, born since he had been exiled from the world; and he passed his time in the midst of Paris in the same solitude as he had done whilst confined in a dungeon for almost half a century.

19. But the chagrin and mortification of meeting no person who could say to him, "We were fomerly known to each other," soon put an end to his existence.

TO Christopher Columbus, a native of Ge­noa, is deservedly ascribed the first discovery of America: an event, which opened to mankind a new region of sci­ence, commerce, and enterprize; and stamped with im­mortality the name of its projector.

2. He was born in the year 1447. He early showed a capacity and inclination for a sea-faring life, and received an education which qualified him to pursue it. At the age of fourteen, he went to sea, and began his career on that element, where he was to perform exploits, which should astonish mankind.

3. He made a variety of voyages to almost every part of the globe, with which any intercourse was then carried on by sea; and became one of the most skilful navigators in Europe. But his active and enterprizing genius would [Page 40] not suffer him to rest in the decisions, and tamely follow the track of his predecessors.

4. It was the great object in view at this time in Eu­rope, to find out a passage by sea to the East Indies. The Portuguese, among whom he now resided, sought a new route to these desirable regions, by sailing round the south­ern extremity of Africa.

5. They had consumed half a century in making vari­ous attempts, and had advanced no farther on the western shore of Africa than just to cross the equator, when Colum­bus conceived his great design of finding India in the west. The spherical figure of the earth, which he understood, made it evident to him, that Europe, Asia and Africa formed but a small proportion of the globe.

6. It was an impeachment of the wisdom and benefi­cence of the Author of nature, to suppose that the vast space, yet unexplored, was a waste, unprofitable ocean; and it ap­peared necessary that there should be anoth [...] continent in the west to counterpoise the immense quantity of land, which was known to be in the east.

7. In the sea, near the western islands, pieces of carv­ed wood, and large joints of cane had been discovered; and branches of pine trees and the bodies of two men with features different from the Europeans, had been found on the shores of those islands after a course of westerly winds.

8. These reasonings and facts, with some others, con­vinced Columbus that it was possible to find the desired land by sailing in a westerly direction. He had a genius of that kind, which makes use of reasoning only as an ex­citement to action. No sooner was he satisfied of the truth of his system than he was anxious to bring it to the test of experiment; and set out on a voyage of discovery.

9. His first step was to secure the patronage of some of the considerable powers of Europe, capable of undertaking such an enterprize. Excited by the love of his country, he laid his scheme before the Senate of Genoa, offering to sail under their banners. But they, ignorant of the princi­ples on which it was formed, rejected it as the dream of a visionary projector.

10. He next applied to John II. king of Portugal. But he, being deeply engaged in prosecuting discoveries along the [Page 41] coast of Africa, was not inclined to encourage the under­taking of Columbus; yet he meanly sought to rob him of the glory and advantages of his scheme, by privately dis­patching a ship to make a discovery in the west.

11. When Columbus was acquainted with this perfid­ious transaction, he quitted the kingdom with indignation, and landed in Spain in 1484. Here, after seven years pain­ful solicitation at court, and surmounting every obstacle, which ignorance, timidity, jealousy and avarice could lay before him, he obtained his request; and Ferdinand and Isabella, who then reigned together, agreed to be patrons of his enterprize.

12. It was stipulated between him and them, that he should be admiral in all those islands and continents he should discover, and have the office hereditary in his fami­ly; that he should be viceroy of the same for life, and en­joy a tenth of all the merchandize which should be found.

13. Three small vessels were fitted out and victualled for twelve months, furnished with ninety men, and placed un­der his command. With this little fleet he set sail from Palos on Friday the 3d of August, 1492; and taking a westerly course, boldly ventured into the unknown ocean.

14. He soon found that he had unforeseen hardships and difficulties to encounter from the inexperience and fears of his men. To go directly from home into a boundless ocean, far from any hope of relief, if any accident should befal them, and where no friendly port nor human being were known to exist, filled the boldest seamen with appre­hension.

15. What greatly added to their terror, was a new and extraordinary phenomenon, which occurred on the 14th of September. The magnetic needle varied from the pole, and as they advanced, the variation increased. Nature seemed to be changed; and their only guide through the trackless waters, to prove unfaithful.

16. After twenty days, the impatient sailors began to talk of throwing their commander into the sea, and of re­turning home. Their murmurs reached his ears; but his fertile mind suggested an expedient in every extremity. By soothing, flattery, and artifice; by inventing reasons for [Page 42] every uncommon appearance, and deceiving them in the ship's reckoning, he kept them on sixteen days longer.

17. On the night of the 11th of October, he himself discovered a light, which appeared to move, and the next morning gave them the joyful sight of land. It proved to be the island Guanahana, one of the cluster, called Baha­mas. Thus, in the space of thirty six days, and the forty fifth year of his age, Columbus completed a voyage, which he had spent twenty years in projecting; which opened to the Europeans a new world, and made the name of Co­lumbus immortal.

18. With tears of joy and transports of congratulation, the crews of the ships sang a hymn of thanksgiving to God. After touching at several islands, and leaving a small colony, he returned to Spain. On his return he was overtaken by a storm, which became so furious that his destruction seem­ed inevitable. The crews abandoned themselves to despair, and expected every moment to be swallowed up in the [...]aves.

19. In this extremity, he gave an admirable proof of his calmness and foresight. He wrote a short account of his voyage on parchment, inclosed it in a cake of wax, which he put into a tight cask, and threw into the sea, in hopes that some fortunate accident would preserve a deposit of so much importance to the world. The storm however sub­sided, and he arrived at Palos in Spain on the 15th of March, 1493.

20. The populace received him with acclamations, and the King and Queen, no less astonished than delighted with his success, had him conducted to court with a pomp suita­ble to the event, which added such distinguished lustre to their reign. His family was ennobled; and his former privileges and offices confirmed to him.

21. He soon sailed on a second expedition to the new world, with a fleet of seventeen ships, having on board 1500 people, and all things necessary for establishing plantations. After discovering many islands of the West Indies, and sub­mitting to every labor and vexation in attempting to settle his colony, he returned to Spain in 1498, to counteract the intrigues and efforts of his enemies in the Spanish court.

22. He made two more voyages, in which he touched at most parts of the West Indies, discovered the continent, [Page 43] and coasted on its shores for 400 leagues. But the last part of his life was made wretched by the persecutions of his enemies.

23. Their pride and jealousy could not endure that a foreigner should attain so high a rank as to be viceroy for life, and have the office of admiral hereditary in his family, to the exclusion of the Spanish nobles. They were, there­fore, indefatigable in their endeavors to depreciate his merits, and ruin his fortune.

24. He was once carried home in irons; and in viola­tion of gratitude, humanity, and justice, basely deprived of all the offices and possessions in the new world, to which he had a right by the solemn stipulations of Ferdinand. When he returned from his last voyage in 1505, Queen Isabella, his only friend and patroness in the court of Spain, was dead.

25. Worn out with sickness and fatigue, disgusted with the insincerity of his Sovereign and the haughtiness of his courtiers, he lingered out a year in fruitless solicitations for his violated rights, till death relieved him from his sorrows. He ended his useful and active life at Valladolid on the 10th of May, 1506, in the 59th year of his age.

26. In the life of this remarkable man, there was no deficiency of any quality, which can constitute a great char­acter. He was grave, though courteous in his deportment, circumspect in his words and actions, irreproachable in his morals, and exemplary in all the duties of religion.

27. The court of Spain were so just to his memory, that, notwithstanding their ingratitude towards him during his life, they buried him magnificently in the Cathedral of Seville, and erected a tomb over him with this inscription, ‘COLUMBUS HAS GIVEN A NEW WORLD TO THE KINGDOMS OF CASTILE AND LEON.’

THE first foundation of Babylon, is, by some authors, ascribed to Semiramis, and by others to Belus. Who the founder was, is not so material; but it is certain that Nebuchadnezzar was the person who raised it to such a pinnacle of glory, as that it became one of the principal wonders of the world.

2. The walls of this city were 60 miles in circumfer­ence, 350 feet high, and 87 feet thick. The city was ex­actly square, measuring 15 miles upon every side. The walls were built with large bricks, cemented together with a kind of glutinous slime, superior to any lime, and which grows harder than the bricks themselves.

3. They were encompassed by a vast ditch lined with bricks, cemented with the same kind of bitumen, and filled with water. The earth which was dug from the ditch served to make the bricks for the walls: it must, therefore, have been of great depth and width.

4. On every side of the city were 25 brazen gates, exact­ly opposite to each other. Between every two of these gates were three towers, and four more at the angles, and three between each of the angles and the next gate on every side.

5. The towers were all ten feet higher than the walls. Streets intersected each other at right angles from all the gates on every side, being 15 miles in length, and 50 in number. Thus was the city cut into 676 squares.

6. The hanging gardens were a great curiosity. They contained a square of 400 feet, and were carried to the height of the wall of the city by several large terraces. This vast pile was sustained by arches built upon arches, and strengthened by a wall 22 feet thick on every side.

7. These gardens contained all kinds of flowers and plants, and even large trees. On the upper terrace was an aqueduct, which served to water the whole.

[Page 46]8. The Tigris, a branch of the river Euphrates, ran through the city from north to south. After Cyrus had besieged the city two years, he found means to turn the course of this river, and marched his army under the walls through its channel. This was done on the night in which Belshazzar and his nobles were revelling at the banquet; who were all slain, and the city taken.

PERHAPS no animal, below the human species, resembles man more in the imitative faculty than the monkey. It is said that a sailor, having a number of red woollen caps to dispose of, went on shore in South America to trade with the natives.

2. In his way to a settlement, lying through a wood very thickly inhabited by monkies, it being in the heat of the day, he put a cap on his head, and laying the others by his side, determined to take a little repose under the shade of a large tree.

3. To his utter astonishment, when he awoke, from the specimen he had given his imitative observers of the use of his caps, he beheld a number of them upon the heads of the monkies in the trees round about him; while the wearers were chattering in the most unusual manner.

4. Finding every attempt to regain his caps fruitless, he at length in a fit of rage and disappointment, and under the supposition that the one he retained on his head was not worth taking away, pulled it off, and throwing it upon the ground, exclaimed, "Here, you little thieving rogues, if you will keep the rest, you are welcome to this also."

5. He had no sooner done this, than, to his great sur­prise, the little observing animals very readily imitated him. They all threw down their caps upon the ground; by which means the sailor regained his property, and marched off in triumph. Happy would it be for mankind, if they resembled monkies only in imitating the virtues of those whom they consider their superiors, while they avoided their vices.

WHEN the great Conde commanded the Spanish army, and laid siege to one of the French towns in Flanders, a soldier being ill treated by a general officer, and struck several times with a cane, for some disrespectful words he had let fall, answered very coolly, that he should soon make him repent of it.

2. Fifteen days afterwards, the same general officer ordered the colonel of the trenches to find a bold and in­trepid fellow, to execute an important enterprise, for which he promised a reward of a hundred pistoles.

3. The soldier we are speaking of, who passed for the bravest in the regiment, offered his service, and going with thirty of his comrades, which he had the liberty to make choice of, he discharged a very hazardous commission with incredible courage and good fortune. Upon his return, the general officer highly commended him, and gave him the hundred pistoles which he had promised.

4. The soldier presently distributed them among his comrades, saying, he did not serve for pay; and demand­ed only, that, if his late action deserved any recompense, they would make him an officer. And now, sir, adds he to the general, who did not know him, I am the soldier whom you so much abused fifteen days ago, and I then told you, I would make you repent of it.

5. The general, in great admiration, and melting into tears, threw his arms around his neck, begged his pardon, and gave him a commission that very day.

WHILE the great and the rich are contrib­uting from their abundance, to the stock which supports our youth in knowledge, we come, ambitious to contribute our mite.

[Page 48]2. The education of youth has ever been considered by all civilized nations as an object of the highest consequence. But, while they have paid flattering attention to the strength, they have doubtless too much neglected the beauty and or­nament of creation.

3. Too long has the pride of man suffered female genius, like the unpolished diamond, to lie buried in its native rub­bish. A few, of every age, have broken over all restraint, and shone, as it were, with their own native light, evincive of the genius of their sex.

4. The illustrious women, both of ancient and of mod­ern days, will ever fill a distinguished page in history. The names of MACAULAY, ROWE, MOORE, CHAPONE, and others, will live as long as time shall last.

5. And how pleasing is the thought, that here on this western shore, we can justly boast of a WARREN, a MOR­TON, an ADAMS, with many others; whose talents and virtues ornament their sex, and excite emulation.

6. Happy for the fair daughters of America, the thick mists of superstition and bigotry are vanishing away; and the sun of science begins to beam upon our land, and to ir­radiate the female mind.

7. Let infant choirs, composed of male and female voices, join in praise of our political fathers, and all patrons of science. They have, doubtless, reflected on the vast im­portance of female education to a rising country.

8. They have considered how much the sons and daugh­ters of every age, are indebted to their mothers for the seeds of virtue and knowledge; that schools and colleges can but cultivate and mature the plants, which owe their origin to the seeds sown in infancy; that from maternal lips, our first accents are formed; and, that from them, our words, our actions, nay, our every thought proceeds.

9. What an argument this, that they should well be taught, from whom our virtues are, and from whom our vices may be derived! And may we not indulge an honest pride, that this metropolis has been one of the foremost in exertions to promote female improvement?

10. While the sons of our citizens are cultivating their minds, and preparing them for the arduous, important, and manly employments, which America offers to the industrious, [Page 49] their daughters are gaining that knowledge, which will en­able them to become amiable sisters, virtuous children; and, in the event, to assume characters, more interesting to the public, and more endearing to themselves than both.

11. How transporting are the prospects of America! With what justice can it challenge the reality of that pro­phetic eulogy? "Blessed is that nation, whose sons and daughters are trained to virtue, honor, and usefulness; whose schools are as broad rivers and streams. Yea, blessed is that people, whose daughters wear the robes of innocence, and whose young Elishas rise up in succession, and wear with dignity the mantles of their departed Elijahs."

12. If parents wish to guard their children against an un­due attention to external ornaments, against extravagance in dress and gaudy equipage, what better expedient will they find, than to replenish their minds with such a fund of useful knowledge, as shall enable them suitably to contemn all worthless things; to discern where real merit lies, and what constitutes the dignity of their sex?

13. Then they will not easily be captivated with glitter­ing trappings, trifling toys, and tasteless amusements; but ex­tend their views to more noble objects. What greater bar­rier against vice of every kind than useful knowledge?

14. Is it not a melancholy truth, that man too often prostitutes his boasted faculties to the destruction of female happiness? How necessary then, to fortify their minds against the attacks of such vile seducers? Blemishes in fe­male characters seldom are effaced. Not so with man. He tarnishes his name, and brightens it again.

15. But if woman chance to swerve from the strictest rules of virtue,

16. Let other nations boast a superiority in the produc­tions of fruits and flowers; "Man is the nobler growth our realms supply." And, happily, we do not limit merit or knowledge to either sex. Both, we consider, as the natur­al growth of the human mind; and sure of flourishing, [Page 50] where moistened with the dew of wisdom, and warmed with the sun of science.

17. In the dawn of life, I hail the dawn of my country's hopes! Lo, a Phenix of empire rises from the ashes of the old world! Lo, a sun, more radiant than the fountain of heat, beams from the eastern horizon, pouring its rays among the vapors and clouds, which have been gathering through centuries of nights!

18. Every natural, civil, and religious right is ours, by the legacy of Heaven. Here science has opened her treas­ures; and here liberty has erected her standard, and bids defiance to despotism.

19. With such singular advantages, we need but the active mind, the honest heart, and the diligent hand. Thus shall our schools become as pure, enriching streams; our churches flourish as the palm tree, and our land become as the garden of God.

20. While the tender hearts of those, who are enjoy­ing the advantages of school education, are offering a trib­ute of respect and gratitude to their parents, their patrons, and fathers of the town, for their exertions on this inter­esting subject, all hearts should unite in praise to our com­mon Parent, from whom are all our blessings.

21. Could the first settlers of this town now stand in the midst of you, how would they lift their hands in admi­ration! These, would they say, are the blessed fruits of our zeal, our labors and hard [...]hips. We traversed the wilder­ness in want of all things; but these, our children, are en­joying the milk and honey of the land.

22. The thought is interesting. And while we cher­ish the remembrance of our worthy ancestors, let us be emu­lous to copy their laudable examples.

23. To the pleasure derived from the anticipation of fu­ture days, under the present improved system of education, much may be added from a reflection on the past.

24. There was a time, in the infancy of our country, when less attention was paid to the early improvement of the mind. When the advantage of schooling was limited to a few, and those principally of one sex; while the other was devoted to domestic toils.

[Page 51]25. And even now, in some parts of united America, as well as among several other nations who call themselves civilized, women are considered but a little better than slaves to unfeeling parents, and to idle, lordly husbands.

26. Our lot has fallen in a more favored spot. We live in an age and country, where we see children of both sexes acquiring, at school, all the necessary, convenient, and many of the ornamental branches of education.

27. Spelling, reading, grammar and geography, they acquire at an early age. Writing and arithmetic are taught with great propriety and expedition.

28. That zeal, which seems to prevail among all ranks of people, gives encouragement to teachers; and we have a fair prospect, that, if equal exertions are elsewhere made, good and valuable learning will be disseminated throughout our country.

29. Then shall we see, from year to year, the produc­tions of American ingenuity. Our young men will be em­ulous to exceed the geniuses of the east; our daughters will shine as bright constellations in the sphere where nature has placed them.

30. "They will open their mouths with wisdom, and in their tongues will be the law of kindness. They will look well to the ways of their houshold, and eat not the bread of idleness."

31. "They will stretch out their hands to the poor; y [...], they will reach forth their hands to the needy. Their own works will praise them in the gates; and their children shall rise up and call them blessed."

32.

IS it possible, William Penn, that you should seriously compare your glory with mine! The planter of a small colony in North America presume to vie with the conqueror of the great Mexican empire!

Friend, I pretend to no glory; far be it from me to glory. But this I say, that I was instrumental in execu­ting a more glorious work than that performed by thee; incomparably more glorious.

Dost t [...]ou not know, William Penn, that with less than six hundred Spanish foot, eighteen horse, and a few small pieces of cannon, I fought and defeated innumerable armies of very brave men; dethroned an emperor, who ex­celled all his countrymen in the science of war, as much as they excelled the rest of the West Indian nations? That I made him my prisoner in his own capital; and, after he had been deposed and slain by his subjects, vanquished and took Guatemozin, his successor, and accomplished my conquest of the whole Mexican empire, which I loyally annexed to the Spanish crown? Dost thou not know, that, in doing these wonderful acts, I showed as much courage as Alexander the great, and as much prudence as Caesar?

I know very well that thou wast as fierce as a lion, and as subtle as a serpent. The prince of darkness may, perhaps, place thee as high upon his black list of heroes as Alexander or Caesar. It is not my business to interfere with him in settling thy rank. But hark thee, friend Cor­tez; what right hadst thou, or had the king of Spain him­self, to the Mexican empire? Answer me that, if thou canst.

The pope gave it to my master.

Suppose the high priest of Mexico had taken it in­to his head to give Spain to Montezuma; would his right have been good?

These are questions of casuistry, which it is not the business of a soldier to decide. We leave that to gownsmen. But pray, Mr. Penn, what right had you to the colony you settled?

An honest right of fair purchase. We gave the native Indians a variety of articles which they wanted; and they, in return, gave us lands which they did not want. All was amicably agreed on; and not a drop of blood shed to stain our acquisition.

I am afraid there was a little fraud in the purchase. Thy followers, William Penn, are said to think that cheat­ing, in a quiet and sober way, is no moral sin.

The righteous are always calumniated by the wicked. But it was a sight which an angel might contem­plate with delight, to behold the colony which I settled! To see us living with the Indians like innocent lambs, and ta­ming the ferocity of their manners by the gentleness of ours! To see the whole country, which before was an uncultivated wilderness, rendered as fair and as fertile as the garden of Eden! O Fernando Cortez! Fernando Cortez! didst thou leave the great Mexican empire in that state? No, thou didst turn those delightful and populous regions into a desert, a desert flooded with blood. Dost thou not remember that most infernal scene, when the noble emperor Guatemozin was stretched out by thy soldiers upon hot burning coals, to make him discover into what part of the lake of Mexico he had thrown the royal treasures? Are not his groans ever sounding in the ears of thy conscience? Do they not rend thy hard heart, and strike thee with more horror than the yells of the furies?

Alas, I was not present when that direful act was done! Had I been there, the mildness of my nature never would have suffered me to endure the sight. I certainly should have forbidden it.

Thou wast the captain of that band of robbers, who did this horrid deed. The advantage they had drawn from thy counsels and conduct enabled them to commit it; and thy skill saved them afterwards from the vengeance which was due to so enormous a crime. The enraged Mexicans would have properly punished them for It, if they had not had thee for their general, thou hard-hearted, blood-thirsty wretch.

The righteous I find can rail, William Penn. But how do you hope to preserve this admirable colony you have settled? Your people, you tell me, live like innocent lambs. [Page 54] Are there no wolves in America to devour those lambs? Do you expect the natives will always continue in peace with your successors? Or, if they should make war, do you expect to oppose them by prayers and presents? If this be your policy, your devoted colony will soon become an easy prey to the savages of the wilderness.

We leave that to the wise Disposer of events, who governs all nations at his will. If we conduct with strict justice towards the Indians, He will doubtless defend us against all their invasions.

Is this the wisdom of a great legislator! I have heard some of your countrymen compare you to Solon! Did Solon, think you, give laws to a people, and leave those laws and that people to the mercy of every invader? The first business of a legislature is to provide a military strength which may defend the whole system. The world, William Penn, is a land of robbers. Any state or com­monwealth erected therein must be well fenced and secured by good military institutions; or, the happier it is in all oth­er respects, the greater will be its danger, the more speedy its destruction. Your plan of government must be changed; these Indian nations must be extirpated, or your colony will be lost.

These are suggestions of human wisdom. The doctrines I held were inspired. They came from above.

It is blasphemy to say that any folly could come from the fountain of wisdom. Whatever is inconsistent with the great laws of nature cannot be the effect of inspiration. Self-defence is as necessary to nations as to men. And shall individuals have a right which nations have not? True religion, William Penn, is never inconsistent with reason and the great laws of nature.

Though what thou sayest should be true, it does not come well from thy mouth. A tyrant talk of reason! Go to the inquisition, and tell them of reason, and the great laws of nature. They will broil thee, as thy soldiers broiled the unhappy Guatemozin.—Why dost thou turn pale? Is it the name of the inquisition, or the name of Guatemo­zin, which troubles and affrights thee? O wretched man! I wonder not that thou dost tremble and shake, when thou thinkest of the many murders thou hast committed, the many [Page 55] thousands of those innocent Indians thou hast butchered, without an accusation of a crime! Remember there is a day coming when thou must answer for all thy barbarities! What wouldst thou give to part with the renown of thy conquests, and to have a conscience as pure and undisturbed as mine?

I feel the force of thy words. They pierce me like daggers. I can never, never be happy while I retain any memory of the ills I have caused!

WHEN I was a child, at seven years old, says Dr. Franklin, my friends on a holiday filled my little pockets with coppers. I went directly to a shop where they sold toys for children; and being charmed with the sound of a Whistle, which I met by the way, in the hands of an­other boy, I voluntarily offered, and gave all my money for one.

2. I then came home, and went whistling all over the house, much pleased with my Whistle; but disturbing all the family. My brothers and sisters, and cousins, under­standing the bargain I had made, told me, I had given four times as much for it, as it was worth.

3. This put me in mind of what good things I might have bought with the rest of the money. And they laughed at me so much for my folly, that I cried with vexation; and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the Whistle gave me pleasure.

4. This, however, was afterwards of use to me; the impression continuing on my mind, so that often when I was tempted to buy some unnecessary thing, I said to myself, Don't give too much for the Whistle. And so I saved my money.

5. As I grew up and came into the world, and observed the actions of men, I thought I met with many, very many, who gave too much for the Whistle.

6. When I saw one too ambitious of court favors, sa­crificing his time in attendance at levees, his repose, his lib­erty, [Page 56] his virtue, and perhaps his friends, to attain it, I have said to myself, This man gives too much for his Whistle.

7. When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly employing himself in political bustles, neglecting his own af­fairs, and ruining them by that neglect, He pays indeed, said I, too much for his Whistle.

8. If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of com­fortable living, all the pleasure of doing good to others, all the esteem of his fellow citizens, and the joys of benevolent friendship, for the sake of accumulating wealth, Poor man, said I, you do indeed, pay too much for the Whistle.

9. When I meet with a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudable improvement of the mind, or of his fortune, to mere corporal sensations, and ruining his health in the pursuit; Mistaken man, say I, you are providing pain for yourself instead of pleasure; you give too much for your Whistle.

10. If I see one fond of fine clothes, fine furniture, fine houses, fine equipage, all above his fortune, for which he contracts debts, and ends his career in prison; Alas! say I, he has paid dear, very dear, for his Whistle.

11. In short, I conceived that great part of the miseries of mankind were brought upon them by the false estimates they had made of the value of things, and by their giving too much for their Whistles.

IN 1347, the town of Calais in France was besieged by Edward III. of England, and reduced to the last extremity by famine and the fatigue of the inhabitants. John of Vienna, the governor, foreseeing the necessity of surrendering his fortress, appeared upon the walls and de­sired a parley.

2. Sir Walter Manny was sent to him by Edward, whom the governor addressed in the following words. "I have been entrusted by my sovereign with the command of this town. It is almost a year since you besieged me; and I have endeavored, as well as those under me, to do my [Page 57] duty. But you are acquainted with our present condition. We are perishing with hunger, and have no hopes of relief. I am willing, therefore, to surrender; and desire, as the sole condition, that you would ensure the lives and liberties of these brave men, who have so long shared with me every danger and fatigue."

3. Manny replied, that the king was so incensed against the townsmen of Calais for their obstinate resistance, he was determined to take exemplary vengeance on them; and would receive no terms which should restrain him in the punishment of the offenders.

4. "Consider," replied the governor, "that this is not the treatment to which brave men are entitled. If any English knight had been in my situation, your king would have expected the same conduct from him. The inhabit­ants of Calais have done for their sovereign what merits the esteem of every prince; much more, of so gallant a prince as Edward.

5. But I inform you, that, if we must perish, we shall not perish unrevenged; and that we are not yet so reduced, but we can sell our lives at a high price to the victors. It is the interest of both sides to prevent these desperate ex­tremities; and I expect that you yourself, brave knight, will interpose your good offices with your prince in our be­half."

6. Manny was struck with the justness of the sentiment, and represented to the king the danger of reprisals, if he should offer such treatment to the inhabitants. Edward was at last persuaded to mitigate the rigor of the conditions demanded.

7. He only insisted that six of the most respectable cit­izens should be sent to him, to be disposed of as he thought proper. They were to come to his camp, carrying the keys of the city in their hands, ba [...]eaded and barefooted, with ropes about their necks. And on these conditions, he promised to spare the lives of all the remainder.

8. When this intelligence was conveyed to Calais, it struck the inhabitants with new consternation. To sacri­fice six of their fellow-citizens to certain destruction for signalizing their valor in a common cause, appeared to them even more severe than that general punishment with which [Page 58] they were before threatened; and they found themselves incapable of coming to any resolution in so cruel and dis­tressful a situation.

9. At last one of the principal inhabitants, called Eu­stace de St. Pierre, whose name deserves to be recorded, stepped forth, and declared himself willing to encounter death for the safety of his friends and companions. An­other, animated by his example, made a like generous of­fer. A third and fourth presented themselves to the same fate; and the whole number was soon completed.

10. These six heroic citizens appeared before Edward in the guise of malefactors, laid at his feet the keys of their city, and were ordered to be led to execution. It is sur­prising that so generous a prince should ever have entertain­ed such a barbarous purpose against such men; and still more, that he should seriously persist in the resolution of ex­ecuting it.

11. But the entreaties of his queen saved his memory from that infamy. She prostrated herself before him, and, with tears in her eyes, begged the lives of these unhappy men. Having obtained her request, she carried them into her tent, ordered a repast to be set before them, and, after making them a present of money and clothes, dismissed them in safety.

GOD came from Teman, and the Holy One from mount Paran. Selah. His glory covered the heav­ens, and the earth was full of his praise. And his bright­ness was as the light; he had horns coming out of his hand; and there was the hiding of his power.

2. Before him went the pestilence; and burning coals went forth at his feet. He stood and measured the earth; he beheld and drove asunder the nations, and the everlast­ing mountains were scattered; the perpetual hills did bow; his ways are everlasting.

3. I saw the tents of Cushan in affliction; and the cur­tains of the land of Midian did tremble. Was the Lord [Page 59] displeased against the rivers? Was thy wrath against the sea, that thou didst ride upon thy horses, and thy chariots of salvation? Thy bow was made quite naked, according to the oaths of the tribes, even thy sword. Selah.

4. Thou didst cleave the earth with rivers. The moun­tains saw thee and they trembled; the overflowing of the water passed by; the deep uttered his voice, and lifted up his hands on high. The sun and moon stood still in their habitation. At the light of thine arrows they went, and at the shining of thy glittering spear.

5. Thou didst march through the land in indignation; thou didst thresh the heathen in anger. Thou wentest forth for the salvation of thy people, even for salvation with thine anointed. Thou woundedst the head out of the house of the wicked, by discovering the foundation unto the neck. Selah.

6. Thou didst strike through with his staves the head of his villages; they came out as a whirlwind to scatter me; their rejoicing was as to devour the poor secretly. Thou didst walk through the sea with thine horses, through the heap of great waters.

7. When I heard, I trembled; and my lips quivered at the voice. Rottenness entered into my bones, and I trem­bled in myself, that I might rest in the day of trouble. When he cometh up unto the people, he will invade them with his troops.

AND I saw another mighty angel come down from heaven, cloathed with a cloud; and a rainbow was upon his head, and his face was as it were the sun, and his feet as p [...]llars of fire. And he had in his hand a little book open; and he set his right foot upon the sea, and his left foot on the earth, and cried with a loud voice, as when a lion roareth; and when he had cried, seven thunders uttered their voices.

2. And when the seven thunders had uttered their voices, I was about to write; and I heard a voice from [Page 60] heaven saying unto me, Seal up those things which the sev­en thunders uttered, and write them not.

3. And the angel, whom I saw stand upon the sea and upon the earth, lifted up his hand to heaven, and sware by him who liveth forever and ever, who created heaven, and the things which therein are, and the earth, and the things which therein are, and the sea, and the things which are therein, that there should be time no longer. But in the days of the voice of the seventh angel, when he shall begin to sound, the mystery of God should be finished, as he hath declared to his servants the prophets.

A GENTLEMAN, being at Marseilles, hired a boat, with an intention of sailing for pleasure. He entered into conversation with the two young men who owned the vessel, and learned, that they were not water­men by trade, but silver-smiths; and that when they could be spared from their usual business, they employed them­selves in that way to increase their earnings.

2. On expressing his surprise at their conduct, and im­puting it to an avaricious disposition; Oh! sir, said the young men, if you knew our reasons, you would ascribe it to a better motive.

3. Our father, anxious to assist his family, scraped to­gether all he was worth; purchased a vessel for the pur­pose of trading to the coast of Barbary; but was unfortu­nately taken by a pirate, carried to Tripoli, and sold for a slave.

4. He writes word, that he is luckily fallen into the hands of a master who treats him with great humanity; but that the sum which is demanded for his ransom is so exorbitant that it will be impossible for him ever to raise it. He adds that we must, therefore, relinquish all hope of ever seeing him again, and be contented that he has as many comforts as his situation will admit.

5. With the hopes of restoring to his family a beloved father, we are striving, by every honest mean in our power, [Page 61] to collect the sum necessary for his ransom; and we are not ashamed to employ ourselves in the occupation of wa­termen. The gentleman was struck with this account, and on his departure, made them a handsome present.

6. Some months afterwards, the young men being at work in their shop, were greatly surprised at the sudden ar­rival of their father, who threw himself into their arms; exclaiming, at the same time, that he was fearful they had taken some unjust method to raise the money for his ran­som, for it was too great a sum for them to have gained by their ordinary occupation.

7. They professed their ignorance of the whole affair, and could only suspect they owed their father's release to that stranger, to whose generosity they had been before so much obliged. After Montesquieu's death, an account of this affair was found among his papers, and the sum actu­ally remitted to Tripoli for the old man's ransom.

8. It is a pleasure to hear of such an act of benevolence performed even by a person totally unknown to us; but the pleasure is greatly increased, when it proves the union of virtue and talents in an author so renowned as Montesquieu.

A POOR man and his wife at Vienna, who had six small children, finding themselves unable to sup­port them all, were reduced to the necessity of turning the youngest upon the public. The husband carried it reluc­tantly to the foundling hospital, deposited it in the basket which was placed near the gate for the reception of the foundlings, and anxiously waited till the arrival of the in­spector, that he might take a farewel view of his child.

2. When the inspector came at the usual time to ex­amine the basket, he perceived two children therein; ob­serving the laborer who stood at a small distance, he sup­posed that he had brought them both; and compelled the poor man, notwithstanding all his protestations to the con­trary, to return with two children instead of one, which was already more than he knew how to maintain.

[Page 62]3. His wife, as well as himself, was exceedingly de­jected at this increase of their expenses; but, unwilling to expose the little stranger in the street, they determined to use all their endeavors to support themselves and the seven children, and they hoped Providence would assist them.

4. On undressing the child, the woman found a paper sowed to its clothes, containing an order upon a banker for five crowns a month, to be paid to the person who took care of it. The good people were not a little rejoiced at their happy fortune.

5. But the story being circulated, and coming to the knowledge of the managers of the hospital, they claimed the child as their property. The laborer refused to relin­quish it, and was assisted by some persons of distinction.

6. The cause being tried in a court of justice, it was decreed, that, as the foundling hospital had at first declined receiving the child, it of right belonged to the poor man who had shown such humanity in keeping it, when he was so ill able to afford any additional expense.

IN the year 1775, a ship lying at anchor in Table-Bay at the Cape of Good Hope, was driven on shore in a violent storm, and the crew reduced to the ut­most distress and danger. Their cries for assistance were distinctly heard by the inhabitants; but at first there ap­peared no prospect of relief from any quarter.

2. The swell of the sea, which broke over the ship with the greatest violence, made it impossible for them to save themselves in boats, and highly dangerous to attempt it by swimming. Some of those, who ventured to swim to the shore, were thrown against the rocks and dashed to pieces; others, as soon as they had arrived at the shore, were car­ried back by another wave and drowned.

3. A Dutchman by the name of VOLTEMAD, who happened to be a spectator of this distressing scene, was touched with compassion of so noble a kind, and at the same time so operative, that, mounting a high spirited horse, [Page 63] he swam him over to the ship; encouraged some of the crew to lay hold of the end of a rope, which he threw out to them for that purpose, and others to fasten themselves to the horse's tail; then turned about, and carried them safe on shore.

4. This animal's natural aptness for swimming, the great size of his body, the firmness and strength of his limbs, prevented him from being easily overpowered by the swell of the sea. But, unfortunately, this generous and active veteran himself became a victim to death.

5. Fourteen young persons he had actually saved; and while endeavoring to preserve more than it was possible for him to do in so short a time, he and his horse were both drowned. The occasion of this was as follows.

6. After the seventh turn, having staid a little longer than usual to rest himself, the poor wretches on board were afraid that he did not intend to return; for this reason, being impatient, they redoubled their prayers and cries for assistance; upon which, his tenderest feelings being wrought upon, he again hastened to their relief ere his horse was sufficiently rested.

7. The poor animal, almost spent, now sunk the sooner under his burden, inasmuch as too many sought to be saved at one time; and one of them, as it was thought, happened unluckily to catch hold of the horse's bridle, and by that mean drew his head under water.

8. This bold and enterprizing philanthropist commands our esteem and admiration the more, as he had put himself into this danger for the relief of others, without himself being able to swim. The Dutch East India company caused a monument to be erected to the memory of this unfortunate philanthropist.

I THINK myself happy, king Agrippa, be­cause I shall answer for myself this day before thee, touch­ing all the things whereof I am accused of the Jews; [Page 64] especially, as I know thee to be expert in all customs and questions which are among the Jews. Wherefore I be­seech thee to hear me patiently.

2. My manner of life from my youth, which was at the first among my own nation at Jerusalem, know all the Jews; who knew me from the beginning, if they would testify, that, after the straitest sect of our religion, I lived a Pharisee.

3. And now I stand and am judged for the hope of the promise made of God unto our fathers. Unto which prom­ise, our twelve tribes, instantly serving God day and night, hope to come; for which hope's sake, king Agrippa, I am accused of the Jews.

4. Why should it be thought a thing incredible with you, that God should raise the dead? I verily thought with myself, that I ought to do many things contrary to the name of Jesus of Nazareth.

5. Which thing I also did in Jerusalem; and many of the saints did I shut up in prison, having received authority from the chief priests. And when they were put to death, I gave my voice against them. And I punished them oft in every synagogue, and compelled them to blaspheme. And being exceedingly mad against them, I persecuted them even unto strange cities.

6. Whereupon, as I went to Damascus with authority and commission from the chief priests, at mid day, O king, I saw in the way a light from heaven, above the brightness of the sun, shining round about me, and them who journey­ed with me.

7. And, when we were all fallen to the earth, I heard a voice speaking unto me, and saying in the Hebrew tongue, Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me? It is hard for thee to kick against the pricks. And I said, Who art thou Lord? And he said, I am Jesus whom thou persecutest.

8. But rise, and stand upon thy feet; for I have ap­peared unto thee for this purpose, to make thee a minister and a witness, both of these things which thou hast seen, and of those things in the which I will appear unto thee; delivering thee from the people, and from the Gentiles, un­to whom I now send thee, to open their eyes, and to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of satan [Page 65] unto God; that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them who are sanctified by faith which is in me.

9. Whereupon, O king Agrippa, I was not disobedient unto the heavenly vision; but showed first unto them of Damascus, and at Jerusalem, and throughout all the coasts of Judea, and then to the Gentiles, that they should repent and turn to God, and do works meet for repentance. For these causes, the Jews caught me in the temple, and went about to kill me.

10. Having, therefore, obtained help from God, I con­tinue unto this day, witnessing both to small and great; saying no other things than those which Moses and the prophets did say should come; that Christ should suffer, and that he should be the first who should rise from the dead, and should show light unto the people, and to the Gentiles.

MONTAIGNE thinks it some reflection upon human nature itself, that few people take delight in seeing beasts caress or play together; but almost every one is pleased to see them lacerate and worry one another.

2. I am sorry this temper is become almost a distin­guishing character of our own nation, from the observation which is made by foreigners of our beloved pastimes, bear-baiting, cock-fighting, and the like.

3. We should find it hard to vindicate the destroying of any thing that has life, merely out of wantonness; yet in this principle our children are bred up; and one of the first pleasures we allow them, is the license of inflicting pain up­on poor animals.

4. Almost as soon as we are sensible what life is our­selves, we make it our sport to take it from other creatures. I cannot but believe a very good use might be made of the fancy which children have for birds and insects.

5. Mr. Locke takes notice of a mother who often procu­red these animals for her children, but rewarded or punished [Page 66] them as they treated them well or ill. This was no other than entering them betimes into a daily exercise of human­ity, and improving their very diversion to a virtue.

6. The laws of self-defence undoubtedly justify us in destroying those animals which would destroy us, which in­jure our properties, or annoy our persons; but not even these, whenever their situation incapacitates them from hurt­ing us.

7. I know of no right which we have to shoot a bear on an inaccessible island of ice; or an eagle on the moun­tain's top; whose lives cannot injure, nor deaths procure us any benefit. We are unable to give life, and therefore ought not wantonly to take it away from the meanest insect, without sufficient reason. They all receive it from the same benevolent hand as ourselves, and have therefore an equal right to enjoy it.

8. God has been pleased to create numberless animals intended for our sustenance; and that they are so intended, the agreeable flavor of their flesh to our palates, and the wholesome nutriment which it administers to our stomachs, are sufficient proofs.

9. These, as they are formed for our use, propagated by our culture, and fed by our care, we have certainly a right to deprive of life, because it is given and preserved to them on that condition.

10. But this should always be performed with all the tenderness and compassion which so disagreeable an office will permit; and no circumstances ought to be omitted, which can render their executions as quick and easy as possible.

THE Athenians, having made war upon the Syracusians, the army of the former, under the com­mand of Nicias and Demosthenes, was totally defeated; and the generals obliged to surrender at discretion. The victors, having entered their capital in triumph, the next day a council was held to deliberate what was to be done with the prisoners.

[Page 67]2. Diocles, one of the leaders of the greatest authority among the people, proposed, that all the Athenians who were born of free parents, and all such Sicilians as had join­ed with them, should be imprisoned, and be maintained on bread and water only; that the slaves, and all the Atticks, should be publickly sold; and that the two Athenian gen­erals should be first scourged with rods, and then put to death.

3. This last article exceedingly disgusted all wise and compassionate Syracusians. Hermocrates, who was very famous for his probity and justice, attempted to make some remonstrances to the people; but they would not hear him; and the shouts which echoed from all sides prevented him from continuing his speech.

4. At that instant, Nicolaus, a man venerable for his great age and gravity, who in this war had lost two sons, the only heirs to his name and estate, made his servants carry him to the tribunal for harangues; and the instant he appeared, a profound silence ensued, when he addressed them in the following manner.

5. "You here behold an unfortunate father, who has felt more than any other Syracusian the fatal effects of this war, by the death of two sons, who formed all the conso­lation, and were the only supports of my old age.

6. "I cannot, indeed, forbear admiring their patriotism in sacrificing to their country's welfare a life which they would one day have been deprived of by the common course of nature; but then, I cannot but be sensibly affected with the cruel wound which their death hath made in my heart; nor forbear detesting the Athenians, the authors of this unhappy war, as the murderers of my children.

7. "But, however, there is one circumstance which I cannot conceal, that I am less sensible for my private afflic­tions, than for the honor of my country, which I see expo­sed to eternal infamy, by the barbarous advice which is now given you. The Athenians, I own, for declaring war so unjustly against us, merit the severest treatment which could be inflicted on them; but have not the Gods, the just aven­gers of wrongs, sufficiently punished them and avenged us?

8. "When their generals laid down their arms and sur­rendered, did not they do this in hopes of having their lives [Page 68] spared? And will it be possible for us, if we put them to death, to avoid the just reproach of having violated the law of nations, and dishonored our victory by unheard of cruelty!

9. "What, will you suffer your glory to be thus sullied in the face of the whole world? And will you hear it said that a nation, who first dedicated a temple to clemency, had found none in Syracuse? Surely, victories and tri­umphs do not give immortal glory to a city; but the exer­cising of mercy towards a vanquished enemy, moderation in the greatest prosperity, and the fearing to offend the Gods by a haughty and insolent pride, are glories far more permanent than the most splendid conquests.

10. "You doubtless have not forgotten, that this Nicias, whose fate you are going to pronounce, was the very man who pleaded your cause in the assembly of the Athenians, and who employed all his credit, and the whole power of his eloquence, to dissuade his country from embarking in this war.

11. "Should you therefore pronounce sentence of death on this worthy general, would it be a just reward for the zeal he showed for your interest? With regard to myself, death would be less grievous to me, than the sight of so horrid an injustice committed by my countrymen and fel­low-citizens."

THE Spanish historians relate a memorable instance of honor and regard to truth. A Spanish cavalier in a sudden quarrel slew a Moorish gentleman, and fled. His pursuers soon lost sight of him; for he had, unperceiv­ed, thrown himself over a garden wall.

2. The owner, a Moor, happening to be in his garden, was addressed by the Spaniard on his knees, who acquaint­ed him with his case, and implored concealment. Eat this, said the Moor, giving him half a peach; you now know that you may confide in my protection.

3. He then locked him up in his garden apartments, telling him as soon as it was night, he would provide for his [Page 69] escape to a place of greater safety. The Moor then went into his house, where he had but just seated himself, when a great crowd, with loud lamentations, came to his gate, bring­ing the corpse of his son, who had just been killed by a Spaniard.

4. When the first shock of surprise was a little over, he learned from the description given, that the fatal deed was done by the very person then in his power. He mentioned this to no one; but, as soon as it was dark, retired to his garden, as if to grieve alone, giving orders that none should follow him.

5. Then accosting the Spaniard, he said, Christian, the person you have killed is my son; his body is now in my house. You ought to suffer; but you have eaten with me, and I have given you my faith, which must not be broken.

6. He then led the astonished Spaniard to his stables, and mounted him on one of his fleetest horses, and said, Fly far, while the night can cover you; you will be safe in the morning. You are indeed guilty of my son's blood; but God is just and good, and I thank Him I am innocent of yours, and that my faith given is preserved.

7. This point of honor is most religiously observed by the Arabs and Saracens, from whom it was adopted by the Moors of Africa, and by them was brought into Spain; the effects of which remain to this day; so that when there is any fear of a war's breaking out between England and Spain, an English merchant there, who apprehends the con­fiscation of his goods as those of an enemy, thinks them safe if he can get a Spaniard to take charge of them.

8. The Spaniard secures them as his own, and faithful­ly re-delivers them, or pays the value, whenever the Eng­lishman demands them. One instance of Spanish honor cannot but still be fresh in the memory of many now liv­ing; and deserves to be handed down to the latest posterity.

9. In the year 1746, when the English were at open war with Spain, the Elizabeth of London, captain William Ed­wards, coming through the gulph from Jamaica, richly la­den, met with a most violent storm, in which the ship sprung a leak, that obliged them, for the saving of their lives, to run into the Havannah, a Spanish port.

[Page 70]10. The captain went on shore, and directly waited on the governor, told the occasion of his putting in, and that he surrendered the ship as a prize, and himself and his men as prisoners of war, only requesting good quarter.

11. No, Sir, replied the Spanish governor, if we had taken you in fair war at sea, or approaching our coast with hostile intentions, your ship would then have been a prize, and your people prisoners; but when, distressed by a tem­pest, you come into our ports for the safety of your lives, we the enemies, being men, are bound as such by the laws of humanity to afford relief to distressed men who ask it of us.

12. We cannot, even against our enemies, take advan­tage of an act of God. You have leave therefore to unload your ship, if that be necessary to stop the leak; you may refit her here, and traffic so far as shall be necessary to pay the charges; you may then depart, and I will give you a pass to be in force till you are beyond Bermuda.

13. If after that you are taken, you will then be a law­ful prize; but now you are only a stranger, and have a stranger's right to safety and protection. The ship accord­ingly departed, and arrived safe in London.

[The following Lines were composed by PHILENIA, with a design that they should be spoken by a little Girl at one of the public schools in Boston, on the annual visitation.]

REMEMBER that time is money. He who can earn ten shillings a day by his labor, and goes abroad, or sits idle one half of that day, though he spend but sixpence during his diversion or idleness, ought not to reckon that the only expense; he has really spent, or rather thrown away, five shillings besides.

2. Remember that credit is money. If a man lets his money lie in my hands after it is due, he gives me the in­terest, or so much as I can make of it during that time. This amounts to a considerable sum where a man has good and large credit, and makes good use of it.

3. Remember that money is of a prolific, generating nature. Money can beget money, and its offspring can be­get more, and so on. Five shillings turned is six; turned again, it is seven and three-pence; and so on till it becomes a hundred pounds. The more there is of it, the more it produces every turning, so that the profits rise quicker and quicker.

4. Remember that six pounds a year is but a groat a day. For this little sum (which may be daily wasted ei­ther in time or expense, unperceived) a man of credit may, on his own security, have the constant possession and use of a hundred pounds. So much in stock, briskly turned by an industrious man, produces great advantage.

5. Remember this saying, "The good paymaster is lord of another man's purse." He who is known to pay punc­tually and exactly at the time he promises, may at any time, and on any occasion, raise all the money his friends can spare. This is sometimes of great use.

6. After industry and frugality, nothing contributes more to the raising of a young man in the world, than punc­tuality and justice in all his dealings; therefore never keep borrowed money an hour beyond the time you promised, lest a disappointment shut up your friend's purse forever.

7. The most trifling actions which affect a man's credit are to be regarded. The sound of your hammer at five in the morning, or nine at night, heard by a creditor, makes him easy six months longer.

[Page 73]8. But if he sees you at a billiard table, or hears your voice at a tavern, when you should be at work, he sends for his money the n [...]t day; demands it before he can re­ceive it in a lump.

9. It shows, besides, that you are mindful of what you owe; it makes you appear a careful, as well as an honest man, and that still increases your credit.

10. Beware of thinking all your own that you possess, and of living accordingly. It is a mistake that many peo­ple who have credit fall into. To prevent this, keep an exact account, for some time, both of your expenses and your income.

11. If you take the pains at first to mention particulars, it will have this good effect; you will discover how won­derfully, small, trifling expenses mount up to large sums, and will discern what might have been, and may for the fu­ture be saved, without occasioning any great inconvenience.

12. In short, the way to wealth, if you desire it, is as plain as the way to market. It depends chiefly on two words, industry and frugality; that is, waste neither time nor money, but make the best use of both. Without in­dustry and frugality, nothing will do, and with them, every thing will do.

13. He, who gets all he can honestly, and saves all he gets (necessary expenses excepted) will certainly become rich; if that Being, who governs the world, to whom all should look for a blessing on their honest endeavors, doth not, in his wise providence, otherwise determine.

THE white bear of Greenland and Spits­bergen is considerably larger than the brown bear of Eu­rope, or the black bear of America. This bear is often seen on floats of ice, several leagues at sea. The follow­ing is copied from the journal of a voyage, for making dis­coveries towards the North Pole.

[Page 74]2. Early in the morning, the man at the mast-head, gave notice that three bears were making their way very fast over the ice, and directing their course towards the ship. They had probably been invited by the blubber of a sea horse, which the men had set on fire, and which was burn­ing on the ice at the time of their approach.

3. They proved to be a she bear and her two cubs; but the cubs were nearly as large as the dam. They ran eagerly to the fire, and drew out from the flames part of the flesh of the sea horse, which remained unconsumed, and ate it voraciously.

4. The crew from the ship threw great pieces of the flesh, which they had still left, upon the ice, which the old bear carried away singly, laid every piece before her cubs; and, dividing them, gave each a share, reserving but a small portion to herself. As she was carrying away the last piece, they levelled their muskets at the cubs, and shot them both dead; and in her retreat, they wounded the dam, but not mortally.

5. It would have drawn tears of pity from any but un­feeling minds, to have marked the affectionate concern man­ifested by this poor beast, in the moments of her expiring young. Though she was sorely wounded, and could but just crawl to the place where they lay, she carried the lump of flesh she had fetched away, as she had done the others before, tore it in pieces, and laid it down before them; and when she saw they refused to eat, she laid her paws first upon one, and then upon the other, and endeavored to raise them up.

6. All this while it was piteous to hear her moan. When she found she could not stir them, she went off; and when at some distance, looked back and moaned; and that not availing to entice them away▪ she returned, and smelling around them, began to lick their wounds.

7. She went off a second time, as before; and having crawled a few paces, looked again behind her, and for some time stood moaning. But still her cubs not rising to follow her, she returned to them again, and with signs of inexpres­sible fondness, went round one, and round the other, paw­ing them, and moaning.

8. Finding at last that they were cold and lifeless, she raised her head towards the ship, and growled her resent­ment [Page 75] at the murderers; which they returned with a volley of musket balls. She fell between her cubs, and died lick­ing their wounds.

9. What child can read this interesting story, and not feel in his heart the warmest emotions of gratitude, for the stronger and more permanent tenderness he has experien­ced from his parents; while, at the same time, he feels his displeasure arising towards those who treat with wanton barbarity any of the brute creation?

THE tragical death of an Indian of the Col­lapissa nation, (says a gentleman) who sacrificed himself for his country and son, I have always admired, as displaying the greatest heroism, and placing human nature in the no­blest point of view.

2. A Chactaw Indian, having one day expressed him­self in the most reproachful terms of the F [...]ench, and call­ed the Collapissas their dogs and their slaves, one of this nation, exasperated at his in [...]ous expressions, laid him dead upon the spot.

3. The Chactaws, the most numerous and the most war­like tribe on the continent, immediately flew to arms. They sent deputies to New-Orleans to demand from the French governor the head of the savage who had fled to him for protection.

4. The governor offered presents as an atonement, but they were rejected with disdain; and they threatened to exterminate the whole tribe of the Collapissas. To pacify this fierce nation, and prevent the effusion of blood, it was at length found necessary to deliver up the unhappy Indian.

5. The Sieur Ferrand, commander of the German posts, on the right of the Missisippi, was charged with this mel­ancholy commission. A rendezvous was, in consequence, appointed between the settlement of the Collapissas and the German posts, where the mournful ceremony was conduct­ed in the following manner.

[Page 76]6. The Indian victim, whose name was Mingo, was produced. He rose up, and, agreeably to the custom of the people, harangued the assembly to the following purpose.

7. "I am a true man; that is to say, I fear not death; but I lament the fate of my wife and four infant children, whom I leave behind in a very tender age. I lament too my father and my mother, whom I have long maintained by hunting. Them, however, I recommend to the French, since, on their account, I now fall a sacrifice."

8. Scarce had he finished this short and pathetic ha­rangue, when the old father, struck with the filial affection of his son, arose, and thus addressed himself to his audience.

9. "My son is doomed to death; but he is young and vigorous, and more capable than I, to support his mother, his wife, and four infant children. It is necessary, then, that he remain upon the earth to protect and provide for them. As for me who draw towards the end of my career, I have lived long enough. May my son attain to my age, that he may bring up my tender infants. I am no longer good for any thing; a few years more or less are to me of small im­portance. I have lived as a man. I will die as a man. I therefore take the place of my son."

10. At these words, w [...]ich expressed his paternal love and greatness of soul in the most touching manner, his wife, his son, his daughter-in-law, and the little infants, melted into tears around this brave, this generous old man. He embraced them for the last time, exhorted them to be ever faithful to the French, and to die rather than betray them by any mean treachery, unworthy of his blood. "My death," concluded he, "I consider necessary for the safety of the nation, and I glory in the sacrifice."

11. Having thus delivered himself, he presented his head to the kinsman of the deceased Chactaw; and they accepted it. He then extended himself over the trunk of a tree, when, with a hatchet, they severed his head from his body.

12. The French, who assisted at this tragedy, could not contain their tears, whilst they admired the heroic con­stancy of this venerable old man; whose resolution bore a resemblance to that of the celebrated Roman orator, who, in the time of the triumvirate, was concealed by his son.

[Page 77]13. The young man was most cruelly tortured in order to force him to discover his father, who, not being able to endure the idea, that a son so virtuous and so generous, should thus suffer on his account, went and presented him­self to the murderers, and begged them to kill him and save his son.

14. The son conjured them to take his life, and spare the age of his father; but the soldiers, more barbarous than the savages, butchered them both on the spot.

I HAVE often lamented, that they, who have taken the most pains to recommend an attention to the art of pleasing, have urged it only on the mean mo­tives of self-interest.

2. In order to attain the power of pleasing, they have recommended flattery and deceit; and though they have required in their pupils the appearances of many good qual­ities, they have not insisted on any substantial or consistent virtue.

3. It is my wish to exalt this amiable talent of pleasing to the rank of a virtue founded on principle, and on the best dispositions of human nature. I would separate it from those varnished qualities, which, like whited sepul­chres, are but a disguise for internal deformity.

4. A student of the art of pleasing, as it is taught in the school of fashion, is all softness and plausibility, all benevo­lence and generosity, all attention and assiduity, all graceful­ness and gentility. Such is the external appearance; but compare it with his private life, with those actions which pass unseen, and you will find it by no means correspon­dent.

5. You will usually find a hard heart, meanness, selfish­ness, avarice, and a total want of those principles from which alone true benevolence, sincere friendship, and gen­tleness of disposition can originate. You will, indeed, find even the appearances of friendship and benevolence propor­tioned to the supposed riches and rank of him whose favor and patronage are cultivated.

[Page 78]6. It is a favorite maxim with those who teach the art of pleasing, that if you desire to please, you can scarcely fail to please. But what motive, according to their doctrine, is to excite this desire? A wish to render all with whom you converse subservient to your interested purposes of ava­rice or ambition.

7. It is a mean and despicable motive, when made the sole and constant principle of conversation and behavior. If this life is the whole of our existence; if riches and civ­il honors, are the chief good; if truth, honor, and generos­ity, are but names to adorn declamation; then, indeed, they who practise the art of pleasing, according to the vulgar idea of it, are, after all, the truly, and the only wise.

8. But let us not think so meanly of the world and its Creator; and if our favorable opinion of things be an error, it is not only pardonable but glorious; and a generous man will say, like the noble ancient, he had rather err with a Socrates and a Plato, than be right with a Machiavel.

9. But, indeed, the virtues and the graces are much nearer allied, than they who are strangers to the virtues are willing to acknowledge. There is something extremely beautiful in all the moral virtues, clearly understood and properly reduced to practice.

10. Religion is also declared to be full of pleasantness, in that volume in which its nature is described with the greatest authenticity. It must indeed be allowed, that he who is actuated in his desire of pleasing by morality and religion, may very properly add all the embellishments of external gracefulness; and he may rest assured, that the sincerity of his principles, and the goodness of his character, will insure a degree of success in his attempts to please, which a false pretender, with all his duplicity, can never obtain.

11. If true politeness consists in yielding some of our own pretensions to the self-love of others, in repressing our pride and arrogance, and in a gentleness of sentiment and conduct, surely nothing can be more conducive to it than a religion which every where recommends brotherly love, meekness, and humility.

12. I know not how paradoxical my opinion might ap­pear to the fashionable clubs at St. James', or to the pro­fessed [Page 79] men of the world, or to the proficient in what I call the insincere art of pleasing; but I cannot help thinking, that a true Christian, one who thinks and acts, as far as the infirmity of his nature will permit, consistently with the prin­ciples of his religion, possesses qualities more capable of pleasing, than any of those which are said so eminently to have distinguished a Marlborough and a Bollingbroke.

13. The pious and amiable Mr. N— seems to me to have deserved the epithet of all-accomplished, much better than he to whom it has been so often applied; and if we may judge of his writings, and the accounts given of his life, as on the one hand, there never was a better Christian, so, on the other, there never appeared a more polite gen­tleman.

14. It is evident he derived his art of pleasing, not from a study of the world, or practising the tricks of the littl [...] worldling, but from the lovely qualities recommended in the gospel, and from an imitation of the humble Jesus.

15. They who study the art of pleasing would perhaps smile, were an instructor to refer them, for the best rules which have ever been given, to the sermon on the mount.

16. It is however certain, that the art of pleasing, which is founded on sincere principles, derived from reli­gion and morality, is as far superior to that false art, which consists only in simulation and dissimulation, as the fine bril­liancy of the real diamond excels the lustre of French paste; or as the roseate hue on the cheek of Hebe, the painted visage of a haggard courte [...]an.

17. The insincere art of pleasing resembles the inferior species of timber in a building, which, in order to please the eye, requires the assistance of paint: but the art which is founded on sincerity, is more like that which displays far greater beauty in the variety and richness of its own native veins and color.

18. A short time, or a slight touch, destroys the super­ficial beauty of the one; while the other acquires new graces from the hand of time.

19. The rules and doctrines of religion and morality tend to correct all the malignant qualities of the heart; such as envy, malice, pride, and resentment. In doing this, they cut off the very source of disagreeable behavior.

[Page 80]20. Morality and religion inculcate whatever is just, mild, moderate, candid, and benevolent. In doing this, they effectually promote a system of manners, which, with­out any sinister design in the person who possesses them, cannot fail of being agreeable.

21. If to these substantial powers of pleasing are added the last polish of a graceful deportment, the habits acquired in good company, an acquaintance with men and manners, a taste for polite arts and polite books, no other requisites will be wanting to perfect the art, and form an all-accom­plished character.

22. A man will not be under the necessity of hurting his conscience and reputation in cultivating, I know not what, of a deceitful and affected behavior. He may be at once pleasing and respectable, and grow in favor with men, without offending God.

AMONG the several virtues of Aristides, that for which he was most renowned was justice; because this virtue is of most general use, its benefits extending to a greater number of persons, as it is the foundation, and in a manner the soul, of every public office and employment.

2. Themistocles having conceived the design of sup­planting the Lacedemonians, and of taking the government of Greece out of their hands, in order to put it into those of the Athenians, kept his eye and his thoughts continually fixed upon that great project; and as he was not very nice or scrupulous in the choice of his measures, whatever tend­ed towards accomplishing the end he had in view, he look­ed upon as just and lawful.

3. On a certain day he declared in a full assembly of the people, that he had a very important design to propose; but that he could not communicate it to the people, be­cause its success required it should be carried on with the greatest secresy; he therefore desired they would appoint a person to whom he might explain himself upon the mat­ter in question.

[Page 81]4. Aristides was unanimously fixed upon by the whole assembly, who referred themselves entirely to his opinion of the affair; so great a confidence had they both in his prob­ity and prudence.

5. Themistocles, therefore, having taken him aside, told him the design which he had conceived was to burn the fleet belonging to the rest of the Grecian states, which then lay in a neighboring port; and by this mean Athens would certainly become mistress of all Greece.

6. Aristides hereupon returned to the assembly, and only declared to them, that indeed nothing could be more advantageous to the commonwealth than Themistocles' project; but at the same time, nothing in the world could be more unjust. All the people unanimously ordained that Themistocles should entirely desist from his project.

HARRY, at your request, I meet you here, and ask an explanation.

My business with you is of such a nature as needs no prologue. I demand of you in direct terms, and expect a categorical answer, whether you wrote the piece signed Horatio in yesterday's gazette?

I did.

It is said by some that your pointed satire was aim­ed at me. I next demand, whether that be true or not?

My satire was not pointed but at a vice which eve­ry where prevails. And whoever says I aimed at you, or any individual, asserts an impious falsehood. However, if you think that any part is applicable to yourself, you are welcome to receive it. Or, according to the proverb, "If the garment fits you, you may wear it."

From various circumstances, it appears evident you aimed at me. And give me leave to tell you, you have touched a tender point; I mean my honor. You have fixed a stain upon my character which nothing but blood has power to wash away. I therefore request that [Page 82] you chuse your weapon, appoint your place, and meet me before we sleep.

I am ready to fight you, boasting hero, with any weapon, and at any time and place you chuse.

Go then and prepare, and meet me here with your second, in half an hour.

Where has my courage fled? In spite of all my efforts, the blood chills in my [...]eins, and my trem­bling limbs will scarce support me. Am I a coward then? No, heaven forbid it. Shame, honor, manhood forbid it. When my country called me to the field of battle, when I faced the cannon's mouth and heard its thunder, never did I suffer a joint to tremble. Why then do I tremble now? and what gave courage in such scenes of danger? That was a righteous cause, and if I fell, I fell where duty call­ed me. If my present cause be good, why tremble? if bad, why am I engaged in it? Some secret whisperer tells me to forbear. But, ah! it is too late. I have accepted the challenge, and now I can't go back. O heaven direct me! Heaven, did I say? I have already renounced heaven. Must I perish then? No; I will have courage to be called a coward. I will refuse to fight, and hazard the conse­quence. All the ignominious epithets the world can heap upon me will never half equal the tormenting stings of a wounded conscience.

You are come in time; but where is your second, Sir, and where your arms?

Arms and a second I need not. Cannot this cause be settled on some friendly terms? Shall we presump­tuously dare to strike a blow which endless ages never can retrieve?

Coward, dastard; poor faint-hearted wretch! I despise you from my soul, and spurn you from my presence.

Had I not reasons of eternal weight to keep my temper, I fear you would stand in danger. But you have nothing to fear; for I have resolved to lay aside revenge and fly to reason. You may call me what you please, das­tard or coward. I condemn myself in terms the most se­vere, for being so weak, so base, as to accept your mad pro­posal. It is not courage, my friend, to dare Omnipotence; it is downright presumption. True courage is never to be [Page 83] found in rash adventures; nor can that be called honor which arms one friend against another in a private quarrel. I tremble when I think what a precipice I have escaped.

Edward, you have touched me in the nicest point. You have disgraced my name, and I will not bear it. My heart is fixed upon revenge, and I am resolved to have it.

If I have wronged you, the law is open; take what satisfaction that will give you.

The law seldom does justice in such a case as this.

I yield to the law, and shall be content with what­ever satisfaction that will give you. But if you are not suited with that, and still are bent upon revenge, strike at this heart; plunge your dagger into this bosom. My heart's blood shall run freely; but my conscience I cannot violate.

Go, scoundrel; if you will not give me satisfac­tion [...] the only way which honor dictates, expect to feel the [...]orsewhip, when there are none to help you, or be your witnesses.

That we defend ourselves, when we are assaulted, is nature's law. Be it known to you, I heed not your threats; nor shall I ever take one step more or less to avoid you. And if you, like a russian, attack me, and I do not manfully defend myself, then call me coward.

Edward, you must be sensible that you have injured me, and ought to make me satisfaction. I ask for nothing but what is honorable. And, since we have gone thus far, if we now refuse to fight, the world will call us both cow­ards; and who can endure it?

Is this your courage then! What, afraid to bear, for a few days, the scoffs and sneers of knaves and fools! How will you dare to meet your final Judge; to be tried by Him before assembled worlds, and then condemned to ever­lasting woe? I am not conscious of the least design to do you wrong; but this I own with shame and deepest sorrow, that I listened in the least degree to your desperate propo­sal of arming myself to shed your blood. But I now de­clare, that I hold in utter detestation, and soul abhorrence, the savage custom of deciding quarrels by murderous duel­ling.

My friend, you have convinced me. Give me your hand. I own my fault, and must acknowledge you to [Page 84] be a man of real courage. I admire your firmness, and confess that it is a barbarous custom which stamps this cruel practice with the name of honor. My friend, you have preserved my life; and language is too feeble to express the grateful sensations of my heart for such a kindness.

WHILE I regret the ill success which has hitherto attended my efforts on this subject, I am consoled with the thought that the house has now come to a resolu­tion declarative of the infamy of the slave trade.

2. The only question now is, on the continuance of this traffic, a traffic of which the very thought is beyond all human endurance; a traffic which even its friends think so intolerable that it ought to be crushed. Yet the abolition of it is to be resolved into a question of expediency.

3. Its advocates, in order to continue it, have deserted even the principles of commerce; so that, it seems, a traf­fic in the liberty, the blood, the life of human beings, is not to have the advantages of the common rules of arithmetic, which govern all other commercial dealings.

4. The point now in dispute is the continuance for one year. As to those who are concerned in this trade, a year will not be of any consequence; but will it be of none to the unhappy slaves? It is true, that in the course of commer­cial concerns in general, it is said sometimes to be beneath the magnanimity of a man of honor to insist on a scrupulous exactness, in his own favor, upon a disputed item in accounts.

5. But does it make any part of our magnanimity to be exact in our own favor in the traffic of human blood? If I could feel that any calculation upon the subject were to be made in this way, the side on which I should determine, would be in favor of the unhappy sufferers; not of those who oppressed them.

[Page 85]6. But this one year is only to show the planters that Parliament is willing to be liberal to them! Sir, I do not understand complimenting away the lives of so many hu­man beings. I do not comprehend the principle on which a few individuals are to be complimented, and their minds set at rest, at the expense and total sacrifice of the interest, the security, the happiness of a whole quarter of this world, which, from our foul practices, has, for a vast length of time, been a scene of misery and horror.

7. I say, because I feel, that in continuing this trade, you are guilty of an offence beyond your power to a [...]one for; and by your indulgence to the planters, thousands of human beings are to be consigned to misery.

8. Every year in which you continue this trade, you add thousands to the catalogue of misery, which, if you could behold in a single instance, you would revolt with horror from the scene; but the size of the misery prevents you from beholding it. Five hundred out of one thousand who are obtained in this traffic perish in this scene of hor­ror; and are brought miserable victims to their graves.

9. The remaining part of this wretched group are taint­ed both in body and mind, covered with disease and in­fection, carrying with them the seeds of pestilence and in­surrection to your islands.

10. Let me then ask the house, whether they can de­rive any advantage from these doubtful effects of a calcu­lation on the continuance of the traffic: and whether two years will not be better than three for its continuance?

11. For my part, I feel the infamy of the trade so heav­ily, the impolicy of it so clearly, that I am ashamed not to have been able to have convinced the house to abandon it altogether at an instant; to pronounce with one voice the immediate and total abolition. There is no excuse for us. It is the very death of justice to utter a syllable in support of it.

12. I know, Sir, I state this subject with warmth. I feel it is impossible for me not to do so; or if it were, I should detest myself for the exercise of moderation. I cannot, without suffering every feeling and every passion that ought to rise in the cause of humanity to sleep within me, speak coolly upon such a subject. And did they feel as I think they ought, I am sure the decision of the house [Page 86] would be with us for a total and immediate abolition of this abominable traffic.

13. In short, unless I have misunderstood the subject, and unless some reasons should be offered, much superior to any I have yet heard, I shall think it the most singular act that ever was done by a deliberative assembly, to refuse to assent to the proposed amendment. It has been by a reso­lution declared to be the first object of their desire, the first object of their duty, and the first object of their inclination.

AN Indian, who had not met with his usual success in hunting, wandered down to a plantation among the back settlements in Virginia; and seeing a plant­er at his door, asked for a morsel of bread, for he was very hungry. The planter bid him begone, for he would give him none.

2. Will you give me a cup of your beer? said the In­dian. No, you shall have none here, replied the planter. But I am very faint, said the savage. Will you give me only a draught of cold water? Get you gone, you Indian dog; you shall have nothing here, said the planter.

3. It happened some months after, that the planter went on a shooting party up into the woods, where, intent upon his game, he missed his company, and lost his way; and night coming on, he wandered through the forest, till he espied an Indian wigwam.

4. He approached the savage's habitation, and asked him to show him the way to a plantation on that side the country. It is too late for you to go there this evening, Sir, said the Indian; but if you will accept of my homely fare, you are welcome.

5. He then offered him some venison, and such other refreshment as his store afforded, and having laid some bearskins for his bed, he desired that he would repose him­self [Page 89] for the night, and he would awake him early in the morning, and conduct him on his way.

6. Accordingly in the morning they set off, and the In­dian led him out of the forest, and put him into the road which he was to pursue; but just as they were taking leave, he stepped before the planter, and turning round, staring full in his face, asked him, whether he recollected his fea­tures. The planter was now struck with shame and con­fusion, when he recognised in his kind protector, the Indian whom he had so harshly treated.

7. He confessed that he knew him, and was full of ex­cuses for his brutal behavior; to which the Indian only replied; When you see poor Indians fainting for a cup of cold water, don't say again, "Get you gone, you Indian dog." The Indian then wished him well on his journey, and left him. It is not difficult to say which of these two had the best claim to the name of Christian.

OF all the quadrupeds which have hitherto been described, the Mammoth is undoubtedly much the largest. This animal is not known to have an existence any where at present. We judge of it only from its bones and skeletons, which are of an unparalleled size, and are found in Siberia, Russia, Germany, and North-America.

2. On the Ohio, and in many places farther north, tusks, grinders, and skeletons, which admit of no comparison with any other animal at present known, are found in vast numbers; some lying on the surface of the earth, and some a little below it.

3. A Mr. Stanley, taken prisoner by the Indians near the mouth of the Tenesee, relates, that, after being trans­ferred from one tribe to another, he was at length carried over the mountains west of the Missouri to a river which runs westwardly; that these bones abounded there; and that the natives said the animal was still existing in the northern parts of their country.

[Page 90]4. A delegation of warriors from the Delaware tribe having visited the governor of Virginia, during the late revolution, on matters of business; after these had been discussed and settled in council, the governor asked them some questions relative to their country, and, among others, what they knew or had heard of the animal whose bones were found at the saltlicks on the Ohio.

5. The chief speaker immediately put himself into an attitude of oratory, and with a pomp suited to what he conceived the elevation of his subject, informed him, that it was a tradition handed down from their fathers, "That in ancient times, a herd of these tremendous animals came to the Big-bonelicks, and began a universal destruction of the bears, deer, elks, buffaloes, and other animals, which had been created for the use of the Indians."

6. "That the Great Man above, looking down and see­ing this, was so enraged that he seized his lightning, de­scended to the earth, seated himself on a neighboring mountain, on a rock, on which his seat and the print of his feet are still to be seen, and hurled his bolts among them, till the whole were slaughtered, except the big bull, who, presenting his forehead to the shafts, shook them off as they fell; but missing one at length, it wounded him in the side; whereon, springing round, he bounded over the Wabash, the Illinois, and finally over the great lakes, where he is living at this day."

GOOD morning, my dear Mrs. Friendly. I came to request your company in a walk; but I see you are engaged with a book; pray what is it?

It is a treatise on female education, which pleases me much; and will, with domestic avocations, de­prive me of the pleasure of walking with you this morning.

And what have you to do with treatises on education? I seldom read any thing, and never books of [Page 91] that kind. I should as soon think of plodding through a volume of old sermons.

I assure you, I consider the education of youth, females in particular, to be a matter of the first im­portance; and I take great pleasure in reading the obser­vations of ingenious writers on the subject. I have chil­dren, in whose welfare, I need not tell you, I am deeply interested; and their happiness or misery, their honor or infamy, entirely depend, in my opinion, on the principles and habits they acquire in youth, whilst the mind is tender, and the voice of instruction sinks deep.

But cannot children be educated, unless their parents read books on the subject?

Certainly they can, if the parents are them­selves qualified for the task. But I find it a difficult and delicate business, and therefore I have recourse to the wise and experienced for assistance in conducting it.

The assistance of the dancing, music, and drawing masters is all I require for my children. They shall indeed know something of reading, writing, and nee­dle work; but to give them a polite education and make them accomplished is my aim.

I fear, my dear Mrs. Careless, you do not distinguish the advantages, which arise from a useful rather than a polite education; since you speak with so much in­difference of the former, and with such raptures of the latter.

Pray what are the mighty advantages of educating children in what you style a useful manner? I never yet saw them.

Then you are no very strict observer. (I beg your pardon for speaking thus freely.) But surely each day brings instances of its advantages; and each day shows the mischief of a contrary mode. The kind of education I mention is that which tends to give females well regu­lated minds and agreeable manners; and render them be­loved, esteemed, and admired. For it is by no means necessary in order to this, that a young lady should be mis­tress of all polite accomplishments. They often belong to some of the most disgusting and insignificant of the sex. No, let parents form the growing mind to virtue, religion, and the calm pleasures of domestic life, at the same time [Page 92] endeavoring that cheerfulness play round the heart, and in­nocent gaiety enliven the behavior. Let the habit of self-government be early produced; for all the world conspi­ring cannot make a woman happy who does not govern her passions. Let the first appearance of stubbornness in them be checked and resisted; and let them be taught cheerful­ly to deny themselves every object of desire, inconsistent with reason, prudence, or virtue. Thus cultured, their tem­pers will be sweet and placid, and their manners gentle and engaging. If they be put under the care of tutors abroad; they will not be unteachable and refractory; and the pres­ence of their parents will not be necessary to make them behave with discretion and propriety.

Well, after their minds are thus taken care of, how would you have them further accomplished.

They should be well versed in reading, wri­ting, arithmetic, and English grammar. If their natural genius strongly led them to poetry, painting, or music, and easy fortune admitted, it should be indulged and cultivated; but by no means to such a degree as to interrupt or super­sede domestic employments. For these require attention in a greater or less degree from every woman; and unless she understand and discharge them according to her circum­stances, she is contemptible and useless.

Fine accomplishments, truly! a perfect skill in handling the broom and duster! Mrs. Friendly, if you educate your children in this way, they will be ruined; they will be strangers to the charms of dancing, dress and company. The graces will never condescend to adorn those who are accustomed to the kitchen.

My friend, I have no objection to dancing, dress and company, when they form not the chief object of solicitude and attention, and are cultivated merely as the recreation and ornaments of life, and not as the business and end of it. Be assured, a well furnished mind, a well gov­erned temper, love of domestic pleasures, and an inclination and capacity to pursue domestic employments, are the first requisites in a woman, and the foundation of her respecta­bility and enjoyment. Without these, though her graceful mien and dancing charm every eye, and her music be sweeter than the harp of Gabriel, she must be unhappy in [Page 93] herself, and a vexation and torment to her friends. Let us view a person educated in the school of dissipation, and furnished with merely polite accomplishments. Engrossed by the desire of leading a life of amusement before she can even spell a sentence, and unfurnished with just sentiments and industrious habits, she is sent to the dancing academy that her manners may become graceful. Here she sees gayer dresses than her own, which inflame with vanity and envy her giddy, unoccupied mind. She is determined to b [...] outdone by none in elegance. She disputes with Ma­ma about fashion and fine clothes; and if her extravagant desires are not indulged, murmurs and repines at her cruel fate; becomes confirmed in the detestable habit of fretting; and knows not content but by the name. A fondness for those phantoms, which lure to ruin, called pleasures, and a passion for show and parade, which perhaps through life she can never indulge, gain entire possession of her heart. All her joys are in gay parties and assemblies, where, like the butterfly of summer, she pleases by the brilliance of her colors only; which, however, is no sooner familiar to the eye, than it is beheld with indifference; yet alas! this is all the attraction which this child of vanity can boast. Maturer years steal on; her mind is so uncultivated that she is incapable of the rational pleasures of thinking and conversation; her love of dissipation and amusement grows with her growth; she sighs for new pleasures; but alas! she has so often travelled the circle, that their novelty is destroyed. With all her apparent gaiety, she is probably more wretched than the miscreant, who begs the morsel that sustains his being. If she be ever placed at the head of a family, she disgusts her husband, neglects her children, and order, peace and industry are strangers in her house. Her company is ever uninteresting or disagreeable, her name is synonimous with folly, and her memory is lost with her life.

What a picture, my dear Mrs. Friendly, have you drawn. I turn from it with horror. I assure you my chief care shall be to form my children to reflec­tion, self-government, and industry; and they and I shall have reason to rejoice in the change you have made in my sentiments.

I rejoice to hear you express yourself in such a manner. Believe me, when I say, the best fortune which can be bestowed on a child is a good education. It se­cures her honor and happiness through life, whatever be her station; and it leads her to the exercise of those noble and virtuous dispositions which are an indispensable prepa­ration for the enjoyments of the future state.

WHEN General Putnam first moved to Pomfret, in Connecticut, in the year 1739, the country was new and much infested with wolves. Great havoc was made among the sheep by a she-wolf, which, with her an­nual whelps, had for several years continued in that vicinity. The young ones were commonly destroyed by the vigilance of the hunters; but the old one was too sagacious to be ensnared by them.

2. This wolf, at length, became such an intolerable nuisance, that Mr. Putnam entered into a combination with five of his neighbors to hunt alternately until they could destroy her. Two, by rotation, were to be constantly in pursuit. It was known, that, having lost the toes from one foot, by a steel trap, she made one track shorter than the other.

3. By this vestige, the pursuers recognized, in a light snow, the route of this pernicious animal. Having follow­ed her to Connecticut river, and found she had turned back in a direct course towards Pomfret, they immediately re­turned, and by ten o'clock the next morning the blood­hounds had driven her into a den, about three miles distant from the house of Mr. Putnam.

4. The people soon collected with dogs, guns, straw, fire and sulphur, to attack the common enemy. With this apparatus, several unsuccessful efforts were made to force her from the den. The hounds came back badly wounded, and refused to return. The smoke of blazing st [...]w had no effect. Nor did the fumes of burnt brimstone, with which the cavern was filled, compel her to quit the retirement.

[Page 95]5. Wearied with such fruitless attempts (which had brought the time to ten o'clock at night) Mr. Putnam tri­ed once more to make his dog enter, but in vain; he pro­posed to his negro man to go down into the cavern and shoot the wolf. The negro declined the hazardous service.

6. Then it was that their master, angry at the disap­pointment, and declaring that he was ashamed of having a coward in his family, resolved himself to destroy the fero­cious beast, lest she should escape through some unknown fissure of the rock.

7. His neighbors strongly remonstrated against the per­ilous enterprize; but he, knowing that wild animals were intimidated by fire, and having provided several strips of birch bark, the only combustible material which he could obtain, which would afford light in this deep and darksome cave, prepared for his descent.

8. Having, accordingly, divested himself of his coat and waistcoat, and having a long rope fastened round his l [...]g [...], by which he might be pulled back, at a concerted sig­nal, he entered, head foremost, with the blazing torch in his hand.

9. Having groped his passage till he came to a hori­zontal part of the den, the most terrifying darkness appear­ed in front of the dim circle of light afforded by his torch. It was silent as the house of death. None but monsters of the desart had ever before explored this solitary mansion of horror.

10. He cautiously proceeding onward, came to an as­cent; which he slowly mounted on his hands and knees until he discovered the glaring eyeballs of the wolf, who was sitting at the extremity of the cavern. Startled at the sight of fire, she gnashed her teeth and gave a sullen growl.

11. As soon as he had made the necessary discovery, he kicked the rope as a signal for pulling him out. The people, at the mouth of the den, who had listened with painful anxiety, hearing the growling of the wolf, and sup­posing their friend to be in the most imminent danger, drew him forth with such celerity that he was stripped of his clothes, and severely bruised.

12. After he had adjusted his clothes, and loaded his gun with nine buck shot, holding a torch in one hand and [Page 96] the musket in the other, he descended a second time. When he drew nearer than before, the wolf assuming a still more fierce and terrible appearance, howling, rolling her eyes, snapping her teeth, and dropping her head between her legs, was evidently in the attitude and on the point of springing at him.

13. At this critical instant, he levelled and fired at her head. Stunned with the shock, and suffocated with the smoke, he immediately found himself drawn out of the cave. But having refreshed himself and permitted the smoke to dissipate, he went down the third time.

14. Once more he came within sight of the wolf, who appearing very passive, he applied the torch to her nose; and perceiving her dead, he took hold of her ears, and then kicking the rope (still tied round his legs) the people above, with no small exultation, dragged them both out together.

THE voice of your fathers' blood cries to you from the ground, "My sons, scorn to be SLAVES!" In vain, we met the frowns of tyrants; in vain, we crossed the boisterous ocean, found a new world, and prepared it for the happy residence of Liberty; in vain we toiled; in vain we fought; we bled in vain, if you our offspring want valor to repel the assaults of her invaders!

2. Stain not the glory of your worthy ancestors; but like them resolve never to part with your birthright. Be wise in your deliberations, and determined in your exertions for the preservation of your liberty.

3. Follow not the dictates of passion; but enlist your­selves under the sacred banner of reason; use every method in your power to secure your rights; at least prevent the curses of posterity from being heaped upon your memories.

4. If you, with united zeal and fortitude, oppose the torrent of oppression; if you feed the true fire of patriotism [Page 97] burning in your breasts; if you, from your souls, despise the most gaudy dress which slavery can wear; if you really prefer the lonely cottage whilst blest with liberty, to gilded palaces, surrounded with the ensigns of slavery, you may have the fullest assurance that tyranny, with her whole ac­cursed train, will hide her hideous head in confusion, shame and despair.

5. If you perform your part, you must have the strongest confidence, that the same Almighty Being, who protected your pious and venerable forefathers, who enabled them to turn a barren wilderness into a fruitful field, who so of­ten made bare his arm for their salvation, will still be mind­ful of their offspring.

6. May this ALMIGHTY BEING graciously preside in all our councils. May he direct us to such measures as he himself shall approve, and be pleased to bless. May we ever be favored of God. May our land be a land of liberty, the seat of virtue, the asylum of the oppresse [...], a name and a praise in the whole earth, until the last shock of time shall bury the empires of the world in undistinguish­ed ruin!

GOOD morning, neighbor Scrapewell. I have half a dozen miles to ride to day, and should be extremely obliged if you would lend me your grey mare.

I should be happy, friend Derby, to oblige you; but am under a necessity of going immediately to the mill with three bags of corn. My wife wants the meal this very morning.

Then she must want it still, for I can assure you the mill does not go to day. I heard the miller tell Will Davis that the water was too low.

You don't say so? That is quite unlucky; for in that case, I shall be obliged to gallop off to town for the meal. My wife would comb my head for me, if I should neglect it.

I can save you this journey. I have a plenty of meal at home, and will lend your wife as much as she wants.

Ah! neighbor Derby, I am sure your meal will never suit my wife. You can't conceive how whimsi­cal she is.

If she were ten times more whimsical than she is, I am certain she would like it; for you sold it to me your­self, and you assured me it was the best you ever had.

Yes, yes, that's true, indeed; I always have the best of every thing. You know, neighbor Derby, that no one is more ready to oblige than I am; but I must tell you the mare this morning refused to eat hay; and truly I am afraid she will not carry you.

Oh, never fear! I will feed her well with oats on the road.

Oats! neighbor; oats are very dear.

They are so, indeed; but no matter for that. When I have a good job in view, I never stand for trifles.

It is very slippery; and I am really afraid she will fall and break your neck.

Give yourself no uneasiness about that. The mare is certainly sure-footed; and, besides, you were just now talking yourself of galloping her to town.

Well then, to tell you the plain truth, though I wish to oblige you with all my heart, my saddle is torn quite in pieces, and I have just sent my bridle to be mended.

Luckily, I have both a bridle and a saddle hang­ing up at home.

Ah, that may be! but I am sure your saddle will never fit my mare.

Why then I'll borrow neighbor Clodpole's.

Clodpole's! his will no more fit than yours does.

At the worst, then, I'll go to my good friend Squire Jones. He has half a score of them; and I am sure he will lend me one that will fit her.

You know, friend Derby, that no one is more willing to oblige his neighbors than I am. I do assure you the beast should be at your service with all my heart; but she has not been curried, I believe, for three weeks [Page 99] past. Her foretop and mane want combing and cutting very much. If any one should see her in her present plight, it would ruin the sale of her.

O! a horse is soon curried; and my son Sam shall dispatch her at once.

Yes, very likely; but I this moment recollect the creature has no shoes on.

Well, is there not a blacksmith hard by?

What, that tinker of a Dobson! I would not trust such a bungler to shoe a goat. No, no; none but un­cle Tom Thumper is capable of shoeing my mare.

As good luck will have it then, I shall pass right by his door.

Timothy, Timothy. Here's neighbor Derby, who wants the loan of the grey mare to ride to town to day. You know the skin was rubbed off her back last week a hand's breadth or more.

However, I believe she is well enough by this time. You know, Tim, how ready I am to oblige my neighbors. And, indeed, we ought to do all the good we can in this world. We must certainly let neighbor Derby have her, if she will possibly answer his purpose. Yes, yes; I see plainly by Tim's countenance, neighbor Derby, that he's disposed to oblige you. I would not have refused you the mare for the worth of her. If I had, I should have expected you would have refused me in your turn. None of my neighbors can accuse me of being back­ward in doing them a kindness. Come, Timothy, what do you say?

What do I say, father! Why I say, Sir, that I am no less ready than you are to do a neighborly kindness. But the mare is by no means capable of performing the journey. About a hand's breadth did you say, Sir! Why the skin is torn from the poor creature's back, of the big­ness of your great brimm'd hat. And, besides, I have promised her, as soon as she is able to travel, to Ned Saun­ders, to carry a load of apples to the market.

Do you hear that, neighbor? I am very sorry matters turn out thus. I would not have disobliged you for the price of two such mares. Believe me, neighbor Derby, I am really sorry for your sake, that matters turn out thus.

And I as much for yours, neighbor Scrapewell; for to tell you the truth, I received a letter this morning from Mr. Griffin, who tells me if I will be in town this day, he will give me the refusal of all that lot of timber which he is about cutting down upon the back of cobble­hill; and I intended you should have shared half of it, which would have been not less than fifty dollars in your pocket. But—

Fifty dollars, did you say!

Ay, truly did I; but as your mare is out of or­der, I'll go and see if I can get old Roan the blacksmith's horse.

Old Roan! My mare is at your service, neigh­bor. Here, Tim, tell Ned Saunders he can't have the mare. Neighbor Derby wants her; and I won't refuse so good a friend any thing he asks for.

But what are you to do for meal?

My wife can do without it this fortnight, if you want the mare so long.

But then your saddle is all in pieces.

I meant the old one. I have bought a new one since; and you shall have the first use of it.

And you would have me call at Thumper's and get her shod?

No, no, I had forgotten to tell you, that I let neighbor Dobson shoe her last week by way of trial; and to do him justice, I must own he shoes extremely well.

But if the poor creature has lost so much skin from off her back—

Poh, poh! That is just one of our Tim's large stories. I do assure you, it was not at first bigger than my thumb nail; and I am certain it has not grown any since.

At least, however, let her have something she will eat, since she refuses hay.

She did, indeed, refuse hay this morning; but the only reason was that she was cramm'd full of oats. You have nothing to fear, neighbor; the mare is in perfect trim; and she will skim you over the ground like a bird. I wish you a good journey and a profitable job.

FEW evil habits are of more pernicious con­sequence, or overcome with more difficulty, than that very odious one of profane cursing and swearing. It cannot be expected that the force of moral principles should be very strong upon any one who is accustomed, upon every trivial occasion, and frequently without any occasion at all, to slight the precepts and the character of the Supreme Being.

2. When we have lost any degree of respect for the Au­thor of our existence, and the concerns of futurity, and can bring the most awful appellations into our slightest conver­sation, merely by way of embellishing our foolish▪ and per­haps fallacious narratives, or to give a greater force to our little resentments, conscience will soon lose its influence up­on our minds.

3. Nothing but the fear of disgrace, or a dread of hu­man laws, will restrain any person, addicted to common sweating, from the most detestable perjury.

4. For if a man can be brought to trifle with the most sacred things in his common discourse, he cannot surely consider them of more consequence when his interest leads him to swear falsely for his own defence or emolument.

5. It is really astonishing how imperceptibly this vice creeps upon a person, and how rootedly he afterwards ad­heres to it. People generally begin with using only slight exclamations, and which seem hardly to carry the appear­ance of any thing criminal; and so proceed on to others, till the most shocking oaths become familiar.

6. And when once the habit is confirmed, it is rarely [...] eradicated. The swearer loses the ideas which are attached to the words he makes use of, and therefore exe­crates his friend when he means to bless him; and calls God to witness his intention of doing things, which he knows he has no thoughts of performing in reality.

7. A young gentleman with whom I am intimately ac­quainted, and who possesses many excellent qualifications, but unhappily in a declining state of health, and evidently tending rapidly to the chambers of death, has been from his [Page 102] childhood so addicted to the practice of swearing in his common conversation, that even now I am frequently shocked by his profaning the name of that sacred Being before whom he, most probably, will soon be obliged to appear.

8. It must surely be exceedingly painful to a sensible heart, feeling for the best interests of a valuable friend, and otherwise, excellent acquaintance, to observe the person he so highly regards confirmed in such a shocking habit, even while standing in the most awful situation in which it is possible for a human creature to be placed.

9. Almost every other vice affords its votaries some pretences of excuse, from its being productive of present pleasure, or affording a prospect of future advantage; but the profane swearer cannot even say that he feels any sat­isfaction, or that he hopes to meet with any benefit, from this foolish habit.

10. Let those then, who are addicted to this vice, seri­ously consider how aggravated a guilt it is to offend the De­ity continually, without having the least shadow of an excuse for so doing; and determine at once to regulate their con­versation and conduct in such a manner as to assure to them­selves the permanent satisfaction which will result, at the close of life, from the reflection that they have erred no farther from the rules of eternal justice, than the common condition of humanity in its present state renders unavoid­able; and that they have endeavored, to the utmost of their power, to correct every error in their conduct, when they have felt it condemned by the dictates of conscience.

A MERCHANT of Provence, in France, of a most amiable character, but of narrow circumstances, met with some considerable losses in trade, and became a bankrupt. Being reduced to penury and want, he went to Paris to seek some assistance.

2. He waited on all his old customers in trade, repre­sented to them his misfortunes, which he had taken every [Page 103] method to avoid, and begged them to enable him to pursue his business, assuring those to whom he was indebted, that his only wish was to be in a condition to pay them, and that he should die contentedly, could he but accomplish that wish.

3. Every one he had applied to felt for his misfortunes, and promised to assist him, excepting one, to whom he ow­ed a thousand crowns, and who, instead of pitying his mis­fortunes, threw him into prison.

4. The unfortunate merchant's son, who was about twenty-two years of age, being informed of the sorrowful situation of his father, hastened to Paris, threw himself at the feet of the unrelenting creditor, and, drowned in tears, be­sought him in the most affecting expressions, to condescend to restore him his father, protesting to him, that, if he would not throw obstacles in the way to his father's re-establish­ing his affairs, of the possibility of which they had great reason to hope, he should be the first man paid.

5. He implored him to have pity on his youth, and to have some feelings for the misfortunes of an aged mother, encumbered with eight children, reduced to want, and near­ly on the point of perishing. Lastly, that if these consider­ations were not capable of moving him to pity, he entreated him, at least, to permit him to be confined in prison instead of his father, in order that he might be restored to his family.

6. The youth uttered these expressions in so affecting a manner, that the creditor, struck with so much virtue and generosity, at once softened into tears, and raising the youth from his humble posture, Ah! my son, said he, your father shall be released. So much love and respect, which you have shown for him, makes me ashamed of myself. I have carried this matter too far; but I will endeavor forever to efface the remembrance of it from your mind.

7. I have an only daughter, who is worthy of you; she would do as much for me, as you have done for your father. I will give her to you, and with her, all my fortune. Ac­cept the offer I make you, and let us hasten to your father to release him, and ask his consent.

WHAT a happy simplicity prevailed in an­cient times, when it was the custom for ladies, though of the greatest distinction, to employ themselves in useful, and sometimes laborious works! Every one knows what is told us in scripture to this purpose concerning Rebecca, Rachel, and several others.

2. We read in Homer of princesses drawing themselves water from springs, and washing with their own hands the finest of the linen of their respective families. The sisters of Alexander the Great, who were the daughters of a powerful prince, employed themselves in making clothes for their brothers. The celebrated Lucretia used to spin in the midst of her female attendants.

3. Augustus, who was sovereign of the world, wore for several years together, no other clothes but what his wife and sister made him. It was a custom in the northern parts of the world, not many years ago, for the princesses, who then sat upon the throne, to prepare several of the dishes at every meal.

4. In a word, needle work, the care of domestic af­fairs, and a serious and retired life, is the proper function of women, and for this they were designed by Providence. The depravity of the age has indeed affixed to these cus­toms, which are very near as old as the creation, an idea of meanness and contempt; but then, what has it substituted in the room of them? A soft indolence, a stupid idleness, frivolous conversation, vain amusements, and a strong pas­sion for public shows.

5. Let us compare these two characters, and pronounce which of them may justly boast its being founded on good sense, solid judgment, and a taste for truth and nature.

6. It must, nevertheless, be confessed, in honor of the fair sex, and of the American ladies in particular, that many among them, and those of the highest stations in life, have made it not only a duty, but a pleasure, to employ themselves in needle work, not of a trifling, but of the most serviceable kind; and to make part of their furniture with [Page 105] their own hands. I might also add, that great numbers of them adorn their minds with agreeable, and at the same time, serious and useful studies.

MISS Nancy, what child was that your aunt had in her arms this morning, as she was walk­ing in the mall?

A child! Miss Eliza; a child! You don't think my aunt would be seen walking in public with a child in her arms!

Pray, Miss, where would be the harm? I know she has a beautiful pair of twins; and I thought it might be one of them, as it was partly covered with her cloak.

No indeed—it was her lap-dog.

Upon my word, Nancy, you have mended the matter mightily! Your aunt is ashamed to be seen walking with a child in her arms; but is not ashamed to be seen carrying a paltry puppy through the streets! Pray how much more valuable is a puppy than a child?

Why, as to the real value, Eliza, I don't know but a child should be prized the highest. Though my aunt says she had rather part with both her twins than lose her dear little Trip. But, you know, she would be taken for one of the lower sort of women, if she were to lug a child about with her; whereas nothing makes her appear more like a lady than to be seen gallanting her little dog. And Trip is none of your common curs, I assure you. His mother was imported from Europe; and it is said she once belonged to a lady of nobility. You can't think what a sweet little creature he is. My aunt nursed him wholly herself ever since he was a week old.

And who nursed the twins?

They were put into the country with a very good woman. They have never been at home but once since they were born. But their mama visits them as often, at least, as once a month.

Would she be willing to be as long absent from her dear little Trip, as you call him?

O no, indeed! She would run crazy, if she were to lose him but for one day. And no wonder; for he is the most engaging little animal you ever saw. You would be diverted to see him drink tea out of the ladies' cups. And he kisses his mistress delightfully! My aunt says she would not sleep a night without him for his weight in gold.

It is very noble in your aunt to pay such attention to an object of so much consequence. He is certainly more valuable than half a dozen children. Does your aunt ex­pect to learn him to talk?

Talk! why he talks already. She says she per­fectly understands his language. When he is hungry, he can ask for sweet meats. When he is dry, he can ask for drink. When he is tired of running on foot, he can ask to ride; and my aunt is never more happy than when she has him in her arms!

And yet she would not be seen with one of her own children in her arms!

Why, that would be very vulgar; and all her ac­quaintance would laugh at her. Children, you know, are always crying; and no ladies of fashion will ever admit them into their company.

If children are always crying, little dogs are often barking, and which is the most disagreeable noise?

Oh, the barking of Trip is music to all who hear him! Mr. Fribble, who often visits my aunt, says he can raise and fall the eight notes to perfection; and he prefers the sound of his voice to that of the harpsichord. It was he who brought his mother from London; and he says there was not a greater favorite among all the dogs, in possession of the fine ladies of court. And, more than all that, he says Trip greatly resembles a spaniel which belongs to one of the roy­al family. Mr. Fribble and my aunt almost quarrelled last night, to see which should have the honor of carrying the dear little favorite to the play.

After hearing so many rare qualifications of the little quadruped, I do not wonder at your aunt's choice of a companion. I am not surprized she should set her affections upon a creature so deserving of all her care. It is to be [Page 107] wished her children might never come in competition with this object of her affections. I hope she will continue to maintain the dignity of her sex; and never disgrace the fashionable circle to which she belongs, by neglecting her lap-dog for the more vulgar employment of attending to her own offspring!

THAT Education is one of the deepest prin­ciples of independence, need not be labored in this assem­bly. In arbitrary governments, where the people neither make the law nor chuse those who legislate, the more ig­norance the more peace.

2. But in a government where the people fill all the branches of the sovereignty, intelligence is the life of liberty. An American would resent his being denied the use of his musket; but he would deprive himself of a stronger safe­guard, if he should want that learning which is necessary to a knowledge of his constitution.

3. It is easy to see that our agrarian law and the law of education were calculated to make republicans; to make men. Servitude could never long consist with the habits of such citizens. Enlightened minds and virtuous manners lead to the gates of glory. The sentiment of independence must have been connatural in the bosoms of Americans; and, sooner or later, must have blazed out into public action.

4. Independence fits the soul of her residence for every noble enterprize of humanity and greatness. Her radiant smile lights up celestial ardor in poets and orators, who sound her praises through all ages; in legislators and phi­losophers, who fabricate wise and happy governments as dedications to her fame; in patriots and heroes, who shed their lives in sacrifice to her divinity.

5. At this idea, do not our minds swell with the mem­ory of those whose godlike virtues have founded her most [Page 108] magnificent temple in America? It is easy for us to main­tain her doctrines, at this late day, when there is but one party on the subject, an immense people. But what trib­ute shall we bestow, what sacred paean shall we raise over the tombs of those who dared, in the face of unrivalled power, and within the reach of majesty, to blow the blast of freedom throughout a subject continent?

6. Nor did those brave countrymen of ours only ex­press the emotions of glory: the nature of their principles inspired them with the power of practice; and they offer­ed their bosoms to the shafts of battle. Bunker's awful mount is the capacious urn of their ashes; but the flaming bounds of the universe could not limit the flight of their minds.

7. They fled to the union of kindred souls; and those who fell at the streights of Thermopylae, and those who bled on the heights of Charlestown, now reap congenial joys in the fields of the blessed.

THE great events on which my resignation depended having at length taken place, I have now the ho­nor of offering my sincere congratulations to Congress, and of presenting myself before them to surrender into their hands the trust committed to me, and to claim the indul­gence of retiring from the service of my country.

2. Happy in the confirmation of our independence and sovereignty, and pleased with the opportunity afforded the United States of becoming a respectable nation, I resign, with satisfaction, the appointment I accepted with diffi­dence; a diffidence in my abilities to accomplish so ardu­ous a task, which, however was superseded by a confidence in the rectitude of our cause, the support of the supreme power of the Union, and the patronage of Heaven.

3. The successful termination of the war has verified the most sanguine expectations; and my gratitude for the interposition of Providence, and the assistance I have re­ceived [Page 109] from my countrymen, increases with every review of the momentous contest.

4. While I repeat my obligations to the army in gene­ral, I should do injustice to my own feelings not to ac­knowledge, in this place, the peculiar services and distin­guished merits of the gentlemen who have been attached to my person during the war.

5. It was impossible the choice of confidential officers to compose my family should have been more fortunate. Permit me, Sir, to recommend in particular those who have continued in the service to the present moment, as worthy of the favorable notice and patronage of Congress.

6. I consider it as an indispensable duty to close this last solemn act of my official life, by commending the interests of our dearest country to the protection of Almighty God, and those who have the superintendence of them, to his ho­ly keeping.

7. Having now finished the work assigned me, I retire from the great theatre of action; and bidding an affection­ate farewell to this august body, under whose orders I have so long acted, I here offer my commission, and take my leave of all the employments of public life.

WHEN the Scythian ambassadors waited on Alexander the Great, they gazed on him a long time without speaking a word, being very probably surprised, as they formed a judgment of men from their air and stature, to find that his did not answer the high idea they entertain­ed of him from his fame.

2. At last the oldest of the ambassadors addressed him thus. "Had the gods given thee a body proportionable to thy ambition, the whole universe would have been too little for thee. With one hand thou wouldst touch the East, and with the other the West; and, not satisfied with this, [Page 110] thou wouldst follow the sun, and know where he hides himself.

3. But what have we to do with thee? We never set foot in thy country. May not those who inhabit woods be allow­ed to live, without knowing who thou art, and whence thou comest? We will neither command over, or submit to any man.

4. And that thou mayest be sensible what kind of peo­ple the Scythians are, know, that we received from Hea­ven, as a rich present, a yoke of oxen, a plowshare, a dart, a javelin, and a cup. These we make use of, both with our friends and against our enemies.

5. To our friends we give corn, which we procure by the labor of our oxen; with them we offer wine to the gods in our cup; and with regard to our enemies, we com­bat them at a distance with our arrows, and near at hand with our javelins.

6. But thou, who boastest thy coming to extirpate rob­bers, art thyself the greatest robber upon earth. Thou hast plundered all nations thou overcamest; thou hast possessed thyself of Lybia, invaded Syria, Persia, and Bactriana; thou art forming a design to march as far as India, and now thou comest hither to seize upon our herds of cattle.

7. The great possessions thou hast, only make thee covet the more eagerly what thou hast not. If thou art a god, thou oughtest to do good to mortals, and not deprive them of their possessions.

8. If thou art a mere man, reflect always on what thou art. They whom thou shalt not molest will be thy true friends; the strongest friendships being contracted between equals; and they are esteemed equals who have not tried their strengh against each other. But do not suppose that those whom thou conquerest can love thee."

DEMETRIUS Poliorcetes, who had done singular services for the people of the city of Athens, on setting out for a war in which he was engaged, lest his wife [Page 111] and children to their protection. He lost the battle, and was obliged to seek security for his person in flight.

2. He doubted not, at first, but that he should find a safe asylum among his good friends the Athenians; but those ungrateful people refused to receive him, and even sent back to him his wife and children, under pretence, that they probably might not be safe in Athens, where the ene­my might come and take them.

3. This conduct pierced the heart of Demetrius; for nothing is so affecting to an honest mind, as the ingratitude of those we love, and to whom we have done singular ser­vices. Some time afterwards, this prince recoverd his affairs, and came with a large army to lay siege to Athens.

4. The Athenians, persuaded that they had no pardon to expect from Demetrius, determined to die sword in hand, and passed a decree, which condemned to death those who should first propose to surrender to that prince; but they did not recollect, that there was but little corn in the city, and that they would in a short time be in want of bread.

5. Want soon made them sensible of their error: and, after having suffered hunger for a long time, the most rea­sonable among them said, "It would be better that Deme­trius should kill us at once, than for us to die by the linger­ing death of famine. Perhaps he will have pity on our wives and children." They then opened to him the gates of the city.

6. Demetrius, having taken possession of the city, order­ed, that all the married men should assemble in a spacious place appointed for the purpose, and that the soldiery, sword in hand, should surround them. Cries and lamentations were then heard from every quarter of the city; women embracing their husbands, children their parents, and all taking an eternal farewell of each other.

7. When the married men were all thus collected, Demetrius, for whom an elevated situation was provided, reproached them for their ingratitude in the most feeling manner, insomuch that he himself could not help shedding tears. Demetrius for some time remained silent, while the Athenians expected, that the next words he uttered would be to order his soldiers to massacre them all.

[Page 112]8. It is hardly possible to say what must have been their surprize, when they heard that good prince say, "I wish to convince you how ungenerously you have treated me; for it was not to an enemy you have refused assistance, but to a prince who loved you, who still loves you, and who wishes to revenge himself only by granting your pardon, and by being still your friend. Return to your own homes: while you have been here, my soldiers have been filling your houses with provisions."

A NEW-ENGLAND sloop, trading on the coast of Guinea, in 1752, left a second mate, William Murray. sick on shore, and sailed without him. Murray was at the house of a black man named Cudjoe, with whom he had contracted an acquaintance during their trade.

2. He recovered; and the sloop being gone, he con­tinued with his black friend till some other opportunity should offer of his getting home. In the mean time a Dutch ship came into the road, and some of the blacks coming on board her, were treacherously seized and carried off as their slaves.

3. The relations and friends, transported with sudden rage, ran to the house of Cudjoe, to take revenge by killing Murray. Cudjoe stopped them at the door, and demanded what they wanted. The white men, said they, have car­ried away our brothers and sons, and we will kill all white men.

4. Give us the white man you have in your house, for we will kill him. Nay, said Cudjoe, the white men who carried away your relations are bad men; kill them when you can take them; but this white man is a good man, and you must not kill him. But he is a white man, they cried; and the white men are all bad men; we must kill them all. Nay, says he, you must not kill a man who has done no harm, only for being white.

5. This man is my friend, my house is his post, I am his soldier, and must fight for him; you must kill me be­fore [Page 113] you can kill him. What good man will ever come again under my roof, if I let my floor be stained with a good man's blood?

6. The negroes seeing his resolution, and being con­vinced by his discourse that they were wrong, went away ashamed. In a few days Murray ventured abroad again with his friend Cudjoe, when several of them took him by the hand, and told him, they were glad they had not killed him; for as he was a good meaning, innocent man, their god would have been very angry, and would have spoiled their fishing.

INDEED, Mr. Mercury, I can­not have the pleasure of waiting upon you now. I am en­gaged, absolutely engaged.

I know you have an amiable, affectionate hus­band, and several fine children. But you need not be told, that neither conjugal attachments, maternal affections, nor even the care of a kingdom's welfare, can excuse a person who has received a summons to the realms of death. If the grim messenger were not as peremptory as unwelcome, Charon would not get a passenger once in a century. You must be content to leave your husband and family, and pass the Styx.

I did not mean to insist on any engagements with my husband and children. I never thought myself engaged to them. I had no engagements but such as were common to women in high life. Look at my memoran­dum, and you will see I was engaged to the play on Mon­days, balls on Tuesdays, routs on Saturdays, and to card assemblies the rest of the week for two months to come; and it would be the rudest thing in the world not to keep my appointments. If you will stay for me till the summer season, I will wait on you with all my heart. Perhaps the elysian fields may be less detestable than the country in our world. Pray have you a fine theatre, pleasant gardens, and elegant assemblies there? I think I should not dislike drinking the Lethe waters when you have a full season.

Surely you could not like to drink the waters of oblivion, who have made pleasure the business, end, and aim of your life! It is good to drown cares; but who would wash away the remembrance of a life of gaiety and pleasure?

Diversion was indeed the business of my life; but as to pleasure, I have enjoyed none since the novelty of my amusements has worn off. Can one be pleased with seeing the same thing over and over again? Late hours and [Page 116] fatigue gave me the vapors, spoiled the natural cheerfulness of my temper, and even in youth wore away my youthful vivacity.

If this mode of life did not give you pleasure, why did you continue in it? I suppose you did not think it very meritorious.

I was too much engaged to think at all. Thus far indeed my manner of life was agreeable enough. My friends always told me diversions were necessary; and my doctor assured me dissipation was good for my spirits; my husband insisted that it was not. And you know one loves to oblige one's friends, comply with one's doctor, and contradict one's husband. And, besides, I was ambitious to be thought du bon ton.

Bon ton! What is that, madam, pray define it?

O Sir, excuse me; it is one of the privileges of the bon ton never to define or be defined. It is the child and parent of jargon. It is—I can never tell you what it is; but I will try to tell you what it is not. In conversation it is not wit; in manners it is not politeness; in behavior it is not address; but it is a little like them all. It can only belong to people of a certain rank, who live in a certain manner, with certain persons, and who have not certain virtues, and who have certain vices, and who inhab­it a certain part of the town. Now, Sir, I have told you as much as I know of it, though I have admired and aim­ed at it all my life.

Then, madam, you have wasted your time, faded your beauty, and destroyed your health, for the laudable purposes of contradicting your husband, and being this some­thing and this nothing called the bon ton.

What would you have had me do?

I will follow your own mode of instructing. I will tell you what I would not have had you do. I would not have had you sacrifice your time, your reason, and your duties, to fashion and folly. I would not have had you neglect your husband's happiness, and yo [...]r children's edu­cation.

As to the education of my daughters, I spared no expense. They had a dancing master, music master, drawing master, and a French governess to teach them politeness and the French language.

So their religion, sentiments and manners were to be learned from a dancing master, music master, and a chamber maid! Perhaps they might prepare them to catch the bon ton. Your daughters must have been so educated as to fit them to be wives without conjugal affection, and mothers without maternal care. I am sorry for the sort of life they are commencing, and for that which you have just concluded. Minos is a sour old gentleman, without the least smattering of the bon ton, and I am in a fright for you. The best thing I can advise you, is to do in this world as you did in the other; keep happiness in your view, but never take the road that leads to it. Remain on this side Styx; wander about without end or aim; look in­to the elysian fields, but never attempt to enter into them, lest Minos should push you into Tartarus. For duties neg­lected may bring on a sentence not much less severe than crimes committed.

THAT you may not be unapprized, soldiers, of what sort of enemies you are about to encounter, or what is to be feared from them, I tell you they are the very same, whom, in a former war, you vanquished both by land and sea; the same from whom you took Sicily and Sardinia; and who have been th [...]se twenty years your tributaries.

2. You will not, I presume, march against these men with only that courage with which you are wont to face other enemies; but with a certain anger and indignation, such as you would feel if you saw your slaves on a sudden rise up in arms against you.

3. But you have heard, perhaps, that, though they are few in number, they are men of stout hearts and robust bod­ies; heroes of such strength and vigor as nothing is able to resist. Mere effigies! nay, shadows of men! wretches, emaciated with hunger and benumbed with cold! bruised [Page 118] and battered to pieces among the rocks and craggy cliffs! their weapons broken, and their horses weak and foundered!

4. Such are the cavalry, and such the infantry, with which you are going to contend; not enemies, bu [...] the frag­ments of enemies. There is nothing which I more appre­hend, than that it will be thought Hannibal was vanquished by the Alps before we had any conflict with him.

5. I need not be in any fear that you should suspect me of saying these things merely to encourage you, while inwardly I have different sentiments. Have I ever shown any inclination to avoid a contest with this tremendous Hannibal? and have I now met with him only by acci­dent and unawares? or am I come on purpose to challenge him to the combat?

6. I would gladly try, whether the earth, within these twenty years, has brought forth a new kind of Carthageni­ans; or whether they be the same sort of men who fought at the Aegates, and whom at Eryx you suffered to redeem themselves at eighteen denarii per head. Whether this Hannibal, for labors and journies, be as he would be thought, the rival of Hercules; or whether he be what his father left him, a tributary, a vassal, a slave to the Ro­man people.

7. Did not the consciousness of his wicked deed at Sa­guntum torment him and make him desperate, he would have some regard, if not to his conquered country, yet sure­ly to his own family, to his father's memory, to the treaty written with Amilcar's own hand. We might have starv­ed them in Eryx; we might have passed into Africa with our victorious fleet, and in a few days have destroyed Car­thage.

8. At their humble supplication, we pardoned them. We released them when they were closely shut up without a possibility of escaping. We made peace with them when they were conquered. When they were distressed by the African war, we considered them, and treated them as a people under our protection.

9. And what is the return they make us for all these favors! Under the conduct of a hair-brained young man, they come hither to overturn our state, and lay waste our country.

[Page 119]10. I could wish, indeed, that it were not so; and that the war we are now engaged in concerned our glory only, and not our preservation. But the contest at present is not for the possession of Sicily and Sardinia, but of Italy itself. Nor is there behind us another army, which, if we should not prove the conquerors, may make head against our vic­torious enemies.

11. There are no more Alps for them to pass, which might give us leisure to raise new forces. No, soldiers; here you must take your stand, as if you were just now before the walls of Rome. Let every one reflect, that he is now to defend, not his own person only, but his wife, his chil­dren, his helpless infants.

12. Yet, let not private considerations alone possess our minds. Let us remember that the eyes of the senate and people of Rome are upon us; and that, as our force and courage shall now prove, such will be the fortune of that city, and of the Roman empire.

ON what side soever I turn my eyes, I behold all full of courage and strength. A veteran infantry; a most gallant cavalry; you, my allies, most faithful and val­iant; you, Carthagenians, whom, not only your country's cause, but the justest anger, impels to battle. The hope, the courage of assailants, is always greater than that of those who act upon the defensive.

2. With hostile banners displayed, you are come down upon Italy. You bring the war. Grief, injuries, indig­nities, fire your minds, and spur you forward to revenge. First, they demanded me; that I, your general, should be delivered up to them; next, all of you who had fought at the siege of Saguntum; and we were to be put to death by excruciating tortures.

3. Proud and cruel nation! Every thing must be yours, and at your disposal! You are to prescribe to us with whom [Page 120] we are to make war, with whom to make peace! You are to set us bounds; to shut us up between hills and rivers; but you are not to observe the limits which yourselves have fixed!

4. "Pass not the Iberus." What next? "Touch not the Saguntines; Saguntum is upon the Iberus; move not a step towards that city." Is it a small matter, then, that you have deprived us of our ancient possessions, Sicily and Sardinia? You would have Spain too!

5. Well, we shall yield Spain, and then—you will pass into Africa. Will pass, did I say? This very year, they ordered one of their consuls into Africa, the other in­to Spain. No, soldiers, there is nothing left for us but what we can vindicate with our swords.

6. Come on, then. Be men. The Romans may, with more safety, be cowards. They have their own country behind them; have places of refuge to flee to; and are se­cure from danger in the roads thither. But for you, there is no middle fortune between death and victory. Let this be but well fixed in your minds; and, once again, I say you are conquerors.

HAVING spent above twenty years of my life with you, and passed through various scenes of peace and war within that time; being personally acquainted with many of you, both in your public and private characters; and having an earnest desire to promote your true interest, I trust you will not think me altogether unqualified to give you a few hints by way of advice.

2. You are certainly a rising State; your numbers are rapidly increasing; and your importance in the political scale will be augmented, in proportion to your improving [Page 121] the natural advantages which your situation affords you, and to your cultivating the intellectual and moral powers of yourselves and your children.

3. The first article on which I would open my mind to you is that of education. Nature has been as bountiful to you as to any other people, in giving your children ge­nius and capacity; it is then your duty and your interest to cultivate their capacities, and render them serviceable to themsel [...]es and the community.

4. It was the saying of a great orator and statesman of antiquity, that "The loss which the Commonwealth sus­tains, by a want of education, is like the loss which the year would suffer by the destruction of the spring."

5. If the bud be blasted, the tree will yield no fruit. If the springing corn be cut down, there will be no harvest. So if the youth be ruined through a fault in their education, the community sustains a loss which cannot be repaired; "for it is too late to correct them when they are spoiled."

6. Notwithstanding the care of your legislators in en­acting laws, and en [...]cing them by severe penalties; not­withstanding the wise and liberal provision which is made by some towns, and some private gentlemen in the State; yet there is still, in many places, "A great and criminal neglect of education."

7. You are indeed a very considerable degree better, in this respect, than in the time of the late war; but yet much remains to be done. Great care ought to be taken, not only to provide a support for instructors of children and youth; but to be attentive in the choice of instructors; to see that they be men of good understanding, learning and morals; that they teach by their example as well as by their precepts; that they govern themselves, and teach their pupils the art of self-government.

8. Another source of improvement which I beg leave to recommend, is the establishment of social libraries. This is the easiest, the cheapest and most effectual mode of dif­fusing knowledge among the people. For the sum of six or eight dollars at once, and a small annual payment be­sides, a man may be supplied with the means of literary im­provement, during his life, and his children may inherit the blessing.

[Page 122]9. A few neighbors, joined together in setting up a li­brary, and placing it under the care of some suitable person, with a very few regulations, to prevent carelessness and waste, may render the most essential service to themselves and to the community.

10. Books may be much better preserved in this way, than if they belonged to individuals; and there is an ad­vantage in the social intercourse of persons who have read the same books, by their conversing on the subjects which have occurred in their reading, and communicating their observations one to another.

11. From this mutual intercourse another advantage may arise; for the persons who are thus associated may not only acquire but originate knowledge. By studying nature and the sciences; by practising arts, agriculture and manufactures, at the same time that they improve their minds in reading, they may be led to discoveries and im­provements, original and beneficial; and being already formed into society, they may diffuse their knowledge, ripen their plans, correct their mistakes, and promote the cause of science and humanity in a very considerable degree.

12. The book of nature is always open to our view, and we may study it at our leisure. "'Tis elder scripture; writ by God's own hand." The earth, the air, the sea, the rivers, the mountains, the rocks, the caverns, the ani­mal and vegetable tribes are fraught with instruction. Na­ture is not half explored; and in what is partly known there are many mysteries, which time, observation and ex­perience must unfold.

13. Every social library, among other books, should be furnished with those of natural philosophy, botany, zoolo­gy, chymistry, husbandry, geopraphy and astronomy; that inquiring minds may be directed in their inquiries; that they may see what is known and what still remains to be discovered; and that they may employ their leisure and their various opportunities in endeavoring to add to the stock of science, and thus enrich the world with their ob­servations and improvements.

14. Suffer me to add a few words on the use of spiritu­ous liquor, that bane of society, that destroye [...] of health, morals and property. Nature indeed has furnished her [Page 123] vegetable productions with spirit; but she has so combined it with other substances, that unless her work be tortured by fire, the spirit is not separated, and cannot prove perni­cious. Why should this force be put on nature, to make her yield a noxious draught, when all her original prepara­tions are salutary?

15. The juice of the apple, the fermentation of barley, and the decoction of spruce are amply sufficient for the refreshment of man, let his labor be ever so severe, and his perspiration ever so expensive. Our forefathers, for many years after the settlement of the country, knew not the use of distilled spirits.

16. Malt was imported from England, and wine from the Western or Canary Islands, with which they were re­freshed, before their own fields and orchards yielded them a supply. An expedition was once undertaken against a nation of Indians, when there was but one pint of strong water (as it was then called) in the whole army, and that was reserved for the sick; yet no complaint was made for want of refreshment.

17. Could we but return to the primitive manners of our ancestors, in this respect, we should be free from many of the disorders, both of body and mind, which are now experienced. The disuse of ardent spirits would also tend to abolish the infamous traffic in slaves, by whose labor this baneful material is procured.

18. Divine Providence seems to be preparing the w [...]y for the destruction of that detestable commerce. The in­surrections of the blacks in the West-Indies have already spread desolation over the most fertile plantations, and great­ly raised the price of those commodities which we have been used to import from thence.

19. If we could check the consumption of distilled spir­its, and enter with vigor into the manufacture of maple su­gars, of which our forests would afford an ample supply, the demand for West-India-productions might be diminished; the plantations in the islands would not need fresh recruits from Africa; the planters would treat with humanity their remaining blacks; the market for slaves would become less inviting; and the navigation which is now employed in [Page 124] the most pernicious species of commerce which ever dis­graced humanity, would be turned into some other channel.

20. Were I to form a picture of happy society, it would be a town consisting of a due mixture of hills, vallies, and streams of water. The land well fenced and cultivated; the roads and bridges in good repair; a decent inn for the refreshment of travellers, and for public entertainments. The inhabitants mostly husbandmen; their wives and daughters domestic manufacturers; a suitable proportion of handicraft workmen, and two or three traders; a physician and lawyer, each of whom should have a farm for his sup­port.

21. A clergyman of good understanding, of a candid disposition and exemplary morals; not a metaphysical, nor a polemic, but a serious and practical preacher. A school­master who should understand his business, and teach his pupils to govern themselves. A social library, annually in­creasing, and under good regulation.

22. A club of sensible men, seeking mutual improve­ment. A decent musical society. No intriguing politician, horse jockey, gambler or sot; but all such characters treat­ed with contempt. Such a situation may be considered as the most favorable to social happiness of any which this world can afford.

MISTAKE me not. I know how to value the sweet courtesi [...]s of life. Affability, attention, decorum of behavior, if they have not been ranked among the virtues, are certainly related to them, and have a pow­erful influence in promoting social happiness. I have rec­ommended them as well as yourself. But I contend, and no sophistry shall prevail upon me to give up this point, that, to be truly amiable, they must proceed from goodness of heart. Assumed by the artful, to serve the purposes of private interest, they degenerate to contemptible grimace, and detestable hypocrisy.

Excuse me, my dear Cicero; I cannot enter farther into the controversy at present. I have a hundred engagements at least; and see yonder my little el­egant French Comtesse. I promised her and myself the pleasure of a promenade. Pleasant walking enough in these elysian groves. So much good company too, that if it were not that the canaille are apt to be troublesome, I should not much regret the distance from the Thuillerics. But adieu, mon cher ami, for I see Madame B. is joining the party. Adieu, adieu!

Contemptible wretch!

Ah! what do I hear? Recollect that I am a man of honor, unused to the pity or the insults of an up­start. But perhaps your exclamation was not meant of me. If it were, I demand an explanation.

I am as little inclined to insult as to flatter you. Your levity excited my indignation; but my compassion for the degeneracy of human nature, exhibited in your in­stance, absorbs my contempt.

I could be a little angry, but, as bienséance forbids it, I will be a philosopher for once.—A-propos, pray how do you reconcile your—what shall I call it—your un­smooth address to those rules of decorum, that gentleness of manners, of which you say you know and teach the pro­priety as well as myself?

To confess the truth, I would not advance the arts of embellishment to extreme refinement. Ornamental edu­cation, or an attention to the graces, has a connexion with effeminacy. In acquiring the gentleman, I would not lose the spirit of a man. There is a gracefulness in a manly character, a beauty in an open, an ingenuous disposition which all the professed teachers of the art of pleasing know not how to infuse.

You and I lived in a state of manners, as differ­ent as the periods at which we lived were distant. You Romans—pardon me, my dear—you Romans had a little of the brute in you. Come, come, I must overlook it. You were obliged to court plebeians for their suffrages; and if similis simili gaudet, it must be owned, that the greatest of you were secure of their favor. Why, Beau Nash would have handed your Catos and your Brutuses out of the ball­room, [Page 126] if they had shown their unmanly heads in it; and my Lord Modish, animated with the [...] merit of the largest or smallest buckles in th [...] [...] according to the temporary too, would have laug [...]d Pompey the Great out of countenance. Oh, Cicero, [...] [...]ou lived in a modern European court, you would have [...]aught a degree of that undescribable grace, which [...] not only the orn [...]t, but may be the substitute [...] labored attainm [...] which fools call solid merit. But [...] [...]ot your good [...]ne, and I make allowances.

The vivacity you have acquired in studying the writings and the manners of the degenerate Ga [...], has led you to set too high a value on qualifications which dazzle the lively perceptions with a momentary blaze, and to de­preciate that kind of worth which can neither be obtained nor understood without serious attention, and sometimes painful efforts. But I will not contend with you about the propriety or impropriety of the outward modes which de­light a showy nation. I will not spend arguments in proving that gold is more valuable than tinsel, though it glitter [...] less. But I must censure you, and with an asperity too, which, perhaps▪ your graces may not approve, for recommending vice as graceful, i [...] your memorable letters.

That the great Cicero should know so little of the world, really surprises me. A little libertinism▪ m [...] dear, that's all; how can one be [...] gentleman without [...] lib­ertinism?

I ever thought, to be a gentleman, [...] [...]isite to be a moral man. And surely [...] who [...] en­joyed the benefit of a light to [...] which [...] [...]anted, were blameable in omitting [...] virtue [...] sys­tem.

What! superstitious too! You have [...]ot then con [...]sed with your superior, the philosopher of [...]erney. I thank Heaven, I was born in the same age with that great luminary. Prejudice had else, perhaps, chained me in the thraldom of my great grandmother. T [...] are enlightened days, and I find I have contributed something to the general illumination, by my posthumous letters.

Boast not of them. Remember you were a father.

And did I not endeavor most effectually to serve my son, by pointing out the qualifications necessary for a foreign ambassador, for which department I always designed him? Few fathers have taken more pains to accomplish a son than myself. There was nothing I did not condescend to point out to him.

True; your condescension was great indeed. You were the pander of your son. You not only taught him the mean arts of dissimulation, the petty tricks which degrade nobility; but you corrupted his principles, fomented his passions, and even pointed out objects for their gratification. You might have left the task of teaching him fashionable vice, to a vicious world. Example, and the corrupt af­fections of human nature, will ever be capable of accom­plishing this unnatural purpose. But a parent, the guardian appointed by nature for an uninstructed offspring introduced into a dangerous world, who himself takes upon him the office of seduction, is a monster indeed. I also had a son. I was tenderly solicitous for the right conduct of his education. I entrusted him indeed to Cratippus at Athens; but, like you, I could not help transmitting instructions dic­tated by paternal love. Those instructions are contained in my book of Offices, a book which has ever been cited by the world as a proof, to what a height the morality of the heathens was advanced without the light of revelation. I own, I feel a conscious pride in it; not on account of the ability which it may display, but for the principles it teach­es, and the good, I flatter myself, it has diffused. You did not indeed intend your instructions for the world; but as you gave them to a son you loved, it may be concluded that you thought them true wisdom, and withheld them on­ly because they were contrary to the professions of the un­enlightened. They have been generally read; and their uniform tendency has been to introduce vice and immo­rality.

Spare me, Cicero. I have never been accustom­ed to the rough conversation of an old Roman. I feel myself little in his company. I seem to shrink in his noble presence. I never felt my insignificance so forcibly as now. French philosophers and French courtiers have been my [Page 128] models; and amid the dissipation of pleasure, and the hur­ry of affected vivacity, I never considered the gracefulness of virtue, and the beauty of an open, sincere and manly character.

THE Elephant is not only the most tractable, but the most intelligent of animals; sensible of benefits, re­sentful of injuries, and endued even with a sense of glory.

2. In India, they were once employed in the launching of ships. One was directed to force a very large ship into the water; the work proved superior to his strength; his master, with a sarcastic tone, bid the keeper take away this lazy beast and bring another; the poor animal instantly re­peated his efforts, fractured his skull, and died on the spot.

3. In Delhi, an elephant passing along the streets put his trunk into a taylor's shop, where several people were at work; one of them pricked the end of it with a needle; the beast passed on; but, in the next dirty puddle, filled his trunk with water, returned to the shop, and spurting ev­ery drop among the people who had offended him, spoiled their work.

4. An elephant in Adsmeer, which often passed through the market, as he went by a certain herb woman, always received from her a mouthful of greens. At length he was seized with one of his periodical fits of rage, broke his fet­ters, and running through the market, put the crowd to flight; among others, this woman, who, in her haste, for­got a little child she had brought with her.

5. The animal recollecting the spot where his benefac­tress was wont to sit, took up the infant gently in his trunk, and placed it in safety on a stall before a neighboring house. Another, in his madness, killed his governor; the wife see­ing the misfortune, took her two children and flung them before the elephant, saying, "Now you have destroyed their father, you may as well put an end to their lives and mine."

6. He instantly stopped, relented, took the greatest of the children, placed it on his neck, adopted it for his cor­nac [Page 129] or governor, and never afterwards would permit any body else to mount him.

7. A soldier at Pondicherry, who was accustomed, whenever he received the portion that came to his share, to carry a certain quantity of it to one of these animals, having one day drank rather too freely, and finding himself pur­sued by the guards, who were going to take him to prison, took refuge under the elephant's body, and fell asleep.

8. In vain did the guard try to force him from this asylum, as the elephant protected him with his trunk. The next morning the soldier recovering from his drunken fit, shuddered with horror to find himself stretched under the belly of this huge animal.

9. The elephant, which without doubt perceived the man's embarrassment, caressed him with his trunk, in order to inspire him with courage, and make him understand that he might now depart in safety.

10. A painter was desirous of drawing the elephant which was kept in the menagerie at Versailles in an uncommon at­titude, which was that of holding his trunk raised up in the air with his mouth open. The painter's boy, in order to keep the animal in this posture, threw fruit into his mouth.

11. But, as the lad frequently deceived him, and made an offer only of throwing him the fruit, he grew angry; and, as if he had known that the painter's intention of draw­ing him was the cause of the affront that was offered him, instead of revenging himself on the lad, he turned his re­sentment on the master, and taking up a quantity of water in his trunk, threw it on the paper on which the painter was drawing, and spoiled it.

I WAS unwilling to interrupt the course of this debate while it was carried on with calmness and decency, by men who do not suffer the ardor of opposition to cloud [Page 130] their reason, or transport them to such expressions as the dignity of this assembly does not admit.

2. I have hitherto deferred to answer the gentleman who declaimed against the bill with such fluency of rhetoric, and such vehemence of gesture; who charged the advocates for the expedients now proposed, with having no regard to any interost but their own, and with making laws only to consume paper; and threatened them with the defection of their adherents, [...] the loss of their influence, upon this new discovery of [...]eir folly and ignorance.

3. Nor, Sir, do I now answer him for any other pur­pose than to remind him how little the clamors of rage, and petulancy of invective, contribute to the purposes for which this assembly is called together; how little the discovery of truth is promoted, and the security of the nation established by pompous diction and theatrical emotions.

4. Formidable sounds and furious declamations, confi­dent assertions, and lofty periods, may affect the young and unexperienced; and perhaps the gentleman may have con­tracted his habits of oratory by conversing more with those of his own age than with such as have had more opportu­nities of acquiring knowledge, and more successful methods of communicating their sentiments.

5. If the heat of his temper, Sir, would suffer him to attend to those whose age and long acquaintance with bu­siness give them an indisputable right to deference and su­periority, he would learn, in time, to reason rather than de­claim, and to prefer justness of argument, and an accurate knowledge of facts, to sounding epithets and splendid super­latives, which may disturb the imagination for a moment, but leave no lasting impression on the mind.

6. He will learn, Sir, that to accuse and prove are ve­ry different, and that reproaches, unsupported by evidence, affect only the character of him who utters them. Excur­sions of fancy and flights of oratory are indeed pardonable in young men, but in no other; and it would surely con­tribute more, even to the purpose for which some gentle­men appear to speak; that of depreciating the conduct of the administration, to prove the inconveniences and injustice of this bill, than barely to assert them, with whatever mag­nificence of language or appearance of zeal, honesty, or compassion.

THE atrocious crime of being a young man, which the honorable gentleman has, with such spirit and decency, charged upon me, I shall neither attempt to palliate nor deny; but content myself with wishing, that I may be one of those whose follies may cease with their youth, and not of that number who are ignorant in spite of experience.

2. Whether youth can be imputed to any man as a re­proach, I will not, Sir, assume the province of determin­ing; but surely age may become justly contemptible, if the opportunities which it brings have passed away without im­provement, and vice appears to prevail, when the passions have subsided.

3. The wretch, who, after having seen the consequences of a thousand errors, continues still to blunder, and whose age has only added obstinacy to stupidity, is surely the object of either abhorrence or contempt, and deserves not that his grey head should secure him from insults.

4. Much more, Sir, is he to be abhorred, who, as he has advanced in age, has receded from virtue, and becomes more wicked with less temptation; who prostitutes himself for money which he cannot enjoy, and spends the remains of his life in the ruin of his country.

5. But youth, Sir, is not my only crime; I have been accused of acting a theatrical part. A theatrical part may either imply some peculiarities of gesture, or a dissimula­tion of my real sentiments, and an adoption of the opin­ions and language of another man.

6. In the first sense, Sir, the charge is too trifling to be confuted, and deserves only to be mentioned that it may be despised. I am at liberty, like every other man, to use my own language; and though I may perhaps have some am­bition to please this gentleman, I shall not lay myself under any restraint, not very solicitously copy his diction or his mien, however matured by age, or modelled by experience.

[Page 132]7. If any man shall, by charging me with theatrical be­havior, imply, that I utter any sentiments but my own, I shall treat him as a calumniator and a villain; nor shall any pro­tection shelter him from the treatment which he deserves.

8. I shall, on such an occasion, without scruple, trample upon all those forms with which wealth and dignity en­trench themselves; nor shall any thing but age restrain my resentment. Age, which always brings one privilege, that of being insolent and supercilious without punishment.

9. But with regard, Sir, to those whom I have offended, I am of opinion, that if I had acted a borrowed part, I should have avoided their censure. The heat which offend­ed them is the ardor of conviction, and that zeal for the service of my country, which neither hope nor fear shall influence me to suppress.

10. I will not sit unconcerned while my liberty is inva­ded, nor look in silence upon public robbery. I will exert my endeavors, at whatever hazard, to repel the aggressor and drag the thief to justice, whoever may protect them in their villany, and whoever may partake of their plunder.

THE following relation proves, that incidents somewhat similar to those in the times of Jacob are still re­newed in Egypt. In 1776, the plains of Syria were rav­aged by clouds of locusts, which devoured the corn to the very root.

2. A famine followed, and a farmer near Damascus felt the effects of the general distress. To supply the wants of a numerous family, he sold his cattle; which resource being soon exhausted, the unhappy father, wretched at present, but foreseeing greater wretchedness to come, pressed by hun­ger, sold his instruments of husbandry at Damascus.

3. Led by the invisible hand of Providence, as formerly Tobias was by the angel, while he bargained for corn, lately arrived from Damietta, he heard speak of the success of Mourad Bey, who had entered Grand Cairo victorious, and in triumph.

[Page 133]4. The shape, character, and origin of the warrior were described, and how he had risen from slavery to power su­preme. The astonished farmer found the description ac­corded with a son, who had been stolen from him at twelve years old; hope palpitated in his heart, he hastened home with his provisions, told his family what he had heard, and determined immediately to depart for Egypt.

5. His weeping wife and sons offered up prayers for his safe return. Going to the port of Alexandretta, he em­barked there, and came to Damietta. One continued fear tormented him; his son, forsaking the religion of his fa­thers, had embraced Mahometanism; and now, surrounded as he was by splendor, would be acknowledge his parents?

6. The thought lay heavy on his heart; yet, the wish to snatch his family from all the horrors of famine; the hope of finding a long lamented son, gave him fortitude. He continued his journey, came to the capital, repaired to the palace of Mourad, applied to the officers of the prince, and most ardently solicited admission.

7. His dress and appearance bespoke poverty and mis­fortune, and were poor recommendations; but his great age, so respectable in the East, pleaded in his behalf. One of the attendants went to the B [...]y, and told him an aged man, apparently miserable, requested an audience.

8. Let him enter, replied Mourad; and the farmer proceeded, with trembling steps, over the rich carpet which bespread the hall of the Divan, and approached the Bey, who reclined on a sofa, embroidered with silk and gold. Crouding sensations deprived him of the use of speech.

9. At last, after attentively looking, the voice of nature vanquishing fear, he fell, and embracing his knees, exclaim­ed, You are my son! The Bey raised him, endeavored to recollect, and, after explanation, finding him to be his fa­ther, made him sit down by his side, and caressed him most affectionately.

10. The first gush of nature over, the sire described in what a deplorable state he had left his mother, and breth­ren, and the prince proposed to send for, and with them divide his riches and power, if they would embrace Islamism.

11. This the generous Christian had foreseen, and fearing youth might be dazzled, took not one of his sons [Page 134] with him. He, therefore, firmly rejected Mourad's offer, and even remonstrated with him on his own change of re­ligion.

12. The Bey, finding his father determined, and that his family's distress demanded immediate succor, sent him back to Syria, with a large sum of money, and a vessel load­ed with corn. The happy husbandman immediately re­turned to the plains of Damascus, where his arrival banish­ed misery and tears from his homely roof, and brought joy, ease, and felicity.

REAL goodness consists in doing good to our enemies. Of this truth the following apologue may serve for an illustration. A certain father of a family, ad­vanced in years, being desirous of settling his worldly mat­ters, divided his property between his three sons.

2. Nothing now remains, said he to them, but a dia­mond of great value; this I have determined to appropriate to whichever of you shall, within three months, perform the best actions.

3. His three sons accordingly departed different ways, and returned by the limited time. On presenting them­selves before their judge, the eldest thus began.

4. Father, said he, during my absence, I found a stranger so circumstanced, that he was under a necessity of entrusting me with the whole of his fortune.

5. He had no written security from me, nor could he possibly bring any proof, any evidence whatever of the de­posit. Yet I faithfully returned to him every shilling. Was there not something commendable in this action?

6. Thou hast done what was incumbent upon thee to do, my son, replied the old man. The man who could have acted otherways were unworthy to live; for honesty is a duty; thy action is an action of justice, not of goodness.

[Page 138]7. On this, the second son advanced. In the course of my travels, said he, I came to a lake in which I beheld a child struggling with death; I plunged into it and saved his life in the presence of a number of the neighboring villagers, all of whom can attest the truth of what I assert.

8. It was well done (interrupted the old man); you have only obeyed the dictates of humanity. At length the youngest of the three came forward.

9. I happened, said he, to meet my mortal enemy, who having bewildered himself in the dead of night, had imper­ceptibly fallen asleep upon the brink of a frightful precipice. The least motion would infallibly have plunged him head­long into the abyss; and though his life was in my hands, yet with every necessary precaution, I awaked him, and remo­ved him from his danger.

10. Ah, my son! exclaimed the venerable good man with transport, while he pressed him to his heart; to thee belongs the diamond; well hast thou deserved it.

THERE is no point on the surface of this globe, which unites so many awful and sublime objects, as the summit of mount Aetna. The immense elevation from the surface of the earth, drawn as it were to a single point, without any neighboring mountain for the senses and imagi­nation to rest upon, and recover from their astonishment in their way down to the world:

2. This point or pinnacle, raised on the brink of a bot­tomless gulph, as old as the world, often discharging rivers of fire, and throwing out burning rocks, with a noise which shakes the whole island:

3. Add to this, the unbounded extent of the prospect, comprehending the greatest diversity, and the most beautiful scenery in nature; with the rising sun, advancing in the East, to illuminate the wondrous scene.

4. The whole atmosphere by degrees kindled up, and showed dimly and faintly the boundless prospect around. Both sea and land looked dark and confused, as if only [Page 139] emerging from their original chaos; and light and dark­ness seemed still undivided; till the morning, by degrees advancing, completed the separation.

5. The stars are extinguished, and the shades disappear. The forests, which but now seemed black and bottomless gulphs, from whence no ray was reflected to show their form or colors, appear a new creation rising to the sight, catching life and beauty from every increasing beam.

6. The scene still enlarges, and the horizon seems to widen and expand itself on all sides; till the sun, like the great Creator, appears in the East, and with his plastic ray completes the mighty scene.

7. All appears enchantment; and it is with difficulty we can believe we are still on earth. The senses, unac­customed to the sublimity of such a scene, are bewildered and confounded; and it is not till after some time, that they are capable of separating and judging of the objects which compose it.

8. The body of the sun is seen rising from the ocean, immense tracts both of sea and land intervening; the islands of Lipari, Panari, Alicudi, Strombolo, and Volca­no, with their smoking summits, appear under your feet; and you look down on the whole of Sicily as on a map; and can trace every river through all its windings, from its source to its mouth.

9. The view is absolutely boundless on every side; nor is there any one object within the circle of vision, to inter­rupt it; so that the sight is every where lost in the im­mensity.

10. The circumference of the visible horizon on the top of Aetna cannot be less than 2000 miles. At Malta, which is nearly 200 miles distant, they perceive all the ir­ruptions from the second region; and that island is often discovered from about one half of the elevation of the mountain; so that at the whole elevation, the horizon must extend to nearly double that distance.

11. But this is by much too vast for our senses, not intended to grasp so boundless a scene. I find by some of the Sicilian authors, that the African coast, as well as that of Nap [...]es, with many of its islands, has been discovered from the top of Aetna. Of this, however, we cannot boast, though we can very well believe it.

[Page 140]12. But the most beautiful part of the scene is certainly the mountain itself, the island of Sicily, and the numerous islands lying round it. All these, by a kind of magic in vis­ion, seem as if they were brought close round the skirts of Aetna; the distances appearing reduced to nothing.

13. The present crater of the volcano is a circle of about three miles and a half in circumference. It goes shelving down on each side, and forms a regular hollow, like a vast amphitheatre.

14. From many places of this space, issue volumes of smoke, which, being much heavier than the circumambient air, instead of rising in it, as smoke generally does, rolls down the side of the mountain like a torrent, till coming to that part of the atmosphere of the same specific gravity with itself, it shoots off horizontally, and forms a large tract in the air, according to the direction of the wind.

15. The crater is so hot, that it is very dangerous, if not impossible to go down into it. Besides, the smoke is very incommodious; and, in many places, the surface is so soft, that there have been instances of people's sinking down into it, and paying for their temerity with their lives.

16. Near the centre of the crater is the great mouth of the volcano. And when we reflect on the immensity of its depth, the vast caverns whence so many lavas have issu­ed; the force of its internal fire, sufficient to raise up those lavas to so great a height; the boiling of the matter, the shaking of the mountain, the explosions of flaming rocks, &c. we must allow, that the most enthusiastic imagination, in the midst of all its terrors, can hardly form an idea more dreadful.

TOM, when are you going to begin your dancing? You will be so old in a short time as to be ashamed to be seen taking your five positions.

I don't know as I shall begin at all. Father says he don't care a fig whether I learn to jump any better [Page 141] than I do now; and, as I am to be a tradesman, he is de­termined, at present, to keep me at the reading and writing schools.

That must be very dull and dry for you. And what good will all such learning do you, so long as you make the awkward appearance you do at present. I am sur­prized at your father [...]s folly. So, because you are to be a tradesman, you are not to learn the graces! I expect to learn a trade too. But my papa says I shall first learn the dancing trade; and then, if I never learn any other, I shall make my way through the world well enough.

I don't know which discovers the most folly your father or mine. Old folks certainly know more than young ones; and my father is much the oldest man.

I don't believe that doctrine. There's Jack Up­start knows more than his father and mother both. And he is but nineteen yet. And he says the present generation, under five and twenty years of age, knows more than fif­teen generations that have gone before us.

I don't know how that is. But father early taught me this proverb, "Young folks think old folks are foo [...]s; but old folks know young ones to be so." But to return to schools.—Pray how far have you gone in your arithmetic?

Arithmetic! I have not begun that yet; nor shall I till I have completed dancing. That is a nurly study; I know I never shall like it.

Writing I suppose you are fond of.

I can't say I am, Tom. I once had a tolerable fondness for it. But since I began dancing, I have held it in utter contempt. It may be well enough for a person to write a legible hand; but it is no mark of a gentleman to write elegantly.

You would have a gentleman spell well I suppose.

I would have him spell so well as to be understood; and that is enough for any man.

What say you to grammar, and geography?

Don't name them, I entreat you. There is noth­ing I so much abhor, as to hear your learned school boys jabbering over their nouns, their pronouns, their werbs, their parables, their congregations, their imperfections, and [Page 142] confluctions. I'll tell you what, Tom, I had rather be master of one hornpipe, than to understand all the gram­mars which have been published since the art of printing was discovered.

I am sorry, friend Harry, to hear you speak so contemptuously of the solid sciences. I hope you don't mean to neglect them entirely. If you do, you must ex­pect to live in poverty; and die, the scorn and derision of all wise men.

Never fear that, Tom. I shall take care of my­self, I warrant you. You are much mistaken in your prog­nostications. Why, there's Tim Fiddlefaddle—he can't even write his name; and as for reading, he scarcely knows B from a broomstick; and yet he can dance a minuet with any master of the art in Christendom. And the ladies all love him dearly. He is invited to their balls, routs, as­semblies, card-parties, &c. &c. and he diverts them like any monkey.

And does he expect it will be the same through life? How is he to be maintained when he becomes old? and how is he to amuse himself after he is unable to dance; as you say he can neither read nor write?

Why, in fact, I never thought of these things before. I confess there appears to be some weight in these queries. I don't know but it will be best for me to spare a day or two in a week from my dancing, to attend to the branches you are pursuing.

You will make but little progress in that way. My master always told me that the solid sciences ought to be secured first; and that dancing might come in by the bye. He says when his scholars have once entered the dancing school, their heads, in general, are so full of balls, assemblies, minuets and cotillions, that he never can find much room for any thing else.

I will still maintain it, notwithstanding all you can say in favor of your solid sciences, as you call them, that the art of dancing is the art of all arts. It will, of itself, carry a man to the very pinnacle of fame. Whereas, without it, all your writing, arithmetic, grammar, and geography, will not raise one above the common level of a clown.

I am no enemy to dancing, I assure you, friend Harry. It is an accomplishment suitable enough for those to learn who expect to have but little else to do. But for you and me, who are destined to get our living by some me­chanical profession, there are doubtless many pursuits more advantageous. I think we ought to employ but a very small part of our time, in learning to dance. We will suppose, for instance, that you learn the trade of a carpenter, I would ask you, if it would not be necessary to understand figures; so that you might be able to keep your own accounts; and so much geometry as to be able to measure heights and dis­tances, superficies and solids? Would it not be very conve­nient to know a little of history, in order to acquaint your­self with the various orders of architecture, and where they had their origin? If you were shown a picture of St. Pe­ter's Church, or a plan of Grand Cairo, would you not like to know enough of geography to tell in what part of the world they are situated?

These are subjects which cousin Tim says never are agitated in the fashionable circles which he visits. And so I bid you good bye.

AMERICANS! let us pause for a moment to consider the situation of our country, at that eventful day when our national existence commenced. In the full pos­session and enjoyment of all those prerogatives for which you then dared to adventure upon "all the varieties of untried being," the calm and settled moderation of the mind is scarcely competent to conceive the tone of heroism, to which the souls of freemen were exalted in that hour of perilous magnanimity.

2. Seventeen times has the sun, in the progress of his annual revolutions, diffused his prolific radiance over the plains of Independent America. Millions of hearts which then palpitated with the rapturous glow of patrio [...]ism, have [Page 144] already been translated to brighter worlds; to the abodes of more than mortal freedom. Other millions have arisen to receive from their parents and benefactors, the inestimable recompense of their atchievements.

3. A large proportion of the audience, whose benevo­lence is at this moment listening to the speaker of the day, like him were at that period too little advanced beyond the threshold of life to partake of the divine enthusiasm which inspired the American bosom; which prompted her voice to proclaim defiance to the thunders of Britain; which con­secrated the banners of her armies; and finally erected the holy temple of American Liberty, over the tomb of de­parted tyranny.

4. It is from those who have already passed the meridian of life; it is from you, ye venerable assertors of the rights of mankind, that we are to be informed, what were the feel­ings which swayed within your breasts, and impelled you to action; when, like the stripling of Israel, with scarce a weapon to attack, and without a shield for your defence, you met, and, undismayed, engaged with the gigantic great­ness of the British power.

5. Untutored in the disgraceful science of human butch­ery; destitute of the fatal materials which the ingenuity of man has combined, to sharpen the scythe of death; unsup­ported by the arm of any friendly alliance, and unfortified against the powerful assaults of an unrelenting enemy, you did not hesitate at that moment, when your coasts were in­fested by a formidable fleet, when your territories were invaded by a numerous and veteran army, to pronounce the sentence of eternal separation from Britain, and to throw the gauntlet at a power, the terror of whose recent triumphs was almost co-extensive with the earth.

6. The interested and selfish propensities, which, in times of prosperous tranquillity have such powerful dominion over the heart, were all expelled, and in their stead, the public virtues, the spirit of personal devotion to the com­mon cause, a contempt of every danger in comparison with the subserviency of the country, had assumed an unlimited control.

7. The passion for the public had absorbed all the rest; as the glorious luminary of heaven extinguishes in a flood [Page 145] of refulgence the twinkling splendor of every inferior plan­et. Those of you, my countrymen, who were actors in those interesting scenes, will best know, how feeble and impotent is the language of this description to express the impassioned emotions of the soul, with which you were then agitated.

7. Yet it were injustice to conclude from thence, or from the greater prevalence of private and personal motives in these days of calm serenity, that your sons have degen­erated from the virtues of their fathers. Let it rather be a subject of pleasing reflection to you that the generous and disinterested energies, which you were summoned to dis­play, are permitted by the bountiful indulgence of Heaven to remain latent in the bosoms of your children.

8. From the present prosperous appearance of our pub­lic affairs, we may admit a rational hope that our country will have no occasion to require of us those extraordinary and heroic exertions which it was your fortune to exhibit.

9. But from the common versatility of all human desti­ny, should the prospect hereafter darken, and the clouds of public misfortune thicken to a tempest; should the voice of our country's calamity ever call us to her relief, we solemn­ly affirm by the precious memory of the sages who toiled, and of the heroes who bled in her defence, that we will prove ourselves not unworthy of the prize which they so dearly purchased; that we will act as the faithful disciples of those who so magnanimously taught us the instructive lesson of republican virtue.

THE knowledge of the world, in its com­prehensive sense, is a knowledge greatly to be desired. To understand the human heart, to know human manners, laws, languages, and institutions of every kind, and in various na­tions, and to be able to reflect on all these with moral and political improvement, is an attainment worthy of the great­est statesman and the wisest philosopher.

[Page 146]2. But there is a knowledge of the world of a very in­ferior kind, but which many parents value at a high price. Greek and Latin are always mentioned with contempt, on a comparison with this. In compliance with custom, in­deed, and to get him out of the way, the boy is placed at school; but the knowledge to be gained there is little esteemed by the empty votaries of fashion.

3. Men and things, not words, are magisterially pointed out as the proper objects of study, by those who know little of men, things, or words. It is not the knowledge of books, (say they) which he is to pursue, but the knowledge of the world; ignorant that the knowledge of books is ne­cessary to gain a valuable knowledge of the world.

4. The parents, who give such directions to their chil­dren, are themselves merely people of the world, as it is called; persons for the most part of very moderate under­standings, who have never made any solid improvements in learning, and, consequently, never felt its pleasures, or its advantages.

5. They have perhaps raised themselves by dint of worldly policy, by the little arts of simulation and dissim­ulation; and, having seen the effects of dress, address, and an attention to exterior accomplishments, but at the same time being totally unacquainted with real and solid attain­ments, they are naturally led to wish to give their children the most useful education, which, according to their ideas, is a knowledge of the world.

6. But what is this knowledge of the world? A knowl­edge of its follies and vices; a knowledge of them at a time of life, when they will not appear in their true light, con­temptible in themselves, and the sources of misery; but flattering and pleasurable. To see these at a boyish age, before the mind is properly prepared, will not cause an ab­horrence, but an imitation of them.

7. To introduce boys to scenes of immoral and inde­cent behavior is to educate them in vice, and to give the young mind a foul stain, which it will never lose. And yet I have known parents in the metropolis suffer boys of fourteen or fifteen to roam wheresoever they pleased; to frequent theatres, and other places of public diversions, by themselves; to return home late at night; and all this with [Page 147] plenty of money, and without giving any account of the manner of consuming that or their time.

8. The parents were pleased with their son's proficiency in the knowledge of the world; the son was pleased with liberty. All for a short time, went on to their mutual sat­isfaction. But after a few years, a sad reverse usually ap­peared. The boy became a spendthrift and a debauchee; alienated his father's affections by incurring debt, and ruin­ed his constitution by every species of excess.

9. What remained after his money and his health were dissipated? No learning, no relish for the works of literary taste. The spring of life, when the seeds of these should have been sown, was employed in another manner. Noth­ing remained but a wretched and a painful old age, devoted to cards, dice, and illiberal conviviality.

10. He, who is attending to his books, and collecting ideas which will one day render him a blessing and an hon­or to all with whom he is connected, will appear dull, awk­ward, and unengaging to many, in comparison with the p [...]t [...]ipling, who has been plunged into vice and dissipation before he knows the meaning of the words.

11. The reception which the latter meets with in com­pany gives him additional spirits; and the poor parents usu­ally [...]iumph [...]hile in the conscious superiority of their judgment. In four or five years, they commonly see and feel the [...] their folly.

12. Their conduct, as it often undoubtedly proceeds from ignorance, is to be compassionated; but if ever it arise from affectation of singularity, pride, vicious principles, or carelessness concerning their offspring, it deserves the se­verest reprehension.

13. It is obvious to observe in the world multitudes of bea [...]dless boys assuming ai [...]s of manhood, and practising manly vices, to obtain a title to the appellation of men. The present age abounds with such examples.

14. A most fatal mistake is made by parents of all class­es in the present age. Many of them seem to think vice and irregularity the ma [...]ks of sense and spirit, in a boy; and that innocence, modesty, submission to superiors, appli­cation to study, and to every thing laudable, are the signs of [Page 148] stupidity. They often smile at the tricks of a young vil­la [...]n, and ever seem pleased with boyish profligacy.

15. Hence it happens, that their offspring frequently prove a scourge to them, and that they feel that sting, which, to use Shakespeare's expression, is sharper than a serpent's tooth; the sting inflicted by a thankless, an immoral, an ignorant, an extravagant, and an infidel child.

PERHAPS they who are not particularly ac­quainted with the history of Virginia, may be ignorant that Pocahontas was the protectress of the English, and often f [...]re [...]ned them from the cruelty of her father.

2. She was but twelve years old, when Captain Smith, the bravest, the most intelligent, and the most humane of the first colonists, [...]ll into the hands of the savages. He already understood their language, had traded with them several times, and often appeased the quarrels between the Europeans and them. Often had he been obliged also to fight them, and to punish their perfidy.

3. At length, however, under the [...] of commerce, he was drawn into an ambush, and the only two compan­ions who accompanied him, fell before his eyes; but though alone, by his dexterity he extricated himself from the troop which surrounded him; until, unfortunately, ima­gining he could save himself by crossing a morass, he stuck fast, so that the savages, against whom he had no means of defending himself, at last took and bound him, and con­ducted him to Powhatan.

4. The king was so proud of having Captain Smith in his power, that he sent him in triumph to all the tributary princes, and ordered that he should be splendidly treated, till he returned to suffer that death which was prepared for him.

5. The fatal moment at last arrived. Captain Smith was laid upon the hearth of the savage king, and his head placed upon a large stone to receive the stroke of death; when Pocahontas, the youngest and darling daughter of [Page 149] Powhatan, threw herself upon his body, clasped him in her arms, and declared, that if the cruel sentence was execu­ted, the first blow should fall on her.

6. All savages (absolute sovereigns and tyrants not ex­cepted) are invariably more affected by the tears of infancy, than the voice of humanity. Powhatan could not resist the tears and prayers of his daughter.

7. Captain Smith obtained his life, on condition of pay­ing for his ransom a certain quantity of muskets, powder, and iron utensils; but how were they to be obtained? They would neither permit him to return to James-Town, nor let the English know where he was, lest they should de­mand him sword in hand.

8. Captain Smith, who was as sensible as courageous, said, that if Powhatan would permit one of his subjects to carry to James Town a leaf which he took from his pocket­book, he should find under a tree, at the day and hour ap­pointed, all the articles demanded for his ransom.

9. Powhatan consented; but without having much faith in his pr [...]mises, believing it to be only an artifice of the Captain to prolong his life. But he had written on the leaf a few lines, sufficient to give an account of his situation. The messenger returned. The king sent to the place fixed up­on, and was greatly astonished to find every thing which had been demanded.

10. Powhatan could not conceive this mode of trans­mitting thoughts; and Captain Smith was henceforth look­ed upon as a great magician, to whom they could not show too much respect. He left the savages in this opinion, and hastened to return home.

11. Two or three years after, some fresh differences arising amidst them and the English, Powhatan, who no longer though [...] them sorcerers, but still feared their power, laid a horrid plan to get rid of them altogether. His pro­ject was to attack them in profound peace, and cut the throats of the whole colony.

12. The night of this intended conspiracy, Pocahontas took advantage of the obscurity; and in a terrible storm which kept the savages in their tents, escaped from her fa­ther's house, advised the English to be on their guard, but conjured them to spare her family; to appear ignorant of [Page 150] the intelligence she had given, and terminate all their differ­ences by a new treaty.

13. It would be tedious to relate all the services which this angel of peace rendered to both nations. I shall only add, that the English, I know not from what motives, b [...] certainly against all faith and equity, thought proper to car­ry her off. Long and bitterly did she deplore her fate; [...]nd the only consolation she had was Captain Smith, in whom she found a second father.

14. She was treated with great respect, and married to a planter by the name of Rolfe, who soon after took her to England. This was in the reign of James the First; and it is said, that this monarch, pedantic and ridiculous in every point, was so infatuated with the prerogatives of royalty, that he expressed his displeasure, that one of his subjects should dare to marry the daughter even of a savage king.

15. It will not perhaps be difficult to decide on this oc­casion, whether it was the sa [...]age king who derived honor from finding himself placed upon a level with the European prince, or the English monarch, who by his pride and prejudices reduced hims [...]lf to a level with the chief of the savages.

16. Be that as it will, Captain Smith, who had return­ed to London before the arrival of Pocahontas, was ex­tremely happy to see her again; but dared not treat her with the same familiarity as at James-Town. As soon as she saw him, she threw herself into his arms, calling him her father; but finding that he neither returned her caress­es with equal warmth, nor the endearing title of daughter, she turned aside her head and wept bitterly; and it was a long time before they could obtain a single word from her.

17. Captain Smith inquired several times what could be the cause of her affliction. "What! said she, did I not save thy life in America? When I was torn from the arms of my father, and conducted amongst thy friends, didst thou not promise to be a father to me? Did [...]t thou not assure me, that if I went into thy country, thou wouldst be my father, and that I should be thy daughter? Thou hast deceived me, and behold me, now here, a stranger and an orphan."

18. It was not difficult for the Captain to make his peace with this charming creature, whom he tenderly loved. [Page 151] He presented her to several people of the first quality; but never dared to take her to court, from which, however, she received several favors.

19. After a residence of several years in England, an example of virtue and piety, and attachment to her hus­band, she died, as she was on the point of embarking for America. She left an only son, who was married, and left none but daughters; and from these are descended some of the principal characters in Virginia.

IT is but too common, my countrymen, to ob­serve a material difference between the behavior of those who stand candidates for places of power and trust, before and after their obtaining them. They solicit them in one manner, and execute them in another.

2. They set out with a great appearance of activity, humility, and moderation; but they quickly fall into sloth, pride and avarice. It is undoubtedly no easy matter to dis­charge, to general satisfaction, the duty of a supreme com­mander in troublesome times.

3. You have committed to my conduct the war against Jugurtha. The patricians are offended at this. But, where would be the wisdom of giving such a command to one of their honorable body? a person of illustrious birth, of an­cient family, of innumerable statues, but—of no expe­rience!

4. What service would his long line of dead ancestors, or his multitude of motionless statues, do his country in the day of battle? What could such a general do, but, in his trepidation and inexperience, have recourse to some infe­rior commander for direction in difficulties to which he was not himself equal? Thus, your patrician general would in fact have a general over him; so that the acting com­mander would still be a plebeian.

[Page 152]5. So true is this, my countrymen, that I have, myself, known those who have been chosen consuls, begin then to read the history of their own country, of which, till that time, they were totally ignorant; that is, they first obtained the employment, and then bethought themselves of the qualifications necessary for the proper discharge of it.

6. I submit to your judgment, Romans, on which side the advantage lies, when a comparison is made between pa­trician haughtiness and plebeian experience. The very ac­tions which they have only read, I have partly seen, and partly myself achieved. What they know by reading, I know by action. They are pleased to slight my mean birth; I despise their mean characters.

7. Want of birth and fortune is the objection against me; want of personal worth, against them. But are not all men of the same species? What can make a difference be­tween one man and another, but the endowments of the mind? For my part, I shall always look upon the bravest man as the noblest man.

8. If the patricians have reason to despise me, let them likewise despise their ancestors, whose nobility was the fruit of their virtue. Do they envy the honors bestowed upon me? let them envy, likewise, my labo [...], my abstinence, and the dangers I have undergone for my country, by which I have acquired them.

9. But those worthless men lead such a life of inactivity, as if they despised any honors you can bestow; while they aspire to honors as if they had deserved them by the most industrious virtue. They lay claim to the rewards of activ­ity, for their having enjoyed the pleasures of luxury. Yet none can be more lavish than they are in praise of their an­cestors.

10. And they imagine they honor themselves by celebra­ting their forefathers; whereas they do the very contrary; for, as much as their ancestors were distinguished for their virtues, so much are they disgraced by their vices.

11. The glory of ancestors casts a light, indeed, upon their posterity; but it only serves to show what the de­scendants are. It alike exhibits to public view their degen­eracy and their worth. I own I cannot boast of the deeds of my forefathers; but I hope I may answer the cavils of [Page 153] the patricians by standing up in defence of what I have my­self done.

12. Observe now, my countrymen, the injustice of the patricians. They arrogate to themselves honors on ac­count of exploits done by their forefathers, whilst they will not allow me due praise for performing the very same sort of actions in my own person.

13. He has no statues, they cry, of his family. He can trace no venerable line of ancestors. What then? is it matter of more praise to disgrace one's illustrious ances­tors, than to become illustrious by one's own good behavior?

14. What if I can show no statues of my family? I can show the standards, the armor, and the trappings, which I have myself taken from the vanquished; I can show the scars of those wounds, which I have received by facing the enemies of my country.

15. These are my statues. These are the honors I b [...]ast of. Not left me by inheritance, as theirs; but earn­ed by toil, by abstinence, by valor; amidst clouds of dust and seas of blood; scenes of action, where those effeminate patricians, who endeavor by indirect means to depreciate me in your esteem, have never dared to show their faces.

IN the beginning of the sixteenth century, the Portuguese carracks failed from Lisbon to Goa, a very great, rich, and flourishing colony of that nation in the East-Indies. There were no less than twelve hundred souls, mariners, passengers, priests, and friars, on board one of these vessels.

2. The beginning of their voyage was prosperous; they had doubled the southern extremity of the great continent of Africa, called the Cape of Good Hope, and were steer­ing their course Northeast, to the great continent of India, when some gentlemen on board, who, having studied geog­raphy and navigation, found in the latitude in which they were then sailing, a large ridge of rocks laid down in their sea-charts.

[Page 154]3. They no sooner made this discovery, than they ac­quainted the captain of the ship with the affair, desiring him to communicate the same to the pilot; which request he immediately granted, recommended him to lie by in the night, and slacken sail by day, until they should be past the danger.

4. It is a custom always among the Portuguese abso­lutely to commit the sailing part, or the navigation of the vessel to the pilot, who is answerable with his head for the safe conduct or carriage of the king's ships, or those belong­ing to private traders; and he is under no manner of di­rection from the captain, who commands in every other respect.

5. The pilot being one of those self-sufficient men, who think every hint given them from others in the way of their profession derogatory from their understandings, took as an affront to be taught his art, and instead of complying with the captain's request, actually crowded more sail than the vessel had carried before.

6. They had not sailed many hours, when, just about the dawn of day, a terrible disaster befel them, which would have been prevented if they had lain by. The ship struck upon a rock. I leave to the reader's imagination, what a scene of horror this dreadful accident must occasion among twelve hundred persons, all in the same inevitable danger; beholding, with fearful astonishment, that instantaneous death which now stared them in the face.

7. In this distress, the captain ordered the pinnace to be launched, into which, having tossed a small quantity of biscuit, and some boxes of marmalade, he jumped in him­self, with nineteen others, who, with their swords, prevented the coming in of any more, lest the boat should sink.

8. In this condition they put off into the great Indian ocean, without a compass to steer by, or any fresh water but what might fall f [...] the heavens, whose mercy alone could deliver them. [...] they had rowed four days in this miserable condition, the captain, who had been for some time very sick and weak, died.

9. This added, if possible, to their misery; for as they now fell into confusion, every one would govern, and none would obey. This obliged them to elect one of their own [Page 155] company to command them, whose orders they implicitly agreed to follow. This person proposed to the company to draw lots, and to cast every fourth man overboard; as their small stock of provisions was so far spent, as not to be able at a very short allowance to sustain life above three days longer.

10. They were now nineteen persons in all; in this num­ber were a friar and a carpenter, both of whom they would exempt, as the one was useful to absolve and comfort them in their last extremity, and the other to repair the pinnace in case of a leak or other accident.

11. The same compliment they paid to their new cap­tain, he being the odd man, and his life of much conse­quence. He refused their indulgence a great while; but at last they obliged him to acquiesce; so that there were four to die out of the sixteen remaining persons.

12. The three first submitted to their fate. The fourth was a Portuguese gentleman who had a younger brother in the boat, who, seeing him about to be thrown overboard, most tenderly embraced him, and with tears in his eyes be­sought him to let him die in his room; enforcing his argu­ments by telling him that he was a married man, and had a wife and children at Goa, besides the care of three sisters, who absolutely depended upon him; that, as for himself, he was single, and his life of no great importance; he there­fore conjured him to suffer him to supply his place.

13. The elder brother, astonished, and melting with this generosity, replied, that, since the divine providence had appointed him to suffer, it would be wicked and unjust to permit any other to die for him, especially a brother, to whom he was so infinitely obliged. The younger, persisting in his purpose, would take no denial; but throwing himself on his knees, held his brother so fast, that the company could not disengage them.

14. Thus they disputed for a while, the elder brother bidding him to be a father to his children, and recommend­ed his wife to his protection; and as he would inherit his estate, to take care of their common sisters; but all he could say could not make the younger desist. This was a scene of tenderness that must fill every breast, susceptible of gen­erous impressions, with pity. At last the constancy of the elder brother yielded to the piety of the other.

[Page 156]15. He acquiesced, and suffered the gallant youth to supply his place, who being cast into the sea, and a good swimmer, soon got to the stern of the pinnace, and laid hold of the rudder with his right hand, which being per­ceived by one of the sailors, he cut off the hand with his sword; then dropping into the sea, he presently caught hold again with his left, which received the same fate by a sec­ond blow.

16. Thus dismembered of both hands, he made a shift, notwithstanding, to keep himself above water with his feet and two stumps, which he held bleeding upwards.

17. This moving spectacle so raised the pity of the whole company, that they cried out, "He is but one man, let us endeavor to save his life;" and he was accordingly taken into the boat, where he [...]ad his hands bound up as well as the place and circumstances could permit.

18. They rowed all that night; and the next morning, when the sun arose, as if Heaven would reward the piety of this young man, they descried land, which proved to be the mountains of Mozambique, in Africa, not far from a Por­tuguese colony. Thither they all safely arrived, where they remained until the next ship from Lisbon passed by and carried them to Goa.

A RIGHT education of children has ever been esteemed by the best philosophers and wisest legisla­tors, as the most certain source of happiness, not only to families, but to states and kingdoms; and is, on [...]ll moral and civil considerations, the first blessing in order and ne­cessity, the highest in value and importance, and, in these united republics, the grand basis on which their future hap­piness and prosperity depend.

2. Of such inestimable worth was right education held by the ancients, that when they were in all their glory, and long after, the tutorage of youth was accounted the most honorable employment; and many of noble birth and easy [Page 157] fortunes became preceptors, and took youth under their tuition.

3. It is well known that the Romans, as well as Greeks, carefully applied themselves to the study of their own lan­guage, and were early able to speak and write it in the greatest perfection. Masters taught them, betimes, the principles, the difficulties, the subtilties and the depths of it. And to that it was chiefly owing, that they made more early advances in the most useful sciences, than any youth have since done.

4. The French have been beforehand with us in this important particular. They have long imitated the Greeks and Romans, and have had the good policy to prefer their own language to every other; disdaining the study of any for­eign tongues, unless driven by necessity into other countries. And the political advantages they have derived from such a conduct are visible all over Europe.

5. Policy then, were there nothing else, cries aloud for our exerting ourselves in the cause of a too long neglected English education; and for wiping off that charge of bar­barity, with which not only we, but those of England, have been, on that account, so long stigmatized by the very na­tion whom we so much venerate, and whose language we are so ridiculously fo [...]d of, to the reproach and degradation of a better, even our own.

6. There is, perhaps, no language the grammatical knowledge of which can be learned with so much ease, or with less difficulty than ours. And as the freedom, the liberty, and the life of our country depend upon it, shall America deprive her sons of this most valuable birthright, the right of nature?

7. It is to me the most unaccountable thing I ever heard, that masters, and those who superintend public schools, should neglect this important part of an education, and suffer youth to trifle away their time, when it might be em­ployed to so much advantage to themselves and to future generations. And what is still more so, is, that parents, who love their children, should connive at this unpardona­ble neglect.

8. Without a common school education, which is the anchor of liberty, the supporter of our rights, we can be [Page 158] compared to nothing but a ship at sea, deprived of sails, rudder, compass, and exposed to the billows and hurricanes of the boisterous deep.

9. With it, we have a most substantial foundation laid, on which we can erect a superb building, for public and private utility: with it, we can conduct the ship of state, and regale ourselves under the tree of liberty; and unshackle ourselves from ignorance, which is the origin of feuds and animosities in free states.

10. Do not the arts and sciences, in every kingdom, participate to a great degree the sate of its language? rise and flourish, or sink into disrepute, as the latter is cultivated or neglected? How dear then ought the honor of the English language to be to every American!

11. And, as grammar is the solid foundation on which all other science rests, and as all human inquiry is divided into science and language; and further, as under the lat­ter, fall the ideas and subjects of the didactic style, oratory, poetry, painting, and sculpture, judge ye, if it ought to be left to young gentlemen to form their style by chance, or to begin the study of their mother tongue, at a time of life which calls them forth to action.

12. You, who are entrusted with the education of our youth, and you, who superintend our schools, have a glori­ous and joyful prospect before you, a noble opportunity in­deed of doing much good to mankind; of constituting real merit, and securing the warmest returns of gratitude, by perfecting the flower of our youth, in speaking and writing that language, in which alone they must act the part of their fathers, serve their country, and become the mouths of the people.

13. You will not fail, my beloved countrymen, to afford your children this distinguishing, this necessary, this all im­portant education, by which you will, in a short time, nurse up a race of freemen, to the honor and never fading glory of our country.

14. America will then increase in wealth, in commerce, agriculture and manufactures; will as far surpass all other nations on the globe, in virtue, learning and abilities; and will as much distinguish herself for humanity, nobleness of sentiment, attachment to government, and love of liberty, [Page 159] as the towering cedar among the trees of the wood, or the sun in the presence of the stars.

15. All nations will look up unto her, call her blessed, and say, "In her, the problem, which has been put for thousands of years, has been truly verified, whether a na­tion can be governed, and yet be free."

AN elderly Hottentot in the service of a Christian, near the upper part of Sunday river on the Camb­debo [...]de, perceived a lion following him at a great dis­tance for two hours together. Thence he naturally con­cluded, that the lion only waited for the approach of dark­ness, in order to make him a prey; and in the mean time, could not expect any other than to serve for this fierce an­imal's supper, inasmuch as he had no other weapon of de­fence than a stick, and knew that he could not get home before it was dark.

2. But as he was well acquainted with the nature of the lion, and the manner of its seizing upon its prey; and at the same time had leisure to ruminate on the ways and means in which it was most likely that his existence would be terminated, he at length hit on a method of saving his life.

3. For this purpose, instead of making the best of his way home, he looked out for a precipice; and setting him­self down on the edge of it, found to his great joy, that the lion likewise made a halt, and kept at the same distance as before.

4. As soon as it grew dark, the Hottentot sliding a lit­tle forwards, let himself down below the upper edge of the precipice upon some projecting part or cleft of the rock, where he could just keep himself from falling. But in or­der to cheat the lion still more, he set his hat and cloak on the stick, making with it a gentle motion just over his head, a little way from the edge of the precipice.

5. This crafty expedient had the desired success. He did not stay long in that situation, before the lion came [Page 160] creeping softly towards him like a cat, and mistaking the skin-coat for the Hottentot himself, took his leap with such exactness and precision, as to fall headlong down the pre­ [...]pice, and was dashed in pieces.

THESE northern seas, owing to the exces­sive cold of the climate, are frequently so full of ice as to render it exceedingly hazardous to ships, which are thereby exposed to the danger of being crushed between two bodies of immense ice, or of being so completely surrounded, as to deprive them of every power of moving from the spot.

2. In this latter alarming situation were the crew of a Russian ship. A council was immediately held, when the mate mentioned what he recollected to have heard, that a ship's crew from Mesen, some time before, had formed a resolution of passing the winter upon this island, and for that purpose had carried timber proper for building a hut at a little distance from the shore.

3. This information led the whole company to form the resolution of wintering there, should the hut be fortu­nately remaining. They were induced to adopt this meas­ure from the certainty of perishing should they remain in the ship [...] They therefore deputized four of their crew to go in search of the hut, and make what further discoveries they could.

4. As no human creature inhabited the shore on which they were to land, it was absolutely necessary for them to carry some provisions with them for their support. They had to make their way, for nearly two miles, over loose heaps of ice, which the water had raised, and the wind had driven against each other; and this made it equally difficult and dangerous.

5. From this consideration, they avoided loading them­selves too much with provisions, lest their weight might sink them between the pieces of ice, where they must in­evitably perish.

6. Having previously considered all these matters, they provided themselves only with a musket and powder-horn, containing twelve charges of powder and ball, an axe, a small kettle, a bag with about twenty pounds of flour, a [Page 164] knife, a tinder-box and tinder, a bladder filled with tobac­co, and every man his wooden pipe.

7. Thus poorly equipped, these four sailors reached the island, little thinking what they were to endure while they remained on it. After exploring some small part of the country, they discovered the hut they were in pursuit of, at the distance of about an English mile and a half from the shore.

8. Its length was thirty-six feet, and its height and breadth eighteen. It consisted of a small antichamber about twelve feet broad, having two doors, the one to exclude the outer air, and the other to form a communication with the inner room. This contributed not a little to keep the larger room warm, when it was once heated.

9. They found in the larger room an earthen stove, constructed in the Ruffian manner. They rejoiced exceed­ingly at this discovery, though they found the hut had suf­fered very much from the severity of the weather, it having been built a considerable time. However, they contrived to make it supportable for that night.

10. The next morning early they repaired to the shore; in order to acquaint their comrades with their success, and also to get from the vessel such provisions, ammunition, and other necessaries, as might in some measure enable them to struggle with the approaching winter.

11. But what pen can properly describe the terrible sit­uation of their minds, when, coming to the place at which they landed, they discovered nothing but an open sea, clear of all ice, though, but a day before, it had covered the ocean! During the night, a violent storm had arisen, which had been the cause of this change of appearance in the ocean.

12. Whether the ice, which had before surrounded the vessel, being put in motion by the violence of the winds and waves, had crushed the ship to pieces, or whether she had been carried by the current into the main ocean, it was im­possible for them to determine.

13. However, they saw the ship no more; and as she was never afterwards heard of, it is most likely that she went to the bottom with every soul on board. This dread­ful [Page 165] event deprived the poor unhappy wretches of all hopes of ever again seeing their native country.

14. They returned to their hut, and there bewailed their deplorable lot, more perhaps to be pitied than those who were buried in the bosom of the deep. Their thoughts were, in course, first directed to procure subsistence, and to repair their hut.

15. Their twelve charges of powder and shot soon pro­duced them as many rein-deer, of which there fortunately happened to be many on the island. They then set about repairing their hut, and filled up all the crevices, through which the air found its way, with the moss that grew there in plenty.

16. As it was impossible to live in that climate without fire, and as no wood grew upon the island, they were much alarmed on that account. However, in their wan­derings over the beach, they met with plenty of wood, which had been driven on shore by the waves.

17. This principally consisted of the wrecks of ships; but sometimes whole trees with their roots came on shore, the undoubted produce of some more hospitable clime, which were washed from their native soil by the overflow­ings of rivers, or some other accident.

18. As soon as their powder and shot were exhausted, they began to be in dread of perishing with hunger; but good fortune, and their own ingenuity, to which necessity always gives a spur, removed these dreadful apprehensions. In the course of their traversing the beach, they one day discovered some boards, in which were large hooks and nails in abundance.

19. By the assistance of these, they made spears and arrows▪ and, from a yew tree, which had been thrown on shore by the waves, they formed plenty of bows. With these weapons, during the time of their continuance on the island, they killed upwards of two hundred and fifty rein­deer, bende a great number of blue and white foxes.

20. The flesh of these animals served them for food, and their skins were equally useful in supplying them with warm cloathing. The number of white bears they killed were only ten; for these animals being very strong, defend­ed themselves with great vigor and fury, and even ventured [Page 166] to make their appearance frequently at the door of their hut, from whence they were driven with some difficulty and danger.

21. Thus these three different sorts of animals were the only food of these miserable mariners, during their long and dreary abode on this island.

22. The intenseness of the cold, and the want of prop­er conveniences, rendered it impossible for them to cook their victuals properly, so that they were obliged to eat their provisions almost raw, and without bread or salt.

23. There was but one stove in the hut, and that being in the Russian manner, was not proper for boiling. How­ever, to remedy this inconvenience as much as possible, they dried some of their provisions, during the summer, in the open air, and then hung them up in the upper part of the hut, which being continually filled with smoke, they thus became thoroughly dried.

24. This they used instead of bread, which made them relish their half boiled meat the better. They pro­cured their water in summer from the rivulets that fell from the rocks; and in the winter, from snow and ice thawed. This was their only drink; and their small ket­tle was the only convenience they had to make use of for this and many other purposes.

25. As it was necessary to keep up a continual fire, they were particularly cautious not to let the light be ex­tinguished; for, though they had both steel and flints, yet they had no tinder; and it would have been a terrible thing to be without light in a climate where darkness reigns so many months during winter.

26. They therefore fashioned a kind of lamp, which they filled with rein-deer fat, and stuck into it some twisted linen, shaped in the form of a wick. After many trials, they at last brought their lamp to complete perfection, and kept it burning, without intermission, from the day they first made it, till they embarked for their native country.

27. They also found themselves in want of shoes, boots, and other necessary articles of dress, for all which they found wonderful resources in that genius to which necessity gives birth.

[Page 167]28. Having lived more than six years upon this dreary and inhospitable island, a ship happened to arrive there, which took three of them on board, and carried them back to their native country. The fourth man was seized with the scurvy, and being naturally indolent, and not using proper exercise, he died, after lingering for some time, when his companions buried him in the snow.

WHAT an insult upon us is this! If we are not so rich as the patricians, are we not citizens of Rome as well as they? inhabitants of the same country? members of the same community? The nations bordering upon Rome, and even strangers more remote, are admitted not only to marriages with us, but to what is of much greater importance, the freedom of the city.

2. Are we, because we are commoners, to be worse treated than strangers? And, when we demand that the people may be free to bestow their offices and dignities on whom they please, do we ask any thing unreasonable or new? Do we claim more than their original inherent right? What occasion, then, for all this uproar, as if the universe was falling to ruin? They were just going to lay violent hands upon me in the senate-house.

3. What! must this empire, then, be unavoidably over­turned? Must Rome of necessity sink at once, if a plebeian, worthy of the office, should be raised to the consulship? The patricians, I am persuaded, if they could, would de­prive you of the common light. It certainly offends them that you breathe, that you speak, that you have the shapes of men.

4. Nay, but to make a commoner a consul, would be, say they, a most enormous thing. Numa Pompilius, how­ever, without being so much as a Roman citizen, was made king of Rome. The elder Tarquin, by birth not even Ital­ian, was nevertheless placed upon the throne. Servius Tul­lius, [Page 168] the son of a captive woman, (nobody knows who his father was) has obtained the kingdom as the reward of his wisdom and virtue.

5. In those days, no man in whom virtue shone con­spicuous was rejected or despised on account of his race and descent. And did the state prosper the less for that? Were not these strangers the very best of all our kings? And sup­posing now, that a plebeian should have their talents and merit, must not he be suffered to govern us?

6. But, "we find that, upon the abolition of the regal power, no commoner was chosen to the consulate." And what of that? Before Numa's time, there were no pontiffs in Rome. Before Servius Tullius' days, there was no cen­sus, no division of the people into classes and centuries. Who ever heard of consuls before the expulsion of Tarquin the proud? Dictators, we all know, are of modern inven­tion; and so are the offices of tribunes, aedilles, quaestors.

7. Within these ten years we have made decemvirs, and we have unmade them. Is nothing to be done but what has been done before? That very law forbidding marriages of patricians with plebeians, is not that a new thing? Was there any such law before the decemvirs enacted it? and a most shameful one it is in a free state. Such marriages, it seems, would taint the pure blood of the nobility.

8. They talk to us of the confusion there will be in families▪ if this statute should be repealed. I wonder they do not mak [...] [...] law against a commoner's living near a no­bleman, [...]ng the same road that he is going, or being present [...]n th [...] same feast, or appearing in the same market-place. They might as well pretend that these things make confusion in families, as that intermarriages will do it.

9. Does not every one know, that the children will be ranked according to the quality of their father, let him be a patrician or a plebeian? In short, it is manifest enough that we have nothing in view but to be treated as men and citi­zens; nor can they who oppose our demand have any mo­tive to do it but the love of domineering.

10. Hear me, consuls. Whether the news of the war you talk of be true, or whether it be only a false r [...]mor spread [...]broad for nothing but a color to send the people out of the [...]ity. I declare, as tribune, that this people, who [Page 169] have already so often spilt their blood in our country's cause, are again ready to arm for its defence and its glory, if they may be re [...]tored to their natural rights, and you will no longer treat us like strangers in our own country.

11. But, if you account us unworthy of your alliance by intermarriages, if you will not suffer the entrance to the chief offices in the state to be open to all persons of merit indifferently, but will confine your choice of magistrates to the senate alone; talk of wars as much as you please; paint, in your ordinary discourses, the league and power of our enemies, ten times more dreadful than you do now; I declare, that this people whom you so much despise, and to whom you are nevertheless indebted for all your victories, shall never more enlist themselves; not a man of them shall take arms; not a man of them shall expose his life for im­perious lords, with whom he can neither share the digni­ties of the state, nor in private life have any alliance by marriage.

AMONG the many natural curiosities which this country affords, the cataract of Niagara is infinitely the greatest. In order to have a tolerable idea of this stu­pendous fall of water, it will be necessary to conceive that part of the country in which Lake Erie is situated, to be el­evated above that which contains Lake Ontario, about three hundred feet.

2. The slope which separates the upper and lower coun­try, is generally very steep, and in many places almost per­pendicular. It is formed by horizontal strata of stone, great part of which is what we commonly call lime-stone. The slope may be traced from the north side of Lake Onta­rio, near the bay of Taronto, round the west end of the lake; thence its direction is generally east, between Lake Ontario and Lake Erie; it crosses the strait of Niagara, and the Cheneseco river, after which it becomes lost in the country towards the Seneca Lake.

[Page 170]3. It is to this slope that our country is indebted, both for the cataract of Niagara, and the great falls of the Chen­eseco. The cataract of Niagara was formerly down at the northern side of the slope, near to that place which is now known by the name of the Landing; but from the great length of time, added to the great quantity of water, and distance which it falls, the solid stone is worn away, for about seven miles, up towards Lake Erie, and a chasm is formed which no person can approach without horror.

4. Down this chasm the water rushes with a most aston­ishing velocity, after it makes the great pitch. In going up the road near this chasm, the fancy is constantly engaged in the contemplation of the most romantic and awful pros­pects imaginable, until, at length, the eye catches the falls; the imagination is instantly arrested, and you admire in si­lence! The river is about one hundred and thirty-five poles wide, at the falls, and the perpendicular pitch one hundred and fifty feet.

5. The fall of this vast body of water produces a sound, which is frequently heard at the distance of twenty miles, and a sensible tremulous motion in the earth for some poles round. A heavy fog, or cloud, is constantly ascending from the falls, in which rainbows may always be seen, when the sun shines.

6. This fog, or spray, in the winter season, falls upon the neighboring trees, where it congeals, and produces a most beautiful chrystalline appearance. This remark is equally applicable to the falls of the Cheneseco.

7. The difficulty which would attend levelling the rap­ids in the chasm, prevented my attempting it; but I con­jecture the water must descend at least sixty-five feet. The perpendicular pitch at the cataract is one hundred and fif­ty feet; to these add fifty-eight feet, which the water falls in the last half mile, immediately above the falls, and we have two hundred and seventy-three feet, which the water falls, in a distance of about seven miles and a half.

8. If either ducks, or geese, inadvertently, alight in the rapids, above the great cataract, they are incapable of get­ting on the wing again, and are instantly hurried on to de­struction. There is one appearance at this cataract, wor­thy of some attention, and which I do not remember to have seen noted by any writer.

[Page 171]9. Just below the great pitch, the water and foam may be seen puffed up in spherical figures, nearly as large as common cocks of hay; they burst at the top, and project a column of spray to a prodigious height; they then sub­side, and are succeeded by others, which burst in like man­ner. This appearance is most conspicuous about half way between the island, that divides the falls, and the west side of the strait, where the largest column of water descends.

BENEVOLENCE, from its nature, com­poses the mind, warms the heart, enlivens the whole frame, and brightens every feature of the countenance. It may justly be said to be medicinal both to soul and body. We are bound to it by duty; we are invited to it by interest; and because both these cords are often feeble, we have nat­ural kind affections to aid them in their operations, and sup­ply their defects; and these affections are joined with a manly pleasure in their exertion.

2. They are amiable even in brute animals. We love the meekness of the lamb, the gentleness of the dove, the affection of a dog to his master. We cannot, without pleasure, observe the timid ewe, who never showed the least degree of courage in her own defence, become valiant and intrepid in defence of her lamb, and boldly assault those ene­mies, the very sight of whom was wont to put her to flight.

3. How pleasant is it to see the family economy of a pair of little birds, in rearing their tender offspring; the conjugal affection and fidelity of the parents; their cheerful toil and industry in providing food to their family; their sagacity in concealing their habitation; the arts they use, often at the peril of their own lives, to decoy hawks and other enemies from their dwelling-place; and the afflic­tion they feel, when some unlucky boy has robbed them of the dear pledges of their affection, and frustrated all their hopes of their rising family?

4. If kind affection be amiable in brutes, it is not less so in our own species. Even the external signs of it have [Page 172] a powerful charm. Every one knows that a person of accomplished good breeding, charms every one he con­verses with. And what is this good breeding? If we ana­lize it, we shall find it to be made up of looks, gestures and speeches, which are the natural signs of benevolence and good affection.

5. He who has the habit of using these signs with pro­priety, and without meanness, is well bred and polite. What is that in the features of the face, which all men ad­mire? I believe it consists chiefly in the features which indicate good affections.

6. Every indication of meekness, gentleness, and benig­nity, is a beauty. On the contrary, every feature that in­dicates pride, passion, envy, and malignity, is a deformity. Kind affections, therefore, are amiable in brutes. Even the signs and shadows of them are highly attract [...]e in our own species.

7. Indeed they are the joy and the comfort of human life, not to good men only, but even to the vicious and dis­solute. Without society, and the intercourse of affection, man is a gloomy, melancholy, and joyless being.

8. His mind oppressed with cares and fears, he cannot enjoy the balm of sound sleep. In constant dread of im­pending danger, he starts at the rustling of a leaf. His ears are continually upon the stretch, and every zephyr brings some sound that alarms him.

9. When he enters into society, and feels security in the good affection of friends and neighbors, it is then only that his fear vanishes, and his mind is at ease. His courage is raised, his understanding is enlightened, and his heart di­lates with joy.

10. Human society may be compared to a heap of em­bers, which, when placed asunder, can retain neither their light nor heat, amidst the surrounding elements; but when brought together, they mutually give heat and light to each other; the flame breaks forth, and not only defends itself, but subdues every thing around it.

11. The security, the happiness, and the strength of hu­man society, spring solely from the reciprocal benevolent af­fections of its members. The benevolent affections, though they be all honorable and lovely, are not all equally so. [Page 173] There is a subordination among them; and the honor we pay to them generally corresponds to the extent of their object.

12. The good husband, the good father, the good friend, the good neighbor, we honor as a good man, wor­thy of our love and affection. But the man in whom these more private affections are swallowed up in zeal for the good of his country, and of mankind, who goes about doing good, and seeks opportunities of being useful to his species, we revere as more than a good man; we esteem him as a hero.

AS Messrs. Caleb Howe, Hilkiah Grou [...], and Benjamin Gaffield, who had been hoeing corn in the meadow, west of the river, were returning home a little be­fore sunset, to a place called Bridgman's Fort, they were fired upon by twelve Indian [...], who had ambushed their path.

2. Howe was on horseback, with two young lads, his children, behind him. A ball, which broke his thigh, brought him to the ground. His horse ran a few rods and fell likewise, and both the lads were taken. The Indians in their savage manner, coming up to Howe, pierced his body with a spear, tore off his scalp, stuck a hatchet in his head, and left him in this forlorn condition.

3. He was found alive the morning after, by a party of men from Fort Hinsdale; and being asked by one of the party whether he knew him, he answered, Yes, I know you all. These were his last words, though he did not ex­pire until after his friends had arrived with him at Fort Hinsdale. Grout was so fortunate as to escape unhurt.

4. But Gaffield, in attempting to wade through the riv­er, at a certain place which was indeed fordable at that time, was unfortunately drowned. Flushed with the success they had met with here, the savages went directly to Bridgman's Fort. There was no man in it, and only three women and some children, Mrs. Jemima Howe, Mrs. Submit Grout, and Mrs. Eunice Gaffield.

5. Their husbands I need not mention again, and their feelings at this juncture I will not attempt to describe. They had heard the enemies' guns, but knew not what had happened to their friends.

6. Extremely anxious for their safety, they stood long­ing to embrace them, until at length, concluding from the noise they heard without that some of them were come, they unbarred the gate in a hurry to receive them; when lo! to their inexpressible disappointment and surprise, in­stead of their husbands, in rushed a number of hideous In­dians, [Page 177] to whom they and their tender offspring became an easy prey; and from whom they had nothing to expect, but either an immediate death, or a long and doleful captivity.

7. The latter of these, by the favor of Providence, turned out to be the lot of these unhappy women, and their still more unhappy, because more helpless children. Mrs. Gaffield had but one, Mrs. Grout had three, and Mrs. Howe seven. The eldest of Mrs. Howe's was eleven years old, and the youngest but six months.

8. The two eldest were daughters, which she had by her first husband, Mr. William Phipps, who was also slain by the Indians, of which I doubt not but you have seen an account in Mr. Doolittle's history. It was from the mouth of this woman that I lately received the foregoing account. She also gave me, I doubt not, a true, though, to be sure, a very brief and imperfect history of her captivity, which I here insert for your perusal.

9. The Indians (she says) having plundered and put fire to the fort, we marched, as near as I could judge, a mile and a half into the woods, where we encamped that night.

10. When the morning came, and we had advanced as much farther, six Indians were sent back to the place of our late abode, who collected a little more plunder, and destroyed some other effects that had been left behind; but they did not return until the day was so far spent, that it was judged best to continue where we were through the night.

11. Early the next morning we set off for Canada, and continued our march eight days successively, until we had reached the place where the Indians had left their canoes, about fifteen miles from Crown Point. This was a long and tedious march; but the captives, by divine assistance, were enabled to endure it with less trouble and difficulty than they had reason to expect.

12. From such savage masters, in such indigent circum­stances, we could not rationally hope for kinder treatment than we received. Some of us, it is true, had a harder lot than others; and, among the children, I thought my son Squire had the hardest of any.

13. He was then only four years old, and when we stopped to rest our weary limbs, and he sat down on his [Page 178] master's pack, the savage monster would often knock him off; and sometimes too with the handle of his hatchet. Several ugly marks, indented in his head by the cruel In­dians, at that tender age, are still plainly to be seen.

14. At length we arrived at Crown Point, and took up our quarters there, for the space of near a week. In the mean time, some of the Indians went to Montreal, and took several of the weary captives along with them, with a view of selling them to the French. They did not suc­ceed, however, in finding a market for any of them.

15. They gave my youngest daughter to the governor, de Vaudreuil, had a drunken frolic, and returned again to Crown Point, with the rest of their prisoners. From hence we set off for St. John's, in four or five canoes, just as night was coming on, and were soon surrounded with darkness.

16. A heavy storm hung over us. The sound of the rolling thunder was very terrible upon the waters, which at every flash of expansive lightning seemed to be all in a blaze. Yet to this we were indebted for all the light we enjoyed. No object could we discern any longer than the flashes lasted.

17. In this posture we sailed in our open tottering ca­noes, almost the whole of that dreary night. The morn­ing indeed had not yet begun to dawn, when we all went ashore; and having collected a heap of sand and gravel for a pi [...]low. I laid myself down, with my tender infant by my side, not knowing where any of my other children were, or what a miserable condition they might be in.

18. The next day, however, under the wing of that ever-present and all-powerful Providence, which had pre­served us through the darkness and imminent dangers of the preceding night, we all arrived in safety at St. John's.

19. Our next movement was to St. Francois, the me­tropolis, if I may so call it, to which the Indians, who led us captive, belonged. Soon after our arrival at that wretched capital, a council, consisting of the chief Sachem, and some principal warriors of the St. Francois tribe, was convened; and after the ceremonies usual on such occasions were over, I was conducted and delivered to an old squaw, whom the Indians told me I must call my mother.

[Page 179]20. My infant still continued to be the property of its original Indian owners. I was nevertheless permitted to keep it with me a while longer, for the sake of saving them the trouble of looking after it. When the weather began to grow cold, shuddering at the prospect of approaching winter, I acquainted my new mother, that I did not think it would be possible for me to endure it, if I must spend it with her, and fare as the Indians did.

21. Listening to my repeated and earnest solicitations, that I might be disposed of among some of the French in­habitants of Canada, she, at length, set off with me and my infant, attended by some male Indians, upon a journey to Montreal, in hopes of finding a market for me there. But the attempt proved unsuccessful, and the journey tedious indeed.

22. Our provisions were so scanty as well as insipid and unsavory; the weather was so cold, and the travelling so very bad, that it often seemed as if I must have perished on the way.

23. While we were at Montreal, we went into the house of a certain French gentleman, whose lady, being sent for, and coming into the room where I was, to examine me, seeing I had an infant, exclaimed with an oath, "I will not buy a woman who has a child to look after."

24. There was a swill-pail standing near me, in which I observed some crusts and crumbs of bread swimming on the surface of the greasy liquor it contained. Sorely pinch­ed w [...]th hunger, I skimmed them off with my hands, and ate them; and this was all the refreshment which the house afforded me.

25. Somewhere in the course of this visit to Montreal, my Indian mother was so unfortunate as to catch the small-pox, of which distemper she died, soon after our return, which was by water, to St. Francois. And now came on the season when the Indians began to prepare for a win­ter's hunt.

26. I was ordered to return my poor child to those of them who still claimed it as their property. This was a severe trial. The babe clung to my bosom with all its might; but I was obliged to pluck it thence, and deliver it, shrieking and screaming, enough to penetrate a heart of [Page 180] stone, into the hands of those unfeeling wretches, whose ten­der mercies may be termed cruel.

27. It was soon carried off by a hunting party of those Indians, to a place called Messiskow, at the lower end of Lake Champlain, whither, in about a month after, it was my fortune to follow them. And here I found it, it is true, but in a condition that afforded me no great satisfac­tion; it being greatly emaciated, and almost starved.

28. I took it in my arms, put its face to mine, and it instantly bit me with such violence, that it seemed as if I must have parted with a piece of my cheek. I was per­mitted to lodge with it that, and the two following nights; but every morning that intervened, the Indians, I suppose on purpose to torment me, sent me away to another wig­wam, which stood at a little distance, though not so far from the one in which my distressed infant was confined, but that I could plainly hear its incessant cries, and heart-rending lamentations.

29. In this deplorable condition, I was obliged to take my leave of it, on the morning of the third day after my ar­rival at the place. We moved down the Lake several miles the same day; and the night following was remark­able on account of the great earthquake which terribly shook that howling wilderness.

30. Among the islands hereabouts, we spent the winter season, often shifting our quarters, and roving about from one place to another▪ our family consisting of three persons only, besides myself, viz. my late mother's daughter, whom therefore I called my sister, her sanhop, and a pap­poose.

31. They once left me alone two dismal nights; and when they returned to me again, perceiving them smile at each other, I asked what is the matter? They replied, that two of my children were no more. One of which, they said, died a natural death, and the other was knocked on the head.

32. I did not utter many words, but my heart was sore­ly pained within me, and my mind exceedingly troubled with strange and awful ideas. I often imagined, for in­stance, that I plainly saw the naked carcasses of my deceas­ed children hanging upon the limbs of the trees, as the In­dians [Page 181] are wont to hang the raw hides of those beasts which they take in hunting.

33. It was not long, however, before it was so ordered by kind Providence, that I should be relieved in a good measure from those horrid imaginations; for as I was walk­ing one day upon the ice, observing a smoak at some dis­tance upon the land, it must proceed, thought I, from the fire of some Indian hut; and who knows but some one of my poor children may be there.

34. My curiosity, thus excited, led me to the place, and there I found my son Caleb, a little boy between two and three years old, whom I had lately buried, in sentiment a [...] least; or rather imagined to have been deprived of life, and perhaps also denied a decent grave.

35. I found him likewise in tolerable health and cir­cumstances, under the protection of a fond Indian mother; and moreover had the happiness of lodging with him in my arms one joyful night. Again we shifted our quarters, and when we had travelled eight or ten miles upon the snow and ice, came to a place where the Indians manufactured sugar which they extracted from the maple trees.

36. Here an Indian came to visit us, whom I knew, and who could speak English. He asked me why I did not go to see my son Squire. I replied that I had lately been in­formed that he was dead. He assured me that he was yet alive, and but two or three miles off, on the opposite side of the Lake.

37. At my request, he gave me the best directions he could to the place of his abode. I resolved to embrace the first opportunity that offered of endeavoring to search it out. While I was busy in contemplating this affair, the Indians obtained a little bread, of which they gave me a small share.

38. I did not taste a morsel of it myself, but saved it all for my poor child, if I should be so lucky as to find him. At length, having obtained of my keepers leave to be absent for one day, I set off early in the morning, and steering, as well as I could, according to the directions which the friendly Indian had given me, I quickly found the place, which he had so accurately marked out.

39. I beheld, as I drew nigh, my little son without the camp; but he looked, thought I, like a starved and mangy [Page 182] puppy, that had been wallowing in the ashes. I took him in my arms, and he spoke to me these words, in the Indian tongue; "Mother, are you come?"

40. I took him into the wigwam with me, and observ­ing a number of Indian children in it, I distributed all the bread which I had reserved for my own child, among them all; otherwise I should have given great offence.

41. My little boy appeared to be very fond of his new mother, kept as near me as possible while I stayed; and when I told him I must go, he fell as though he had been knocked down with a club.

42. But having recommended him to the care of Him who made him, when the day was far spent, and the time would permit me to stay no longer, I departed, you may well suppose, with a heavy load at my heart. The tidings I had received of the death of my youngest child had, a little before, been confirmed to me beyond a doubt; but I could not mourn so heartily for the deceased, as for the living child.

43. When the winter broke up, we removed to St. John's; and through the ensuing summer, our principal resi­dence was at no great distance from the fort at that place. In the mean time, however, my sister's husband having been out with a scouting party to some of the English settle­ments, had a drunken frolic at the fort, when he returned.

44. His wife, who never got drunk, but had often ex­perienced the ill effects of her husband's intemperance, fear­ing what the consequence might prove, if he should come home in a morose and turbulent humor, to avoid his inso­lence, proposed that we should both retire, and keep out of the reach of it, until the storm abated.

45. We absconded accordingly; but so it happened, that I returned, and ventured into his presence, before his wise had presumed to come nigh him. I found him in his [...]ig [...]am, and in a surly mood; and not being able to re­venge upon his wife, because she was not at home, he laid hold of me, and hurried me to the for [...]; and, for a trifling consideration, sold me to a French gentleman, whose name was S [...]cca [...]ee.

46. It is an ill wind certainly that blows nobody any good. I had been with the Indians a year lacking fourteen [Page 183] days; and, if not for my sister, yet for me, it was a lucky circumstance indeed, which thus at last in an unexpected moment, snatched me out of their cruel hands, and placed me beyond the reach of their insolent power.

47. After my Indian master had disposed of me in the manner related above, and the moment of sober reflection had arrived, perceiving that the man who bought me had taken the advantage of him in an unguarded hour, his re­sentment began to kindle, and his indignation rose so high, that he threatened to kill me if he should meet me alone; or if he could not revenge himself thus, that he would set fire to the fort.

48. I was therefore secreted in an upper chamber, and the fort carefully guarded, until his wrath had time to cool. My service in the family to which I was advanced, was perfect freedom, in comparison with what it had been among the barbarous Indians.

49. My new master and mistress were both as kind and generous towards me as I could reasonably expect. I sel­dom asked a favor of either of them, but it was readily granted. In consequence of which I had it in my power, in many instances, to administer aid and refreshment to the poor prisoners of my own nation, who were brought into St. John's during my abode in the family of the above­mentioned benevolent and hospitable Saccapee.

50. Yet even in this family, such trials awaited me as I had little reason to expect; but stood in need of a large stock of prudence, to enable me to encounter them. In this I was greatly assisted by the governor, and Col. Schuy­ler, who was then a prisoner.

51. I was moreover under unspeakable obligations to the governor on another account. I had received intelli­gence from my daughter Mary, the purport of which was, that there was a prospect of her being shortly married to a young Indian of the tribe of St. Francois, with which tribe she had continued from the beginning of her captivity. These were heavy tidings, and added greatly to the poig­nancy of my other afflictions.

52. However, not long after I had heard this melan­choly news, an opportunity presented of acquainting that humane and generous gentleman, the commander in chief, [Page 184] and my illustrious benefactor, with this affair also, who in compassion for my sufferings, and to mitigate my sorrows, issued his orders in good time, and had my daughter taken away from the Indians, and conveyed to the same nunnery where her sister was then lodged, with his express injunc­tion, that they should both of them together be well looked after, and carefully educated, as his adopted children.

53. In this school of superstition and bigotry, they continued while the war in those days between France and Great-Britain lasted. At the conclusion of which war, the governor went home to France, took my oldest daugh­ter along with him, and married her there to a French gen­tleman, whose name is Cron Lewis.

54. He was at Boston with the fleet under Count de Estaing, (1778) and one of his clerks. My other daugh­ter still continuing in the nunnery, a considerable time had elapsed after my return from captivity, when I made a jour­ney to Canada, resolving to use my best endeavors not to return without her.

55. I arrived just in time to prevent her being sent to France. She was to have gone in the next vessel that sa [...]l­ed for that place. And I found it extremely difficult to prevail with her to quit the nunnery and go home with me.

56. Yea, she absolutely refused; and all the persuasions and arguments I could use with her, w [...]re to no effect, un­til after I had been to the governor, and obtained a letter from him to the superintendent of the nuns, in which he threatened, if my daughter should not be delivered imme­diately into my hands, or could not be prevailed with to submit to my parental authority, that he would send a band of soldiers to assist me in bringing her away.

57. But so extremely bigotted was she to the customs and religion of the place, that after all, she left it with the greatest reluctance, and the most bitter lamentations, which she continued as we passed the streets, and wholly refused to be comforted. My good friend, Major Small, whom we met with on the way, tried all he could to console her; and was so very kind and obliging as to bear us company, and carry my daughter behind him on horseback.

58. But I have run on a little before my story; for I have not yet informed you of the means and manner of my [Page 185] own redemption, to the accomplishing of which, the recov­ery of my daughter just mentioned, and the ransoming of some of my other children, several gentlemen of note con­tributed not a little; to whose goodness, therefore, I am greatly indebted, and sincerely hope I shall never be so un­grateful as to forget it.

59. Col. Schuyler, in particular, was so very kind and generous as to advance 2700 livres to procure a ransom for myself and three of my children. He accompanied and conducted us from Montreal to Albany, and entertained us in the most friendly and hospitable manner a considera­ble time, at his own house, and I believe entirely at his own expense.

I RISE with astonishment to see these papers brought to your table at so late a period of this business; papers, to tell us what? Why, what all the world knew before; that the Americans, irritated by repeated injuries, and stripped of their inborn rights and dearest privileges, have resisted, and entered into associations for the preser­vation of their common liberties.

2. Had the early situation of the people of Boston been attended to, things would not have come to this. But the infant complaints of Boston were literally treated like the capricious squalls of a child, who, it was said, did not know whether it was aggrieved or not.

3. But full well I knew, at that time, that this child, if not redressed, would soon assume the courage and voice of a man. Full well I knew, that the sons of ancestors, born under the same free constitution, and once breathing the same liberal air as Englishmen, would resist upon the same principles, and on the same occasions.

4. What has government done? They have sent an armed force, cons [...]sting of seventeen thousand men, to dra­goon [Page 186] the Bostonians into what is called their duty; and, so far from once turning their eyes to the policy and de­structive consequence of this scheme, are constantly sending out more troops. And we are told, in the language of menace, that, if seventeen thousand men won't do, fifty thousand shall.

5. It is true, my lords, with this force they may ravage the country; waste and destroy as they march; but, in the progress of fifteen hundred miles, can they occupy the places they have passed? Will not a country, which can produce three millions of people, wronged and insulted as they are, start up like hydras in every corner, and gather fresh strength from fresh opposition?

6. Nay, what dependence can you have upon the sol­diery, the unhappy engines of your wrath? They are En­glishmen, who must feel for the privileges of Englishmen. Do you think that these men can turn their arms against their brethren? Surely no. A victory must be to them a defeat; and carnage, a sacrifice.

7. But it is not merely three millions of people, the produce of America, we have to contend with in this un­natural struggle; many more are on their side, dispersed over the face of this wide empire. Every whig in this country and in Ireland is with them.

8. Who, then, let me demand, has given, and continues to give, this strange and unconstitutional advice? I do not mean to level at one man, or any particular set of men; but thus much I will venture to declare, that, if his Majesty continues to hear such counsellors, he will not only be bad­ly advised, but undone.

9. He may continue indeed to wear his crown; but it will not be worth his wearing. Robbed of so principal a jewel as America, it will lose its lustre, and no longer beam that effulgence which should irradiate the brow of majesty.

10. In this alarming crisis, I come with this paper in my hand to offer you the best of my experience and advice, which is, that a humble petition be presented to his Ma­jesty, beseeching him, that, in order to open the way to­wards a happy settlement of the dangerous troubles in America, it may graciously please him, that immediate or­ders [Page 187] be given to general Gage for removing his Majesty's forces from the town of Boston.

11. And this, my lords, upon the most mature and de­liberate grounds, is the best advice I can give you, at this juncture. Such conduct will convince America that you mean to try her cause in the spirit of freedom and inquiry, and not in letters of blood.

12. There is no time to be lost. Every hour is big with danger. Perhaps, while I am now speaking, the de­cisive blow is struck, which may involve millions in the consequence. And, believe me, the very first drop of blood which is shed, will cause a wound which may never be healed.

THIS animal is produced in Africa, and the hottest parts of Asia. It is found in the greatest numbers in the scorched and desolate regions of the torrid zone, and in all the interior parts of the vast continent of Africa.

2. In these desert regions, from whence mankind are driven by the rigorous heat of the climate, this animal reigns sole master. Its disposition seems to partake of the ardor of its native soil. Enflamed by the influence of a burning sun, its rage is most tremendous, and its courage undaunted.

3. Happily, indeed, the species is not numerous, and is said to be greatly diminished; for, if we may credit the testimony of those who have traversed those vast deserts, the number of lions is not nearly so great as formerly.

4. From numberless accounts, we are assured that, pow­erful and terrible as this animal is, its anger is noble, its courage magnanimous, and its temper susceptible of grate­ful impressions. It has often been seen to despise weak and contemptible enemies, and even to pardon their insults when it was in its power to punish them.

5. It has been known to spare the life of an animal that was thrown to be devoured by it; to live in habits of perfect cordiality with it; to share its subsistence, and even to give it a preference where its portion of food was scanty.

[Page 188]6. The form of the lion is strikingly bold and majestic. His large and shaggy mane, which he can erect at pleasure, surrounding his awful front; his huge eye-brows; his round and fiery eye-balls, which upon the least irritation seem to glow with peculiar lustre; together with the formidable appearance of his teeth, exhibit a picture of terrific gran­deur which no words can describe.

7. The length of the largest lion is between eight and nine feet; the tail about four; and its height about four feet and a half. The female is about one fourth part less, and without a mane.

8. As the lion advances in years its mane grows long­er and thicker. The hair on the rest of the body is short and smooth, of a tawny color, but whitish on the belly. Its roaring is loud and dreadful. When heard in the night, it resembles distant thunder. Its cry of anger is much louder and shorter.

9. The lion seldom attacks any animal openly, except when impelled by extreme hunger; in that case no danger deters him. But, as most animals endeavor to avoid him, he is obliged to have recourse to artifice, and take his prey by surprise.

10. For this purpose, he crouches on his belly in some thicket, where he waits till his prey approaches; and then, with one prodigious spring, he leaps upon it at the distance of fifteen or twenty feet, and generally seizes it at the first bound.

11. If he miss his object, he gives up the pursuit; and turning back towards the place of his ambush, he measures the ground step by step, and again lies in wait for another opportunity. The lurking places are generally chosen by him near a spring, or by the side or a river, where he has frequently an opportunity of catching such animals as come to quench their thirst.

12. The lion is a long-lived animal, although natural­ists differ greatly as to the precise period of its existence. Of some that have been trained in the tower of London, one lived to the age of sixty three years, and another ex­ceeded seventy.

13. The aspect of the lion corresponds with the noble and generous qualities of his mind; his figure is respecta­ble; [Page 189] his looks are determined; his gait is stately, and his voice tremendous. In a word, the body of the lion ap­pears to be the best model of strength joined to agility.

14. As a proof that he is capable of exercising a gen­erous and friendly disposition towards mankind, we have the following anecdote of one which was kept in the tow­er of London.

15. When this lion was confined in the den alone, an accident happened to the lower part of it, which so impair­ed the wood-work, that he could not be kept with safety; the carpenter was therefore called to repair it, who wisely stood at a distance, and would not approach the den for fear of the lion.

16. Upon this, one of the keepers stepped into the den, and engaged to keep the lion at the upper part of his house, while the carpenter was at work beneath. It happened, however, that the keeper, after playing some time with the lion, fell fast asleep.

17. The carpenter continued his work, without know­ing the danger to which he was exposed; and when he had finished his work, called to the keeper to come down and fasten the door; but received no answer.

18. He then ran out of the den, and was greatly sur­prised to see, through the grate, both the keeper and the lion stretched upon the floor, and sleeping together. He called to him again, but the keeper was too sound asleep to return any answer.

19. The lion however reared up his frightful head, and after looking some time at the carpenter, threw his huge paw over the keeper's breast, and laying his nose upon his head, again composed himself to rest.

20. The carpenter already terrified with his own situa­tion, was still more alarmed when he saw the keeper thus encircled with the pa [...]s of the lion, and ran into the house for aid.

21. Some of the people came out, and having bolted the den door, which the carpenter had neglected in his precipitate retreat, they roused the keeper from his sleep, who, shaking the lion by the paw, took his leave; but the lion was too well-bred to suffer his friend to go without some little ceremony or marks of esteem.

[Page 190]22. He first rubbed his great nose against the keeper's knees, then held him by the coat, as if he would have said, "Do stay a little longer;" and when he found that no en­treaties could prevail, he courteously waited on him to the door.

IT is too much to be lamented, that different nations frequently make bloody wars with each other; and when they take any of their enemies prisoners, instead of using them well, and restoring them to liberty, they con­fine them in prisons, or sell them as slaves. The enmity that there has often been between many of the Italian states, particularly the Venetians and the Turks, is sufficiently known.

2. It once happened that a Venetian ship had taken many of the Turks prisoners, and, according to the barba­rous custom I have mentioned, these unhappy men had been sold to different persons in the city. By accident one of the slaves lived opposite to the house of a rich Venetian, who had an only son, of about the age of twelve years.

3. It happened that this little boy used frequently to stop as he passed near Hamet, for that was the name of the slave, and gaze at him very attentively. Hamet, who re­marked in the face of the child the appearance of good-na­ture and compassion, used always to salute him with the greatest courtesy, and testified the greatest pleasure in his company.

4. At length the little boy took such a fancy to the slave, that he used to visit him several times in the day, and brought him such little presents as he had it in his power to make, and which he thought would be of use to his friend.

5. But though Hamet seemed always to take the great­est delight in the innocent caresses of his little friend, yet the child could not help remarking that Hamet was fre­quently extremely sorrowful; and he often surprised him on a sudden, when tears were trickling down his face, al­though he did his utmost to conceal them.

[Page 191]6. The little boy was at length so much affected with the repetition of this sight, that he spoke of it to his father, and begged him, if he had it in his power, to make poor Hamet happy. The father, who was extremely fond of his son, and besides, had observed that he seldom request­ed any thing which was not generous and humane, deter­mined to see the Turk himself, and talk to him.

7. Accordingly he went to him the next day, and ob­serving him for some time in silence, was struck with the extraordinary appearance of mildness and honesty which his countenance discovered. At length he said to him, Are you that Hamet of whom my son is so fond, and of whose gentleness and courtesy I have so often heard him talk?

8. Yes, said the Turk, I am that unfortunate Hamet, who have now been for three years a captive: during that space of time, your son, if you are his father, is the only human being that seems to have felt any compassion for my sufferings; therefore, I must confess, he is the only object to which I am attached in this barbarous country; and night and morning I pray that Power, who is equally the God of Turks and Christians, to grant him every blessing he deserves, and to preserve him from all the miseries I suffer.

9. Indeed, Hamet, said the merchant, he is much obliged to you, although from his present circumstances, he does not appear much exposed to danger. But tell me, for I wish to do you good, in what can I assist you? for my son informs me that you are the prey of continual re­gret and sorrow.

10. Is it wonderful, answered the Turk, with a glow of generous indignation that suddenly animated his counte­nance, is it wonderful that I should pine in silence, and mourn my fate, who am bereft of the first and noblest pres­ent of nature, my liberty? And yet, answered the Vene­tian, how many thousands of our nation do you retain in fetters?

11. I am not answerable, said the Turk, for the cruelty of my countrymen, more than you are for the barbarity of yours. But as to myself, I have never practised the inhu­man custom of enslaving my fellow-creatures: I have never [Page 192] spoiled Venetian merchants of their property to increase my riches; I have always respected the rights of nature, and therefore it is the more severe—

12. Here a tear started from his eye, and wetted his manly cheek: instantly, however, he recollected himself, and folding his arms upon his bosom, and gently bowing his head, he added, God is good, and man must submit to his decrees. The Venetian was affected with this appear­ance of manly fortitude, and said, Hamet, I pity your suf­ferings, and may perhaps be able to relieve them. What would you do to regain your liberty?

13. What would I do! answered Hamet; I would confront every pain and danger that can appal the heart of man. Nay, answered the merchant, you will not be expo­sed to such a trial. The means of your deliverance are cer­tain, provided your courage does not belie your appearance.

14. Name them! name them! cried the impatient Hamet; place death before me in every horrid shape, and if I shrink—Patience, answered the merchant, we shall be observed. But hear me attentively. I have in this city an inveterate foe, who has heaped upon me every injury which can most bitterly sting the heart of man.

15. This man is brave as he is haughty; and I must confess that the dread of his strength and valor has hitherto deterred me from resenting his insults as they deserve. Now, Hamet, your look, your form, your words, convince me that you are born for manly daring.

16. Take this dagger; and as soon as the shades of night involve the city, I will myself conduct you to the place, where you may at once revenge your friend, and re­gain your freedom.

17. At this proposal, scorn and shame flashed from the kindling eye of Hamet, and passion for a considerable time deprived him of the power of utterance; at length he lift­ed his arms as high as his chains would permit, and cried with an indignant tone, Mighty Prophet! and are these the wretches to which you permit your faithful votaries to be enslaved?

18. Go, base Christian, and know that Hamet would not stoop to the vile trade of an assassin, for all the wealth of Venice! no, not to purchase the freedom of all his race! [Page 193] At these words, the merchan [...], without seeming much abash­ed, told him he was sorry he had offended him; but that he thought freedom had been dearer to him than he found it was.

19. However, added he, as he turned his back, you will reflect upon my proposal, and perhaps by to-morrow you may change your mind. Hamet disdained to answer, and the merchant went his way.

20. The next day, however, he returned in compa­ny with his son, and mildly accosted Hamet thus; The abruptness of the proposal I yesterday made you might perhaps astonish you; but I am now come to discourse the matter more calmly with you, and I doubt not, [...]en you have heard my reasons—

21. Christian, interrupted Hamet, with a severe, but composed countenance, cease at length to insult the mise­rable with proposals more shocking than even these chains. If thy religion permit such acts as those, know that they are execrable and abominable to the soul of every Mahom­etan: therefore, from this moment let us break off all far­ther intercourse, and be strangers to each other.

22. No, answered the merchant, flinging himself into the arms of Hamet, let us from this moment be more close­ly linked than ever! Generous man, whose virtues may at once disarm and enlighten thy enemies! fondness for my son first made me interested in thy fate; but from the mo­ment that I saw thee yesterday, I determined to set thee free. Therefore, pardon me this unnecessary trial of thy virtue, which has only raised thee higher in my esteem.

23. Francisco has a soul which is as averse to deeds of treachery and blood, as even Hamet himself. From this moment, generous man, thou art free; thy ransom is already paid, with no other obligation than that of remem­bering the affection of this thy young and faithful friend; and perhaps, hereafter, when thou seest an unhappy Chris­tian groaning in Turkish fetters, thy generosity may make thee think of Venice.

24. The feelings of Hamet at this unexpected deliver­ance are not to be described. Francisco put him on board a ship, which was bound to one of the Grecian islands, and, after taking leave of him in the tenderest manner, forced him to accept of a purse of gold to pay his expenses.

[Page 194]25. Affectionate was the parting of Hamet with his little friend, whom he embraced in an agony of tenderness, wept over him, and implored Heaven to grant him all the blessings of this life.

26. About six months afterwards, one morning, while the family were all in bed, Francisco's house was discover­ed to be on fire, and great part of the house was in flames before the family was alarmed. The terrified servants had but just time to awaken Francisco, who was no sooner got into the street, than the whole staircase gave way, and fell into the flames.

27▪ [...]f the merchant thought himself happy on having saved himself, it was only for a moment, as he soon recol­lected, that his beloved son was left behind to the mercy of the flames. He sunk into the deepest despair, when up­on inquiry he found, that his son, who slept in an upper apartment, had been forgotten in the general confusion.

28. He raved in agonies of grief, and offered half his fortune to any one, who would risk his life to save his child. As he was known to be very rich, several ladders were instantly raised by those who wished to obtain the reward; but the violence of the flames drove every one down who attempted it.

29. The unfortunate youth then appeared on the top of the house, extending his arms, and calling out for aid. The unhappy father became motionless, and remained in a state of insensibility. At this critical moment, a man rushed through the crowd, and ascended the tallest ladder, seem­ingly determined to rescue the youth, or perish in the attempt.

30. A sudden gust of flame bursting forth, led the peo­ple to suppose he was lost; but he presently appeared de­scending the ladder with the child in his arms, without re­ceiving any material injury. A universal shout attended this noble action, and the father, to his inexpressible sur­prise, on recovering from his swoon, found his child in his arms.

31. After giving vent to the first emotions of tender­ness, he inquired after his generous deliverer, whose fea­tures were so changed by the smoak, that they could not be distinguished. Francisco immediately presented him [Page 195] with a [...]se of gold, promising the next day to give him the re [...]rd he had offered.

32. The stranger replied, that he should accept of no reward. Francisco started, and thought he knew the voice; when his son flew to the arms of his deliverer, and cried out, "It is my dear Hamet! it is my dear Hamet!"

33. The astonishment and gratitude of the merchant were equally excited; and retiring from the crowd, he took Hamet with him to a friend's house. As soon as they were alone, Francisco inquired by what means he had been a second time enslaved.

34. I will tell you in a few words, said the gene­rous Turk. When I was taken by the Venetian gallies, my father shared in my captivity. It was his fate, and not my own, which so often made me shed those tears, which first attracted the notice of your amiable son.

35. As soon as your bounty had set me free, I flew to the Christian who had purchased my father. I told him, that as I was young and vigorous, and he aged and infirm, I would be his slave instead of my father.

36. I added too the gold which your bounty had be­stowed on me, and by these means I prevailed on the Christian to send back my father in that ship you had pro­vided for me, without his knowing the cause of his freedom. Since that time I have stayed here a willing slave, and Heaven has been so gracious as to put it into my power to save the life of that youth, which I value a thousand times more than my own.

37. The merchant was astonished at such an instance of gratitude and affection, and pressed Hamet to accept of the half of his fortune, and to settle in Venice for the re­mainder of his days. Hamet, however, with a noble mag­nanimity, refused the offer, saying, he had done no more than what every one ought to do in a similar situation.

38. Though Hamet seemed to under-rate his past ser­vices to the merchant, yet the latter could not suffer things to pass in this manner. He again purchased his freedom, and fitted a ship out on purpose to take him back to his own country. At parting, they mutually embraced each other, and, as they thought, took an eternal farewell.

[Page 196]39. After many years had elapsed, and young Francis­co was grown up to manhood, beloved and respected by every one, it so happened that some business made it neces­sary for him and his father to visit a neighboring city on the coast; and as they supposed a passage by sea would be more expeditious than by land, they embarked in a Vene­tian vessel, which was bound to that port, and ready to sail.

40. A favorable gale soon wafted them out of sight, and promised them a speedy passage; but, unfortunately for them, before they had proceeded half their voyage, they were met by some Turkish vessels, who, after an obstinate resistance from the Venetians, boarded them, loaded them with irons, and carried them prisoners to Tunis. There they were exposed in the market-place in their chains, in order to be sold as slaves.

41. At last, a Turk came to the market, who seemed to be a man of superior rank, and after looking over the prisoners, with an expression of compassion, he fixed his eyes upon young Francisco, and asked the captain what was the price of that young captive.

42. The captain replied, that he would not part with him for less than five hundred pieces of gold. The Turk considered that as a very extraordinary price, since he had seen him sell others, that exceeded him in strength and vigor, for less than a fifth part of that money.

43. That is true, (replied the captain) but he shall either fetch me a price that will repay me the damage he has occasioned me, or he shall labor all the rest of his life at the oar. The Turk asked him, what damage he could have done him more than the rest of the crew.

44. It was he (replied the captain) who animated the Christians to make a desperate resistance, and thereby proved the destruction of many of my bravest seamen: We three times boarded them with a fury that seemed in­vincible, and each time did that youth attack us with a cool and determined opposition; so that we were obliged to give up the contest, till other ships came to our assistance. I will therefore have that price for him, or I will punish him for life.

[Page 197]45. The Turk now surveyed young Francisco more attentively than before; and the young man, who had hitherto fixed his eyes in sullen silence on the ground, at length raised them up; but he had no sooner beheld the person who was talking to the captain, than, in a loud voice, he uttered the name of Hamet. The Turk, struck with astonishment, surveyed him for a moment, and then caught him in his arms.

46. After a moment's pause, the generous Hamet lifted up his hands to heaven, and thanked his God, who had put in his power to sh [...]w his gratitude; but words cannot express his feelings, when he found that both father and son were slaves. Suffice it to say, that he instantly bought their freedom, and conducted them to his magnifi­cent house in the city.

47. They had here full leisure to discourse on the strange vicissitudes of fortune, when Hamet told his Vene­tian friends, that after their generosity had procured him liberty, he became an officer in the Turkish army, and happening to be fortunate in all his enterprises, he had been gradually promoted, till he arrived at the dignity of ba­shaw of Tunis.

48. That in this situation, he found the greatest conso­lation in alleviating the misfortunes of the Christian prison­ers, and always attended the sales of those unhappy slaves, to procure liberty to a certain number of them. And gra­cious Allah (added he) has this day put it in my power in some measure to return the duties of gratitude.

49. They continued some days with Hamet, who did every thing in his power to amuse and divert them; but as he found their desire was to return to their own country, he told them that he would not detain them against their wishes; and that they should embark the next day in a ship bound for Venice, which would be furnished with a passport to carry them safe there.

50. The next day, he dismissed them with every mark of tenderness and affection, and ordered a party of his own guards to attend them to the vessel. They had no sooner got on board, than they found, to their inexpressible surprise and joy, that they were in the very ship in which they had been taken, and that, by the generosity of Hamet, [Page 198] not only the ship, but even the whole crew, were redeemed and restored to freedom.

51. Francisco and his son, after a quick passage, arrived in their own country, where they lived beloved and respect­ed, and endeavored to convince every one they knew, how great were the vicissitudes of fortune, and that God never suffers humanity and generosity to go unrewarded, here or hereafter.

YOU ask, Athenians, "What real advan­tage have we derived from the speeches of Demosthenes? He rises when he thinks proper; he deafens us with his harangues; he declaims against the degeneracy of present [Page 202] times; he tells us of the virtues of our ancestors; he transports us by his airy extravagance; he puffs up our vanity; and then sits down."

2. But, could these my speeches once gain an effectual influence upon your minds, so great would be the advan­tages conferred upon my country, that, were I to attempt to speak them, they would appear to many as visionary. Yet still I must assume the merit of doing some service, by ac­customing you to hear salutary truths.

3. And if your counsellors be solicitous for any point of moment to their country, let them first cure your ears; for they are distempered; and this, from the inveterate habit of listening to falsehoods, to every thing, rather than your real interests.

4. There is no man who dares openly and boldly to declare, in what case our constitution is subverted. But I shall declare it. When you, Athenians, become a helpless rabble, without conduct, without property, without arms, without order, without unanimity; when neither your general, nor any other person, hath the least respect for your decrees; when no man dares to inform you of this your condition, to urge the necessary reformation, much less to exert his effort to effect it; then is your constitu­tion subverted. And this is now the case.

5. But, O my fellow-citizens! a language of a differ­ent nature hath poured in upon us; false, and highly dan­gerous to the State. Such is that assertion, that in your tribunals is your great security; that your right of suffrage is the real bulwark of the constitution. That these tribu­nals are our common resource in all private contests, I acknowledge.

6. But, it is by arms we are to subdue our enemies; by arms we are to defend our State. It is not by our de­crees that we can conquer. To those, on the contrary, who sight our battles with success, to these we owe the power of decreeing, of transacting all our affairs, without control or danger. In arms, then, let us be terrible; in our judicial transactions, humane.

7. If it be observed, that these sentiments are more ele­vated than might be expected from my character; the ob­servation, I confess, is just. Whatever is said about a state [Page 203] of such dignity, upon affairs of such importance, should ap­pear more elevated than any character. To your worth should it correspond, not to that of the speaker.

8. And now I shall inform you why none of those, who stand high in your esteem, speak in the same manner. The candidates for office and employment go about solicit­ing your voices, the slaves of popular favor. To gain the rank of general, is each man's great concern; not to fill this station with true manlike intrepidity.

9. Courage, if he possess it, he deems unnecessary; for, thus he reasons; he has the honor, the renown of this city to support him; he finds himself free from oppression and control; he needs but to amuse you with fair hopes; and, thus, he secures a kind of inheritance in your emolu­ments. And he reasons truly.

10. But, do you yourselves once assume the conduct of your own affairs; and then, as you take an equal share of duty, so shall you acquire an equal share of glory. Now, your ministers and public speakers, without one thought of directing you faithfully to your true interest, resign them­selves entirely to these generals. Formerly you divided into classes, in order to raise the supplies; now the business of the classes is to gain the management of public affairs.

11. The orator is the leader; the general seconds his attempts; the Three Hundred are the assistants on each side; and all others take their parties, and serve to fill up the several factions. And you see the consequences.

12. This man gains a statue; this amasses a fortune; one or two command the State; while you sit down uncon­cerned, witnesses of their success; and, for an uninterrupted course of ease and indolence, give them up those great and glorious advantages, which really belong to you.

OBSERVE and mark as well as you may, what is the temper and disposition of those persons, whose speeches you hear, whether they be grave, serious, sober, wise, discreet persons. If they be such, their speeches [Page 204] commonly are like themselves, and well deserve your atten­tion and observation.

2. But, if they be light, impertinent, vain, passionate persons, their speech is for the most part accordingly; and the best advantage that you will gain by their speech, is but thereby to learn their dispositions; to discern their failings, and to make yourselves the more cautious both in your conversation with them, and in your own speech and de­portment; for in the unseemliness of their speech you may better discern and avoid the like in yourselves.

3. If any person, that you do not very well know to be a person of truth, sobriety, and weight, relate strange stories, be not too ready or easy to believe them, nor report them after him. And yet, unless he be one of your familiar ac­quaintance, be not too forward to contradict him; or if the necessity of the occasion require you to declare your opinion of what is so reported, let it be modestly and gently, not too bluntly or coarsely. By this mean, on the one side you will avoid being abused by your too much credulity; on the other side, you will avoid quarrels and distaste.

4. If any man speak any thing to the disadvantage or reproach of one that is absent, be not too ready to believe it; only observe and remember it, for it may be it is not true, or it is not all true, or some other circumstances were min­gled with it, which might give the business reported a justi­fication, or at least an allay, an extenuation, or a reasona­ble excuse.

5. If any person report unto you some injury done to you by another, either in words or deeds, do not be over hasty in believing it; nor suddenly angry with the person so accused; for it is possible it may be false or mistaken; and how unseemly a thing will it be, when your credulity and passion shall perchance carry you, upon a supposed in­jury, to do wrong to him that hath done you none.

6. When a person is accused or reported to have injur­ed you, before you give yourself leave to be angry, think with yourself, why should I be angry before I am certain it is true; or if it be true, how can I tell how much I should be angry, till I know the whole matter? Though it may be he hath done me wrong, yet possibly it is misrepre­sented, or it was done by mistake, or it may be he is sorry for it.

[Page 205]7. I will not be angry till I know there be cause, and if there be cause, yet I will not be angry till I know the whole cause; for till then, if I must be angry at all, yet I know not how much to be angry; it may be it is not worth my anger, or if it be, it may be it deserves but a lit­tle. This will keep your mind and carriage upon such oc­casions in a due temper and order; and will disappoint ma­licious or officious tale-bearers.

8. If a man, whose integrity you do not very well know, make you great and extraordinary professions and promises, give him as kind thanks as may be, but give not much cred­it to it. Cast about with yourself what may be the reason of his wonderful kindness; it is twenty to one but you will find something that he aims at, beside kindness to you.

9. If a man flatter and commend you to your face, or to one that he thinks will tell you of it; it is a thousand to one, either he hath deceived and abused you some way, or means to do so. Remember the fable of the fox commend­ing the singing of the crow, when she had somew [...] in her mouth that the fox liked.

10. If a person be choleric, passionate, and give you ill language, remember, first, rather to pity him than to be moved into anger and passion with him; for most certainly that man is in a distemper, and disordered. Observe him calmly, and you shall see in him so much perturbation and disturbance, that you will easily believe he is not a pattern to be imitated by you, and therefore return not choler for anger; for you do but put yourself into a kind of frenzy because you see him so.

11. Be sure you return not railing, reproaching, or re­viling for reviling; for it doth but kindle more heat, and you will find silence, or at least very gentle words, the most exquisite revenge for reproaches that can be; for either it will cure the distemper in the other, and make him see and be sorry for his passion, or it will torment him with more perturbation and disturbance.

12. Some men are excellent in the knowledge of hus­bandry, some of planting, some of gardening, some in the mathematics, some in one kind, some in another; in all your conversation, learn as near as you can wherein the skill and excellence of any person lies, and put him upon [Page 206] talk of that subject, and observe it, and keep it in memory or writing; by this mean you will glean up the worth and excellence of every person you meet with, and at an easy rate put together that which may be for your use upon all occasions.

13. Converse not with a liar or a swearer, or a man of obscene or wanton language; for either he will corrupt you, or at least it will hazard your reputation to be one of the like making. And if it doth neither, yet it will fill your memory with such discourses, that will be troublesome to you in after-time, and the returns of the remembrance of the passages which you long since heard of this nature, will haunt you, when your thoughts should be better employed.

14. Let your speech be true; never speak any thing for a truth which you know or believe to be false. It is a great sin against God who gave you a tongue, to speak your offence against humanity itself; for where there is no truth, there can be no safe society between man and man.

15. As you must be careful not to lie, so you must avoid coming near to it; you must not equivocate, you must not speak that absolutely, which you have but by hear say or relation; you must not speak that as upon knowledge which you have but by conjecture or opinion only.

16. Let your words be few, especially when your bet­ters, or strangers, or men of experience or understanding, are present; for you do yourself at once two great mischiefs. First, you betray and discover your own weakness and fol­ly. Secondly, you rob yourself of that opportunity which you might otherwise have to gain knowledge, wisdom, and experience, by hearing those whom you silence by your im­per [...]inent talking.

17. Be not over earnest, loud, or violent in talking; for it is unseen [...]ly; and earnest and loud talking make you over­shoot and lose your business. When you should be consid­ering and pondering your thoughts, and how to express them significantly, and to the purpose, you are striving to keep your tongue going, and to silence an opponent, not with reason but with noise.

18. Be careful not to interrupt another in his talk; hear him out; you will understand him the better, and be able to give him the better answer. It may be, if you will give [Page 207] him leave, he will say something more than you have yet heard, or well understood, or that which you did not expect.

19. Always before you speak, especially where the bu­siness is of moment, consider beforehand, weigh the sense of your mind, which you intend to utter; think upon the ex­pressions you intend to use, that they may be significant, pertinent, and inoffensive; and whereas it is the ordinary course of inconsiderate persons to speak their words, and then to think, or not to think till they speak; think first and speak after; if it be in any matter of moment or seriousness.

20. Be sure you give not an ill report to any that you are not sure deserves it. And in most cases, though a man deserve ill, yet you should be sparing to report him so. In some cases indeed you are bound, in honesty and justice, to give that account concerning the demerit or default of a person that he deserves.

21. Avoid scoffing, and bitter and biting jeering, and jesting, especially at the condition, credit, deformity, or natural defects of any person; for these leave a deep im­pression, and are most apparent injustice; for, were you so used, you would take it amiss; and many times such an in­jury costs a man dear, when he little thinks of it.

22. Be very careful that you give no reproachful, bitter, menacing, or spiteful words to any person, nay not to ser­vants or other persons of an inferior condition. There is no person so mean but that you may stand in need of him in one kind, or at some time or another. Good words make friends, bad words make enemies; it is the best prudence in the world to make as many friends as honestly you can.

23. If there be occasion for you to speak in any com­pany, always be careful, if you speak at all, to speak latest, especially if strangers are in company; for by this mean you will have the advantage of knowing the sense, judgment, temper, and relations of others, which may be a great light and help to you in ordering your speech; and you will bet­ter know the inclination of the company, and speak with more advantage and acceptation, and with more security against giving offence.

24. Be careful that you commend not yourselves; it is the most useless thing that can be. You should avoid flat­tery from others, but especially decline flattering yourselves. [Page 208] It is a sign your reputation is small and sinking, if your own tongues must be your flatterers or commenders; and it is a fulsome and unpleasing thing for others to hear it.

25. Abhor all foul, unclean and obscene speeches, it is a sign that the heart is corrupt; and such kind of speeches will make it worse; it will taint and corrupt yourselves and those who hear it, and bring disreputation to those who use it.

26. Never use any profane speeches, nor make jests of scripture expressions. When you use the names of God or Christ, or any passages or words of the holy scripture, use them with reverence and seriousness, and not lightly or scurrilously, for it is taking the name of God in vain.

27. If you hear any unseemly expressions used in re­ligious exercises, you must be careful to forget and not to publish them, or if you at all mention them, let it be with pity and sorrow, not with derision or reproach.

HEAR me, for my cause; and be silent, that you may hear. Believe me, for mine honor; and have respect for mine honor, that you may believe. Cen­sure me, in your wisdom; and awake your senses, that you may the better judge.

2. If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his. If then, that friend demand, why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer; not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.

3. Had you rather Caesar were living, and die all slaves; than that Caesar were dead, to live all freemen? As Caesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honor him; but, as he was am­bitious, I slew him.

4. There are tears for his love, joy for his fortune, honor for his valor, and death for his ambition. Who's here so base that he would be a bond-man? If any, speak; for him have I offended.

5. Who's here so rude, that he would not be a Roman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who's here so vile, that he will not love his country? If any, speak; for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.—

6. None? Then none have I offended. I have done no more to Caesar, than you should do to Brutus. And as I slew my best lover for the good of Rome, I reserve the same dagger for myself, whenever it shall please my country to need my death.

I CONGRATULATE you, my brave coun­trymen, and fellow-soldiers, on the spirit and success with which you have executed this important part of our enter­prise. [Page 215] The formidable Heights of Abraham are now sur­mounted; and the city of Quebec, the object of all our toils, now stands in full view before us.

2. A perfidious enemy, who have dared to exasperate you by their cruelties, but not to oppose you on equal ground, are now constrained to face you on the open plain, without ramparts or entrenchments to shelter them.

3. You know too well the forces which compose their army to dread their superior numbers. A few regular troops from Old France, weakened by hunger and sickness, who when fresh were unable to withstand British soldiers, are their General's chief dependence.

4. Those numerous companies of Canadians, insolent, mutinous, unsteady and ill disciplined, have exercised his ut­most skill to keep them together to this time; and as soon as their irregular ardor is damped by one firm fire, they will instantly turn their backs, and give you no further trouble but in the pursuit.

5. As for those savage tribes of Indians, whose hor­rid yells in the forests have struck many a bold heart with affright, terrible as they are with the tomahawk and scalp­ing-knife to a flying and prostrate foe, you have experienced how little their ferocity is to be dreaded by resolute men upon fair and open ground. You can now only consider them as the just objects of a severe revenge for the unhap­py fate of many slaughtered countrymen.

6. This day puts it into your power to te [...]minate the fatigues of a siege whi [...]h has so long employed your courage and patience. Possessed with a full confidence of the cer­tain success which British valor must gain over such enemies, I have led you up these steep and dangerous rocks; only solicitous to show you the foe within your reach.

7. The impossibility of a retreat makes no difference in the situation of men resolved to conquer or die; and, be­lieve me, my friends, if your conquest could be bought with the blood of your General, he would most cheerfully resign a life which he has long devoted to his country.

THE most affecting instance of the odious in­flexibility of Venetian courts, appears in the case of Foscari, son to the Doge of that name. This young man had, by some imprudences, given offence to the Senate, and was, by their orders, confined at Treviso, when Almor Donato, one of the Council of Ten, was assassinated, on the 5th of November, 1450, as he entered his own house.

2. A reward, in ready money, with pardon for this or any other crime, and a pension of two hundred ducats, re­vertible to children, was promised to any person who would discover the planner or perpetrator of this crime. No such discovery was made.

3. One of young Foscari's footmen, named Olivier, had been observed loitering near Donato's house, on the evening of the murder; he fled from Venice next morning. These, with other circumstances of less importance, created a strong suspicion that Foscari had engaged this man to commit the murder.

4. Olivier was taken, brought to Venice, put to the torture, and confessed nothing; yet the Council of Ten, being prepossessed with an opinion of their guilt, and ima­gining that the master would have less resolution, used him in the same cruel manner. The unhappy young man, in the midst of his agony, continued to assert, that he knew nothing of the assassination.

5. This convinced the Court of his firmness, but not of his innocence; yet as there was no legal proof of his guilt, they could not sentence him to death. He was condemned to pass the rest of his life in banishment, at Canea, in the island of Candia.

6. This unfortunate youth bore his exile with more impatience than he had done the rack; he often wrote to his relations and friends, praying them to intercede in his behalf, that the term of his banishment might be abridged, and that he might be permitted to return to his family be­fore he died. All his applications were fruitless; those [Page 217] to whom he addressed himself had never interfered in [...] favor, for fear of giving offence to the obdurate Council▪ or had interfered in vain.

7. After languishing five years in exile, having lost all hope of return, through the interposition of his own family or countrymen, in a fit of despair he addressed the Duke of Milan, putting him in mind of services which the Dog [...], his father, had rendered him, and begging that he would use his powerful influence with the State of Venice, that his sentence might be recalled.

8. He entrusted his letter to a merchant, going from Canea to Venice, who promised to take the first opportu­nity of sending it from thence to the Duke; instead of which, this wretch, as soon as he arrived at V [...]ice, deliv­ered it to the chiefs of the Council of Ten.

9. This conduct of young Foscari appeared criminal in the eyes of those Judges; for by the laws of the republic, all its subjects are expressly forbidden claiming the protec­tion of foreign princes, in any thing which relates to the government of Venice.

10. Foscari was therefore ordered to be brought from Candia, and shut up in the State prison. There the chiefs of the Council of Ten ordered him once more to be put to the torture, to draw from him the motives which deter­mined him to apply to the Duke of Milan. Such an ex­ertion of law is, indeed, the most flagrant injustice.

11. The miserable youth declared to the Council, that he wrote the letter in the full persuasion that the merchant, whose character he knew, would betray him, and deliver it to them; the consequence of which, he foresaw, would be, his being ordered back a prisoner to Venice, the only means he had in his power of seeing his parents and friends; a pleasure for which he had languished, with un­surmountable desire, for some time, and which he was willing to purchase at the expense of any danger or pain.

12. The Judges, little affected with this generous in­stance of filial piety, ordained, that the unhappy young man should be carried back to Candia, and there be im­prisoned for a year, and remain banished to that island fo [...] life; with this condition, that if he should make any mor [...] [Page 218] applications to foreign powers, his imprisonment should be perpetual. At the same time they gave permission, that the Doge and his lady might visit their unfortunate son.

13. The Doge was, at this time, very old; he had been in possession of the office above thirty years. Those wretched parents had an interview with their son in one of the apartments of the palace; they embraced him with all the tenderness which his misfortunes and his filial af­fection deserved.

14. The father exhorted him to bear his hard fate with firmness. The son protested, in the most moving terms, that this was not in his power; that however others could support the dismal loneliness of a prison, he could not; that his heart was formed for friendship, and the reciprocal endearments of social life; without which, his soul sunk into dejection worse than death, from which alone he should look for relief, if he should again be confined to the horrors of a prison; and, melting into tears, he sunk at his father's feet, imploring him to take compassion on a son who had ever loved him with the most dutiful affection, and who was perfectly innocent of the crime of which he was accused.

15. He conjured him, by every bond of nature and re­ligion, by the bowels of a father, and the mercy of a Re­deemer, to use his influence with the Council to mitigate their sentence, that he might be saved from the most cruel of all deaths, that of expiring under the slow tortures of a broken heart, in a horrible banishment from every creature he loved. "My son," replied the Doge, "submit to the laws of your country, and do not ask of me what is not in my power to obtain."

16. Having made this effort, he retired to another apart­ment; and, unable to support any longer the acuteness of his feelings, sunk into a state of insensibility, in which con­dition he remained till some time after his son had failed on his return to Candia.

17. Nobody has presumed to describe the anguish of the wretched mother. Those who are endowed with the most exquisite sensibility, and who have experienced dis­tresses in some degree similar, will have the justest idea of what it was.

[Page 219]18. The accumulated misery of those unhappy parents touched the hearts of some of the most powerful Senators, who applied with so much energy for a complete pardon for young Foscari, that they were on the point of obtaining it; when a vessel arrived from Candia, with tidings, that the miserable youth had expired in prison a short time af­ter his return.

19. Some years after this, Nicholas Erizzo, a noble Venetian, being on his death-bed, confessed that, bearing a violent resentment against the Senator Donato, he had committed the assassination for which the unhappy family of Foscari had suffered so much.

20. At this time the sorrows of the Doge were at an [...]nd; he had existed only a few months after the death of his son. His life had been prolonged, till he beheld his son persecuted to death for an infamous crime; but not till he should see this foul stain washed from his family, and the innocence of his beloved son made manifest to the world.

21. The ways of Heaven never appeared more dark and intricate, than in the incidents and catastrophe of this mournful story. To reconcile the permission of such events to our ideas of infinite power and goodness, however diffi­cult, is a natural attempt in the human mind, and has exer­cised the ingenuity of philosophers in all ages, while, in the eye of Christians, those seeming perplexities afford an addi­tional proof, that there will be a future state in which the ways of God to man will be fully justified.

I ASK now, Verres, what you have to ad­vance against this charge? Will you pretend to deny it? Will you pretend that any thing false, that even any thing aggravated is alleged against you?

2. Had any prince, or any state, committed the same outrage against the privilege of Roman citizens, should we [Page 220] not think we had sufficient reason for declaring immediate war against them?

3. What punishment, then, ought to be inflicted upon a tyrannical and wicked praetor, who dared, at no greater distance than Sicily, within sight of the Italian coast, to put to the infamous death of crucifixion that unfortunate and innocent citizen, Publius Gavius Cofanus, only for his hav­ing asserted his privilege of citizenship, and declared his intention of appealing to the justice of his country against a cruel oppressor, who had unjustly confined him in prison at Syracuse, whence he had just made his escape?

4. The unhappy man, arrested as he was going to em­bark for his native country, is brought before the wicked praetor. With eyes darting fury, and a countenance dis­ [...]orted with cruelty, he orders the helpless victim of his rage to be stripped, and rods to be brought; accusing him, but without the least shadow of evidence, or even of sus­picion, of having come to Sicily as a spy.

5. It was in vain that the unhappy man cried out, "I am a Roman citizen; I have served under Lucius Pretius, who is now at Panormus, and will attest my innocence." The blood-thirsty praetor, deaf to all he could urge in his own defence, ordered the infamous punishment to be in­flicted.

6. Thus, fathers, was an innocent Roman citizen pub­lickly mangled with scourging; whilst the only words he uttered amidst his cruel sufferings were, "I am a Roman citizen!" With these he hoped to defend himself from vi­olence and infamy. But of so little service was this privi­lege to him, that while he was asserting his citizenship, the order was given for his execution; for his execution upon the cross!

7. O Liberty! O sound, once delightful to every Ro­man ear! O sacred privilege of Roman citizenship! once sacred! now trampled upon! But what then! Is it come to this? Shall an inferior magistrate, a governor, who holds his power of the Roman people, in a Roman province, within sight of Italy, bind, scourge, torture with fire and red-hot plates of iron, and at last put to the infamous death of the cross, a Roman citizen?

[Page 221]8. Shall neither the cries of innocence expiring in ag­ony, the tears of pitying spectators, nor the majesty of the Roman commonwealth, nor the fear of the justice of his country, restrain the licentious and wanton cruelty of a monster, who, in confidence of his own riches, strikes at the root of liberty, and sets mankind at defiance?

9. I conclude with expressing my hopes, that your wis­dom and justice, fathers, will not, by suffering the atrocious and unexampled insolence of Caius Verres to escape the due punishment, leave room to apprehend the danger of a total subversion of authority, and introduction of general an­archy and confusion.

WHY that sour look and those short speeches, which you gave your companion, my young f [...]iend? Nothing gives me more uneasiness than to see per­sons in ill humor, and disposed to torment each other. In the flower of their age, and in the very season of pleasure especially, why will they waste the few days of sunshine in disputing and repining; and only feel their error, when it is too late to repair it. Ill humor embitters every enjoy­ment, and turns a paradise into a place of misery.

How can we possibly appear always happy, when we have so few happy days? There is ever some thorn an­nexed to the sweetest rose. A bitter disappointment; an unsatisfied desire; an unexpected evil is ever present to ir­ritate and ruffle the mind, and destroy its peace.

Let us preserve our minds in a disposition to en­joy the good things Heaven sends us, and we shall be able to support the evil, when it comes, with resignation and composure.

But we cannot always command our tempers: much depends on the constitution; and when the body is in pain, the mind cannot be at ease.

Allow it to be a natural disease of the mind, to be discomposed by untoward events; but is there no [Page 222] remedy for it? May not much be done by prudence and resolution towards curing it? Ill humor may be com­pared to sloth. It is natural to men to be indolent; but if once they get the better of indolence, they exert them­selves with alacrity, and action becomes a real pleasure.

But we are not masters of ourselves; our feel­ings overpower our reason, and even make us neglect our interest. You may as well advise milk not to turn sour by being exposed to the sun, or the sensitive plant not to shrink from the touch, as the mind of man to be unruffled by cross accidents, and his appearance to be calm and cheerful, when he suffers insults, injuries, or pain.

Say not what our strength will effect till we have tried it. Do not the sick consult physicians, submit to scrupulous regimen, and the most nauseous medicines, to recover their health? Why neglect the more pernicious disorders of the mind? Why not use more diligence and care to cure them? What quality is more desirable than good humor? It adds charms to virtue, and even lessens the hatefulness of vice. It is essential to social happiness; and when we chuse a companion, whether for an hour or a year, for the journey of a day, or the journey of life, this is a principal requisite.

I acknowledge its excellency. It is valuable in brute animals; it pleases even in a domestic cat or dog; and good temper is one of the best qualities in a horse, which no beauty of shape, color or eyes can supply. How much more amiable is it in a fellow-being? But what methods can you prescribe for obtaining and preserving it? Perhaps I may become a proficient, if not an adept in this art.

Cultivate benevolent dispositions. Accustom yourself to turn your mind from deformed and painful ob­jects to scenes of moral and natural beauty. Think how unreasonable and cruel is ill humor. Is it not enough that we are without the power to make another happy, but must we deprive him of the satisfaction, which, if left to him­self, he is frequently capable of enjoying? It is often mean and contemptible. When a man is in ill humor, why does he not hide it, and bear the burden of it himself, without interrupting the pleasure of others? Because he is con­scious [Page 223] of wanting worth, is full of that envious discontent which foolish vanity produces, and dislikes to see people happy unless their happiness is his own work.

Despicable meanness indeed! What punishment does not he deserve, who, from such motives, uses his pow­er over a human heart to rob it of that real pleasure, which it would naturally enjoy!

Often by such a cruel tyranny, the peace of a tender and delicate mind is so deeply wounded, that every favor, and every possible attention afterwards, cannot heal it; domestic sweets are embittered; and moral misconduct ensues.

Henceforth then I will each day inquire what good I can render, and what evil avert from my friends? If, when their minds are tormented by violent passion, or overwhelmed in deep distress, I cannot give them relief, I can at least endeavor not to interrupt them in their pleas­ures; and if I cannot augment my own happiness, I may avoid diminishing theirs.

A noble resolution! worthy an ingenuous heart! As every indulgence of passion makes a second indulgence more natural, so every victory over it makes a second con­quest more easy. By the habitual exercise of the gentle and tender affections, you will secure to yourselves pure and permanent pleasure; you will spread joy and cheerful­ness all around you; and be fitted for the perfect enjoy­ments of that world, where meekness, humanity and be­nevolence shall have an unceasing reign.

TO you, who are parents, nature itself hath given a tender concern for your children's welfare, as your own; and reminds you justly, that, as you have brought them into the dangers of life, your business is to provide that they get well through them.

2. Now, the only provision commonly attended to, of wealth and honors, can never produce happiness, unless the mind, on which all depends, be taught to enjoy them prop­erly. [Page 224] Fortune, without this, will but lead them to more abandoned sallies of extravagance, and expose them to more public censure.

3. Education then is the great care with which you are entrusted; scarce more for their sakes than your own. You may be negligent of your son's instruction, but it is on you as well as himself, that his ignorance and contemptible­ness will bring both reproach and inconvenience. You may be regardless of his moral [...]; but you may be the per­son who will at last most severely feel the want of them.

4. You may be indifferent about his religion; but re­member, dutifulness to you is one great principle of reli­gion, and all the rest promote such habits as you may bitter­ly repent (when it is too late) your omission to cultivate in him; and you may live and die miserable on his account, whom timely care would have made your joy and comfort.

5. Therefore, in a case of such moment, let no false shame nor favorite passion prevail over you, but "Give your hearts early to the Lord who made you." Lay the foundations of your lives here, on the firm ground of Chris­tian faith; and build upon it whatever is just and good, worthy and noble, till the structure be complete in moral beauty.

6. The world, into which you are entering, lies in wait with variety of temptations. Unfavorable sentiments of re­ligion will soon be suggested to you, and all the snares of luxury, false honor, and interest, spread in your way, which, with most of your rank, are too successful, and to many, fatal.

7. Happy the few, who in any part of life become sen­sible of their errors, and with painful resolution tread back the wrong steps which they have taken!

8. But happiest of men is he, who, by an even course of right conduct, from the first, as far as human frailty per­mits, hath at once avoided the miseries of sin, the sorrows of repentance, and the difficulties of virtue; who not only can think of his present state with composure, but reflect on his past behavior with thankful approbation; and look forward with unmixed joy to that important future hour, when he shall appear before God, and humbly offer to him a whole life spent in his service.

I AM truly sensible of the important trust re­posed in me, and cannot but feel a solicitude to discharge it with propriety. I will not say that the pecuniary emolu­ment arising from it is by any means indifferent to me. No man would sacrifice his ease, and enter into an anxious em­ployment, without a desire of those rewards which are al­lotted to industry.

2. And it is equitable that he, who is willing to step forward and render himself extensively useful to others, should derive such advantages from his exertions, as may render his old age easy and respected, or provide for the wants of a rising family.

3. But I must declare, on the other hand, that the sat­isfaction arising from a consciousness of performing the du­ty incumbent on me, and rendering a service equivalent to the recompense, sweetens every labor, and gives additional value to the pecuniary compensation.

4. You are placed here for two purposes; the improve­ment of the understanding, and the formation of virtuous principles for the guidance of your moral conduct. Im­provement of the understanding is apparently the first object in your entrance at school; but it cannot be doubted but that improvement of the heart is really esteemed by those to whom you are most dear, at a higher price than the finest accomplishment of the most cultivated intellect.

5. It is your business to unite these estimable objects, and to suffer your hearts and understandings to vie with each other in the pursuit of excellence. The principal pur­pose of my frequent addresses is to promote the knowledge and the practice of the Christian religion; and in the per­formance of this purpose, I shall of necessity be led to rec­ommend the purest system of morality. Ethics, improved and exalted by the Christian religion, become the guides to real wisdom and solid happiness, to which they could nev­er attain when taught only in the schools of heathen phi­losophy.

[Page 226]6. In the religious part of your education, it is not ex­pected that you should be engaged in the profound disquisi­tions of theology. The plain doctrines of the religion which you have been taught to profess must be explained to you; but the principal business is to open your hearts for the re­ception of those sentiments and precepts, which conduce to the direction of your actions in the employments and en­gagements of your subsequent life.

7. In the first place, I must then remind you of the ne­cessity of reading the Scriptures; that is, of drinking the sacred waters at the fountain. But to read the Scriptures to advantage, judgment is necessary; and as judgment at your age is not mature, you must seek and follow the di­rections of your instructors.

8. At your age, the plainest and most perspicuous pas­sages will best deserve and reward your attention. The historical parts of the Old Testament will entertain you, if you consider them only in a classical view, as valuable pas­sages of ancient history; but I chiefly refer you to the books which more immediately conduce to moral instruc­tion.

9. If you read the Old Testament with a taste for its beauties, you will accomplish two important purposes at the same time. You will acquire a knowledge of the Holy Bible, which is your duty; and you will improve your taste and judgment, which is your business as students in the course of a polite education.

10. The New Testament requires the peculiar attention of every one who professes himself a Christian. But here also judgment is necessary to direct the student in the mode of his study. To one who has not the requisite share of introductory knowledge, the Gospel will appear to contain many difficulties.

11. As you cannot yet engage in theological studies, I must recommend it to you to take up the Testament with that humility which becomes all human creatures, but more particularly persons so young as you are, and so des­titute of all that knowledge which can enable you to form a decisive opinion in divinity.

12. You will do right to pay particular attention to the sermon on the mount, and to that admirable epitome of all [Page 227] moral philosophy, the rule of doing to others as we wish them to do to us. If you pay due obedience to this pre­cept, you will never hesitate in determining what part you shall act whenever difficulties occur.

13. It will however be proper that you should at an early age familiarize to your mind the language of the Scriptures, in all their parts, though you should not be able fully to comprehend them. You will thus treasure up ma­ny useful passages in your memory, which, on many occa­sions in the course of your lives, may be useful.

14. A very early acquaintance with the words of the Old and New Testament, even before any adequate ideas of their meaning have been obtained, has been found useful in subsequent life to the professed divine.

15. And here I cannot but animadvert on the prevalent neglect of the Holy Scriptures; a neglect which too plain­ly indicates a faint belief in the doctrines which they con­tain, and which ought to animate every parent and instruc­tor in the business of infusing religious sentiments and a rev­erence for the Scriptures, while the mind is most susceptible of deep impressions.

16. You, who constitute a part of the rising generation, will exert yourselves in removing an evil which menaces the ruin of the national morals and prosperity. They in­deed who are capable of a sentiment so enlarged as this, exhibit a manliness of mind, which is the more honorable to them as it is uncommon at their age.

17. In the religious part of your education, it would be a disgraceful omission to neglect the catechism. I recom­mend it to you as a useful, though humble guide, and I wish to warn you against that pride of heart which induces some persons to slight it, and from that spirit of censorious­ness, which causes in others a dislike of all that contradicts their own particular persuasion.

18. Make it a rule, never to be violated, to pray night and morning. It is indeed true that in this, and other schools, it is usual to begin and end the exercises of the day with prayer; but I am sorry to say, that this is often considered as a mere formality. You will pay attention to this duty, and you will also repeat other prayers at ly­ing down on your pillow and rising from it.

[Page 228]19. You will in vain expect success in your studies, un­less you implore a blessing on them from Heaven; or if you should be permitted by Providence to make a proficien­cy in knowledge for the sake of others, you will not derive from your acquisition that degree of happiness which you would otherwise enjoy. You must ask the Giver of every good gift for that most valuable gift of literary improvement.

20. You are apt at your age to be thoughtless. You enjoy health and spirits. You are strangers to the cares of the world. Cheerfulness indeed becomes you; but let me prevail with you, when I entreat you to consider the value of time, and the importance of making a good use of it.

21. Consider your parents. Form an idea of the anx­iety which they feel on your account. You must have ob­served how eagerly they wish for your improvement. They feel a laudable ambition, which prompts them to desire that you may arrive at eminence in whatever profession or em­ployment you may hereafter be engaged by Providence.

22. To them it would be a painful sight to see you con­temptible and unsuccessful. But nothing can vindicate you from contempt, or ensure your success so effectually as person­al merit, or the qualities of a good disposition, adorned with a competent share of human learning and accomplishments.

23. Your parents do all in their power to promote your improvement; but after all, they cannot but know that it remains with yourselves to give efficacy and final good suc­cess to their endeavors. The mind is not like a vessel in­to which may be poured any quantity of whatever the possessor chuses to infuse. It is rather like a plant, which, by the operation of its own internal powers, imbibes the nu­triment afforded by the earth.

24. But, not to dwell on similies, it is certain that your instructors can serve you only in conjunction with your own efforts. Let me then entreat you to exert your­selves, if you have any regard for your parents, whose hap­piness so essentially depends on your conduct; if you have any regard for your own honor, success, and comfort; if you hope to be useful and respected in society, and happy in a future state.