N^o. I.

OBSERVING in the general preface, published in the December Magazine,^* a hint which I have construed into a desire to increase the number of your miscellaneous correspondents; and, stimulated by the delicate reproof upon literary indolence, which that elegant exordium contains, I feel myself, while sitting quite at my leisure, on this evening of January 27th, 1792, strongly incited by my good or bad genius—the event must determine the character of the spright which is goading me on, to take into my serious consideration, the solicitation which in said preface is so modestly urged, and which squares so wonderfully well with my ideas of the reason and fitness of things.

Not that I shall aim at palming myself upon the pub­lic, for a son of literature, a votary of the nine, or a dabbler in wit. I have no pretension to any of these characters. I am rather a plain man, who, after spend­ing the day in making provision for my little family, sit myself comfortably down by a clean hearth, and a good fire, enjoying, through these long evenings, with an ex­quisite [Page 14] zest, the pleasures of the hour, whether they happen to be furnished by an amusing tale, a well written book, or a social friend. Possibly I might have jogged on to the end of my journey, in this sober, tranquil manner: but alas, for some time past, I think, as near as I can remember, ever since the commencement of your Magazine, I have been seized with a violent desire to become a writer. To combat this unaccountable itch for scribbling, it is in vain that I have endeavoured; it follows me through all the busy scenes which the day presents; it is my constant accompaniment in every nocturnal haunt; and it often keeps me waking, when, I verily believe, but for this restless desire, I might enjoy, in the fullest latitude, every blessing which hath ever yet been ascribed to sleep.

The many comprehensive titles, and alluring sig­natures, which have from time to time embellished your Magazine, have well near captivated my reason; and among many et ceteras, which might be enumer­ated, the following appellations have had for me pe­culiar charms: An ample field seemed opening in the title page of the General Observer; the name Philo appeared replete with studious lore; the Politician was indefatigable for the good of the nation; the Philanthropist bled sympathy; and with the Rivulet I was [...]raptured. At the bar of fancy, many a title for my intended essays hath been tried, and hath been successively condemned. A variety of signatures have been deliberately adopted, and as deliberately displaced, until my pericranium hath been nearly turned with thinking. Unfortu­nately, with my wish to commence author, originated also, a most inordinate ambition, and an insatiable thirst for applause. In whatever line I made my appearance, I was solicitous to stand unequalled.—I would be Cesar, or I would be nothing. The smoothness of Addison's page, the purity, strength and correctness of Swift, the magic numbers of Pope [Page 15] —these must all veil to me. The Homers and Vir­gils of antiquity, I would rival; and, audacious as I am, from the Philenia's of the present age, I would arrogantly snatch the bays. Strange as is this ac­count, it is nevertheless true. And, moreover, all these wild extravagancies have been engendered in a brain, which it may be, doth not possess abilities ade­quate to the furnishing a paragraph in a common newspaper! My case, I assure you, Gentlemen, hath been truly pitiable, while, for three years past, I have been struggling with an inflatus, which hath been almost irresistible. Reason, however, aided, as I said, by a conviction of inferiority, hath hitherto restrained me; but your last preface hath done the business—it hath interested my feelings, and induced even reason to enlist under the banners of temerity—the fire thus long pent up, cannot now be smothered, but acquiring, from its confinement, additional fer­vour, it at length produces me a candidate for that applause, by a prospect of which, you are solicitous to engage your readers in the arduous pursuit of fame.

Thus resolved, the die is cast, and this ungovernable mania admits of one only remedy. But having once made up my mind to write, an appellation is the next thing to be considered; for as to subjects, my san­guine hopes assure me they will follow of course. A writer of facetious memory, hath represented his dear Jenny, when she could not obtain the tissued robe, as meekly assuming the humblest garb which frugality could furnish. I am fond of respectable examples, and I have humility enough to be influenced by them.

My title having much exercised my mind, and be­ing convinced that any considerable achievements are beyond my grasp, upon mature deliberation I have thought best to adopt, and I do hereby adopt, the name, character, and avocation of a GLEANER; and this appellation, I do freely confess, gives a full and [Page 16] complete idea of my present amazingly curtailed views.

Here pride suggests a question, What is any mod­ern scribbler better than a Gleaner? But I very saga­ciously reply, Let my brethren and sisters of the quill characterize themselves; I shall not thus, upon the very threshold of the vocation of my election, enter the lists.

The truth is, I am very fond of my title: I con­ceive that I shall find it in many respects abundantly convenient; more especially, should an accusation of plagiarism be lodged against me, my very title will plead my apology; for it would be indeed pitiful if the opulent reaper, whose granaries are confessedly large, and variously supplied, should grudge the poor Gleaner what little he industriously collects, and what, from the richness and plenty of his ample harvest, he can never want.

With diligence then, I shall ransack the fields, the meadows, and the groves; each secret haunt, how­ever sequestered, with avidity I shall explore; deem­ing myself privileged to crop with impunity a hint from one, an idea from another, and to aim at im­provement upon a sentence from a third. I shall give to my materials whatever texture my fancy directs; and, as I said, feeling myself entitled to toleration as a Gleaner, in this expressive name I shall take shelter, standing entirely regardless of every charge relative to property, originality, and every thing of this nature, which may be preferred against me.

Mean time, should any of the Parnassian girls, or his godship Apollo, or any other genius, sylph, or gnome, of legendary or fairy ancestry, fond of encou­raging a young beginner, throw into my basket an unbroken sheaf, you may depend upon it that I will assay to form the valuable original, with all the care, ac­curacy and skill which close thinking, deep study, and an ardent desire to excel, can bestow; and you may far­ther [Page 17] assure yourselves, that when thus highly wrought, I shall haste to present the precious gift, a fit offering at the shrine of the Massachusetts Magazine. Thus having, as far as it lays with me, adjusted prelimina­ries, I propose myself, Gentlemen, as a candidate for a place in your Magazine. If my pretensions are judged inadmissible, presiding in your respectable divan, you have but to wave your oblivious wand, and I am forever silenced. I confess, however, that I have no violent inclination to see the Gleaner among your list of acknowledgments to correspondents, set up as a mark for the shafts of wit, however burnish­ed they may be.

You, Gentlemen, possess the specific at which I have already hinted, and by which I may be radically cured; and if this attempt is really as absurd as I am even now, at times, inclined to think it, your non-insertion of, and silence thereto, will operate as effect­ually as the severest reprehension, and will be regard­ed by the Gleaner as a judgment from which there is no appeal.

N^o. II.

TO the Editors of the Massachusetts Magazine I make my best congee, and without any fur­ther prefatory address, I shall, in future, produce my piece-meal commodities, fresh as I may happen to collect them.

Bless me! cried Margaretta, while, in the hope of meeting something from the pen of [...], she threw her fine eyes in a cursory manner ever the in­dex to the February Magazine. But pray, it may [Page 18] be asked, who is Margaretta? Curiosity is, without doubt, a useful if not a laudable propensity; and, if it is the parent of many evils, it is but fair to ac­knowledge, that it hath also among its numerous sons and daughters some extremely well favoured children. Curiosity hath given birth to the most arduous pur­suits; its achievements have been of the greatest util­ity; and without this stimulus we should have great reason to fear an universal stagnation in every branch of knowledge. Moreover, this same curiosity con­sorts, at this present, very exactly with my feelings; for the question—Pray, who is Margaretta? involves a subject upon which I expatiate with infinite satisfac­tion, and upon which I have never yet lost an oppor­tunity of being loquaciously communicative.

At the close of the late war, when I was an idle young fellow, fond of indulging myself in every lux­ury which the small patrimony that descended to me from a very worthy father, would permit, I conceived an invincible desire of becoming a spectator of the felicity which I imagined the inhabitants of South-Carolina, particularly the suffering metropolis of that State, would experience on their emancipation from a succession of evils, which, for a period of seven years, had continued to occupy their minds, giving them to taste deeply of every calamity consequent upon a war, conducted in that part of our country with almost unparalleled barbarity. I had early connected my­self in the bands of wedlock with a young woman of a mild and conceding disposition, who sincerely loved me, and who, accommodating herself even to my caprices, hath made it the study of her life, when she could not convince my judgment, however ra­tional her arguments in her own estimation, to bend to my purposes her most approved wishes.

When I announced my intention of visiting South Carolina, she could not forbear suggesting some economical ideas; but upon a declaration that I was determined to execute my plan, she sub­mitted [Page 19] with that kind of acquiescence, which our sex is so fond of considering as the proper charac­teristic of womanhood. For a progress then of many hundred miles, in a one horse chaise, we commenced our journey; we intended to pass on by easy stages; and, moreover, we were accom­panied by one of the patriotic exiled citizens of Charleston, with whom, during a struggle which asso­ciated the remotest subjects of the union, we had contracted an intimate acquaintance. The kindness of this gentleman, who was well mounted, serving us as a relay, we proceeded expeditiously enough, and I do not remember that I ever in my life passed my time more agreeably. Many scenes novel and inter­esting, prospects extensive, and views truly pictur­esque, arrested our attention; and were I not hasting to give a solution to the reader's question, I might perhaps amuse him very tolerably, in the descriptive line, through two or three pages close printing; but in a course of publications, I may possibly again re­cur to exhibitions which pleased me so highly at the time, when I may be more at leisure to glean what­ever flower recollection may furnish.

On our arrival in Charleston we found our most sanguine expectations answered; the joy of the libe­rated citizens was unbounded—it was beyond de­scription; nor can I give a better idea of their sat­isfaction than by pronouncing it in exact proportion to, and fully commensurate with, their preceding sufferings. Our companion, however, was, by the same unwarrantable measures which had wrecked many a princely fortune, stripped of his whole in­heritance; so that being entire strangers in Charleston, we were necessitated to provide ourselves with hired lodgings.

Our landlady was a widow of reputation, whose house was frequented only by people of the utmost circumspection. The second day after our arrival, as the good woman was pouring the tea, which [Page 20] we had chosen for breakfast, a gentle tap at the door drew our attention. My wife, who is in fact the pink of civility, was mechanically rising to open it, when she was prevented by our hostess, who cried, Sit down, Madam, it is nobody but the child. My dear Mary, who is extravagantly fond of children, catching at the sound, eagerly replied, "Then, Madam, you have a young family." "No, Madam," returned the hostess, "it is long since my young folks have been grown up about me; but this little creature belongs to an unfortunate lodger of mine, who is continually weeping over her, and who I am afraid will not long be an inhabitant of this bad world; indeed I suppose her present errand is occa­sioned by some new distress of her mother's, for the pretty thing is wonderfully sensible for such a mere baby." My poor wife, in whose composition human­ity is the paramount ingredient, instantly found her benevolence engaged; all her tender feelings took the alarm; and, precipitately quitting her chair, in a tre­mulous voice she exclaimed, "Pray, Madam, neglect not the unfortunate sick person for us; I can fill the tea, and I beseech you to admit the little petitioner." The good woman, pronouncing a panegyric upon the tenderness of my wife's disposition, forthwith threw open the door, when a little female, apparently about ten years of age, presented herself; she was beautiful as innocence, and her figure was of that kind, which seems formed to interest every benign principle of the soul; which is calculated to invigorate, even in the bosom of the most phlegmatic, the latent sparks of pity, although nearly smothered there.

"Oh Mrs. Thrifty!" exclaimed the heart affecting pleader, ‘will you not come to my mamma? will you not give her some more of them blessed drops which yesterday made her so much better? she is—indeed she is’—Here, casting her eyes toward us, whom her concern had before prevented her from seeing, and who were regarding her with a mixture of pity and [Page 21] admiration, a modest blush tinged her cheek, which, even at that early age, had been too often washed by the tear of sorrow; and, bursting into an agony of grief, she remained silent. "Go on, Margaretta, said Mrs. Thrifty; let us know what new complaint you have to make; this gentleman and lady are very good, and will excuse you." Mary took the hand of the weeping cherub, and drawing her to her, im­printed upon her humid cheek one of those balmy kisses which she is always ready to bestow upon the young proficient, thus early enlisted under the ban­ners of misfortune. "Mrs. Thrifty says right, my dear, every body will love and pity you; tell us, how is your mamma?" The child, hanging upon the arm of my wife, expressed by her intelligent eyes a thousand mingling sensations; surprise, love, gratitude, and a corrected kind of joy, seemed to grow at once in her soul; and, bowing upon the hand of Mary in a per­turbed manner, she spontaneously expressed the invol­untary emotions of her bosom: ‘Oh my dear lady, will you not see my mamma? certainly you can make her well, and she is indeed very sick; I thought this morning she would speak to me no more—she looked so pale—and was so long before she bid me repeat my morning hymn: Oh if my poor mamma should die—I cannot—indeed I can­not stay here.’

Mary, it will not be doubted, bent her utmost efforts to soothe the sweet mourner. But not to dwell longer upon a subject, on which it will per­haps be thought I have already too much enlarged, it shall suffice to say, that, through the good offices of her little friend, Mary soon procured an intro­duction into the chamber of the sick—that, feel­ings, which at first originated in compassion for the charming child, meliorated into a sympathetic kind of amity—and that, for the course of one week, she passed a very large proportion of her time in endeav­ouring to mitigate the calamities of the suffering mat­ron, [Page 22] Her assiduities, however, were not crowned with the salutary effects she wished; the patient, it was but too apparent, was hastening on to the hour of her dis­solution; her disorder was a regular decline; the shafts of a deep-rooted and incurable grief, must, of necessity, be unerring; and it was evident, that in the bosom of the fair afflicted, corroding sorrow had in­fixed its envenomed [...]ooth. My wife often recom­mended a resignation to, and reliance on, the disposi­tions of a paternal God; but the dying woman shook her head, and continued her pity moving sighs: And about ten days after our abode at Mrs. Thrifty's, the poor lady recovering from a fainting fit, during which it was supposed she had breathed her last, summoned us into her apartment, and, consigning Margaretta to the care of Mrs. Thrifty, she thus addressed us:—

N^o. III.

"BLESS me!" cried Margaretta, "as I live, here is, in this Magazine, a publication entitled the Gleaner!" As she spoke, she bent her lovely face toward me, in order the more attentively to observe what effect this information produced in the lines of [Page 26] my countenance, I endeavoured to preserve my ac­customed gravity. Margaretta interrogated—"Dear Sir, did I not lately hear you say, that if you ever appeared in the world as an author, you would cer­tainly be known by this appellation?" I was still silent—Margaretta continued,—"I protest, Sir, I am sorry you are forestalled, for I had promised myself a fund of improvement, whenever you should employ your talents as a writer: I expected also, much en­tertainment from the various conjectures which I imagined would have been hazarded, relative to the real character of the Gleaner, and I was positive, that from the commendations which would undoubtedly have been bestowed upon my best friend, I should have experienced some of the finest sensations of which my gratefully duteous heart is susceptible." I saw that having entered upon a subject that her ingenuity never fails of rendering sufficiently copious, she would so manage it, as to prattle on, till her tender volubility had made of me the fool, into which it is always in her power, (my boasted equa­nimity notwithstanding) to convert me. I judged it proper, therefore, to stop her in her career, and drawing my pipe from my mouth, I hastily exclaim­ed—I tell you, child—I tell you, Miss Melworth, that the universe containeth not so vile an assassin of our best purposes, so dete [...]able a murderer of time, as that hangdog scoundrel—Procrastination. The poet was too cool when he pronounced him only a thief; for he who steals a commodity, may turn it to his own use, reaping thereby, at least a temporary ad­vantage: whereas this same Procrastination, is in no sort benefited by what he seizes, since he absolutely ingulfs, [...], the precious moments upon which he lays his torpid paw; or, in other words, I aver, that even in the most virtuous bosom, every principle of firmness evaporates at his corrosive touch, and that his fangs are more deadly than the most mortal pestilence, for from the death which he inflicts, [Page 27] there is no resurrection. Had I, immediately on my election, engaged in a composition of some kind or other, (for the versatility of the title allows the utmost latitude) had I forthwith sent it forward to the Editors, I should thus have secured, by appropria­tion, the designation of my choice; but what regrets can redeem the past? read it, however, my dear, and let us profit by every means.

The reader will remember that at the time of this confab, the second number of the Gleaner was not written.

Margaretta read, and when she had finished the piece, I proceeded, without commenting thereon, to harangue the good girl, and Mary my wife (though I must confess, that few females stand less in need of lecturing) upon the value of time, upon the necessity of seizing it by the forelock, &c. &c. &c. And indeed is there a more estimable gem, a pearl of more intrinsic worth, than that quota of days, which is committed to every hand? and, since by grasping the moments we cannot detain them, since when once they have winged their flight, it is only by reflection that they are known, what industrious lapidaries ought we to be, that so their radiant influ­ence may emit the most superb and lengthening beams of light. I have long been a warm admirer of that Roman Emperor, who is represented as lamenting in so impassioned a manner, the loss of a single day; and in truth, he could not possibly have been furnished with a more rational cause of regret; for, had he been robbed of his possessions, as an individual, the wheel of fortune is still revolving, and his ancient patrimony might have once more been established; were his vast dominions in any part dismembered, armed for conquest, he might have gone forth, and his victorious arm might possi­bly have reunited the severed district; was he de­prived of the choicest of his friends, with the gods they still remained, and futurity would doubtless [Page 28] restore them: but alas! the lapse of time he could never overtake, its course must be ever progressive, no hand can roll back its career. Neither Joshua nor Hezekiah, though they may justly be deemed Heaven's first favourites, though the condescending Deity propitiously bending his ear to the prayer of their supplications, added whole years to the life of the one, investing the other with full power to arrest and suspend the operations of nature, giving the sun at his command to stand still upon Mount Gibeon, and the moon in the valley of Ajalon, yet they could not so far prevail with their God, as to induce him to recal a single moment which had passed by.

If then, time is a good, which when gone is beyond redemption, utterly and altogether irretrievable, the wonder is, that we are so little attentive to its waste that in its regulations and distribution we economize so little! I have thought, that if parsimony is ever tolerated, it ought to be in the disposition of time, and that the penurious hand, when employed in appor­tioning the moments, may with propriety be account­ed under the direction of virtue. It is strange to hear from the mouth of one who murders above half the hours, by consigning them to oblivious sleep, a com­plaint of the shortness of time, and yet nothing is more frequent. Six hours in four and twenty, devoted to sleep, when the constitution is naturally good, is said, by the most eminent physicians, to be fully adequate to every purpose of health. If we have accustomed ourselves, when the sun is upwards of fifteen hours above our horizon, to prostrate before the drowsy god, until the hour of eight in the morn­ing, let us by perseverance acquire the habit of quitting our pillows at five, at a moment when the blushing face of nature is clothed in tranquillity; when every breeze seems commissioned to invigorate the mind; when the weary frame which the evening before sunk down languid, debilitated, and almost exhausted, is as it were renovated; when, aided by [Page 29] fancy, we might be induced to conceive ourselves again in the morning of our days; when every cir­cumstance disposeth to the peaceful enjoyments of contemplation, and the most philanthropic sentiments are originated in the bosom: Let us, I say, resolutely and cheerfully embark in this speculation, and we shall find that three of the most delightful hours are every day gained; that twenty-one hours are cleared in the course of one week; and how many months may be thus added to a common life, let the expert arith­metician calculate. It is certain that sleep is a figure of death, that while wrapt in its embraces, we are in effect as helpless, and in fact as unconscious of every thing which in reality passeth upon this globe, as the body which hath been for many years entombed; and as it is quite as possible to commit a debauch in sleeping as in eating or drinking, it must be acknowl­edged as an undoubted truth, that every moment thus devoted, which is more than sufficient to restore the tired faculties, is worse than lost. But it is not enough that we become careful to enrich ourselves by an accumulation of hours, an exact attention to their appropriation being to the full as requisite. It is in vain that we have amassed much property, if we lavish it in a profuse or thoughtless manner. Order should be employed as the handmaid of time; she should mark, arrange and decorate every move­ment; thus protecting from the inroads of confusion, which would ingulf even the longevity of an antedi­luvian.

It would be pleasant to observe the contrast be­tween a family, the females of which were properly methodical, and economical in their distributions and expenditures of time, and one accustomed to leave every thing to the moment of necessity, to conform to no regulations, but to crowd the affairs which ought to take rank, in the different divisions of the week, into some contingency for which they are totally unprepared: The one is the habitation of [Page 30] tranquillity; it is a well ordered community; it is a complicated machine, the component parts of which are so harmoniously organized, as to produce none but the most concordant sounds, to effectuate none but the most salutary and uniform purposes; in short, it is a terrestrial paradise, where dwells love and unity, attended by all the blessings of content­ment. While the other,—but who can delineate the other? It is a restoration of the reign of chaos, and genuine pleasure is a stranger to its abode; and yet, perhaps, the lady paramounts of each family, are equally well meaning, good kind of women; although the want of a little perseverance, which would a [...]m at producing a laudable habit, presents this melan­choly reverse.

I wish not, said Ernestus to Crastinatus, to entrust my only son to the fluctuating waves of the treacherous ocean; but, in my opinion, neither Charybdis nor Scyl­la, though armed with all the terrors once attributed to them, is [...]lf so fatal to a young fellow, as a mind unoccupied by laudable pursuits, and that pernicious habit of idly dissipating time, which hath dashed so many high raised hopes. Why do you not take him into your compting-house, replied Crastinatus, he will certainly find full employ there, for I declare for my own part, that though I constantly retain two clerks, I am yet notwithstanding, inexpressibly fatigued by the multiplicity of attentions which my business in­volves. Well, I do not know how it is returned Ernestus; but I assure you, neighbour, upon my hon­our, though I have not the smallest assistance, that were [...] not for the amusement of reading, riding, visiting, &c. &c. &c. I could not possibly contrive to fill up time.

But the business of Crastinatus is more various, more extensive, and his avocations are more multi­plied. Ernestus, it may be, moves in a more confin­ed sphere. No such thing—the calls upon them are exactly similar, and the same line of conduct would b [...] proper to them both; to integrity they are equal­ly [Page 31] devoted, and equity in their dealings is alike the goal of their wishes.

But the close of every week states exactly the ac­counts of Ernestus; the posting of his books was, from the first, the work of every day; as often as possible he passeth receipts; and when this desideratum cannot be obtained, so precisely is debt and credit announced, that the foot of every page presents the most unerring information; the whole amount of his possessions he knows; every farthing for which he is indebted is in legible characters expressed, and in a very short space of time, he can estimate to a pen­ny, what he is really worth: no person demands of Ernestus a second time his dues, for he never hazards larger sums, than his capital can at any time command; this enableth him to wear the wreath of punctuality, and he supports, unimpeached, even by the tongue of slander, the character of an honest man. The happy effects of such a mode of procedure, are too obvious to be pointed out, and Ernestus feels them all.

The heart of Crastinatus is equally good, but irreso­lution hath affixed its stamp upon his mind, and he hath not perseverance enough to break the force of habit; a demand upon Crastinatus for a settle­ment, throws him into the utmost confusion; his ac­counts have ran so long, that they involve a thousand intricacies; all hands are at work to investigate; to come at truth is difficult, if not impossible; and it is a wonder if a rupture is not the consequence. When Crastinatus hath paid the great debt of nature, his affairs will lay open to the inroads of fraud, his wid­ow and his orphan children will be the sufferers, and the probability is, that an insolvency will take place. Whereas, had he—But it is time that I recollect myself; it may be thought that I encroach too far upon a department, which may be considered as already filled. Well then, having gleaned thus much, I will only add, that a late ingenious writer would have observed—Crastinatus "doth not work it right."

N^o. IV.

THERE is scarce an observer in all the purlieus of contemplation, but must recollect, in some part or other of his life, to have met with spirited declamations upon the degeneracy of the times. O Tempora! O Mores! is an exclamation frequently in the mouths of those who inherit much, and who are, by the good and wholesome laws of their coun­try, guaranteed the peaceable enjoyment of their am­ple possessions. There is a set of people who can never see a tax-bill, or attend to the requisitions of government, without mutinously, if not treacherously, running the parallel between what they term the present exorbitant demands, and the moderate char­ges of the British administration; and while they are blind to the emoluments of independence, they seem to forget that house keeping is of necessity more expensive than a residence in the dwelling of a parent or a master If the spirit of discontent was peculiar to these incon­siderate cavillers, it would be well; but we are con­cerned to find, that it pervades all orders of men, from the philosopher down to the veriest grumbler—from the priest to the cobler—from the aggrandized lawyer to his fleeced client—from the most enlight­ened physician to his suffering patient—from the statesman to the beggar—and from the liberally en­dowed and independent gentleman to the common day's labourer. In short, every description of peo­ple are found crying out on the depravity of the times; and were we to give full credit to the testi­mony of those, who, from age to age, have taken an unaccountable pleasure in depreciating the time being, we should be ready to conclude, that we must at length have arrived at the ne plus ultra of turpitude, [Page 33] and have become adepts in every species of atrocious criminality. Yet the accusation proceeds from the lips of very respectable complainants, whose judg­ment, in many respects, is hardly problematical, and to whose decisions we submit perhaps with too much docility.

In order to exalt the ancients, and to render them supreme in the scale of excellence, it is customary to level the moderns; and the fame of the one is appre­ciated, in an exact ratio, as that of the other is under­valued.

We are told much of the golden age; but the most careful investigator is at a loss at what period of the world to date its epoch; since, immediately upon the expulsion of Adam from the paradise which he had forfeited, the battery of hatred and malevolence was opened; grants were abroad in the earth, and nations no sooner existed, than they learned war.

The golden age, then, with all its splendid charac­teristics, we are feign to consign to the region of fancy, denying it a being, but in the breath of poetic fiction, or the annals of imagination.

The superiority which we are so ready to award to the ancients, may be equally without any foundation in reality; and it is in my humble opinion probable, that their principal advantages were derived from their being first upon the stage of action. Methinks I see the blush of indignation tinge the face of the reader, and he is ready to execrate the Gleaner, for attempting to pluck from the venerable brow of an­tiquity the smallest twig of fame. Yet, while I reverence a prejudice, which very possibly originates in the most laudable affections, I nevertheless reply—But let us give revolving time its due. Pray, my good Sir, or Madam, if a certain opulent possessor is endowed with vast dominions, in consequence of his eldership—am I, an honest Gleaner, to whom only a few barren tra [...] remain, or whose lot, perhaps, it is to examine with unwearied diligence every spot of [Page 34] the wide domain, if perchance I may glean the pit­tance which affluence has overlooked—am I, for this, in a judgment of unimpassioned reason, to be the less regarded? or, what principle of equity, passing sen­tence without a trial, will pronounce, that had I been placed precisely in the situation of the original occu­pier, I might not have laid out my grounds to equal advantage, supporting a character to the full as dig­nified, as consistent, and as becoming.

Man is ushered into being; he finds himself ex­posed to all the vicissitudes with which the various seasons are replete; the wintery storms are abroad; hail, rain and snow possess a power essentially to afflict him; he burns beneath a torrid zone, or he freezes beneath a frigid; in short, every thing points out to him the necessity of a shelter, and accord­ingly, he sinks the hollowed cavity, or he raises the thatched hut; with proper repairs, this homely dwel­ling would answer full as well for his successor; but his son improves thereon, and every generation adds something, till at length the finished edifice becomes complete. Now, I would ask, is not every genera­tion entitled to its quota of praise? and since the ori­ginal inventor was urged merely by necessity, and performed no more than what the beaver and other animals have frequently done, may not the improver, who had not this incitement, come in for his full share?

Surely the annals of antiquity record instances of barbarism in persons, when the manners were deemed highly polished, which would shock the present feel­ings of the most illiterate. Let us take a view of the Athenians, at an era when a state of great refine­ment was attributed to them, when they were, it is said, an intelligent and a learned people; let us take a seat in their theatre; let us listen while they, al­most unanimously, applaud the coarse ribaldry of an Aristophanes, while they complacently attend the degradation of virtue, encouraging a rude and indel­icate [Page 35] buffoon to hold up a Socrates as a fit subject for the ridicule of the people!

But the ancients made many discoveries—very true—and is not the reason obvious? There was much to discover; moreover, necessity, as hath been before hinted, is an excellent stimulus to promptitude; yet, in some respects, it would seem that they were vastly deficient in ingenuity: For example; through re­volving centuries they remained ignorant of the art of printing, by which they might so eligibly have transmitted to us their elaborate productions, although they could not set a foot upon the yielding earth, with­out producing an impression sufficient to suggest to them so valuable an idea.

The education of a modern student is by no means finished, without an extensive acquaintance with the history, learning, manners and customs of the an­cients; the best part of his life is therefore devoted to acquire this knowledge, and when thus accom­plished, he finds that the age of fancy is well near fled, and that to him the door of originality seems effectually barred. The student of antiquity was not thus encumbered; from his predecessors he had little to reap, and the volume of nature was opened before him; yet his acquirements were often superficial, while the deepest researches, with their consequent improvements, were reserved for later ages.

How dreadful are the preparations for war, which the page of antiquity recounts! their terrific habili­ments; their deathful chariots; their elephants, with all the shocking apparatus! scarcely are they exceed­ed by the arrangements of an American savage, and hardly are the tortures which he meditates, more fearfully tremendous. What scenes of blood and de­vastation doth the annals of ancient history exhibit! how frequently are the feelings of humanity pierced to the very soul! what fratricide! what parricide! while instances are not wanting of mothers, who wade to empire through the blood of those children, in [Page 36] whose vital stream they had, with remorseless cruelty, imbrued their hands; sons incestuously pollute a fa­ther's bed; and fathers, most unnaturally, snatch to their libidinous embraces the trembling female to whom they gave existence!

The government of the ancients, whether demo­cratical, aristocratical, monarchical, simple or mixed; all these, if examined by the eye of impartiality, the boasted wisdom of their legislators, yielding in many respects to modern improvements, will, if I mistake not, by exactly striking the balance, prove the arrange­ments of Deity to be equal, and manifest him distrib­uting with a paternal hand, to every age their exact proportion of talents, endowing every division of time, with men possessing understandings alike capable of profiting by the circumstances in which they were involved. With regard to the religion of the an­cients, I suppose it will be granted, that it was a heap of absurdities; that it consisted of contradictions, im­purities, and mysteries; the character of their very deities are lewd and otherwise immoral; with the ri­valship and content on of their gods we are disgusted; and even the history of their Jupiter is replete with crimes, that abundantly justify the ill humour of his Juno, that would have warranted the most coercive proceed­ing [...] against him, for which he merited condign pun­ishment, and which would have induced us wholly to acquit his brothers, Pluto and Neptune, (their own enormities notwithstanding) if they had, uniting their powers, precipitated him from his Olympian height, and confined him in adamantine chains to the Sty­gian flood, or the Tartarean gulph.

But to resume the language of reason; this fond predilection for, and preference of the ancients, is, in reality, altogether unaccountable; it is a singular trait in the history of mankind, since, in every other instance, the persons, places and things, with which we have associated, and to which we are accustomed, possess a charm, the blandishments of which we find [Page 37] it impossible to escape: With what ardour do we re­member the scenes of our youth! upon the tablets of our breasts how indelibly is the love of the place of our nativity engraved! what noble enthusiasm fires the patriotic mind, when the interests of his country are at stake, and how gladly would the man of filial integrity, sacrifice his fairest hours, to advance the importance of his parent soil! More than one instance hath occurred of the most dignified characters, who have, from circumstances, been compelled to a state of [...]shment, breathing out their last wishes, that their remains might be conveyed to the much loved spot, there to mingle with the dust, upon the surface of which they first drew their vital breath. Indeed this attachment to country is astonishing, and not sel­dom doth it betray the mind into prejudices and con­clusions, extravagant and unjust. But one of the most pleasing effects of this local affection is, that gen­uine transport which so agreeably surprises the soul, upon unexpectedly meeting, in a distant land, an ac­quaintance, a townsman, or even a subject of the same government; perhaps in the streets of our own dis­trict, we should have passed him with the utmost indifference; but absence still more endears to us every natural connexion; reflection meliorates our ideas; circumstances in themselves of little or no consequence, acquire a tender kind of importance; recollection presents the scenes of home-felt enjoy­ment: and though, probably, they were undistin­guished by any prominent feature, by any particular refinement, or impressive softness, yet, registered in the store-house of memory, they rise up dignified and respectable claimants, they are cherished with aug­menting regard, they point us to anticipated good; and the traveller, who would once have been viewed as a stranger, standing as a memento, is embraced with the ardour of friendship.

But quitting a field, in which the Gleaner had not intended at this time to have wandered, I proceed to say, that though, as it is an article of my creed, that [Page 38] all things are in a state of progression, I cannot re­gard the present, as the best of all possible times; yet I do conceive, that at no period since the lapse of Adam, was the world in so high a state of improvement, as it is at this very instant; it is less malevolent, and more philanthropic; it is less barbarous, and more civil­ized; it is less vicious, and more moral; it is less rude; it evinceth an increasing share of urbanity; in short, the augmentation of its virtues is rapid, and the probability is, as progressive movements preclude a retrograde idea, that having rounded the circle, it will finally regain the point from whence it com­menced its career.

Let us take a view of the present order and decen­cy observed in society; how superior is it even to the patriarchal age: Let us attend the rise, the progress, and the termination of the hostilities of adverse na­tions; how multiplied are their precautions; how accumulated their manifestoes; what strict justice, or at least the semblance thereof, are the contending parties obliged to exercise; with what regularity is the whole process conducted; how great is the faith and confidence of treaties; what odium attends the infringement thereof; with what cordiality, when the sword is sheathed, do the battling heroes embrace! resentments immediately subside, and the captured and the wounded become the objects of generous and instantaneous attention; hospitals, refreshments, and a variety of solaces are prepared, and it is the pride of the foe, that the defeated warrior should receive every alleviation, of which the circumstances of his situation are susceptible. By these means so abun­dantly are the calamities of war softened, that mili­tary engagements, comparatively speaking, assume the form of an amicable intercourse.

The present age is justly styled the period of revo­lutions; let us just glance at the most prominent events. The struggles of the French nation have been, and still continue, truly interesting; the rights of man are placed in a conspicuous view; many glo­rious [Page 39] exertions have been made; they are rapidly posting on to the desired goal: and their King, if he possesseth that genius, that philanthropy, and that pa­triotic glow, which the sentiments he hath avowed, and many corroborating testimonies incline us to at­tribute to him, while his brow is encircled with the brightening gem of real worth, will doubtless find himself embosomed in that tranquillity which con­scious rectitude creates, and which all the pageantry of false greatness could never have bestowed.^* But, passing on, we behold another crowned head, volun­tarily, without a single hint from his subjects, divest­ing himself of every vestige of despotism, augustly making the good of his people the prime movement of his actions, and with an ardent and a generous enthusiasm, which will transmit his name with eter­nal honour to the latest posterity, hailing upon equal ground his fellow-men; restoring to the body of the people their privileges and immunities, and once more investing them with their native and inherent rights. If we turn our eyes toward our own country, we shall acknowledge that a few years have produced the most astonishing effects: Unnatural and inadmis­sible claims have been made; they have been investi­gated; they have been weighed in the balance, and they have been found wanting. The genius of lib­erty, invigorated in this younger world, hath arrayed itself for the battle; it hath gone forth; it hath ori­ginated opposition; its banner have been displayed: it hath enlisted its worthies; the struggle hath been arduous, but the event hath crowned us with success; over veteran foes we have been victorious; independ­ence claps her wings; peace is restored; govern­ments are formed: public faith established; and we bid fair to become a great and a happy people. Yes, governments are formed; and what hath hitherto [Page 40] been deemed a solecism in politics, now becomes, to the eye of experience, a palpable reality. We are free, sovereign, and independent States, and yet we are amenable to the Federal Head. Governments within governments exist; their component parts are adequate to the purposes of jurisdiction; they are members of the national government; they are united, [...]s it were, by a sympathetic thread, symmetry, and its concomitant harmony, presides, and federalism is the talisman of their importance. Perhaps the prin­ciples of concentration are not susceptible of close investigation like the immortal spark by which we are animated, it takes the alarm, and flies off, when we would apply to its vital parts the instrument of dissection. Yet to the captious reasoner, the answer is as ready, as to the sophist, who asserted the nonexist­ence of motion, merely because he could not move in the place where he was, and it was impossible he could move where he was not; but we cannot admit his ergo, for experience proclaims that we absolutely do move, and it is a fact, that these governments, simple and complex, have, in reality, an energetic and respectable being. Thus, in this instance, we have refined upon the plans of our ancestors, and we are happily reaping the genial fruits of a wife and well concerted system. Our admirable Constitution unites the advantages which are attributed to a monarchical government, to an oligarchy, and a de­mocracy; since sufficient power is lodged in the hands of the Chief Magistrate, to benefit the people; since an order of nobility is instituted, an order, to which all our worthies may pretend—the order of Virtue—which, in truth, is alone ennobling; and since the career being open to all, we may with democratical equality pursue the splendid prize.

It is with glad complacency we mark the honours which encircle the head of our immortal Chief; we congratulate our countrymen, that they have, to the utmost of their power, with becoming unanimity agreed to reward his patriotic worth; that, investing [Page 41] him with due authority, they have reposed in his revered bosom the highest confidence; that, superior to the narrow politics of the Athenians (the splendour of his character notwithstanding) they prepare no ostra­cism for his virtues; but that, on the contrary, with a glow of superior pleasure, they listen while the tongue of sapient age expatiates upon his justice, his disinterestedness, and his paternal attachment to his country; that they delight to hear the voice of lisping innocence pronounce his venerable name; that they rejoice in his echoing fame; and that his praises vibrate sweetly upon their finest and most rational feelings.

Nor, though that fell despoiler, slander, hath dared to infix its envenomed tooth in the fair and consist­ent character of our illustrious Vice-President, will the public mind submit to the deception which au­dacious accusation would presume to fabricate; it will not suffer a man, who would have conferred honour on any country in which he had happened to be born; who adorns every department which he is called to fill, from the tender domestic scene, to the highest offices of state, with elegance and propriety, with the most undeviating firmness, and unblemished integrity; whose interesting and highly finished litera­ry productions will transmit his name to ages yet un­born; when the invidious caviller, and the writer of this essay, will, it is probable, be whelmed in the gulph of oblivion;—the public mind, I say, will not suffer such a man to sink; they will not suffer the opaque cloud, which for a moment may have shaded the disk of so bright a luminary, long to intercept its radiance; no, it will judiciously decide, and rising su­perior to prejudice, it will still confer on him its un­suspecting confidence.

Mentioning the Vice-President, I am reminded of a tour I lately made through a neighbouring State, when falling into company with a leading man in the government, he expressed himself with a considera­ble degree of acrimony of that gentleman; and upon [Page 42] my gravely demanding in what he was culpable, the disaffected person, in so many words, replied, that he did not like him; that he believed him to be haughty and unyielding; that in his progress through that State, he, the objector, had been one of a number who had been solicitous to do him all the honour in their power: that they assembled in large companies, col­lected the militia, rung the bells, &c. &c. but that Mr. Adams contrived, by some means or other, to e­lude their wishes, for he had absolutely, in defiance of all this homage which was prepared for him, pass­ed unmindful on, incog. as it were, refusing in fact every acknowledgment of their allegiance. Such, and so enormous, are the pretended misdemeanours of the Vice-President; yet, nevertheless, I persuade myself that the assemblage of virtues which brighten his character, will at length flash conviction upon ev­ery eye, and that the many will know to distinguish, and to value that noble independence of spirit, that inborn worth, and intrinsic greatness, which, avoid­ing an ostentatious display of grandeur, contents it­self with innate consciousness of real elevation.

But, to the most interesting and important partic­ular, in which the present times may justly boast their superiority over former ages, we have yet to attend. Religion looks abroad with all her native honours thick about her; the days of massacre; the bloody, the execrable administration of a Mary; the affright­ed hours which witnessed the horrid transaction upon the eve of St. Bartholomew; the Irish persecutions, and succeeding murders; the government, or rather mortal tyranny of James, with the more recent, though not less fatal American bigotry; all those days are now gone past, and I supplicate the Saviour of [...] that they may no more return: Religion, as I said, now descends among us, and she is cloathed in all her native loveliness. On her head she wears a wreath, entwined by the fingers of clemency; virtu­ous indulgence is expressed in every feature of her face; her eye beams tenderness, and her bosom is the seat [Page 43] of compassion: the unsullied whiteness of her flowing garments denotes the purity and uprightness of her laws; beauteous and prepossessing is her countenance; benign is her sway; reason and humanity are her daughters; and while rectitude is the moral of her life, she throws over her faulty children the mantle of for­bearance. Under her correcting auspices, what won­ders are at this present exhibiting in the earth! her well aimed shafts have pierced the very vitals of bigot­ry, liberality of sentiment is established, a Calvinistical church is permitted almost in the heart of the Papal dominions, it is consecrated with much solemnity; magistrates of all descriptions, with the clergy of the Roman Lutheran, and Calvinistical persuasion, join in the te deum, and, the most God honouring effects are produced. But it is not at Stratsburg alone that the triumphs of true religion are manifested; her divine and elucidating powers seem penetrating into every corner of the globe, while in our own country, her progress is remarkably and gloriously rapid. The thackles of superstition are thrown off, ignorance and bigotry give way; the benign agency of tolera­tion is established, and a spirit of equality, and of free inquiry, is abroad. Parents, enlightened parents, at this day are not solicitous to implant in the tender minds of their offspring the seeds of prejudice, or en­thusiastic zeal; they judge it sufficient if they can in­struct their children in the nature of their moral du­ties, what they owe to society, and to themselves; if they can give them an early and deep impression of their dependence on, and their obligations to, a cre­ating and a paternal God; if they can sketch for them the outlines of the fall, and the restoration, pointing to Jesus as the Redeemer of men; if they can teach them to view their fellow mortals as de­scending from the same original; if they can, by degrees, accustom them to regard this world as the path through which they are to shape their course to their native skies; these leading points, if they can accom­plish, they are therewith content, wisely leaving the [Page 44] election of a particular sect of Christians, with which to coalesce their sentiments, with all the thorny road of disputation, to the matured growth of fully in­formed reason.

Glorious, happy, and august period! The Gleaner is grateful to the Power which hath given him his existence in so favourable an epoch; he gladly renders to the present times their due; he feels therein the utmost complacency, and the tranquillity which this specula­tion diffuseth through every faculty of his soul, he is ardently solicitous to communicate to his reader.

N^o. V.

"GOD tempers the wind to the shorn lamb."—Sterne certainly possessed the happy art of cloathing his ideas in figures which pointed them to the heart of his reader. Not seldom doth the humid eye of sensibility confess that the writings of that exquisite sentimentalist abound with flowers of the fairest growth, and though the delicate mind is too often lacerated by the thorns, which in some instances deform his high-wrought scenes, yet so sweet is the fragrance of the rose, that the softest hand is reached forth to pluck it—yea, even at the risk of being deep­ly pierced by the formidable points which surround it. But, however rich his eccentric pages may be, (and I have not the smallest objection to allowing them their full value) they produce not, I take upon me to pronounce, a more strikingly comprehensive passage, than that which I have selected above—"But, God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb."—It is, methinks, a sentence containing a system in it­self; [Page 45] and it is replete with the quintessence of moral­ity, religion and divinity—It is replete with moral­ity, for example is [...] all hands allowed to be more influential than precept; and it exhibits a view of the Lord of Universal Nature, bestowing such minute re­gards, upon the feelings of the family which his om­nific word had commanded into being, as to be at­tentive even to th [...] [...]nts of the bleating innocent, who, shorn of its [...] covering, stands in need of the vernal zephyr which is then commissioned to move gently over the warm surface of his disrobed body.—Here, I say, is a rich lesson of morality; for if God thus tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, are we not hence taught to respect much more the feelings of our fellow men—to regard as sacred the relative du­ties of life, and to become reverentially observant of those calls which, upon the utmost efforts of hu­manity, a social intercourse with mankind is so fre­quently making. It is, in an especial manner, replete with religion; for an assurance that God tempereth the wind to the shorn lamb, naturally originates in the bosom the most unwavering faith; we cannot but confide in the Sovereign Power which is thus benign­ly exercised: our hearts become the seat of acquies­cent tranquillity; the altars of unwavering affiance are erected there, cheerfully we sacrifice thereon; before the surrounding Deity we devoutly prostrate, worshipping with all adoration the Father of eter­nity, the God of the spirits of all flesh.—It is replete with divinity; for its excellence can hardly be sur­passed; it whispereth to the care-worn mind the genial voice of consolation; it comforteth, it erecteth the superstructure of its peace upon the only solid and rational foundation; upon a reliance on the paternal goodness of the Sire of angels and of men, and thus pointing directly to heaven; thus by its animating powers soothing the [...], it is undoubtedly the lan­guage of the Spirit of truth; it indisputably partak­eth of the divine nature. "But, God tempereth the wind to the shorn lamb."—Poor Maria, no wonder [Page 46] that thy desolated bosom disdained every mitigating consideration, not immediately derived from that om­nipotent Being, who, having "twice bruised thee," could alone assuage thy lacerating sorrows. Doubt­less it was the angel of compassion, who, breathing over the chaos of thy deranged ideas, illumined them by that irradiating light, which shall one day make glad the whole creation of God. But not to Maria only, is the all healing hand of divine benigni­ty even now extended. To the sons and daughters of humanity, the winds of heaven are still attempered, and the Source of all intelligence regards with an equal eye the creatures whom he hath made: The destitute orphan, who trembles on the threshold of an arraigning, a censuring, and an unpitying world; the childless parent, who once beheld a lovely group of sons and daughters; the widowed fair one, whose blasted hopes, and whose short withering joys seem to condemn her to unceasing tears; the once happy hus­band, bending over the untimely grave of a beloved wife; the brother, the sister, the friend, torn from the embraces of the object whom they h [...]ld most dear; these have all been enabled experimentally to say, "But, God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb." The angel, Fortitude, armed with unyielding firm­ness, issues from the right hand of the Most High; to this lower world she shapeth her course; in the garments of inflexibility she is cloathed, and always true of her path, while she wears upon her brow the wreath of rectitude, she turneth neither to the right nor to the left; perseveringly she passeth on; she tak­eth possession of the mind, and she fashioneth it to her purpose; with the genuine spirit of heroism she en­doweth it, and pointing it to an elysium of future bliss, she investeth it with superiority over the ills of time: Resignation and acquiescence are in her train; for, fix­ing her eye upon one grand object, she bends accom­modating, and with becoming reverence to the will of Him from whom originates every good. Thus, in sickness and in death, she fortifies, supports, and [Page 47] strengthens the mind, enabling the man piously to ex­claim, "But, God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb." I said, in sickness; and a reflection upon this particular calamity, bringing me back from my pres­ent ramble, suggests to the Gleaner a question—Whether it may not be well to account for his being induced thus to wander, in a field where, the soil hav­ing been so often trod, he could expect to glean so little? And with the association of ideas perhaps every ob­server, though not absolutely a Locke, is more or less acquainted.

Patrolling one superbly mild evening, in the course of the last visibility of the moon, the streets of the me­tropolis of the State of Massachusetts, I felt a very strong inclination to step for a little space into the cof­fee-house; yielding to the impulse of the moment, I entered with as little observation as possible, and, seating myself in one of the open apartments, I listened to a very warm dispute which was carried on by a trio, consisting of a merchant of great note, a military officer of some eminence, and a sea com­mander. The skill and abilities of the Boston phy­sicians was their subject, and they seemed to discuss and compare their several qualifications with much vehemence. Lloyd. Danforth, Warren, &c. &c. all passed in review before them. People in general are as much attached to the Esculapius of their choice, as to the religion of their election; and our combatants shewed themselves in earnest by disputing every inch of ground, yielding no point, and mingling at length in their retorts and rejoinders no small proportion of acrimony. It is true, that upon the merits of the gentlemen in question, they might be inadequate to decide; but they proved themselves, however, capable of arguing, and they seemed in no sort conscious of insufficiency. After summing up the evidences which had been produced upon the tapis, the merchant gravely and peremptorily insisted that the balance was entirely in favour of Lloyd; the military gentleman swore, and he confirmed his [Page 48] award by many oaths, that Danforth ought to be created general [...] of the college of physicians; while the sea captain, who appeared to be a mild man, closed the debate by protesting, that he had boarded them all three, without being all to obtain a market for any part of that cargo of complaints, with which his shattered bark had been so long laden. The subject thus continuing a moot point, I was disposing myself to retire, when the sea captain, putting him­self in the attitude of a narrator, again arrested my attention. "You know, gentlemen," said the [...] Neptune, ‘that I am moored, when at home, in a harbour considerably distant from this town; and I declare to you, upon the honour of a sailor, that we have now laid up in our port, a little snug honest fellow, who makes the prettiest way imaginable; and who, if he continued to carry sail upon the ocean on which he hath embarked, with as much undaunted boldness, and to steer as safely as he hath hitherto done, will stand as fair a chance to enter the desired haven, and to hoist his flag upon the highest eminence of fame, as the most skilful navi­gator of them all; and that he i [...] acquainted with every rope in the ship, I will, if you please, produce a reckoning, that shall fully evidence.’ The cap­tain proceeded; but not being sufficiently versed in his vocabulary, to produce his account verbatim, I shall take leave to render his deposition in my own manner. It seems, in a small village in the neigh­bourhood of the residence of the captain, a poor man hath lately been called to pass through all the stages immediately preceding death, of what is termed a regular decline, or consumption; he was not more than twenty-seven years of age, when he was seized with the pain in the side, the breast, hectic sever, suppuration of the lungs, cough, purulent expectora­tion, &c. &c. all which train of dreadful symptoms, in their gradual and distressing order, successively took place. At length th [...] hour of his dissolution was supposed at hand; his father was no more; and [Page 49] he was the son of a widowed mother. Repeatedly the matron, not possessing strength of mind enough to witness the dying agonies of him, on whom she had placed her maternal hopes, had quitted his apart­ment, yielding him to the care of those who were engaged to perform for him the last offices. But while there is life, a latent hope will play about the heart: The villagers insisted that the captain's little snug honest fellow should be called in. The young doctor, who hath hardly completed his twenty-third year, approached; he examined, and he drew his conclusions; one only experiment remained, it was painfully hazardous, and its effects extremely preca­rious; but cert [...] and speedy death was the only alter­native. In the breast of the young man, though having been repeatedly captured in the course of the late war, suffering much in guard-ships and prisons—though having been so often afflicted by the infirmi­ties of a debilitated constitution—he had deeply tasted of the bitter cup of calamity; yet in his breast a love of existence still predominated, and when he consented to an operation, which it is conceived hath been seldom performed in our country, and was certainly a novel event in the village of B—, he was be­lieved to be the drowning man grasping at a straw. The patient, however, witnessed, unappalled, the dreadful preparations. The bedstead was planked, the matrass was nailed thereto, and he, with his face covered, was placed thereon. In the country, upon any extraordinary occasion, the whole village seem [...] but one family; no wonder then, that at such a period the apartment of the emaciated sick man was much thronged; a number stood over him; if he struggled, they were to confine him, and their hands were lifted up for that purpose; for a moment he threw the handkerchief from his face—he beheld the formidable apparatus—the surrounding visages, which resembled his, who drew Priam's curtains at the dead of night, and would have told him half his Troy was burnt—he breathed short; he gasped—stop, Sir—one sigh— [Page 50] it is over—I am myself again—and you may pro­ceed. The muscles between the fourth and fifth ribs, an inch nearer to the centre of the breast, then the back bone, were cut through; the pleura was pierc­ed; and, to enlarge the aperture into the cavity of the breast, the proper instruments were introduced; two fingers of the operator were then insinuated, and, passing through the wound, were pressed on the ex­ternal surface of the diseased lobe, when instantly the seat of the vomica, was by its tremulation discovered; it was at this period, that some person, to whom years had given an advantage over our physician, vehe­mently exclaimed, Doctor, we beg that you would proceed no farther! Is it not a wonder that terror at the sound of this imprudent interposition, cut not the slender thread of the patient's life? The operator, however, made sure of success, warmly replied, "By heaven, I will not now be stopped;" when, penetrating the investing membrane of the right lobe, into the abscess, and dilating it three quarters of an inch, its contents, blood and purulent matter, to the quantity of a pint, were immediately discharged; the conse­quences of this operation have been most happy, the patient, from not being able to repose for a single moment upon either side, now stretches himself at his ease, and slumbers sweetly upon his bed; his cough, night sweats, sore mouth, and swelled feet are no more; from extreme debility, he is sufficiently strong to walk abroad, and he eats, drinks, and digests, perfectly well. What a transition!—he is regarded as one raised from the dead; while every person admires the cool, courageous, and determined resolution, with which he submitted to so fearful an experiment. He is of the lowest grade of industrious poor; the powers of his mind were never remarkable; his life had contained no striking exertions; he had seemed only in the common way to yield to the necessity which his misfortunes had created—had any one, in the morning of his existence, officiously presented him a picture of the ills which he was to endure, [Page 51] doubtless he would have started with horror from the view. Is it not surprising that he did not thus argue: ‘My physician is a young man; older practitioners have never once suggested so hazard­ous an expedient; it is an unheard of operation; shall I yield this emaciated body to an enterprizing genius, who possibly is only seeking his own emol­ument in the experiment which he is solicitous to make?’ To the reflections of imbecility, I say, such arguments might naturally have presented themselves; but the mind of this poor, emaciated, illiterate sufferer, was intuitively, it should seem, en­dowed with fortitude; suddenly he is converted into a philosopher; he reasons justly, and with sedate composure he meets his fate. What shall we say? we can only repeat, that, in deed and in truth, "God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb."

The Gleaner comments no further; but, retiring, he gives place to a timid suggestor, who hath chosen to bring forward a proposal, through the medium of this publication.

N^o. VI.

BEING necessitated, in the course of my business, to make frequent visits to our metropolis; and bearing about me, neither in my person, or habili­ments, any distinguishing mark, I have the advantage of mixing unnoticed, in places of general resort, with people of various descriptions, and not seldom of im­portant characters. It was in one of my late excur­sions, that I found myself at a table where the guests took their seats with that freedom which is so eligible, and which is always tolerated in a public house. After playing their parts, like men who perfectly well understood themselves, swallowing a sufficient quantity of ham and chicken, and liberally moistening the clay with the juice of the apple, they imagined themselves duly qualified to sit as judges of literary merit; for my own part, I am obliged to confess, that in regard to the gifts requisite in conversation, nature hath been unto me a perfect niggard, and that [...] possess not, in orally delivering my ideas, the smallest degree of facility. Intrenching myself, therefore, in my natural taciturnity, as I had never before had the honour of meeting an individual of whom our party consisted; with the utmost sang [...] I wrapped myself about, determining to indulge myself, by following the prevalent bent of my dispo­sition, which is invariably assigning me the part of a hearer.

I was amazed to find with how little accuracy, and with what arrogant freedom, their dogmatizing [Page 55] decisions were, for the most part, made; and I felt a kind of horror at the mangling of names, which I had accustomed myself to consider in the most respectable point of view. From questioning the correctness and the delicacy of Addison, the wit of Swift, and the poetical merit of Pope, they sum­moned before their imperious tribunal, the candidates for fame, which, in this younger world, distinguish the present day: Trumbull, Barlow, Humphreys, Warren, Morton, Belknap, &c. &c.—these all passed in review before them; and as they seemed determined to set no bounds to their invidious censures, their observations were of course equally destitute of justice and of candour. From these luminous bodies in the hemisphere of literature, descending in their career, they fell pell-mell upon the poor Gleaner. He was regarded as free plunder, serving as a mark at which to point their keenest shafts of satire; he was any body, every body, or nobody. One while he was certainly a Parson, for, in his last number, throwing off the mask, he had positively sermonized throughout; it was true he had taken his text from a brother chip; but what of that? his speech betrayed him. A second gravely declared, that he was credibly informed, the Gleaner was, at this present, a student in Harvard College; and indeed, (he added) it is evident, that he needs instruction. Here a loud laugh interrupted, for a moment, the progress of their critical and judicious remarks; when a young barrister, taking up the matter, for the sake of the argument, just to exercise his talents, professionally pronounced, that most assuredly the gentleman who spoke last had been grossly imposed upon, in the plea of vesting the prop­erty under consideration; for that the Gleaner cer­tainly bore strong marks of genius▪ that, to his knowl­edge, it was the production of a Connecticut p [...]n, and it was well known that Connecticut was the land of essayists. A magisterial voice now interfered—Pshaw, pshaw, brother litigant, I say you are wrong, absolutely wrong; for if we except the first number of [Page 56] the Gleaner, there is not to be found, in that writer, a single sentence of sheer wit. From the first number, indeed, I encouraged a hope of originality, of a spe­cies of entertainment, not every day to be met with; but that, it should seem, was a forced matter, a mere hot-bed production, a spark struck from a flint, rather than the offspring of that pure, celestial and immor­tal fire, which, like its ethereal source, can never be extinguished, and which, ever genuine, glowing, and animated, is with propriety hailed by that dignify­ing appellation—true genius. But the Gleaner, O shocking! in his Margaretta, indeed, I took an inter­est, but he just p [...]pt her upon us, and very soon run­ning himself out there, whip, in a moment, she was gone. Take my word for it, Gentlem [...]n, (and he shook his head with great sagacity) the Gleaner is not worth our attention; he is poor, despicably poor—low, pitifully low; and I hesitate not to pro­nounce him a mere trite, common-place observer. A middle-aged gentleman, who sat at the bottom of the table, and who had been, till then, silent, actu­ated, as I conceive, by a kind of sympathy, being himself probably a supplicant at the shrine of fame, now joined in the conversation, by candidly suggest­ing, that it did not appear the Gleaner had laid any claim to extraordinary talents; that he had very early renounced the vain hopes by which he had been inflated; that if every writer could not reach the eminence of a Boyle, a Locke, or a Newton, yet those who were contented with the subordination of their several departments, were entitled to their quota of praise; that if the observations of the Gleaner were trite, he was but a Gleaner, and the modesty of his pretensions entitled him to the full exercise of candor. But your Honor, (continued the good-natured gentleman) was interested in his Margaretta; now I think it very possible that Miss Melworth may again make her appearance, and it is my opinion, that the Gleaner withholds her now, not altogether from poverty of genius, but from the fear of giving [Page 57] to his productions the air of a novel—(I could hardly forbear taking my advocate in my arms)—and you know, Gentlemen, in what a frivolous point of view, the novelist, at this present, stands. It is painful to sink, and who would wish to debase the essayest (for so it would be esteemed) into a mere annalist of brilliant fictions; yet, for my own part, I am free to own, that I class this species of writing in the very highest grade of excellence; [...]t is true that the best things may be made subservient to the worst of pur­poses, and the pen, seized by the singers of imagina­tion, hath not seldom proved licentiously luxurious. Thus, even a Richardson, though his writings abound with the purest morals, and though his Clarissa, with a single exception, may be regarded as a model, cannot, perhaps, be considered as altogether faultless; yet I have thought, that under proper regulations, the province assigned to the novel writer, might be productive of the highest utility; love, I would not hail as almighty; I would not create a despot, before whose throne every other consideration must, of necessity, prostrate; I would not represent him as reducing to vassalage every faculty of the soul, and riding victorious over decency, propriety, and every other virtue; but I would describe him as a benign monarch, to whom reason should administer; his powers should be limited, and chastized by prudence; and, by a series of interesting, circumstantial and well digested narrations, I would produce events deeply marked, and strikingly natural, which should indisputably evince the triumphs of discretion over the impassioned dictates of the perturbed spirit; vol­umes, wrote upon such a plan, would, I venture to assert, be more serviceable to the interests of virtue than even the ethic page; for, however plausibly we may harangue, the voice of the narrator will still be heard, when, perhaps, the most elaborate essays, not thus embellished, which ever issued from the closet of the studious, will pass the torpid [...]ar without leaving the slightest impression. Indeed, I think the glorious. [Page 58] Author and Pattern of the Christian faith, seems, in the whole course of his teaching, to put this matter beyond a doubt: One specimen readily presents—when the Saviour undertakes to cultivate the interests of benevolence, when he would disseminate the seeds of that universal benignity, or brotherhood, which, springing up, shall one day produce a rich harvest of immortal amity, he personifies his wishes, and says, "A certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho," &c. &c. Thus I conceive, that the well-concerted relation, designed to promote morality, or a rectitude of thinking and acting, is authorized and sanctioned, even by a divine example.

Before such a pleader, thus powerfully provided, even Doctor Subpoena was silent, and the company soon after separating, I returned to my lodgings, felicitating myself on the possession of that command of countenance, which had so regulated every feature, as to render it impossible that my secret should be even surmised; and my business in the capital being accomplished, I jogged onward to my native village, pondering all these things in my mind, and almost coming to a determination to furnish some sketches from my domestic arrangements, when the following letters, which awaited my return, and which I render verbatim, helped to confirm my wavering resolution.

In answer to my several correspondents, I have only to observe, in general, that their expectations abundantly forerun both my plans and my ability; but that I may, "in all my best, obey them," I will, from time to time, furnish, from my private family, such sketches as I shall think proper, reserving to myself the privilege of discontinuing and resuming them, as shall suit my convenience. But to my friends Bellamour and Plodder, it is but justice to say, that four months since, I had the felicity to bestow the hand of Miss Melworth upon a very worthy man, who, I doubt not, will be fully sensible of the value of the acquisition which he hath made. [...]ut by what steps she hath obtained the honorary crown of matronhood, may in future numbers be narrated.

N^o. VII.

NO, I think not—relative to Margaretta, we have no capital errors to deplore; from the hour which consigned to the narrow house the remains of [Page 67] Mrs. Aburthnot, she hath continued to progress in our affections, endearing herself to us by every act of duty, and having laid her in our bosom, she hath be­come unto us indeed a daughter. Heaven hath de­nied us children; but we regret not that circumstance, while this amiable female lives to prop, to soothe, and to slope our passage through the journey of life. Having packed up her little moveables, the most val­uable of which was a miniature of her mother, put into her hands by her aunt (whose degree of affinity she hath since understood) just before she expired, we quitted the capital of South-Carolina. I took a place for myself in the stage; and Mary, accommodating herself to the movements of that vehicle, came on with the child. Mary hath the peculiar talent of stealing from the unfortunate their sharpest sorrows; moments of the keenest anguish she can sometimes beguile; and by her address she hath not seldom ex­tracted from the wounded bosom the lacerating shaft. To soothe and to support the little Margaretta, who was at first overwhelmed with grief, she bent her ut­most efforts; and as the minds of children, at that early and interesting age, are commonly very suscep­tible, and easily impressed, she succeeded wonderfully well; while the little creature, assured and comfort­ed, before we had reached the northern extremity of the middle States, with her heart as light as the gos­samer, prattled away most delightfully.

When we returned home, we fitted up a little chamber, of which we constituted Margaretta the sole proprietor; my wife informing her that she should establish a post betwixt her apartment and her own, that if they chose, upon any occasion, to separate, they might with the greater convenience open a cor­respondence by letter. The rudiments of Margaret­ta's education had been attended to; in her plain work she had made considerable proficiency; she could read the seventh, tenth, eleventh and twelfth chapters of Nehemiah, without much difficulty; and when her aunt was taken ill, she was on the point of [Page 68] being put into joining-hand; but Mary very soon sketched out for our charge rather an extensive plan of education; and as I was not entirely convinced of the inutility of her views, the natural indolence of my temper induced me to let the matter pass, without en­tering my caveat by way of stopping proceedings; and indeed, I think the propriety of circumscribing the education of a female, within such narrow bounds as are frequently assigned, is at least problematical. A celebrated writer, I really forget who, hath penned upon this subject a number of self-evident truths; and it is an incontrovertible fact, that to the matron is en­trusted not only the care of her daughter, but also the forming the first and oftentimes the most important movements of that mind, which is to inform the fu­ture man; the early dawnings of reason she is ap­pointed to watch, and from her are received the most indelible impressions of his life. Now, was she properly qualified, how enviable and how dignified would be her employment. The probability is, that the family of children, whom she directed, supposing them to possess common capacities, being once initiat­ed into the flowery paths of science, would seldom stop short of the desired goal. Fine writing, arithme­tic, geography, astronomy, music, drawing; an attach­ment to all these might be formed in infancy; the first principles of the fine arts might be so accommodated, as to constitute the pastime of the child; the seeds of knowledge might be implanted in the tender mind, and even budding there, before the avocations of the father permitted him to combine his efforts. Affec­tion for the sweet preceptress, would originate a strong predilection for instructions, that would with interest­ing tenderness be given, and that would be made to assume the face of entertainment, and thus the young proficient would be, almost imperceptibly, engaged in those walks, in which an advantageous perseverance might rationally be expected. A mother, who possess­eth a competent knowledge of the English and French tongues, and who is properly assiduous about [Page 69] her children, I conceive, will find it little more diffi­cult to teach them to lisp in two languages, than in one: and as the powers of the student advanceth, cer­tain portions of the day may be regularly appropriat­ed to the conversing in that language which is not designed for the common intercourses of life. Let­ters, in either tongue, to the parent, or fictitious char­acters, may be alternately written, and thus an ele­gant knowledge of both may be gradually obtained. Learning, certainly, can never with propriety be esteemed a burthen; and when the mind is judiciously balanced, it renders the possessor not only more valu­able, but also more amiable, and more generally use­ful. Literary acquisitions cannot, unless the facul­ties of the mind are deranged, be lo [...]t; and while the goods of fortune may be whelmed beneath the contin­gencies of revolving time, intellectual property still remains, and the mental funds can never be exhaust­ed. The accomplished, the liberally accomplished female, if she is destined to move in the line of com­petency, will be regarded as a pleasing and instruc­tive companion; whatever she does will connect an air of persuasive elevation; wherever she may be ad­ventitiously called, genuine dignity will be the accom­paniment of her steps; she will always be attended to with pleasure, and she cannot fail of being distin­guished; should she, in her career of life, be arrested by adverse fortune, many resources of relief, of pleas­ure, and of emolument, open themselves before her; and she is not necessarily condemned to laborious ef­forts, or to the drudgery of that unremitted sameness, which the rotine of the needle presents.

But whatever may be the merits of the course which I am thus apparently advocating, without stopping to examine the other side of the question, I proceed to say, that the plan of education adopted for Marga­retta was, as I have already hinted, sufficiently ex­tensive, and that Mrs. Vigillius (to address my good wife, in her dignified character of governante, with all possible respect) having instructed her pupil in the [Page 70] grand fundamental points of the philanthropic re­ligion of Jesus, was never easy while any branch of improvement, which could by the most remote con­struction be deemed feminine, remained unessayed; and I must in justice declare, that the consequence, by producing Margaretta at the age of sixteen, a beautiful and accomplished girl, more than answered her most sanguine expectations.

Of needle work, in its varieties, my wife pronounc­ed her a perfect mistress; her knowledge of the Eng­lish, and French tongues, was fully adequate to her years, and her manner of reading had, for me, pe­culiar charms; her hand writing was neat and easy; she was a good accomptant, a tolerable geographer and chronologist; she had skimmed the surface of as­tronomy and natural philosophy; had made good proficiency in her study of history and the poets; could sketch a landscape; could furnish, from her own fancy, patterns for the muslins which she wrought; could bear her part in a minuet and a co­tillion, and was allowed to have an excellent hand upon the piano forte. We once entertained a de­sign of debarring her the indulgence of novels; but those books, being in the hands of every one, we conceived the accomplishment of our wishes in this respect, except we had bred her an absolute recluse, almost impracticable; and Mrs. Vigillius, therefore, thought it best to permit the use of every decent work, causing them to be read in her presence, hoping that she might, by her suggestions and observations, present an antidote to the poison, with which the pen of the novelist is too often fraught. The study of history was pursued, if I may so express myself, systematically: To the page of the historian one hour every day was regularly devoted; a second hour, Mary conversed with her adopted daughter upon the subject which a uniform course of reading had fur­nished; and a third hour Margaretta was directed to employ, in committing to paper such particular facts, remarks and consequences deduced therefrom, as had, [Page 71] during the hours appropriated to reading, and con­versing, most strikingly impressed her mind; and by these means the leading features of history were inde­libly imprinted thereon. Mrs. Vigillius also compos­ed little geographical, historical, and chronological catechisms, or dialogues, the nature of which will be easily conceived; and she pronounced them of infinite advantage in the prosecution of her plan; she sub­mitted likewise, at least once every week, to little voluntary absences, when my boy Plato, being consti­tuted courier betwixt the apartments of my wife and daughter, an epistolary correspondence was carried on between them, from which more than one impor­tant benefit was derived; the penmanship of our charge was improved; the beautiful and elegant art of letter writing was by degrees acquired; and Mar­garetta was early accustomed to lay open her heart to her maternal friend.

Persons when holding the pen, generally express themselves more freely than when engaged in conver­sation; and if they have a perfect confidence in those whom they address, the probability is, that, unbosom­ing themselves, they will not fail to unveil the inmost recesses of their souls—thus was Margaretta properly and happily habituated to disclose, without a blush, each rising thought to her, on whom the care of pre­paring her for the great career of life had devolved.

No, Mr. Pedant, she was not unfitted for her prop­er sphere; and your stomach, however critical it may be, never digested finer puddings than those which I, with an uncommon zest, have partook, as knowing they were the composition of her fair hand—yes, in the receipts of cookery she is thorough­ly versed; she is in every respect the complete house­wife; and our linen never received so fine a gloss as when it was ironed and laid in order by Margaretta. Mrs. Vigillius was early taught the science of economy, and she took care to teach it to her daughter; and being more especially economical of time, she so ar­rangeth matters as never to appear embarrassed, or in [Page 72] a hurry, having always her hours of leisure, which she appropriates to the contingencies of the day. It is true, she does not often engage in visits of mere cer­emony, seldom making one of any party, without some view either to her own emolument, or that of those about her; and with regard to dress, she spends but little time in assorting an article which is, it must be confessed, too generally a monopolizer of a blessing, that can hardly be too highly estimated. She doth not think it necessary to have her dishabille for the morning, her robe-de-chambre for noon, and her full trimed polanee or trollopee, for the evening. The morning generally, except in cases of any particular emergency, presents her dressed for the day; and as she is always elegant, of course she can never be pre­posterous, extravagant or gaudy. It will be hardly necessary to add, that Miss Melworth was, and is, her exact copiest; and indeed she is so warmly attached to my dear Mary, that I verily believe it would have been in her power to have initiated her into the devi­ous paths of error; and this is saying a great deal of a mind which possesseth such innate goodness, as doth that which inhabits the gentle bosom of my Mar­garetta. Upon the subject of dress, I am naturally reminded of the request of my fanciful correspondent Monimia Castalio, relative to the dress of Margaretta, and particularly the height of her head; and I am happy that I can gratify Miss Monimia Castalio, by rec­ollecting a circumstance, which being in point, may serve as a specimen of the general style of Margaret­ta's dress. I think she was about fifteen, when Mrs. Vigillius conforming as much as her ideas of propriety would admit, to the then fashion of the times, made for her a hat of white satin. I remember there was a prettily fancied ribbon to it; and it had, I thought, rather a jauntee appearance. Margaretta put it on, and sallied forth to pay a visit to an acquaintance, a Miss Preedy; and the next morning, when seated at the breakfast table, with much hesitation she request­ed her mamma to purchase for her, as an additional [Page 73] ornament to her hat, some beautiful feathers, which she said were to be disposed of at the very next shop. Mrs. Vigillius, with great calmness, replied, "Yes, my dear, without doubt I can obtain for you the feathers; but I have for some time been endeavouring to accumulate a sum, which I had intended to ap­propriate for the completion of your little library; and a crown laid out in feathers, will take therefrom at least one handsome and instructive volume; it is true, I have some money now by me, designed for another use—Poor Mrs. Lovemore, over whose mis­fortunes you have shed so many tears, still swells the sigh of sorrow—he, whose presence would turn her little cottage into a palace, yet remains imprisoned! I have long had it in contemplation to dry the tear of anguish from the cheek of that solitary mourner; and I have anticipated the pleasure I should experi­ence while witnessing the mantling joy, and the dimp­ling smiles, which would, upon an occasion so happy, pervade the faces of the little beings who owe to her their existence—Genius of sensibility! how extatic would be my emotions, could I be made instrumental in restering to their embraces the husband and the father! The sum for which Mr. Lovemore is held in durance, is small, and his misfortunes could not by human prudence be either foreseen or prevented. From the late expenditures in our family, I have so far economized, as to have at length made up the requisite sum; and I had thought to have taken a walk this fine morning, in order to liberate the poor man—but you want the feathers, and Lovemore must con­tinue in captivity until I can lay by another crown."

Never shall I forget the expression, the animated expression, which lighted up the countenance of Mar­garetta; tears of mingling pleasure and delicate ap­prehension, were upon her cheek; with a kind of du­teous eagerness, she seized the hand of Mary, and in a most graceful manner bowing thereon, with a trem­ulous voice she thus questioned—thus entreated—"And will the sorrows of the poor Mrs. Lovemore [Page 74] know an end? O friend, patroness, protectress, pre­server, mother—what shall I say?—Already my obli­gations to you are infinite—but tell me, dear lady, will you still add thereto—shall I accompany you to the abode of Mrs. Lovemore? I know that you will consent—let us go this instant—I will fly for your cloak, and we will not delay a moment."

It is hardly necessary to add that Margaretta obtain­ed her suit, and I subjoin a declaration, that these kind of feathers are the most beautiful, and the highest plum­ed, of any she hath ever yet worn in her hat or cap.

But while we have been assiduously employed in cul­tivating the mind of Margaretta, we have been endeav­ouring to eradicate the seeds of that over-weening self conceit, which, while it would induce an ostentatious exhibition of those talents natural, or adventitious, which she may possess—like a rampant weed would im­pede and overshadow the growth of every virtue. Against pride and affectation we have been careful to guard her, by constantly inculcating one grand truth; a truth, to the conviction of which every ingenuous mind must be ever open. Her person, the symmetry of her features, the rose and lily of her complexion, the tout ensemble of her exterior, the harmony of her voice, &c. &c.—these are the endowments of nature—while the artificial accomplishments with which she is invest­ed, resulting wholly from accident, and being alto­gether independent of her own arrangements, confer upon her no real or intrinsic merit.

We are daily assuring her, that every thing in future depends upon her own exertions, and that her character must be designated by that consistent decency, that ele­gant propriety, and that dignified condescension, which are indeed truly estimable. We have apprized her, that in every stage of her journey through life, she will find friends—or a social intercourse with the circles in which she may be called to move—constituting one of her principal enjoyments, and that if she is not eager for admiration, if she avoids making a display of superior abilities, she will escape those shafts of envy which [Page 75] will otherwise be too surely aimed at her peace; and secure to herself the complacent feelings of those with whom she may be conversant.

Margaretta hath a becoming spirit, and dissimula­tion is a stranger to her heart; she is rather cheerful than gay; she never diverts herself with simplicity and ignorance; double entendres she detests; she is not an adept in the present fashionable mode of play­ing upon words, and she never descends to what is call­ed jesting; she can deliver herself upon any subject, on which she ventures to speak, with great ease; but in large or mixed companies she engages in conversa­tion with manifest reluctance; and I have heard her declare, that she hath frequently, when encircled by strangers, felt alarmed at the sound of her own voice; she never comments upon those blunders which are the result of a neglected education, nor will she lend her smiles to those who are thus employed; and she observes, that such kind of peccadillos have upon her no other ef­fect, than to excite in her bosom the sensation of gratitude

With the laws of custom, or fashion, she is thorough­ly acquainted, and she consents to follow them as far as they square with the dictates of rectitude; but she never sacrifices to their documents either her humani­ty, or her convenience; she regards, as extremely venial, an ignorance of their despotic institutions; (indeed the multifarious requirements of mere ceremony, strike her in so trifling a point of view, that she conceives it rather a matter of course that they should sometimes be omit­ted) and she prefers plain manners to all the glitter of a studied or laboured address.

But it is against the unaccountable freaks of the ca­pricious, that all the artillery of that humour, of which she possesses a natural fund, is levelled; frank and inge­nuous herself, she laughs at the vagaries of the whimsi­cal, and her heart is ever upon her lips; [...]he reflects much, and her judgment is fashioned by reason; she cannot be seen without pleasure, nor heard without instruction.

But I am rather describing what Margaretta is, than what she was, at the period of her history [Page 76] to which we are arrived. Three or four years have matured her talents, presenting the daily improv­ing and promising girl, a truly lovely and accom­plished woman, abundantly answering the fondest ex­pectations which were formed of her.

When our beloved charge had completed her six­teenth year, we conceived it full time to introduce her an interesting and beautiful object to a world, of whose deceptions we had been careful to warn her, and for whose intercourse, we flattered ourselves, she was as well qualified as girls at her age generally are.

It was at this period that Mrs. Vigillius, in compli­ance with the pressing entreaties of a friend in whom she entirely confided, reluctantly consented that Miss Melworth should pass a few weeks in the city of New-Haven.

But it may be proper to refer the opening of a new, and important scene, to a separate essay; and we shall proceed to bring forward the appropriate number, with all possible dispatch.

N^o. VIII.

IT was a first parting—and it cost a shower of tears on both sides, but avoiding as much as possible scenes which may be better imagined than described, I proceed in my narration. Margaretta had been ab­sent but two weeks, when the following letter, giving the alarm to our most anxious feelings, was read by Mary and myself, with uncommon perturbation.

This letter, I say, inflicted upon my bosom the most pungent anxiety. Full well I knew Sinisterus Courtland. I knew him much better (for my personal interviews with him had been but few) than he was apprized of; I knew him to be base, designing, and however incon­gruous [Page 81] these qualities may seem, improvident also; his father had bred him a gentleman, leaving him on­ly a slender patrimony to support his pretensions, while he was wholly destitute of the means, disposition, or talents, to add thereto; nay, even his small inheritance, without spending a single thought on the future, he had deeply involved, until pressed upon by his creditors, he was finally induced to an effort to extricate him­self, by the very honourable method of deluding some wo­man whose expectations were tolerable, into an affair of the heart, the matrimonial termination of which, he considered as an axiom, which was too irrefragable to admit of doubt; he had spent the morning of his life in fluttering from town to town, paying his devoirs to every inconsiderate girl, who, allured by his flattery, and charmed by an exteriour which is indeed unex­ceptionable, and deceived also by the ease, brilliancy, and eclat of his appearance into a good opinion of his finances, became the dupe of her own vanity, finding her inclinations betrayed, in favour of an impostor, who on his part, possessed not depth of understanding sufficient to render him capable of a serious or lasting impression.

It is scarcely necessary to add a finishing to the character that now presented a formidable candi­date for the heart of my girl; and, in addition to the unfavourable light in which I beheld Mr. Courtland, I had long entertained other views for Mar­garetta, adjusting my plans in such a manner, as I conceived well nigh precluded a disappointment: I was sensible, that as I had no near relation of my own, it was generally supposed Miss Melworth would be my heir, and I shuddered at the idea of the little fortune which, with much industry, application and economy, I had accumulated, being squandered by a spendthrift, while my daughter, and her descendants, were left pennyless! For a moment, regarding myself as a ship­wrecked voyager, bereaved of every hope, I was ready, yielding the point, to stretch myself upon the barren heaths of despair; but after deliberating the matter, I conceived, that though my fabric tottered, it was not [Page 82] absolutely whelmed; and though I was aware that, manured by the prejudices prepared in the hot-bed of novel reading, the impressions made upon young minds, with the passions implanted in the tender soil, were not easily erased, or up-rooted; yet I conceived that the task, however arduous, was not altogether impractica­ble; and while apprized that the business in which I was about to engage required in the management thereof the utmost delicacy, I concluded, nevertheless, that an object so desirable, was at least worth any attempt to obtain it. Thus having made up my mind, Mary, who was hand in glove with me, began our operations, by responding to the letter of Margaretta, in the sub­joined manner.

N^o. IX.

IT will not be doubted but the urgency of my af­fairs, very soon made my New-Haven expedition a matter of necessity: nor will it, I presume, be re­garded as problematical, that Miss Melworth, with duteous acquiescence, became the companion of my return. But alas! that cheerfulness, which had so long presided in her bosom, had taken its flight; and though joy gladdened in her countenance at the entrance of our village, and at the appearance of our habitation; though she seemed, while clasped in the arms of Mary, to be lost in extacy—yet, upon her lovely countenance the cloud again gathered; her eye beamed a melan­choly languor; the rose upon her cheek visibly gave place to the lily of her complexion, and we were well nigh distracted by the gloomy forebodings which her altered figure originated in our souls. We had con­certed our plan, the ultimatum of which was her feli­city; and we were determined, if we could not bend her to our wishes, to follow her through all the vicissi­tudes her unfortunate preference might involve, with every alleviation which we could furnish. We con­templated the yielding her to the youth we loved, [...] full and deliberate choice. Nothing short of this would satisfy our affection, or restore to us the en­tire possession of that peace, which the late event had invaded; yet we abhorred constraint, and we regard­ed persuasion, considering the tender and conceding mildness of that heart which was almost in our hands, as no better than a specious kind of tyranny. But be­ing [...] in regard to the doctrine which extends the empire of genuine love, in my virtuous bosom, beyond [Page 88] the existence or agency of esteem, we doubted not, if we could erase from the breast of our orphan, those high ideas she had conceived of the merit of her lover, the belle passion would very speedily evaporate. Our busi­ness then being to convince the judgment, while we assured ourselves, if this was possible, the consequences we wished would inevitably follow, against a confi­dence which we conceived so highly misplaced, the whole force of our artillery was, of course, levelled. Having, however, so great a stake, it became us to de­liberate much, to be very cautious in our movements; a precipitate step might ruin our measures, and it was our aim to be guarded at all points. Courtland very soon made his appearance in our village, we extended to him the rights of hospitality; and, as an admirer of Miss Melworth's, we gave him every decent opportu­nity of advocating his cause. To this mode of proce­dure we were impelled by the following considerations: Should we refuse, to this pretender, that uniform civil­ity, with which we have distinguished every stranger, the wound thereby given to the feelings of Margaretta, might very possibly add to the strength of her attach­ment; and the idea of his suffering upon her account, interesting her gratitude, would still more have en­deared him to her; while, in the inmost recesses of her soul, accusing us of injustice, she would syllogistically have concluded, that error in one particular involved a possibility of mistake in another. And it would, in truth, have been in a very high degree absurd, to have denied his claim to common attentions, merely because he had eyes for the charms of a person, whom our partiality induced us to think, had merit sufficient to captivate every beholder. In this arrangement we also made ourselves witnesses of every movement, pre­cluding all necessity for, and possibility of, clandestine views; and we conceived, besides, that as Miss Mel­worth possessed a penetration far beyond her years, frequent interviews with Sinisterus Courtland would in­fallibly develope to her understanding his true charac­ter, effectually destroying that mask under which he [Page 89] had continued to betray the unwary; and we well knew, that could she herself make the discovery we wished, such an event would operate more propitiously than any information, however important, which might be handed her from any other quarter. Perhaps it may be matter of surprise, that being myself in posses­sion of such material documents, I did not come to an immediate explanation, thus adjusting the business agreeably to my own designation. But though, as I apprehend, the preceding remark anticipates this ob­servation, I have yet to say, I was aware of the sub­terfuges to which bad men often have recourse: Had I declared my knowledge of what I termed Court­land's enormities, it would have been easy for him to have availed himself of the plea of youth and inexpe­rience, of a change of system, reformation, present regularity, &c. &c. and, for his poverty, it was an objection which the ardour of young affection would not only find a laudable generosity in palliating, but it would, with glowing zeal, assay to enlist against so mercenary and unworthy a consideration, the most vir­tuous propensities of the soul. I knew that to erase impressions, made upon the youthful bosom, violent efforts must generally be inadequate; that they would much more frequently lacerate, than obliterate; and I was not willing to leave in the bosom of Margaretta the smallest fear. I had not forgotten the integrity and the ingenuity which characterizes the morning of life; and I remembered also, that the enthusiasm of an early love, is fruitful in its vindications of the ob­ject of its preference; and that it is ready to accuse every objector as prejudiced and unjust. Taking the matter up in this view, we thought best to await some fortunate crisis, holding the unquestionable facts of which we were possessed, relative to Courtland, as our [...] resource.

Mean time, we descended not to disguises: Upon the application of that gentleman, we informed him of our prior engagement to young Hamilton's father▪ of our wishes for the success of the projected [...] [Page 90] of our determination to take every proper step, which we should deem likely to propitiate the mind of Mar­garetta, respecting an event which we regarded in so eligible a view; and we grounded our objections to him on the disparity of years, the short date of his ac­quaintance with Miss Melworth, and the distance of his residence; nevertheless, we added, that if we had the power, even of natural parents, over the final de­cision of that young lady, we should not hold ourselves authorized to direct her any further than reason point­ed; and that we left him at full liberty to prosecute his suit with what advantage he might, only promis­ing, that we should not consent to dispose of Miss. Melworth, even to Hamilton himself, until she had com­pletely rounded her nineteenth year. Courtland, up­on this assurance, reddened excessively; he had hoped his happiness might have been much sooner accelerated, and some very pressing circumstances, relative to him, demanded a very early establishment. Our determination upon this head continued, however, unalterable; while our es­pousing, as we apparently did, the interests of Hamil­ton, occasioned in the bosom of our daughter such a struggle between inclination and duty, as still looked with a very serious and unfriendly aspect upon her health. Upon our grand subject, both Mary and my­self held with her many conversations, which, I am vain enough to imagine, might be useful to young persons thus circumstanced, and which, did not the limits prescribed to a writer for the Magazine, set bounds to my encroachments, should most certainly be recounted; but should they be demanded, as they were immediately committed to paper, future Glean­ers shall certainly record them. One sentiment, how­ever, which dropped from the mouth of Mary, which I accidentally overheard, and which was perfectly new to me, I cannot excuse myself from giving. She was, one fine afternoon, while seated with Margaretta in the arbour to which they were both so much attached, endeavouring, in a manner peculiar to herself, to sooth the feelings of her daughter; thus encouraging her to [Page 91] lay open her whole soul, that she might, from such confidence, the better judge of the nature of the rem­edy she was to apply; when Miss Melworth, sensibly regretting that she was so unfortunately situated, as to feel a disposition to act contrary to the wishes of her best friends; by turns lamenting and accusing the treachery of a heart which had thus betrayed her, concluded a very tender harangue, by a declaration, that though Hamilton was every thing amiable, yet she was certain she could never feel for him that pref­erence which she did for Courtland; she could never regard him in any other view than that of a brother. "Will you, my sweet girl," replied Mary, "re-consider this affirmation? you are fond of reasoning, you know; and trust me, my dear, when I assure you, that an at­tachment which embraceth not reason as its auxiliary, is not worth cherishing. You own that Hamilton is every thing amiable; but you can only love him as a brother! you pretend not to point out a single vir­tue, a single accomplishment, a single grace, in which Courtland can claim a superiority over Hamilton; yet you can only love Hamilton as a brother, while you love Courtland as—as what, my dear? Will you, Margaretta, please to point out the distinction between those attachments which you feel for the one and the other? You blush, my love; let me kiss off that conscious tear—Say, my charming reasoner, would these over nice distinctions, for which you cannot find a name, ever have found entrance into the bosom of a virtuous girl, were it not for that false taste which is formed by novel reading? What is this something which you feel for Courtland, and which you cannot feel for Hamilton? Certainly it is, at best, but the fever of the imagination, the delirium of fancy; and ever experienced votary of this ignis fatuus, if under the direction of truth, will tell you, that the duration of the pa [...]xism is extremely short, that the sober and healthy age of reason awaits, when love and friendship wear the same face, when only solid advantages can please; and, they will add, that no well informed per­son [Page 92] would sacrifice to the illusion of a moment, the happiness of a life. Did you never, my dear, reflect upon the connexions which must have been formed by the immediate descendants of the pair who were cre­ated in Paradise? brothers then interchanged the nup­tial vow with sisters; they were unacquainted with the refinements of modern times; the virtues which en­deared the brother, rendered the husband amiable; and we have no authority for supposing, that their matri­monial felicity was more circumscribed than that of their posterity. It is true, that the multiplication of our species have rendered other regulations, relative to the marriage contract, or the parties contracting, both necessary and proper; and it is undoubtedly true, that an observation of these regulations, is religiously obli­gatory; but yet, in my opinion, the absurdity of hold­ing a character in great estimation, and highly accom­plished, as a brother, which we should at the same time regard with reluctance as a conjugal companion, is still palpable; and I must repeat, that the preva­lency of such romantic ideas can originate only in the regions of fancy." Thus far my honest woman. But Margaretta, in a letter to Miss Worthington, which lately came under my observation, hath best described her own sensations; I subjoin it therefore, verbatim, as it flowed from as susceptible and upright a heart, as ever beat in the bosom of humanity.

N^o. X.

THUS, for a considerable time, matters remained stationary as it were, in my family. Courtland continued his pursuit. In the bosom of Margaretta, the conflict between duty and inclination was unyield­ingly severe; and Hamilton, with a noble consistency, [Page 97] persevered in declining a competition, which he deem­ed unworthy that rational, disinterested and fervent attachment, which every faculty of his soul had long acknowledged for Miss Melworth.

Courtland, evidently exulting in his success, felici­tated himself upon his opening prospects; and calculat­ing upon the tenderness of Margaretta, he became con­fident it would be in his power to obtain a much ear­lier day, than the very distant era which we had so peremptorily named.

We were thus circumstanced, when the following little poem that made its appearance in the Gazette, however inconsiderable it may in fact be, from the important consequences by which it was attended, mer­its a place in my narration.

These lines, by accelerating our movements, soon put our affairs in a train, giving us at least a perspec­tive glance of the completion of our plans. The light­ed match is soon in a flame, and the smallest spark will enkindle it; but I will lead to the catastrophe in course. The lines, as I said, made their appearance in the Ga­zette; they had no signature, and who the writer was, we could not even conjecture. Hamilton, upon pre­tence of business, had absented himself from our village for more than two weeks; and besides, though we knew that when a boy he had indulged an itch for scribbling in rhyme, yet we conceived that his ripening years had induced him to relinquish every intrigue with damsels [...] the muses, whose favours are so hard­ly earned, and [...] so seldom invest their votaries with that [...], which is in any sort ade­quate, as [...] for the unwearied diligence [...] in the [...].

We, however [...] concerned about it; and Margaretta [...] accustomed to praise to be [...] in the matter. But th [...] amiable [...] girl, (the [...] charity of whose [...] th [...]se [...] [...]each) her [Page 99] well known benevolence, her condescending affability to her inferiors, her complacently dignified deportment to her equals, and her veneration for all those whom years had rendered her superiors—had so well estab­lished her in the hearts of our connexions, as to [...]ender her an object generally beloved; and, indeed, the pro­priety and equality of her conduct had been such, as to produce a solecism to the adage, which creates envy as the shadow of merit; nor did we know that the pas­sion of malevolence was in exercise toward her. It was soon noised abroad that Margaretta had been eu­logized in the news paper, and it furnished a topic for those circles in which she moved; her partial favourers found beauties in the piece, which perhaps a critic would have been far from allowing it. They made it their business to find out the Author; they applied themselves with much avidity to the pursuit; and they determined, if they should be so fortunate as to suc­ceed, to hail him as the prince of poets.

We had, among the number of our visitors, and old lady by the name of Clacket, who was also much at­tached to Miss Melworth, and whose curiosity was upon this occasion raised to the highest pitch. She roundly taxed Courtland with being the author of the poem; and the embarrassment which be discovered, abun­dantly justified her suspicions.

The piece had, as I hinted, its admirers; and Court­land either saw, or thought he saw, an advantage in adopting this fugitive relation of the Parnassian lasses: He managed the matter with some adroitness; his ser­vant was authorized to whisper, as it profound secret to lady Clacket's maid, that his master had in truth composed the favourite lines, which had originated to much speculation; and she reporting it in confidence to her lady, it was in a few days entrusted to the taci­turnity of the whole neighbourhood. Courtland was repeatedly complimented upon his poetical abilities, and he hesitated not to wear the [...]ays.

It happened about this time that Courtland made one of a large circle which were collected round our [Page 100] social board, when the before mentioned lady intro­duced the subject of the poem, and proceeded with all the loquacity of talkative volubility, to pronounce a panegyric upon our gentleman, as the author. The poet bowed, blushed, and looked silly. Margaretta was evidently pleased; while I, regarding the whole affair, as another much ado about nothing, should have passed it without further observation, had I not acci­dentally glanced the face of Serafina, who was also of o [...]r' party, and whose countenance, in the course of a few moments, expressed the most lively sensations. Her heightened complexion during the conversation, now changing to the clearest white, and now assuming the deepest colouring with which the most impassioned feelings could tinge it. I marked Serafina, but I mark­ed her in silence; for, from these suspicious appear­ances, I was induced to fear that the specious manners of our gallant, had made also upon the youthful mind of this young lady, an impression which would be with difficulty eradicated! But I was not suffered to remain long under this deception; our company soon separat­ed, and only Courtland, Margaretta, Serafina, Mary and myself, remained. The chagrin upon the face of Serafina was still visible, when, standing up with much dignity in her manner, she instantly accounted for the appearance, by which I had been misled.

Addressing Mr. Courtland, she thus expressed herself: "I am, Sir, the friend of Edward Hamilton; we have been educated together, almost from the first moment of our existence, and every secret of his soul is reposed in my bosom. I am not sure that he would approve of what I am about to say; nay, feeling my mind at this present in a great measure governed by indigna­tion, I am not myself positive, that I am quite right; however, like all angry folks I am hurried on by an impetuosity which I find altogether irresistable. Is it not enough, Sir, that you have supplanted that unhappy young man in his dearest hopes? Is it not enough that you have stepped between him and that hoard of feli­city which he fondly fancied was treasured up for him? [Page 101] but must you also poorly steal that pittance of fame, which justice reserved for him? You know, Sir, that you never wrote the piece for which you have been contented to receive the praises of so many admirers. I have at this moment the original lines upon Miss Mel­worth, which were written by Edward, in my pocket­book; they were penned upon yonder verdant bank, during Miss Melworth's continuance at New-Haven, while I was prattling by his side. It is true he im­agines they are destroyed; he requested that I would destroy them; but I have imprudently and unkindly given a copy of them to Miss Predy, and thus they have found their way to the press."

What would I have then given for the pencil of a Hogarth, that I might have sketched the group which my parlour at that instant exhibited. Need I tell thee, reader, that I am not even a descendant of Hogarth's? I trow not; but I add, by way of inform­ation, that having a mortal aversion to daubing, it is therefore that I pass hastily over every expressive fea­ture, which was then replete with the deepest meaning, and only observe, that Courtland, almost immediately recovering himself, suddenly seized the outstretched hand of Miss Clifford, and pressing it with much ad­dress to his lips, burst into an immoderate fit of laugh­ter, affecting great surprise, that she took the matter so seriously, and declaring that he meant nothing more than a jest, and merely to amuse himself with the sim­plicity and credulity of lady Clacket.

For my own part, my astonishment at the impu­dence of the fellow, absolutely struck me dumb; and I suffered him to give his adventure what turn he pleas­ed, without even the capability of interrupting him! I saw, however, by the altered looks of Margaretta; by a degree of disgust which pervaded her fine counte­nance, and the pointed reprehension which she darted from her charmingly expressive eyes; from all these auspicious indications, I gathered, that the full time for executing my scheme, was at length arrived, and that the mine being thus accidentally and advanta­geously [Page 102] sprung, it became me to continue my opera­tions with all possible expedition.

Courtland, therefore, had no sooner taken his leave for the evening, than without taking the least notice of the rhymes, or their effect, I observed to my daughter—that having long noted with much concern her wasting frame, and impaired constitution, I was at last come to the resolution of bending myself entirely to her wishes; that upon the next morning's visit which we should receive from her lover, I would lead him imme­diately to my library—that possibly I might have mis­taken his character, but that I would then enter into a conversation with him, of a nature so serious, as fully to ascertain our man—that I would request her, accom­panied by her mother, to [...]eat herself in the adjoining apartment, where they might be ear witnesses of our discourse—and that if, after the investigation to which I should oblige Mr. Courtland to submit, he should still continue the object of a choice, which would then be so deliberate, I would myself lead her to the altar, at any hour which she should judge most proper; and, furthermore, that I promised on behalf of Mary, as well as in my own name, that we would continue through life, in every event, to partake her felicity, and to gild for her, to the utmost of our ability, every misfortune which might await her.

Margaretta trembled excessively; her complexion now reddened to the deepest dye, and now changed to the most deadly pale! we were fearful that she would faint. Mary addressed her in the most soothing language; this had the desired effect; and, bursting into tears, she raised her clasped hands, while a kind of agonized expression was depictured upon her coun­tenance, and, ere we were aware, with a sudden and tremulous emotion, quitting her seat, she sunk down upon her knees! sore us. "Oh Sir, oh Madam!" in a broken voice she exclaimed, "spare your child, spare [...] this trial; your condescension is sufficiently mani­fested; never [...]ore do I wish to behold the man who [...] this evening passed your doors; I am convinced [Page 103] that he is poorly mean, that he is capable of the most deliberate baseness; and never shall my soul bind itself in alliance with an unworthy pretender, who can thus pitifully stoop to purloin the fame, with which un­doubted merit had invested his superior."

"Nay, my love," rejoined Mary, "you are now again too precipitate; would you discard the man of your heart, merely because he is ambitious of adorning him­self with the poet's laurel? besides, these tears, these looks of anguish, these broken accents, and heart-affect­ing sighs; these all betray a mind not sufficiently at ease, to make up a determination so important; should you thus hastily proceed, you may possibly repent at leisure. Come to my arms, my daughter—let me press this throbbing heart to the bosom of friendship; let us take time, my love; your father, whose wisdom not seldom leads him through the labyrinth of the human heart, shall prosecute his plan, while we, sum­moning the aid of mild resignation, abide, with patient acquiescence, the event."

Thus, then, we adjusted our measures; and the returning sun, according to custom, presenting Mr. Courtland, ushered in an hour which I regarded among the most important of my life. My unalterable intention was to constitute Miss Melworth sole heiress of every shilling which I possessed; yet, regarding our spark, in pecuniary matters, as another Zeluco, I con­ceived myself justified in practising a little address, in order to the unmasking an impostor, who, by meth­ods so unwarrantable, had obtained such hold of the affections of my daughter.

Behold me then, gentle reader, with these impres­sions, seated in my library, and Courtland, with un­blushing effrontery, lolling upon a sofa before me; listen, also, while with a solemn, but composed coun­tenance, and in a resolute and peremptory tone of voice, I thus deliver myself.

"I have requested this interview, Sir, in order to obtain your ear upon a very important subject. I ob­serve that your pretensions to Miss Melworth, notwith­standing [Page 104] your knowledge of our predilection for Mr. Hamilton, are still continued; and I repeat, that no parental friends, ought unduly to influence in an affair, which cannot so deeply interest them, as the individuals who are principally concerned; we consent, therefore, supposing Miss Melworth's preference should remain, to yield you her hand, and we assure you that her matrimonial choice shall, in no sort, influence her for­tunes." Here Courtland bowed exultingly, and I proceeded to say—"But, Sir, it is just, that upon this occasion, I add, that, as Miss Melworth is not in fact, our daughter, she is not by nature entitled to our inheritance. My heart, Sir, my paternal heart, ac­knowledges for that young lady the strongest affection; but family claims are respectable, and the pride of re­lationship is seldom wholly eradicated from the bosom. There is now living in a certain metropolis upon this continent, a distant relation of mine, who bears my name; it is true he is rich, but his family is large, and as I am fond, I confess, of establishing my name, the world, in general, will not condemn me, should I de­vise the greater part of my real estate to this my kins­man; while prudence directs me to secure to Marga­retta and her posterity, whatever part of my posses­sions I shall judge proper to endow her with; and I am positive that Miss Melworth will not accuse me of want of affection for her, whatever arrangements I may be induced to make."

I assay not to describe the agitated alterations, which the countenance of Courtland underwent, during the latter part of my harangue; anger, disappointment, and the deepest chagrin, were marked there; when, starting from his seat, with an indignation but ill con­cealed, he expressed himself to the following effect: ‘I was informed, Sir, that you had no relation in ex­istence; I was informed that Miss Melworth would undoubtedly succeed to your estates; and I was moreover informed, that you had destined a very handsome sum, as a nuptial present, for the husband of that young lady, upon the day of marriage; if I [Page 105] am deceived, Sir, though I adore Miss Melworth, yet neither my fortune nor my family will admit of my union with a young lady, who, (excuse me, Sir) doth not seem to have any well grounded expectations, and who cannot claim a single person in the world, as her natural relation.’

It was with difficulty that I stifled my resentment; but, assuming an air of calmness, I returned—"I am ignorant, Sir, who was your informant; but I am con­fident I have never before explained myself upon this subject, to any one, and I am not answerable for the erroneous conjectures of the busy multitude: But, Sir, you, in your turn, must excuse me, when I say, that I should imagine a person upon the eve of bankruptcy, if he really loved the woman whom he was seeking to affiance to penury, would be happy to find her invested with a share of property, which being independent of his failure, would set her above absolute want."

This was enough; it worked him up to a degree of frenzy; and, clenching his fist, with a menacing air, he approached my seat.

"What, Sir, can you mean? What do you mean Mr. Vigillius? I demand an explanation."

"Compose yourself, Sir," I rejoined, "I am not to be intimidated by those big looks, or that air of haughty defiance. Had you, Mr. Courtland, when you pre­sented yourself in my family, as a candidate for the affection of my daughter, ingenuously favoured me with a real statement of your affairs, I would have used my interest to have adjusted them amicably with your creditors; and had the attachment of Margaretta been permanent, while I regarded you as a worthy, though an unfortunate man, I should, notwithstanding my conditional engagement with Mr. Hamilton, have viewed the matter with tolerable complacency: but, when you pass yourself upon us as a man in affluent circumstances, when you act, in every instance, the de­liberate deceiver, I should greatly grieve, did I not know that my daughter's eyes were already opened: She, even at this moment, regains her former tran­quillity. [Page 106] You are no stranger to me. Sir; your amours, your improvidence, the ruined state of your finances, &c. &c. I have this moment letters in my pocket, from your principal creditors, and I could long ere this have apprized Miss Melworth, had I not judged it ex­pedient that she should make the discovery for herself—she hath made it, and I am again a happy man."

Courtland's cowardly [...]oul now shrunk from my gaze; but assuming, with his wonted finesse, the air of an injured man, as he darted from the library, and from the house, he said, ‘It is well, Sir, it is well that your connexion with Miss Melworth is your protec­tion; otherwise I should not fail to call you to a very severe account, for falsehoods and absurdities, which the bosom of malevolence hath doubtless orignated.’

From the library, I immediately passed to the ad­joining apartment. Margaretta hid her blushing face in the bosom of her mother: and while I pressed those beautiful females to my heart, I protested, by the ten­derness which I bore them, that I was, at that instant, the happiest of human beings.

Margaretta proposed a thousand questions in a breath; and, while she blessed the hour of her emanci­pation, she begged to learn the residence of the dear family I had mentioned, who, from their affinity to me, she gratefully said, were already imaged in her heart, and to whom she wished speedily to devote the page of tender acknowledgment, for the share they undesignedly had, in liberating a mind which had been so unworthily enslaved. Tapping her cheek, I ex­pressed my wonder that she too had been deceived; for, my dear, I added, though there is actually, in the city of—, a gentleman of my name, circumstanced exactly as I have stated, yet I am not personally ac­quainted with him; nor do I know that there is the remotest consanguinity between us, in any other line, than as we are alike descended from the honest couple who had their residence in Paradise.

In fact, not having, in my conversation with Court­land, absolutely avowed an intention of alienating [Page 107] from Margaretta any part of my estate; only simply suggesting the rationality and equity of such a pro­cedure, and having fully accomplished my design, I was not anxious to guard my secret.

Courtland, who still continued in our neighbour­hood, was soon apprized of the stratagem which I had so successfully employed; and such was the egregious vanity of the coxcomb, that he entertained no doubt of being able to reinstate himself in the bosom of Margaretta; to which end, he addressed her by many expostulatory letters; imputing the part he had acted in the library, entirely to surprise, and disavowing ev­ery tittle of what had been alleged against him; de­claring, that those calumnies had undoubtedly been fabricated by some friends of Hamilton's, on purpose to ruin him in his love; and, that however she might determine, his inviolable attachment to her would never permit him to be other than the humblest of her adorers. It was in vain Miss Melworth assured him, that his real situation, his wishes, or his pursuits, could affect her in no other way, than as she was a general well-wisher to her species; and that, having outlived the esteem she once avowed for him, she must beg leave to decline all correspondence with him in future. No sooner were his letters returned unopened, than he persisted in besieging every door which she entered; and, having once crossed the threshold, his clamorous protestations bore a stronger resemblance to those of a madman, than to a rationally attached lover. Miss Melworth, however, acquitted herself upon every of these occasions, with that cool and determined consist­ency, which was necessary to the establishment of her character, which confirmed the general sentiment in her favour, and placed the whole affair in its true light.

But many days elapsed, before my girl regained her wonted self-complacency. She often lamented the weak­ness which thus, subjecting her to so humiliating an attachment, had involved us also in the utmost anx­iety; and not being able to forgive herself, for a time [Page 108] she continued to deplore. But the good sense she so eminently possessed, leading her at length to impute her error to inexperience, finally banished every re­maining regret, and enabled her to pen a letter to Miss Worthington, which I produce as a contrast to that which appeared in my last Gleaner.

N^o. XI.

SCARCE an hour had elapsed, after Margaretta had forwarded her letter to Miss Worthington, when the following interesting account from that young lady, which had been written some days before, was put into her hand.

IT was well that my girl had discarded Courtland from her heart, and that she had almost entirely re­covered her tranquillity, previous to the receipt of these letters; otherwise, the sudden revolution they would have occasioned, must, in a young and impassioned mind, have uprooted her reason.

Old Mr. Wellwood had been one of the first of my friends; and from his countenance and advice, on my setting out in life, I had derived material advantages. The disappearance of his daughter had much per­plexed me. I was fearful she was ill advised, but from the idea I had entertained of her discretion, I had not the least suspicion of the truth. Yet she never rushed upon my memory, without giving birth in my bosom to sensations truly painful; and I had been constantly solicitous to discover the place of her retreat.

Thus, under the influence of equity and gratitude, I hope my readers will do me the justice to believe, that in Miss Wellwood's affairs, I found myself nat­urally impelled to take a very active part. Marga­retta speedily responded to both the ladies; but [Page 119] as her letter to Miss Worthington is not absolutely es­sential to my narration, I shall omit it: The following is a copy of her reply to Miss Wellwood.

TAKING it for granted, that the candid reader will allow for the partiality of a young creature, whose high sense of common benefits, and whose gratitude had rendered her almost an enthusiast,—I intrude no com­ment thereon. Margaretta's letter soon produced Miss Wellwood in our family; and upon the morning af­ter her arrival, I sat off in pursuit of Mr. Courtland. My most direct course brought me to rap at the door of his lodgings, and as I was rather early, I made myself sure of finding him within. My astonishment, however, was not equal to my regret, when I was in­formed by his landlady, that a writ of attachment, being the evening before served upon him, at the suit of Mr.—, and he not being able to procure sure­ties, he was then lodged in the county jail. I hesi­tated not in regard to the measures which were best to be taken; a few moments produced me in that abode of the miserable; and I found little difficulty in ob­taining an interview with the prisoner.

Courtland—never shall I forget his appearance—all those airs of importance, which had marked his innate consciousness of superiority, were whelmed in the storm [Page 122] of adversity, that had at length burst upon him. His haggard looks proclaimed, that sleep, in her accus­tomed manner, had forsaken his dreary abode; his dress was neglected; his hair in disordered ringlets hung upon his shoulders: In short, scarce a vestige of the finished gentleman remained; and his folded arms and vacant countenance, as I beheld him unobserved, were almost descriptive of insanity: But the jailer announcing my name, his agonized and unaffected discomposure commanded my utmost commiseration; an expression indicative of mingling confusion, surprise and apprehension, instantly suffused his cheek; and, with extreme perturbation, he exclaimed, ‘Good God! Mr. Vigillius—this is too much—but, for­give me, Sir, the uniformity of your character will not permit a continuance of the idea, that you are come hither either to reproach or insult me.’

"To insult you, Mr. Courtland! God forbid. I come hither rather the petitioner of your favour; and it is a truth, that I at this moment feel in regard to you, all the father predominating in my bosom; but, having matter for your private ear, I must beg the indulgence of this gentleman for a few moments."

The humane keeper withdrew with much civility; and the consternation of our delinquent was unuttera­ble, while I proceeded to inform him of the early knowledge I had obtained of the commencement and progress of his career; of my information in regard to the ruined state of his affairs; and of my actual cor­respondence with his principal creditors. "I have opened my business, Sir," I added, "by this exordi­um, on purpose to let you know how well qualified I am to serve you; and however you may have smart­ed, while I have thus taken it upon me to probe your wounds, I flatter myself you may be induced to bless the hand, which is furnished also with a specific. In short, Sir, I am this morning authorized to act in your affairs—a fair plaintiff hath constituted me her attorney, and I come to offer you terms of accommodation—Miss Wellwood, Sir—" At the sound of this name he [Page 123] changed colour, bit his lips, groaned deeply, and vehe­mently articulated—"Jesus God, have [...] on me!" and, as if that injured female herself had been present, he thus continued: ‘Miss Wellwood—lovely, but too credulous fair one—wretched woman!—I have undone thee; but, Madam, my death shall soon present you the only compensation in my power.’

"I came not, Sir," interrupted I, "to point to the defenceless bosom the sha [...]t of despair: If you please, I will read a letter, which was written by Miss Well­wood to my daughter." I read; and, as I folded the paper, I beheld with astonishment, the tear of contrition bedewing his pallid cheek! "Welcome stranger!" he exclaimed—‘ [...] w [...]n—injured [...]aint—forgiving martyr I—Yes, Heaven is my witness, that the tenderest affection of which this obdurate heart hath ever been capa­ble, hath still been the undivided, unalienated possession of Fanny Wellwood—but, Sir, she knows not the depth of my misery—God of heaven! my crimes have already precipitated me into the gulph of perdition, and there remains no remedy.’

But not to fatigue my readers by further circumlo­cution, I found that our gentleman had become as wax in my hand; and I proposed to him, that if I could procure his enlargement, he should retire imme­diately to my dwelling, where he would meet Miss Wellwood [...] that the nuptial ceremony being le­gally performed, my house should become his castle; that I myself would undertake his affairs, thoroughly investigate every point, and endeavour to adjust mat­ters with his creditors.

My proposal was accepted, with the most extravagant and rapturous demonstrations of joy; and my interest, combined with [...] of a substantial neighbour's, soon liberating the captive, produced him a happy and a grateful bridegroom. The rites of the church were per­formed; not a single ceremony was omitted—while Margaretta and Serafina, blooming as Hebe, and cheer­ful as the morning, officiated as bride-maids.

Agreeably to my promise, I very soon opened my [Page 124] negociation with the different claimants upon Mr. Courtland. New-Haven furnished me with many auxiliaries; it was sufficient to produce the daughter of Mr. Wellwood, to command, in her favour, the most energetic efforts: We speedily obtained a very advantageous compromise; our debtor was, by the joint assistance of many respectable characters, set up in business; and the deficiencies of nature and education, which we have noted in him, were abundantly sup­plied, by the abilities, application, and economical arrange­ments of Mrs. Courtland. Every year, a regular divi­dend of the profits of their business is remitted to their creditors; a large part of the old arrears is discharged; and they bid fair, in the run of a few revolving sea­sons, to possess themselves of a very handsome compe­tency.

N^o. XII.

I AM sometimes wonderfully amused by the vari­ous comments upon these my lucubrations, which in the course of my peregrinations are frequently pour­ed into my ear. It must be confessed, that as I jour­ney from place to place, I am sufficiently solicitous to collect the sentiments of my readers; and that although I am often subjected to extreme mortification in this my anxious pursuit, yet I have, upon some occasions, inhaled, from the voice of the genuine critic, the fine effluvia of well-judged praise.

But during a late tour, which I made to a distant metropolis, I was not so fortunate as to observe that my laurel crown was much indebted to the brighten­ing hand of fame; for although I then breathed the natal air of the Massachusetts Magazine, yet I found that upon the ear of the many, even the name of the Gleaner had never vibrated; and that a considerable [Page 125] majority of those whose attention he had engaged, seemed more occupied in detecting the real author, than in essaying to investigate the merit of his productions! An old lady, (taking off her spectacles, and laying down her knitting-work) informed me she had been credibly assured, that the Gleaner had in fact never been married; that he was a young man, a dweller in Worcester, and that he never having had a bit of a wise, it was impossible to tell what to believe.

A facetious divine, sitting by, gravely replied, "Well, if the scoundrel has imposed upon the public by a fic­titious tale, he ought surely to be tossed in a blanket; and I, for my part, am willing to lend any assistance in my power, to deliver a delinquent, so atrocious, to con­dign punishment."

A sober young woman next joined in the conversa­tion, proceeding with great solemnity to give in her evidence: She said she had but just returned from New-Haven; that she happened to be there when the story of Miss Wellwood came out; and that she was, by unquestionable authority, positively assured they had never heard the name of Margaretta Melworth, until they saw it in the Magazine; that the Wellwoods, the Courtlands, and even the Worthingtons, (as describ­ed by the Gleaner) were wholly unknown in that city.

"Pshaw, pshaw, young woman," said a pedant, who had eyed the fair speaker with an air of super­cilious contempt, "you know nothing of the matter; but ignorance is always forth putting. I tell you that I had the honour of receiving my education at Yale College; I was there at the very period, on which the Gleaner represents his Margaretta as having passed some time in the city of New-Haven, and I more than once saw that young lady at church, and in several private families; it is true that being then but a you [...], (for it was my first year in the seminary) I was not very intimate with Miss Melworth, otherwise, I doubt not, I should have been made acquainted with every particular which he records." A testimony so decisive, could not be controverted; the old lady resumed her knitting, and an air of general complacency took place.

[Page 126] I cannot help regarding this hunting after names, as descriptive of the frivolity of the human mind: No sooner does an anonymous piece make its appearance, than curiosity invests itself in the stole of sagacity, conjecture is upon the rack—Who is he? Where does he live? What is his real name, and occupation? And to the importance of these questions, considerations of real weight give place; as if the being able to ascer­tain a name was replete with information of the most salutary kind. Whereas, if the writing is in no sort personal, and cannot be construed into a libel, a knowl­edge of the author can be of no moment, neither can a name designate a character. Facts, real events, have often been communicated to the world under feigned names; and instruction not seldom arrays itself in the decent and alluring veil of allegory.

The business of the reader is to scan the intrinsic value and general tendency of the composition; if that is considerable, if that is laudable, he ought to leave the author to announce himself under what auspices he shall judge proper.

Passing from these name-hunters, I joined a select tea party, when I had an opportunity of hearing the work itself very freely descanted upon; and while I was hum­bled by the uncandid and satirical disquisition which I underwent, I was proportionably elated at observing that my daughter was as much a favourite in the world at large, as in the village in which she hath been educat­ed. In Margaretta every one appeared interested; and, however questionable the merit of the Gleaner was deemed, Miss Melworth obtained her full share of applause. A damsel, verging upon thirty, the height of whose feathers was enormous, pronounced the poet­ry of the Gleaner pitiful; declared his essays in general much below a mediocrity; and she added, that in her opinion they depreciated as rapidly as the paper cur­rency of insolvent memory; that his last numbers were monstrously unnatural; that the library scene in partic­ular was quite outree, since it was impossible to con­ceive of a man so truly polite, thus passionate; that her [Page 127] friend Mrs. G—condemned those writings altogeth­er, and that Mrs. G—having travelled, and seen the world, must undoubtedly be acknowledged a competent judge. Yet she allowed Margaretta to be a decent young per­son; and she doubted not if she had been left entirely to herself, she would have generously chosen the man of her heart, whatever might have been the embarrassments in which his juvenile errors might have involved him.

"Juvenile errors!" repeated a female who sat next her. "Is it possible, Madam, that you can bestow an epithet so gentle upon crimes of so deep a die? O! that our sex were conscious of their true dignity; that they were just to themselves; then should we no longer behold the unprincipled betrayer obtaining the confi­dence of virtue; then would the despoiler, banished from society, be necessitated to press forward to the path of rectitude, and a uniform pursuit of goodness becoming the price of his restoration to the privileges and immunities of a social being, he would be compell­ed to array himself in the garments of consistent equi­ty. For my own part," continued the fair rationalist, "I am free to own, however singular it may be deemed, that unblemished virtue is, in my estimation, as essential in a man, as in a woman; and that as man is commonly the primary aggressor, I regard a male prosti­tute with even greater detestation than I do an aban­doned female. I profess myself an admirer of the Gleaner. I conceive him to be a moral writer; and I must own that far from thinking the library scene un­natural, I have conceived it inimitably drawn. Court­land is represented from the beginning as a man ex­tremely superficial; that shallow waters are not sel­dom noisy, is a common observation; and it is as true that in silent majesty the great profound may stand collected. Mr. Vigillius, with infinite address, had wrought up to the highest pitch, the sanguine expecta­tions of his man; he is in fancy placed upon an emi­nence at which he had long aimed; and having, as he supposed, at length obtained the enviable summit of his wishes, he is suddenly dashed therefrom.

[Page 128] "Is it then surprising to find him off his guard, es­pecially when it is remembered, that his reasons for keeping measures with the Gleaner were no longer in force? Viewing the matter in this light, I confess, it appears to me rather extraordinary, that his passions discovered no greater excess. But, be this as it may, I declare to you, that Margaretta captivates my very soul; that the virtues attributed to Hamilton strike me most pleasingly: I am charmed with the open in­tegrity, and the m [...]ly consistency of the character of that youth; and I cannot but hope that the ensuing Gleaner, recounting his union with Miss Melworth, will give us an opportunity of contemplating the most faultless pair who have ever lighted the torch of Hy­men, since the lord of paradise received our general mother from the hand of her Creator."

"What in the name of ingenuity," interrupted the lady who was filling tea, "has [...]e done with Hamilton? I protest I am enchanted by that divine fellow; his disdaining to enter the lists with Courtland, and his absenting himself during the pursuit of that unworthy pretender, was a deportment at once dignified, proper and manly. I confess that it hath been no small dis­appointment to me, to find him in the several last Gleaners but barely mentioned; and I am absolutely impatient to hear of his return from exile, and of the restoration of his hopes."

The lovely sentimentalists here adverted to, will rec­ollect a conversation so recent; and, from the throng which upon that occasion crowded the levee of Mrs.—, they may possibly recognize the Gleaner; but even in this case, I feel pleasingly assured, that in the bosom of candour, discretion and good-nature, my se­cret is perfectly safe, while I am confident, that by the many I shall remain untraced. My amiable panegyrists were unconscious that they delivered their sentiments in the presence of an interested man, who hung upon their lips, engraving their words in characters indelible upon the tablets of his breast; yet, as I am happy in an opportu­nity of rendering to superior merit the tribute of [Page 129] esteem; so I hasten with alacrity, to pen the acknowl­edgments of gratitude; and while, in a manner as succinct as possible, I proceed to bring down my nar­ration to the present period, it is with substantial sat­isfaction I confess that my hopes are invigorated, and my efforts stimulated, by a knowledge that persons so worthy await, with some impatience, the recital of a catastrophe which hath long since gratified my utmost wishes.

It happened that Mr. Hamilton returned home up­on the very evening which witnessed the nuptials of Mr. Courtland and Miss Wellwood. Being ignorant of his route, it had not been in our power to follow him by letter; and he was consequently unacquainted with every thing that had passed in our village, during his absence. This plan he had purposely concerted, with an expectation of banishing from his bosom those tender sentiments of Margaretta, which were inconsist­ent with his peace; and fondly imagining that he had effectuated his wishes, he alighted at the lodgings of Serafina, whither he first repaired, in tolerable tran­quillity; but, on inquiring for Miss Clifford, being rather abruptly informed by her maid, that her young lady passed that evening in the family of Mr. Vigillius, in order to assist at the marriage of Mr. Courtland, he discovered, in a single moment, the cruel fallacy of those hopes he had so confidently cherished. He was unacquainted with the existence and even the name of Miss Wellwood: It was Courtland's wedding night; he could think of no one but Margaretta; a thousand varying ideas rushed instantaneously upon his mind; all his purposes were broken; and he saw that, so far from accomplishing the laudable end which he had proposed, by tearing himself from the beloved object, he had too probably accelerated his own ruin.

In speechless agony he clasped his hands, and rais­ing his fine eyes to Heaven, he hastily withdrew to the retirement of his own chamber, where, summon­ing reason, fortitude and religion to his aid, he en­deavoured to rally his scattered forces, to recollect [Page 130] those resources which, in prospect, had appeared so pregnant with consolation; and, upon this occasion, pressing into his service every balancing auxiliary, in a manner becoming the mind conscious of its divine or­igin, of its transitory abode in tabernacles of clay, and of its beatified and immortal destination—in a man­ner honorary to philosophy, and honorary to manhood, he sought to make head against those passions which were ravaging all before them, and which were seek­ing to precipitate him into the abyss of despair! What progress he would have made in this conflict, and on which side victory would have declared, I pre­tend not to determine; for after the combat had con­tinued, with various success, from twilight grey, until the sober hour of twelve, the whole phalanx of discre­tion was thrown into disorder, by the following little harmless scrip of paper, received from the hand of Serafina; true, it bore on its milk-white surface cer­tain caballistic inscriptions, which seemed endowed with magic influence; and Hamilton read with no less ar­dour than it was penned, the language of friendship.

N^o. XIII.

IT is scarcely necessary to add, that Edward imme­diately obeyed this flattering summons: He was at a loss what to conceive, and he was ready to hope [Page 131] for impossibilities; but a short interval presenting him before the companion of his youth, he had little time for conjecture; and the propitious explanation was no sooner given, than, absorbed in a delirium of joy, he lost sight of every ill, and pronounced himself wholly invulnerable, altogether superior to the shafts of fu­ture sorrow.

The ensuing morning produced him, the image of rationally complacent happiness, in our bridal circle. He attended Miss Clifford; Mary and myself were addressed by him with pleasing respect; and while he bowed upon the hand of Margaretta, his eye beamed unutterable tenderness; a refined and animated kind of affection, and a glow of ineffable satisfaction, swell­ed every expressive feature, mantled upon his cheek, and seemed to invest him with supernatural graces: In short, the fine manly open countenance evidently assumed a celestial contour, and the charming youth was never before so completely captivating.

In the beautiful face of Margaretta, mingling sur­prise and pleasure were agreeably blended; a blush of sensibility pervaded her cheek; and an attachment, which I dare believe will be lasting as her life, gradu­ally enlisted every faculty of her soul; an attachment, raised upon the superstructure of esteem, entwining a full growth of amity, and finally attaining the hono­rary wreath of rationally approved love. Such an attachment was alone worthy the bosom of Miss Mel­worth; and I had the happiness to observe, that her meliorated passions, rectified and confirmed, at length pointed to the centre of true and chastised felicity.

No sooner was she assured of the continued, and even augmented tenderness, and of the confiding friendship of her Edward, than she yielded up her whole heart, without hesitation, to the sweetly fascinating impres­sion. Sanctioned by duty, authorized by reason, and borne forward upon the feathery sails of white-bosomed hope, she did not see that she ought to blush at avow­ing those sentiments of preference, which her youthful heart acknowledged; and they were, in truth, as pure [Page 132] as those which are impressed upon seraphic bosoms, amid the paradise of their God.

During the period which preceded her marriage, she gave and received many visits to and from Miss Worthington. She made many little tours round the country; and, possessing a strikingly commanding ex­terior, with manners so truly pleasing, she was, of course, followed by a train of admirers. Courtlands, Bellamours and Plodders, of every description, crowded about her; and, assailed on every side by the perni­ciously enervating and empoisoned airs of adulation, the uniformity of her character was put to the se­verest test.

Miss Melworth, however, was fully equal to the or­deal which was thus prepared for her; and she con­tinued to receive her admirers of every description, in a manner which was truly worthy of approbation. The impassioned feelings of the devoted heart, never contributed, in the smallest degree, to her amusement: She had not to charge herself with inflicting a single moment's unnecessary pain; and no sooner did the serious pretender advance his claim, then his profes­sions of love, though received with grateful respect, were decisively rejected. Obligations for every hon­orary testimony, she was free to acknowledge; but she was not ambitious to enlist a train of danglers. Her heart, tremblingly alive to the merits of Hamilton, al­though the nature of their connexion was not publickly known, was ready, almost indignantly, to resent the officious competition of those, whom her delicacy in­duced her to consider as intruders. But reason, true to its office, corrected the fervid ebullitions of passion, and always brought her back to that tranquillity of mind, so necessary to the full exercise of her fine tal­ents. Observation, experience, reason and judgment, these all combined to confirm her in the election she had made; and, on the bosom of serenity, her hours rolled on.

Both the mental and exterior accomplishments of our children were still improving; their mutual at­tachment [Page 133] seemed daily to augment, and the prospect still brightened upon us. We often addressed them upon the importance of the vows they were destined to ex­change, representing, with all the energy which language could command, the necessity of a permanent and un­abating affection, to render silken the bands of wedlock.

Expect not, we exclaimed, a continuance of those vernal zephyrs, which will fan the genial flame of your early loves: It is true you may embark upon a sum­mer's sea, but the unavoidable evils, the vicissitudes, and too probably the storms of life, will arise—rocks and quicksands await the voyager, and eagle-eyed dis­cretion ought to set at helm, if you would pass safely between extremes, which may be regarded as equally dangerous! Mutual esteem, mutual friendship, mutu­al confidence, begirt about by mutual forbearance—these are the necessary requisites of the matrimonial career; and there is not a virtuous endowment that can fall to the share of mortality, which may not be called in­to action.

We conjure you to consult each other's humours, dispositions, sentiments, and pursuits—an interval is given you for this purpose: Congenial tastes, congenial spirits, you ought to possess, or at least a similarity of views is absolutely indispensable, if you mean to secure the social enjoyment of your live [...]. Be not afraid, dear chil­dren of our fondest hopes, be not afraid to come to the test. Submit with cheerfulness to the most scrutinizing ordeal; the present is your era of experiments. Look well to your individual faults; forbear to emblazon your virtues; and, if you find you cannot wholly eradicate any little peculiarities, which the imbecility of human nature may perhaps have interwoven with your con­stitution, examine if you can tolerate them; and seek not, at the risk of your future quiet, during these peace crowned days, to shut your eyes upon each other's er­rors! If you entertain the shadow of a preference for any other object; if your long cherished attachment experiences abatement—shrink not from the voice of public censure—you are still at liberty—other pursuits yet open themselves before, you—your most direct step [Page 134] is an open declaration of what passes in the inmost re­cesses of your bosoms, to parents, who will not fail to patronize and uphold you in every action, which is, strictly speaking, the result of undeviating rectitude.

Reason authorises us at this time thus to address you; but when once the hallowed hour, that shall witness your plighted faith, is past, the transaction of that hour will be indissoluble! Death only can set you free; and we shall then, in one particular, dictate for our children a reverse of conduct. A familiar figure will elucidate our meaning. You are to behold each other's virtues with a microscopic gaze, while we shall hardly permit you to glance at a blemish, even through the telescope of affection. It was to this effect we oc­casionally, frequently, and solemnly addressed our children, while we were peculiarly happy in remarking, that even to the searching eye of anxious solicitude, not a single moment of apathy, hesitation or regret was at any time apparent.

Thus rolled on the weeks, months, and years, until revolving time produced the promised era: It took place in the last vernal season, when the humid steps of April were on the point of resigning their tear gem­med empire to the bland and flowery feet of the wreath crowned and odour breathing month of May. Marga­retta had then just rounded her nineteenth year; and, much sooner than would have been our uninfluenced wish, we resigned our lovely charge into the hands of him, who had long been the deliberate choice of her heart.

Arrayed in majesty serene, the morning broke. The [...] of day assumed to our grateful view an uncommon cheerfulness—all nature looked gay—the flowers seemed just expanding with emblematic sweetness—and the birds carolled most divinely.

We were not solicitous to collect a throng about us upon that auspicious day. With happiness innate in our bosoms, the pomp and parade of joy we were con­tented to spare: and our circle consisted only of those, whose faces we should have contemplated with pleas­ure upon every rising morn and setting sun.

[Page 135] But though only a select party were summoned to partake our felicity, and to gild, by their presence, our bridal day, yet we were ambitious of diffusing the face of gladness over our village; and we therefore appro­priated the sums which we might have expended in the flowing goblet, and at the festal board, to the pre­paring nuptial presents for those who mourned beneath the iron sway of penury, and who, by this well-timed relief, felt their hearts once more attuned to the genial voice of pleasure; who halted to entwine for us the wreath of gratitude, the perfume of which was as the sweetest incense to our souls; and who, bending at the footstool of paternal Deity, supplicated Heaven to confer upon us the choicest blessings.

The bride appeared among us arrayed in spotless white; her robe was a delicate muslin, drawn in many a flower, from the rich variety of her elegant fancy, and neatly wrought by her own fair hands. She be­held the approach of her wedding day, unconscious of those terrors attributed to her sex. Upon the evening preceding the appointed morning, she entertained us, at our first request, with many of our favourite airs, upon her piano forte. I did not perceive her heart flying through her bodice! and her tremors being of the governable kind, she was all her own agreeable self. What passed between her and her mother, with whom she retired for a few hours, I am yet to learn; but this I know, that the day itself was not ushered in either by fits, or any violently agonized emotions. Vir­gin delicacy only served to animate, to heighten, and to new point the exquisite beauties which adorn the finest face I have ever seen; and she accompanied us to the altar, where the ceremony was performed, with a sober and chastised expression of complacency, which seemed to say—I have taken sufficient time to deliberate—I am under the direction of my best friends—every sen­timent, every passion of my soul approves the man who is this day to become my husband. Undoubtedly he is every way worthy; I possess his tender and entire affection—his entire confidence. I am assured, I am satisfied; I am happy.

[Page 136] For Hamilton, the unbounded rapture which took possession of his bosom, was blended, however, with a dignified and manly manifestation of tenderness, which served to tranquillize his deportment, and to present him in a state of mind becoming the sacred rites which were to be performed: Yet, when he received the hand of Margaretta, the big emotions of his bosom refu­sed to be wholly suppressed—"Condescending excel­lence!" he exclaimed "may He, who thus enriches me, render me worthy of so much goodness." The cere­mony, excepting this interruption, passed agreeably to its sacred arrangement; and, after the good Urbanius had pronounced the benediction, we adjourned to our own mansion; and, since, what halcyon days, weeks and months have revolved! Not a cloud has yet ob­scured our horizon.

Last week, Margaretta presented Edward with her first born—it is a male infant. Let me see—elev­en months of uninterrupted felicity!! Can this last? The present is a checkered state.

Reader, though we bid adieu to Margaretta for the present, I would not have thee lament it too seriously. I know thou art tenderly attached to her; and I there­fore give thee my word, that if thy acquaintance with me continuest, we will occasionally peep in upon her, and thus learn, from time to time, how matters go on.

N^o. XIV.

I HAVE often contemplated, with serious concern, the prevalency of a trait, which I have been ready to regard as peculiar to human nature; and which, at one time or another, seems to be more or less deep­ly [Page 137] marked in every mind. For my own part, I pre­tend not to an exemption from the weaknesses to which my species are incident; and it is rather by care­fully remarking what passes in my own heart, that I make my admeasurement of the feelings and propensi­ties of others.

But while I confess an equal, and in some instances perhaps a greater degree of culpability, than what I attribute to my neighbour, I may be tolerated in la­menting a frailty, which is common to all, and in an effort to correct, with that application and avidity prop­er to a responsible and probationary being, the disorders which assail the intellectual world.

The particular feature I have at this time in my eye—or, to express myself professionally, the field from which I propose to glean the materials for this paper, is the general ingratitude to that august and self exist­ent Being from whom they originate, which pervades all orders of men, and is notoriously exemplified in the language and conduct of every son and daughter of Adam! I am free to own, that from a charge which it may be thought I have preferred with somewhat too great boldness, I do not consider the most uniform Christians, however exemplary their walk in life may have been, as altogether exempted; and, were it necessary, I could produce instances from their most splendid harangues, to justify my accusation: But as I revere the progress in the paths of rectitude, which such have undoubtedly made, and as I respect even the efforts of duty, I assay not to unveil those infirmities, which they may probably join with me in deploring. But, if we may with propriety criminate even the votaries of piety, the sincere and devout worshippers of Deity, what lengths, in the career of ingratitude, may we not suppose the repining and inconsiderate children of men may have run! How loud are the complaints which every tongue, at one period or another, is found to utter! and [...] the dispositions of Providence, in re­gard to themselves, are so obviously pleasing, as to leave them nothing to bewail as individuals, how elo­quent [Page 138] do they become upon the sufferings of others—of the species in general! and they will expatiate for hours upon the miseries of poor human nature!

The neat built village wears the most thrifty ap­pearance; the comfortable dwellings, which cluster round, indicate the substantial landholder; the vicissi­tudes of the year have revolved most propitiously; the golden harvest is gathered in, and a general face of plenty is assumed; yet the untoward circumstances of two or three scattering families, shall become the theme of each rural circle, while they will forget to dwell upon the immeasurable bounty which hath so liberally crowned their autumn, and stored their gra­naries with a superfluity of good! Would it not be better, if from their abundance they jointly contribu­ted to restore their oppressed neighbours, and to bid them welcome to the blessings of equality, than thus by their w [...]y lamentations, to arraign, at least by im­plication, the allotments of their common Father?

Behold that pangful sufferer! for two whole years, he hath been consigned to the bed of pain; scarce an interval of ease can he obtain—sleep departeth from him, or lo [...]ks up his senses in the most restless and fe­verish slumbers, from which he is roused to a still great­er susceptibility of anguish; appetite he hath none; he is a prey to continued disquiet; every application for assistance is in vain; and no help remaineth for him! Often is the story of his woes repeated; it is echoed by every voice! all hands are thrown abroad, and to­ward Heaven the accusing eye is frequently raised! but while the theme of his sufferings becomes an ex­haustless or standing topic of conversation, amid the lo­quacity of language, scarce a sentence is found to ex­press the healthful days which, during fifty revolving years, he almost uninterruptedly enjoyed; and scarce a finger is put out, to point to that eternity of bliss, which it is probable awaits him.

The long happy parents are deprived, by some epi­demical and contagious disease, of the children of their youth! [...]— [Page 139] the stroke is exceeding heavy; the calamity is insup­portable; it is almost unparalleled; every image in na­ture, which is replete with horror, is summoned to shadow forth the mighty grief; every lyre is attuned, and every minstrel is ready to fling to the widely-ech­oing fame-breathing gale the iterated, pity-moving, and long resounding plaints of woe.

For the soft endearments of their infant progeny, the opening bud of reason, which was so fondly marked, the interesting prattle of childhood, the big emotions which swelled the parental bosom, as they beheld the forming virtues clustering in the progressive mind; for the expansive joy they experienced, while they wit­nessed the rapid advancement to an honorary maturi­ty; for the rich completion of felicity which crowned their wishes, when they beheld their satisfactory and comfortable establishment; for the marked and grate­ful acts of duty, they have continued to receive; for for all these various scenes of heartfelt good, which for a series of years have been so richly enjoyed—they are enumerated, it is true, but not as a balance for the pres­ent evil; far from it—they only serve to point the poignancy of the distressful era, and to swell the fea­tures of such unheard of misery.

Yet it is a fact, that the removal of these objects of complacency will slope their passage to that grave in which the good old man and woman must lay down; and a reunion with their children, in future worlds, they confidently expect.

Is it possible that he who thus tacitly or indirectly arraigns the designations elanced upon this globe, can believe in the superintendence of an all-wise, all-gra­cious, all-powerful and paternal God? Certainly he does. Thou, Lord, hast done this, is a common expres­sion; and yet, strange to tell, he is constantly found thus cavilling at the dispositions of the Almighty!

Surely it ought to be remembered, that we see but a part of the immeasurable whole; that he who formed the spirit, can give it, in a single luxuriant moment, fully to partake an ample compensation for years of suffering.

[Page 140] Those families which are yielded to the hard allot­ments of penurious fortune, experience the most lively satisfaction, as often as the flowery feet of bland and genial charity visit their abodes; they have resources unknown to the affluent; and highly relished is that refection, however homely it may in reality be, which is served up with the sauce of hunger.

Exquisite is the moment of ease to the tortured frame; ineffable are the sensations it partakes; and it is well purchased by the previous sufferings which are its price. Those who have laid their children or other friends in the grave, have perhaps enjoyed them long, or much; "they are not lost, but gone before," and in another, and better state of existence, they shall receive them again. I say, then, it is more becoming to en­deavour to mitigate the ills of life, than by the routine of complaints to be impiously murmuring against the decrees of Heaven, which must indisputably result from a righteous and perfectly consistent arrangement; and I aver, that it is a false calculation which makes the sum total of human evils more than that balance, which, upon a fair and open estimation, would appear at the foot of a regular and well digested account, of those pleasurable or peaceful moments, which are the por­tion of mortality.

But to such a pitch of infatuated absurdity has a per­suasion of the calamities incident to the present state arrived, that we are absolutely enjoined to hold lightly the most virtuous enjoyments, to be constantly looking for an evil day, and to tremble when we have attained to the summit of our wishes! What would be the feel­ings of that father whom his child should thus address: "I will forbear to take pleasure in the portion with which you have endowed me. I am momently ex­pecting the exertions of your power against me. I know that the rod of correction is lifted up, and that you mean to chastise me. I expect evil and not good from your hands; and though you have at present gratified me, by putting me in possession of the inherit­ance for which I have sighed, yet, as I am confident [Page 141] you mean speedily to resume it, I cannot consider it as my own. I am fearful of beholding it in an eligi­ble point of view; and, knowing you as I do, I shrink from the approaches of that tranquil complacency, which would pervade my bosom!!"

I would rather say, that as I possess much, I will en­joy much; the virtuous pleasures of my soul shall not meet a barrier; freely I will expatiate, nor will I know a boundary, save what rectitude shall throw around me; the present moment is replete with blessings, and though the next may intercept some pleasing view, yet, it is the hand of a Father which will be stretched out, and my ultimate felicity will consequently be con­sulted.

It is well that the Creator, enthroned in majesty se­rene, is beyond the capability of adopting that mode of conduct, to which repeated provocations would pre­cipitate the lapsed nature; it is well that his ways are not like our ways; it is well that he regardeth with a steady eye the creature which he hath made, and that neither the caprices nor the inquietudes of the children of men, can bend the determined purposes of his un­changing plans.

I have been shocked when I have heard the reason for consolation, which is sometimes offered to the child of sorrow.—"You have suffered much," exclaims the commiserating friend, "many are the ills which you have been called to encounter, and doubtless the pe­riod of retribution, winged by hours and days of smiling tranquillity, is at hand." Ah! is it then true that we can challenge the Sire of men and angels, as our debtor! most irreverent and impious idea! Surely if our calculations were more accurate, and if we were under the influence of gratitude to the Supreme Being, the genuine breathings of our spirits would be—In every calamity I have been upheld, and often have I partook the enjoyments of life. Was I ascertained that the coming hour would strike me from existence, would utterly annihilate the creature, who hath thus long lived, moved, and been endowed with the powers [Page 142] of reflection, I should, notwithstanding, have no claims to make upon Him who hath called me into being. It is true, I have experienced my moments of sorrow; but they have been abundantly compensated by innu­merable felicities, by pleasures scarcely marked, and by gratifications now perhaps forgotten. Witness those indulged and rapture crowned months, when I was cradled by maternal tenderness, and soothed by every blandishment, which generally shapes and strews with flowers the path of the young adventurer; witness all those endearments, those incentives to virtue, and those wife instructions, which cherished, which formed, and which brought forward my youth; witness every aid and protection I have from time to time received; witness the pleasing circle of friends, which so frequently cluster round me, while my ene­mies find it convenient to stand aloof; witness those expansive hopes, which have continued to illume my days, and to fan with genial influence the feathery hours; witness the months of peace and ease which have been mine—how large their number, when com­pared to those upon which I have been called to submit to the severe paroxisms of pain; witness the many nights I have passed in the most salutary and restoring slum­bers.—But, having now by me, a volume of essays, that may, in some future period, be brought forward, in one of which I have expatiated upon this theme, I forbear to repeat myself.

And here let us pause for a moment. A succeeding number may take the subject up in a different view, or at least illustrate the beauty and propriety of culti­vating the most lively sentiments of gratitude to the divine Author of every good.

N^o. XV.

IT is beyond a doubt, that much depends upon our efforts to cultivate an equal and acquiescent ar­rangement of the passions. We are certainly too prone to be unmindful of benefits, and to swell, with censurable ingenuity, even to a gigantic stature, the ills of life.

The jaundiced eye will create the hue that does not in fact exist; sources of tormenting anxiety, to the murmuring and ungrateful man, will grow thick upon every bough, while a mind habituated to a retrospect of its privileges and exemptions, will gather, from the same tree, fruits of the most meliorated and delicious flavour. I can hardly conceive of an affliction so complicated, as to drive upon the tumultuous waves of despair, the spirit upon which fortitude hath im­pressed its image.

The firmly virtuous man will industriously seek the means of consolation; when stripped of all else, he will float buoyant upon the strong plank of resolution; he will revert to the good which is past; he will re­member the fluctuating scenes of the present state; he will recollect the character of the Sovereign Disposer of events; and he will possess light sufficient to shape his weather-beaten prop, even upon the trackless deep. But how often are these proper and dignified exertions reversed! The mind which is debilitated by enervat­ing pursuits and irrational hopes, which hath formed [Page 144] the most elevated estimation of its own deserts, and which hath consequently plumed its expectation to the highest pitch; such a mind, even in the midst of the most happy arrangement, finds itself a prey to disap­pointment and disgust; though surrounded by almost every enjoyment, its feelings are palled, and it experi­ences all the disagreeables of satiety; a stranger to moderation, and unblest by contentment, although marked by success, and crowned by the completion of many hopes, it is, nevertheless, languishing under the domination of murmuring inquietude; often it accuses its God of injustice; and it is frequently found exclaim­ing—"If I am not, in future worlds, to be rewarded for my sufferings in this, it would have been better I had never known a being!"

We do injustice to ourselves, when we supinely de­clare, that all this is wholly constitutional; that it de­pends merely upon the mechanism of the mind; and that persons are born with a yielding, equal, and cheer­ful disposition, or with a refractory, peevish, ungrateful, and gloomy temper of soul: This general assertion may be convenient for the indolent; but those who assiduously cultivate the virtues, and endeavour to ex­terminate the offending propensities, which together grow in the soil of their own bosoms, while they allow something to nature, will also acknowledge, that much depends upon the unwearied and uniform exertions, which it is certainly incumbent upon every child of mortality to make.

If the physiognomist justly delineated the mind of Socrates, as that incomparable philosopher assures us he did, we are thus furnished with an illustrious proof of the inestimable acquirements which depend upon, and are produced by, the administration of reason. In truth, there is a sweet pliability in the mind of man, which can familiarize it even with sorrow; ac­commodating and acquiescent, custom habituates and almost reconciles us to grief; we bend beneath the bursting storm; and though, with the elegant and ex­quisitely susceptible Philenia, we may "fling the lorn [Page 145] pathos to the passing gale," yet, becoming experimentally acquainted with the charms of melancholy, we shall not fail, with that beautiful and plaintive mourner, to gem our sorrows with a brightening tear.

A friend of mine was once in possession of affluence, surrounded by friends; he seemed the favourite of fortune; and it was supposed, that the means of em­bracing his utmost wishes rested wholly with himself; yet vexatious inquietude seemed the motto of his life; and a prey to chagrin, amid his ample endowments, he hardly ever tasted the felicity of a tranquil mo­ment! But my friend, by various accidents, was reduced to a state of penury; and I have, in that sit­uation, heard him declare without the smallest appear­ance of affectation, even when the last morsel he could command was produced upon his scanty board, that he felt contented and grateful, experiencing that ac­quiescence in the allotments of Providence, and those agreeable anticipations of futurity, to which he had been a stranger, in those days which had been regard­ed as the epoch of his prosperity.

In fact, it is amid the clouds which adversity throws around the child of mortality, that the efforts of the mind are called forth, and that all the energetic pow­ers of the soul are formed to action; and it is also ir­refragably true, that heart-felt enjoyments depend al­together upon the cultivation of a philanthropic spirit, upon cherishing sentiments of general complacency in the economy of Deity, in ourselves and others, and in thus embodying (if I may so express myself) the vir­tues of the mind.

I have at this moment my eye upon two gentle­men, whom I have personally known almost from their infancy; they are the sons of one man and woman; their education was the same; their hopes and fears were similar; and they commenced the ca­reer of business with like establishments, like advan­tages, and like expectations.

Early in life they were both united to deserving females, to females apparently of their choice; and [Page 146] they were thus furnished with every incitement to vir­tuous perseverance; while the avenues to rational en­joyment were thrown open before them, and the tran­quillity of their days seemed insured.

For some time, fortune, liberal of her favours, acted the part of an impartial parent, distributing her emol­uments with an equal hand; but her various disposi­tions at length predominating, the similitude of her operations was no more.

Placidius, the eldest of those gentlemen, experienced her frowns; the tide of success began to turn; mis­fortunes succeeded each other; and without the shad­ow of a reason, upon which to ground the smallest im­peachment of his integrity, or a single circumstance, upon which even malevolence could call in question his abilities, he beheld his affairs irretrievably embar­rassed, his best laid plans frustrated, and himself advan­cing rapidly to that state of insolvency, which his up­right soul, glowing with a just and high sense of prob­ity, deprecated as a most aggravated evil. Gradually the means of business vanished out of his hands; his stock in trade was no more; and even the commodious mansion, which with much ingenuity and taste, though with a proper attention to frugality, he had reared, with the hope that it would still remain in his family, even this habitation became the property of his creditors!

Placidius had ever expressed a great desire to per­petuate himself in his lineal descendants; and this nat­ural wish, might in him be designated as his ruling passion: but many revolving seasons passed, ere Placi­dius hailed the accomplishment of his wishes in this res­pect; and when at last, his Matilda presented him with her first born son, the chalice of joy which he had but lifted to his lips, was dashed from his grasp, by the sudden death of an infant upon whose little form the traces of longevity seemed inscribed. For this stroke he was wholly unprepared; and, to complete his cat­alogue of evils, his bosom friend, his long loved, and ever esteemed Matilda—even at a life so precious, the king of terrors too surely aimed his missive shafts! the [Page 147] icy darts of indulged sorrow found their way to the vi­tal stream of life, and, congealing the purple flow, the virtuous and accomplished Matilda was numbered with the dead.

Placidius now felt as a man; his reason was the forfeit; and the hour which restored this regent to her accustomed operations, only gave her to witness the melancholy void in a mind which had once been the feat of expectations bland and cheering, and which had been enriched by every white winged hope, which rectitude could authorise. Recollection, gloomy recol­lection returned; dreadful was the contrast with the past, which the present exhibited! Placidius shrunk from the view; his health became the sacrifice, and for many months he seemed to languish through all the different stages of a gradual and unyielding de­cline. Fortitude, however, was at last triumphant; a calm, and rational tranquillity succeeded the sub­siding tumults which had agitated his soul. The restoration of the health of Placidius, was the happy consequence of this change; and he reflected as be­came a man, a philosopher, and a religionist.

Fortune, too, so far relented as to put it in the power of Placidius to reimburse his creditors; and he was invested with the means of procuring for himself a competency. It is true the splendour of his former prospects can never be restored; but Placidius is con­tented. "I cannot," said he the other day, "regard life as an evil: I should be most ungrateful, did I not own, that to me it hath been more fruitful of pleasure than of pain. It must be confessed, that for a time I sunk beneath the agonizing stroke; for a time I was wretched! it is true that the blasting of those pre­sumptuous hopes, which I had arrogantly formed for the meridian of my days, rendered me beyond ex­pression miserable; but my youth was serenely hap­py; for a great length of time I enjoyed the most pleas­ing prospects; and though I have laid the wife of my bosom in the grave, yet delicious are the tears which I now shed to her memory; and in the fairest pages [Page 148] of retention, are treasured up the days, months, and years, during which I partook with her the highest state of felicity, which can fall to the lot of mortality, which can be experienced this side that paradise of the blessed, where I shall again meet the virtuous com­panion, in whose faithful bosom I reposed the fondest hopes and wishes of which my being was capable; where I shall be reunited to a Matilda ever blooming, ever immortal—united too, by ties which will be then indissoluble. And though no son or daughter will gem my parting moments with a filial tear, yet the family of mankind is wide, the children of my adoption are many—from one source we originated, and my bosom feels and owns the great fraternity.

For Agetius, the brother of Placidius, we need scarce do more than reverse the picture. In one even tide of prosperity his commercial transactions have glided on; or if a trifling loss hath sometimes origin­ated a cloud, his subsequent gains, by presenting abun­dant compensation, hath speedily dissipated it: As a merchant he is established; his trade is lucrative; eve­ry year enriches him; he hath lately completed an elegant dwelling; and the amiable and gentle Anna still remains the social partner of his days. His son and daughter possess pleasing exteriors, and improving minds; he hath educated them agreeably to plans which he deliberately formed, and they will soon take rank with the first young people of their circle. Age­tius hath still possessed an uninterrupted course of health; and no person can recollect any serious mis­fortune which, as an individual, he hath been called to suffer—yet Agetius always appears anxious, and even perturbed; he seems fearful lest you should suppose him enjoying a single good—he will not acknowledge a tran­quil moment—"no one can so well say where the shoe pinches, as him who wears it," is an adage frequently in his mouth; and he sometimes passionately declares that he wishes he had never been born!

I said that I conceived such manifestations of in­gratitude peculiar to man; and surely, as far as we [Page 149] can observe, the children of instinct fail not to enjoy the good which they possess.

In the early days of Placidius and Agetius their minds discovered, to common observation, no essen­tial difference. One remark I have however gleaned: Agetius, when a boy, attempted not to restrain a haughty, choleric and unreasonable ambition, which might be common to both; and his little heart swelled with indignation, as often as he encountered a superi­or, in any of those advantages, which are calculated to captivate the inexperienced eye. Upon these occa­sions, his brother was ever at hand, to present the mir­ror of reason; and he hath often been heard to say—"Turn, my dear Agetius—turn thine eyes to the mul­titude below thee, and from thence let thy comparisons be raised; aspire not to such dangerous heights, but learn to estimate properly thy own exemptions, thy own privileges, and to cultivate complacency in that happy mediocrity which is allotted thee."

Placidius early habituated himself to commune with his own heart; he had a serious turn, and was fond of useful information; he endeavoured to moderate his desires, and to entwine, with every arrangement, the bles­sings of contentment; he aimed at regulating his passions, at obtaining a due subordination in the intellectual sys­tem; and his plan was, to reduce every movement of his soul, and every action of his life, to the domination of reason, irradiated by genuine religion.

N^o. XVI.

ALTHOUGH I have conceived a very high idea of the ancient and time honoured institution, which is the boast of that respectable fraternity, the [Page 150] Free and Accepted Masons; yet, with all due deference to the worshipful brethren, and with the most profound veneration for those occult mysteries, which have re­mained inexplicable to so many ages, I take the liber­ty to confess, that I have not been altogether pleased with one or two prominent features in this wonderful order. The first which I shall point out, (which is, I confess, the least commanding) is the contracted spirit which their practice not seldom evinces in the irrational partiality they discover to men of their own description; whereas, if the advantages of a brother are as great as is insinuated, an unworthy mason should take rank in the lowest grade of mankind.

I know that masons make very pompous professions of philanthropy, and that the broad expansive glow, the ties which bind the universal brotherhood, is full often the theme of their lectures. "Upon the unalter­able region of nature," say they "our most ancient and honourable fraternity is established. As this can never be invalidated, disannulled, or made void; so neither can the obligations that render this extensive society indissoluble ever be abolished or in the smallest degree violated by such as walk in the light of mason­ry. They that occupy these mansions of truth, unity and joy, which the royal craft has furnished for social delight, may as well annihilate themselves, as by the least oblique direction to deviate from the square of integrity, in any imaginable ratio to diminish the circle of benevolence; or in the smallest instance to fail of laying righteousness to the line, and judgment to the plum­met."

All this is very fine; and if realized, it would in­deed prove the magnificent theatre of simplicity, which they boast they are employed in rearing, to be founded in the most splendid region of the orient beam; and we might in truth expect to see, in real characters upon this mysterious stage, all the graces and virtues that bless and adorn human nature. The exhibitions upon this theatre would doubtless inspire the most rapturous compla­cency; and the beholder could not but rejoice, as he marked [Page 151] the kindred streams of devotion and philanthropy, refreshing the gardens of paradise, and reinstating mankind in that felicity for which the race was first created, and to which it is asserted the royal laws of masonry are infallibly cal­culated to restore them: But rhapsody apart; who does not know, that example hath ever taken the lead, in point of utility, of the fairest precepts? Yet I repeat that the appropriation of benefits to a select party, is not that commanding or distinguishing trait in the craft of which I principally complain; for it is undoubtedly true, that although this exclusive disposition is very conspicuously marked in the conduct of the associates of the Lodge, it is not, however, peculiarly masonic; since it more or less characterizes every detached body of men, pervading even the most liberal codes, and thrusting its forbidding front into every congregated society, enlightened combination, or sect of benevo­lence.

But the grand discriminating peculiarity which I have particularly in view, and which I have regarded as objectionable, is that impenetrable veil of secrecy, they affect to draw over their proceedings. Reason, disengaged from the thin bandeau, with which they assay to hoodwink her, naturally interrogates—If the institution consists with rectitude, and is replete with that salutary influence attributed thereto, why limit its operations within such narrow bounds? Why cir­cumscribe, either by compass or square, the progress of genuine utility? Why not throw open the doors to investigation? Why not freely communicate? and, unlocking the treasury of knowledge which they may have accumulated, encourage those, whose abilities are adequate, to new light their lamps at a flame so refulgent and so unextinguishable? Who can say, what such an event might produce; what flowers might spring up; what scientific discoveries might be made, if, like that impartial orb whose face of fire dec­orates and dignifies the masonic insignia, the lights they have obtained, were to become generally diffusive, extending their genial countenance, and powerful pat­ronage [Page 152] to the meritorious of every age, sex, and descrip­tion? Thus far reason. And should masonic superiori­ty be once more urged; should it be, as heretofore, again asserted, that the mysteries of the royal craft are too sacred for the unconsecrated or vulgar eye; holy truth, which ought to be the rule of speech, as well as action, and every principle of self complacency, which is confessedly coincident with benevolence, will reluct at the very idea of subscribing to a concession so humiliating; and the atrocious deviations and paucity of intrinsic worth, or apparent respectability, sometimes exhibited in the char­acter of the free and accepted mason, will look with a very unfriendly aspect upon every attempt to hallow his person.

Perhaps, in this levelling age, which seems to be marked as the era for destroying all arrogant distinc­tions, the period is not far distant which may throw down every separating barrier, which may annihilate every aristocratic elevation, and the terms worshipful and right worshipful may sound as discordant upon the democratic ear of knowledge, as that of monarch, prince, or duke, upon the auditory never of the politi­cal hero. The literary or the masonic world may hear the voice of liberty; in the empire of arts a Thomas Paine may arise; and we may chance to hear of a cide­vant grand master, who may then be content to relin­quish this high sounding title, for a more humble and equal appellation; the avenues to the goal of wisdom, being widely expanded, proficients of every descrip­tion may throng her ample courts, and to every member of the mental Commonwealth, the road to lite­rary honours may be alike open.

But, to be serious—for in fact, while thus engaged in the routine of my occupation, I have, almost without design, wandered through the gate of an enclosure, which the owners have been careful to guard from the approaches of every Gleaner, and at which it was my purpose but barely to glance; I confess, that in thus trifling, I appear rather the inconsiderable idler, than that careful and pains taking being, who is in­dustriously [Page 153] employed, in honestly acquiring the means of supporting his pretensions to either a natural or literary existence; but the desultory fugitive, of neces­sity eccentric, is seldom beside his vocation; and while I beg pardon for an attempt to scale an interdicted wall, I will endeavour to recover my path, to that fair field, to which, in the beginning of this essay, I had intended to shape my course.

But before I proceed a single step further, I will present the reader with a most excellent letter, which carries its authenticity upon its very face; and which, as I am truly solicitous for his entertainment, I very sincerely wish may be productive of as much genuine satisfaction and heartfelt pleasure to him, or even to her, as it afforded me; although I must own, it was the as­sociation of ideas it originated in my bosom, that gave me to leap those hedges, which have served, from the days of the castle builder in Paradise, even unto the pres­ent time, as the ancient boundaries of a self created order.

I think, however, I shall not again, even by the fas­cinating charm of philanthropy, be betrayed into walks, which have been so seldom trod, except by the hallowed feet of the close and uncommunicative pro­prietors.

Yet, notwithstanding its influence over my conduct, the facts contained in the letter, merit the pleased ad­miration of every feeling heart: Here follows a faith­ful copy thereof.

Philanthropy, I know thy form divine—essence of be­nevolence, gem of uncreated lustre, originating from, and essentially designating the character of Deity! It is thou who can humanize and dignify the mind upon which thou deignest to glance; in every radiant walk we trace thy agency; thy being is celestial, and thy administration will continue coeval with the exist­ence of that great First Cause, whose beneficent attri­bute thou art.

Spirit of energetic influence! with sublime joy I mark thy salutary course; the face of misery brightens at thy approach; the pallid cheek of sickness is tinged by a momentary flush of pleasure; the icy hand of penury suspends its operations; melancholy gladdens in thy presence; and the sons and daughters of sorrow, mingling their meliorated voices, exalt the dulcet song of gratitude; charity, white rob'd daughter of heaven! beneficence, liberal benevolence, genial humanity, and every social virtue, these all compose thy train, and follow where thou leadest.

Thy delight is in the happiness of mankind; thou [...]rectest no land-mark; distinctions, if we except those of virtue, are unknown to thee; and the propitious expansion of thy wishes, not circumscribed by sect, age, country, or even sex, know no other bounds than those which encircle the one grand, vast, and collected family of human nature. The features of thy seraphic coun­tenance are not peculiarly masonic, Pagan, Hebrew, Jewish, deistical, or Mahometan; and while thou ex­periencest a rational predilection for the growth of merit, in every soil, thou bendest with mild equality and compassionate benignity upon the world of man­kind; thou markest, with enkindling rapture, the [Page 160] progress of knowledge; thou assistest to unbind the shackles of superstition; thou assayest, with prompt alacrity, to level the promontories of arrogance, to exalt the lowly vallies; to make the rough places smooth, and the crooked straight; and thou rejoicest to behold the emancipated and expanding mind. Thou adoptest not the error, which representeth genuine information as administering to the domination of sor­row; but fully persuaded of the progressive and ulti­mately happy destination of the creature man, thou art apprized of the eligibility and propriety of his qualifying himself, in this, his novitiate, for the still higher grades, to which he shall ascend. But, while thine eyes beam unusual effulgence at the advancement of enlightened reason, thou hast a tear ready for the sons and daughters of ignorance, and thou disposest the heart to commiserate the sufferer, of whatever description.

Sovereign alleviator of human woes! penetrated with a glow of ineffable complacency, I behold thee amid thy splendid career; thou observest the victim of ad­versity, and thou stoppest not to examine his local sit­uation, his complexion, the mental arrangement of his ideas, or the fashion of his garment; it is sufficient for thee, that he is bowed down by affliction, and that he is a branch of that family, which an all-wise Regulator hath placed as probationers upon this earth; immedi­ately thou originatest a plan for his relief, and thou art blessed in an exact ratio as thou art successful.

The children of indigence are thy peculiar care, and honest poverty is ever sure of thy pitying eye and thy extricating hand; thou enterest, with correct and equal salutations, the hut of penury; thou allowest for the feelings of the necessitous; thou approachest the poor with respect, and with the utmost delicacy thou art found administering to their wants; the dignity of human nature is never degraded by thee; and man, made in the image of his Creator, however depressed, or sinking under a variety of adventitious evils, faileth not to command thy veneration.

[Page 161] The bosom which is thy domain, is always awake to the bland effusions of tenderness, all thy purposes are liberal; nor dost thou content thyself with the theory of good, for to the ennobling practice of uni­form munificence, thou art still found stimulating thy votaries.

Blest genius of benevolence! thy dominion shall ulti­mately become a universal dominion; every malevolent passion shall flee before thee, and the salutary effects of thy extensive operations shall issue in the establishment of general harmony and never ending felicity.

N^o. XVII.

I HAVE sometimes been induced to think, after a serious attempt to investigate the causes which have operated in the production of so many needy de­pendents of both sexes, upon the bounty of, or civil requisitions made upon, the more successful, system­atic or industrious members of the community; that the origin of this prevalent evil may generally, with a very few exceptions, be traced to that luxuriant source of folly, an unwarrantable, and irrational kind of pride, or false notions of gentility. Parents, in a certain line, either educate their sons with a view to one of the three learned professions, to a pursuit of the fine arts, or, apprenticing them to the merchant, or sea-faring adventurer, conceive they have placed them in the road, which will most probably terminate in crowning them with opulence and respectability.

It is undoubtedly for the interest of society, that a considerable proportion of our young people should [Page 162] be thus appropriated; but when it becomes evident that any particular department is overstocked, a wise father ought certainly to turn his attention to those branches of business, which, by being less occupied, give the youthful candidate a fairer chance of possess­ing himself of that competency, which is so necessary to the supporting real dignity of character. But gen­tlemen who constitute the particular grade to which I advert, look with disdain upon every handicraft occu­pation; the whole routine of arts mechanic, or, in other words, useful employments, they regard with sovereign contempt; and they would esteem their sons degraded beyond redemption, if they designated them by any one of those callings, which have been appel­lated servile. I will just hazard [...] question, relative to the propriety of the conjugation, which places servile as the adjective of mechanic. Doth not that man bid the fairest for genuine independence, who possesses in him­self the means, whenever he chooses to call his indus­trious application into action, of supplying himself even from the wants of others, with the necessaries of life? And if so, is not the above mentioned attempt at approximation extremely heterogeneous?

Prejudices so absurd are particularly ludicrous in a government, the genius of which is, to cultivate as great a degree of equality as will consist with the requisite order and well being of the Commonwealth; and yet, strange to tell, perhaps there is no part of the world, where these unnatural distinctions, so humiliating to the mechanic, and so elevating to the suppositious gentleman, are so prevalent, or exist more forcibly, than in some of these American States; and, however obvious it may be, that the predominating bent, or predilection, with which nature may have endowed the boy, ought to claim some share in the determina­tion; it is, nevertheless, irrevocably decreed, master must be prepared to fill a gentleman like sphere; and though it is very possible, that not a shilling of prop­erty may be reserved for his commencing the career of business; yet, however below a mediocrity his talen [...] [Page 163] confessedly are, his education must be conformed to the prospects which are formed of his future destination, to the ideas which his parents have entertained of family dignity, genteel life, &c. &c. During the hours of childhood, by arrangements the most ill judged, an undue exaltation is cherished; by degrees he becomes habituated to consider himself as superior to various classes of his fellow men; his adolescence is passed in frivolous pursuits, and if his maturity is supine, indo­lent, or destitute of enterprise; if he wants genius, which is a gem as rare as estimable, or even if he is unsuccessful, or unfortunate, (and who does not know that merit cannot always command its wishes?) he is, of necessity, thrown a useless burden upon the public.

I said the probability was, that these unjustifiable prejudices, were more particularly the growth of the American world, than of any other soil; and I have hazarded this conjecture, from the comparison I have been led to make, between a variety of facts that have passed under my own observation, and the records of other nations.

"A printer!" said a young spruce coxcomb, who possibly might have had the honour to stand be­hind a counter, and who was fortuitously jumbled into the stage-coach with Mr. Bache, as it performed its tour of duty through a part of Pennsylvania—"A printer!" and, drawing himself up into a corner of the vehicle, with a supercilious air, he maintained an obstinate silence during the remainder of a journey, which having, previous to his learning the occupation of young Bache, conceived, from his appearance, a high idea of his importance, he had commenced with insignificant volubility; but he was ignorant that he with whom he journeyed, was the lineal descendant of the immortal Franklin; otherwise, it may fairly be inferred, that the eclat of his birth, might, in the opin­ion of this superficial Billy Varnish, have atoned for the mechanical complexion of his profession.

A quondam acquaintance of mine, who is a mer­chant, not extremely remarkable for the moderation of his desires to accumulate gain, was, some months [Page 164] since, on the verge of suffering very considerably, from the undue influence of this very prejudice. He had appointed an intelligent young man to the command of a ship of his, during a long and intricate voyage. It happened, in the course of the navigation which the Captain was directed to pursue, that he found himself necessitated to put into a port in England, at a distance from the metropolis. A variety of circumstances contributed to produce, in the affairs entrusted to his care, a very embarrassing and disagreeable event. He was compelled to depart full speed for London, while his ship continued at anchor in Liverpool. An honest gentleman, with whom he had commenced an intimacy upon the Albion coast, gave him a letter to a trunk-maker in the capital, who, he informed him, was capable of doing him great service. A trunk-maker! how, in the name of common sense, should a trunk-maker be instrumental in effectuating any important pur­pose? A decision upon the Captain's business remain­ed with the high court of admiralty; could a trunk-maker influence the determinations of that august body? The supposition was ridiculous; it could never obtain the smallest degree of attention in the serious reflections of an American.

The Captain proceeded systematically; he applied to a certain commercial gentleman, well known in America, and whose extensive exports to this new world, supply many of our capital dealers with large quantities of European commodities: By this respecta­ble auxiliary, he was introduced to the American con­sul resident in Great-Britain, and the most favourable representation that truth could authorise, was made. The consul, however, received him rather roughly. Fatigued, perhaps, by a multiplicity of applications, he seemed not disposed to interpose his good offices, in order to promote an accommodation of the difficulty; he insisted much upon the ill conduct of American seamen, and observed that if they persisted in thus carelessly involving themselves in ambiguities, and in flying in the face of those adjustments, which had been [Page 165] legally made, they must extricate themselves as they could, or be contented to submit to the consequences; and he absolutely declined addressing himself to the lords of the admiralty, or the adopting of any concili­atory measure, except the Captain returned to Liver­pool, and brought with him certain evidence, or evi­dences, which he insisted would be the only proper vouchers of his integrity.

It was in vain that our young adventurer remon­strated; that he represented the amazing increase of expense, which such a journey, and the detention of the ship, would accumulate to his employer; it was to no purpose he suggested the possibility, that such an enormous expenditure might issue in his own ruin. The consul continued unyieldingly obstinate, and the situation of the Captain was truly distressing! The merchant, to whom he returned to relate the ill suc­cess of his application, had exhausted the utmost of his influence, in presenting him to the consul; he was not particularly known to the officers of the admiral­ty, and he declined any further interference in the business.

It was in this moment of cruel anxiety, that the trunk-maker occurred to our sea commander; yet the idea was the drowning man catching at a straw; but having got, however, into the narrowest and most dan­gerous frith, it might be necessary he should ply his oars, if a full sail would not avail him. He could at least deliver his letter; and in a state of vexation, al­most bordering on despair, he presented himself at the door of the trunk-maker, which opened, only not spon­taneously, and he found himself in a shop of a spacious and thrifty appearance; it was furnished with a pro­digious number of trunks, of various sizes, and differ­ent degrees of elegance; and every arrangement pro­claimed the industrious and ingenious mechanic. All this looked very well in its place; but all this, said our agitated young man, is nothing to the purpose. The master work­man soon made his appearance, and he regarded the stranger with intelligent civility. The letter of intro­duction [Page 166] was produced, which being perused, the trunk-maker with an air of true old English hospitality, shook the son of Neptune by the hand. "Walk in, Sir; walk in: You have got a little disagreeably entangled, and I suppose your feelings are all up in arms. To a young man, undisciplined in the school of misfortune, the first onsets of disappointment are truly painful; but the vicissitudes of life are as well calculated to furnish a rational being with hope as with fear; for light as surely succeeds the darkness, as the darkness the light. Probably you may be at a loss to conceive in what manner my assistance can be of use to you, and as I am at present a little engaged, if you will throw your eye over them loose papers, they may help you to a clue, which may unravel the mystery."

The Captain, it will not be doubted, eagerly availed himself of this permission; and so regular was the dis­position of the different essays, which this uncommon compting-house displayed, that a cursory glance was sufficient to evince the literary abilities of the author; his consequence to certain persons high in office was extremely obvious; and it was apparent that his merit, rendering him necessary to the great, had procured him free access to their private ear, and a consider­able degree of influence over their determinations.

In two days our Captain received an invitation, to dine in a family way with the trunk-maker; and his reception at his patron's was marked with an expres­sive smile, which indicated a happy termination of his difficulties. The trunk-maker had conversed with the lords in office, he had made the necessary representations, and he had obtained explicit and indisputable credentials for his client, who having gratefully partook of a plain, substantial dinner, received with transport his legal per­mit; and, returning to Liverpool, with a heart glad­dened by the joys of emancipation, immediately reim­barked, proceeding with all expedition to prosecute his voyage.

Was I the father of a family, the trunk-maker should be my model; it would be my wish to furnish the open­ing [Page 167] reason of my children with every help which might be necessary to produce them with advantage in the career of knowledge: I would aid them to fig­ure in the most polished circles; I would stimulate them to every laudably splendid pursuit; the avenues of literature should be thrown open before them, and they should receive as much information as it was in my power to procure for them: But as, with all my gifts, I should be anxious to endow them with the means of obtaining as great a share of independence as might consist with humanity, I would certainly aim at investing them with some useful qualification, which might serve them in the last necessity, as a fund upon which they might draw sufficient to command the nec­essaries of life.

But if the male part of our American world are, in the morning of their lives, too much neglected in this respect, females have abundantly more reason to com­plain. Our girls, in general, are bred up with one particular view, with one monopolizing consideration, which seems to absorb every other plan that reason might point out as worthy their attention: An estab­lishment by marriage; this is the goal to which they are constantly pointed, the great ultimatum of every arrangement: An old maid, they are from infancy taught, at least indirectly, to consider as a contemptible being; and they have no other means of advancing themselves but in the matrimonial line.

Perhaps this is one of the sources, from which orig­inate the infelicities, too often witnessed, in wedded life; the young creature, ardent in the pursuit, is sed­ulously employed in displaying all her accomplish­ments; fearful that if she refuses the present offer, no future suppliant may advance his suit; she throws her­self away upon the first pretender, though, possibly, he may be very ill calculated to embark with her upon the voyage of life.

Well, but she hath gained her point; and the pur­suit over, any further efforts would be useless; ev­ery attempt to please is given up; and the conse­quences [Page 168] which must follow, are too obvious to need the pen of an observer to point them out.

I would give my daughters every accomplishment which I thought proper; and, to crown all, I would early accustom them to habits of industry and order: They should be taught with precision the art economi­cal; they should be enabled to procure for themselves the necessaries of life; independence should be placed within their grasp; and I would teach them "to rev­erence themselves."

Marriage should not be represented as their sumum bonum, or as a certain, or even necessary event; they should learn to respect a single life, and even to regard it as the most eligible, except a warm, mutual and ju­dicious attachment had gained the ascendancy in the bosom.

If they were thus qualified to administer by their own efforts, to their own wants, the probability is, that impressions of this nature, would frequently prevent precipitation, and call into exercise that deliberation which ought, upon all occasions, to be the concomitant of every important step.

Girls, by the avidity and marked design of their op­erations, generally defeat their own purposes. I would have the fair minds of young women occupied by schemes of enjoyment, and by modes of living, which, depending principally upon themselves and their nat­ural connexions, would involve a greater probability of fruition.

Surely the situation of that young creature must be very pleasing, who, by her sweetness of disposition, engaging manners, and many accomplishments, hath endeared herself to the circles in which she moves. Why should contingent events be held up to her view, or made an absolute part of her expectations? and if her hours are passed in endeavouring to augment her little income, whatever it may be, or in cultivating the means which may render her, as an individual, superior to the caprices of those about her, she will certainly be less likely to look out of herself for happiness.

[Page 169] But as I am fond of illustrating my sentiments by example, I will in my next Gleaner produce a little narrative, which, while it will be calculated to eluci­date, will, I flatter myself, both interest and please; and as I devoutly wish to compensate the reader for the trouble he may take in travelling through these pages, I shall, of course, be highly gratified.

N^o. XVIII.

WHEN I was a young man, I had a friend, to whom I was particularly attached; we had lived from our boyish years in habits of intimacy; and I was of course an interested observer of all his movements.

His family was distinguished by the marked integ­rity of even the minutest transactions of its individ­uals; my friend was the youngest born, and every branch, except himself and his eldest sister, were estab­lished in little families of their own. They were in­dustrious and frugal, realizing, in consequence of their own exertions, an income which enabled them to live in a genteel style; and as they were of that grade which is termed well born, their right to min­gle in the politest circles was indisputable. But, as I said, living within compass, they were easy in their circumstances, they were affectionate to each other, and always ready to relieve, to the utmost of their a­bilities, the necessitous of every description.

My friend, at length, after making frequent visits to New-York, presented them with a daughter and a sister, who, though both a beautiful and an amiable woman, had nevertheless received from education, dif­ferent ideas of life. Gay, unthinking, and profuse by nature, she had never been accustomed to set bounds [Page 170] to her inclinations; and though she truly loved her husband, she was constantly involving him in difficul­ties, in order to support a style of life to which his fi­nances were inadequate, and which, however, the re­ciprocality of his attachment induced him to exert eve­ry nerve to maintain. All his connexions saw with pain that his ruin was, by hasty strides, approaching; but the subject was delicate, and it was supposed that an interference would be ineffectual.

A period of seventeen years was marked by dress, equipage, and entertainments, while even the idea of economy never once molested the pleasurable arrange­ments of the fair Amanda. At the expiration of this term, that ill-directed female was seized with the small pox, of which she soon became the victim; and her un­fortunate companion, (who was before sinking under the united pressure of broken health and spirits, that were doubtless produced by a certainty of the rapid ap­proach of those calamities which his good sense could not but acknowledge as the procurement of folly) was, in the course of a few succeeding weeks, inhumed in the same vault with the beloved object who had cost him so dear.

Two beautiful females were the issue of this ill-fated marriage; they were not however destitute; for though the effects of the deceased Henry would not give his creditors ten shillings in the pound, yet the rites funere­al due to the hapless pair, being decently performed, and the hallowed earth that encircled their cold re­mains embalmed by a filial tear, these lovely orphans were immediately sheltered in the bosom of their friends.

Miss Helen, then just fifteen years old, accompanied the sister of Amanda to her abode in the city of New-York; and Miss Penelope, who had nearly attained her fourteenth year, continued with the relations of Henry.

By way of exemplifying the force of example and the different characters, which the two young ladies from that period assumed, I select, from a correspond­ence that continued unbroken during their separation, the subjoined letters.

Miss Helen put up her pretty lip—her sister's letter was unanswerable; but she was unconvinced, or at least uninfluenced, and they both progressed on, in the different paths in which example had produced them.

The virtues of Penelope were soon distinguished by an amiable man, who was indeed her congenial soul; his fortune was moderate, and his prospects were good: A happy hymen was the consequence, and they con­tinue as amiable a pair as over exchanged the matri­monial vow.

The dissipated manners of Helen, her fondness for dress and show, with the extravagant sentiments which she at all times avowed, deterred the sensible part of the male world from cherishing an idea of a serious connexion with a young person whom they conceived [Page 180] it impossible to domesticate. Her uncle and aunt are no more; and their prodigality expended even the patrimony of their children. A similar mode of living hath circumscribed the career of all her boasted ma­ternal connexions; and Miss Helen, now rapidly ap­proaching the decline of life, hath become a fixed ap­pendage to the family of her sister; a dependant upon the liberality of those, whom she regarded with sensations bordering upon contempt: But their fine qualities will doubtless render that dependance as silken as possible.

N^o. XIX.

I INTRODUCE this nineteenth number of the Gleaner by a letter, which last evening's post con­veyed to my hand; and which I produce as an apol­ogy for the present essay.

As a general answer to friend Doubtful, it may be sufficient to say, that the Gleaner aspireth not to the dignified chair of the theologician; that whatever are his sentiments, he hath entire complacency therein; that he is content with proposing them to the reason of his family, without parading them to public view, or enforcing them upon any one.

Yet, thus called upon, though he doth not propose himself as a sectarian, and though upon this occasion, he may not avow the creed of the christian Universalist; he yet craves the indulgence of his readers, while he takes leave to hazard a few remarks.

He is free to own, notwithstanding the despotism of tradition, the prejudices of education, and the predom­inating sway of revered opinions, that he cannot help regarding that plan as the most eligible, which repre­sents the Father of eternity, as beneficently planning, before all worlds, the career of a race of beings, who however they were immersed in ills, and from the various vicissitudes of time, plunged into a series of misfortunes, were destined, nevertheless, to progress on to a state of never ending felicity. Jehovah, while thus employed, appears augustly good, as well as au­gustly great, and every faculty of the mind rejoiceth to adore the paternal Deity.

We hesitate not to combine, in our ideas of the great First Cause, with an unrivalled sovereignty of power, that unerring prescience, which, indeed, seems truly necessary to infinite wisdom, and the fullness of the Godhead.

Would it not be impious, to suppose the Creator originating the vast designs of creation with a dispo­sition unpropitious to the well being of his creatures? [Page 183] Would it not be most absurdly irreverent, to represent the creature as independent of the power which had formed him, and as unexpectedly escaping from the orbit in which he was placed? Would it not be blas­phemous to arm him with strength sufficient to frus­trate the benevolent purposes which primarily gave him existence? Is not that conjecture highly irrational which renders him capable of obtaining the knowledge of good and evil, without the permission of that om­nipotent Father of universal nature, who had moulded him agreeably to his own designation, who had shaped for him his little part, who had commanded him into being, who could make him whatever he pleased, and who could, in a single moment, recal the animating breath of life, which he is said to have breathed into him? We can easily reconcile, with the arrangements of equi­ty, allotments which may be clouded with misery, through the lengthening period of many revolving years, provided that the horizon at length brightens upon us, and we are finally presented with a happy termination.

The soul of man is indeed capacious; it can inhale, in one luxuriant moment, such large draughts of di­vine enjoyments, as may in effect obliterate the pain­ful remembrance of calamitous centuries; and, in a future destination, we may awake only to the sacred rapture of corrected pleasures. Nor do we know that sentiments of this complexion are unfriendly to the in­terests of virtue; for, besides the oft cited observation, that rectitude insures its own reward, and that a state of suffering must ever be considered as an appendage to vice; there is a view in which we may still be re­garded as probationers, as accountable beings; and re­wards and punishments must ever remain in the hands of our common Father.

We conceive that the system, which, bounding the salutary operations of Deity, confines his gracious in­terference to an elected few, while the many are consigned to perdition, and which considers this awful decree as irreversible, looks with a much more unfavourable as­pect upon the moral walk, than the denounced senti­ments [Page 184] of the Universalist; since it as effectually de­stroys every exertion to obtain the prize of future be­atification, for the immutable determination of Jehovah hath unalterably fixed the destiny of every candidate. This discriminating plan, while it merits, in a high de­gree, the accusation of unwarrantable partiality, (the most reprehensible characters not seldom becoming the objects of its predilection) throws open, at the same time, the widely terrific gates of despair. It is more­over the parent of schism; and it invests the arrogant mind with every incentive to pride and undue self-estimation, authorizing the supposed privileged being to believe, that the eternal difference, which must of necessity forever exist between himself and the greater part of his fellow-mortals, may justify proceedings against them, for which a jury of philanthropy would find him guilty of high treason against the Rights of Man.

We think the hypothesis, which is ever goading us to the performance of duty, by threats of the uplifted lash, is not a little derogatory to the dignity of our nature. Generosity and gratitude are plants which we wish to see cultivated in the soil of humanity. We would wish to see persons proselyted to the beauty of virtue; we would wish to see them in reality, sensible of the charms of a regular and meritorious life; in one word, we would wish to see them embrace innate good­ness, merely for the sake of its intrinsic worth.

I remember, some fifteen or sixteen years since, be­ing on a visit to a friend in the capital of the State of Rhode-Island, that chance threw me one evening into a company, in which a certain transatlantic preacher,^* well known for the liberality of his sentiments, made no inconsiderable figure; this gentleman did at that [Page 185] time, and I am told that he still continues to attract much attention in the religious world. Perhaps he may justly be styled the father of the Universalists in this country; and however censurable I may be deem­ed, I freely confess that I was not, upon the occasion adverted too, displeased at his ideas. Among other curious anecdotes and observations, which constituted his quota of the conversation, he produced a dream, which made no small impression upon my mind; wheth­er he himself was favoured with this nocturnal vision, or whether it was the privilege of a friend, I do not recollect; nor is it of importance to determine.

Its outlines were as follows: Sleep had spread over the closed eyelids its sombre veil, and the illimitable region of fancy became illumined by a prodigious va­riety of lustres; myriads of winged beings seemed to flit around; now, the empress of the slumbering hour crowded the scene with motley sketches of every ob­ject which a teeming imagination could devise; and anon, as if solicitous to vary the entertainment of the night, a splendid solitude gradually pervading, ex­tended itself around. It was at this moment that an interesting form, robed in spotless white, and moving with inexpressible velocity, presented herself before the sleeper: Dignity was inscribed on her very mien, her aspect was majestic, and every look became expressive of some important designation; in her right hand she grasped a blazing torch, and in her left she bore a transparent vase, which, constantly issuing a copious stream, seemed to possess the properties of a living spring. Hasting along, with inconceivable rapidity, she pressed forward, and it was with difficulty that he detained her, while he humbly requested information respecting the nature of her office and employ; briefly she replied, "Know, inquisitive mortal, that, commis­sioned by the Ancient of Days, I go forth, with this flaming torch, to light up a conflagration which shall consume the heaven of heavens, while the exhaust­less fountain in my left hand shall pour forth a flood, whose waters shall utterly extinguish the devouring, [Page 186] fires of Tartarean hell; and, know also, that when my mission is accomplished, then will the era be produced, in the which our God shall recognize some disinterest­edly sincere worshippers."

The consternation produced by this astonishing piece of information, dispelled the somnific influence of the drowsy goddess; and the reflections which it originated in his bosom, must occur to every serious mind.

I have been amazed when I have listened to the declarations of those, who have protested, that if a state of retribution was not in reserve, they would em­bark, with a full sail, upon what they have termed the ocean of unlicensed pleasure, and that they would take in large draughts of illicit gratifications!—Surely, such persons have never yet awaked to the best enjoy­ments of life—are yet to receive the perceptions, which alone can entitle them to a rank among the dignified order of rational beings.

Independent of every future consideration, how se­renely rolls on the days of that individual, who is so­licitous to employ his time, his talents, and his abili­ties of every description, in a manner calculated to do honour to himself, and to conduce to the best interests of his fellow mortals!

View the well regulated family; no sooner do their eyelids unclose, than their grateful orisons spontane­ously and individually ascend the vaulted skies; with the first uprising of the orient beam, they are assem­bled in the neatly furnished parlour, where, from the sacred oracles, a portion for their improvement and consolation is selected; where their common teacher, in words fitly chosen, energetic and concise, and in a manly and endearing tone of voice, offers up their unit­ed and early thanksgivings, supplications and praise, to the universal Sire of angels and of men.

This separate and collected intercourse with Heaven, will constitute them reciprocal guards upon themselves and each other; they will be cautious of offending; their words and their actions they will consider, and [Page 187] they will be anxious to conduct as persons privileged by a frequent access to the Sovereign Disposer of events.

The domestic departments will be filled in an allot­ted and regular manner; the affairs of the household will go smoothly forward; the individuals will recip­rocally assist each other; and plastic order, with af­fectionate harmony, will preside among them. They will look abroad, and, finding a complacency in com­municating good, they will feel it their interest, as well as their duty, to relieve, to soothe, to succour, and to support, to the utmost of their ability, the suf­fering sons and daughters of men; and while thus en­gaged in mitigating foreign woes, in extending the extricating hand, they will find that the blessings of heaven-born peace have become natal in their bosoms.

In the varied and interesting offices of social life, they will cheerfully engage; they are apprized of what their characters demand of them; and the hap­piness of their extensive connexions, they are careful to promote. As members of the community, they will discharge with propriety their parts, and they will ever reflect the highest honour upon their coun­try. When they are overtaken by the unavoidable calamities incident to the present mode of existence, in every affliction, they will naturally pour out their spirits in prayer: This is a privilege which will meli­orate their sufferings; and, accustomed to address the great Origin of being, they will hasten with alac­rity to the throne of grace. Whatever may be their employments or amusements, in the course of the day, or during the closing evening, being careful to com­bine innocence withal—they will gladly turn from every inferior or trivial pursuit, and when the empire of night is commencing, they will re-assemble in the peaceful apartment, that will be thus consecrated, and, by the mouth of their revered head, they will perform the evening prostrations of their devoted spirits, wor­shipping with sincere hearts, enumerating the multi­plied blessings of the day, and offering up their ming­ling [Page 188] hallelujahs, thanksgivings and adorations. Their errors, of whatever nature, they will deplore with con­trite hearts; but with child-like dispositions they will approach, and they will be confident that their august Father, who pitieth their infirmities, bendeth to their supplications a gracious ear. Calm, grateful, and disburthened of their heaviest load, they will retire to present their separate ejaculations, and they will com­mit themselves to the slumbers of the pillow with heart felt tranquillity.

The theme is copious; I have rapidly hurried along; I could dwell untired upon the charms, and the un­questionable utility, attendant upon the present hours of an unoffending and useful life. But the fear that I may again exceed the pages, with which I am in­dulged by the obliging Editors of the Magazine, for­bids my expatiating further.

N^o. XX.

"ALL is not right at Margaretta's"—said my poor Mary, some nights since, as she laid her head upon her pillow. It was an involuntary expres­sion, and from the fullness of her heart it escaped her: She would gladly have recalled it, or at least have pal­liated its effects, but it was too late, for the impression was indelibly made—all is not right at Margaretta's! Her words reverberated through the inmost recesses of my soul; they seemed to possess a deadly power, which, at a single blow, annihilated the serenity of my bosom. A thousand painful ideas rushed in a moment upon my mind, and they originated the most alarm­ing and affecting conjectures.

I had observed, that a kind of pensive melancholy had for some time clouded the fine open countenance of my wife; that her wonted equanimity was inter­rupted; that her slumbers were disturbed and broken; [Page 189] and that the admirable regularity of her move­ments were evidently discomposed. As I possessed a perfect confidence in her prudence, I had forborne to press her upon so distressing a change, well knowing, that whenever it was advantageous or proper, discre­tion would not fail of prompting her to pour into my ear the sorrows of her heart.

Maternal affection had armed her with an anxious and vigilant attention to her daughter; she had for some months marked a visible alteration in her child; the dimpling smile of complacency no more sponta­neously welcomed her approach; thick glooms en­circled her brow; and while she visibly struggled to preserve appearances, the tenor of her soul was ap­parently lost! Whenever Mary occasionally looked in upon her Margaretta, if her visit was unexpected, she was sure to find her bathed in tears; and the apologies which she seemed to study, but ill concealed the discomposure of an agonized bosom.

Mary, with all her penetration, could not divine the cause of an event, which she so greatly deplored; she imagined that her daughter was in possession of every thing which could conduce to the most pleasing kind of tranquillity; and she conceived that the grateful affections of her heart ought to be in constant exercise. Competency beamed its regular, mild, and equal blessings upon her; her infant was not only lovely and promising, but he seemed almost exempted from those disorders, which are usually attendant upon his imbecile age; her own health was uniformly good; and though Edward Hamilton partook, of course, the morbid contagion of her grief, yet he was still the pensively pleasing and entertaining companion.

Mary concluded, that nothing remained, but for Margaretta to re-assume the accustomed equability of her temper, in order to the perfect restoration of that sunshine, which had for a season illumed her hours; and tenderly interested, while her heart was torn by anxiety, she could not forbear to interrogate—but the only replies she could obtain were sighs and tears, [Page 190] interrupted by broken assurances, that indeed she was—she was very happy; and that she supplicated her dear Mamma to put upon every appearance the most candid construction. Her mother, however, made wise by the observations she had collected from books, from the study of her fellow mortals, and from a large share of natural discernment, could not be thus easily deceived.

Curiosity was, upon this occasion, her smallest in­ducement; and she trembled at the impervious dark­ness of a cloud, which she rationally apprehended involved the dearest hopes of her Margaretta! Baffled in repeated attempts to fathom a mystery, which had yielded her bosom a prey to the keenest anguish, she changed the mode of her attack; and, addressing her daughter by letter, in the language of discretion, in the language of tenderness, she penned the feelings of her soul.

Mary hesitated not to dispatch the following appro­bating reply.

N^o. XXI.

SITTING, last evening, in the little apartment which I have devoted to pleasures, properly term­ed sentimental, I was endeavouring, while Mary was seated by my side, to amuse the hours which she em­ployed at her needle, by a re-perusal of Gibbon's Roman History. We had passed our afternoon, in a vain attempt to investigate the cause of the infelicity of our daughter; we went over and over the ground, we traced and re-traced, we exhausted the powers of retrospection, until wearied amid the wilds of conjec­ture, we attained the precise point from which we at first sat off.

I had forborne to question either Mr. or Mrs. Ham­ilton, imagining that the discretion of Margaretta must inevitably become finally triumphant; and I conceived, besides, that any interference, considering the exquisite sensibility and delicate circumstances of the parties, must unavoidably increase the evil we lamented.

But to delineate the agonized perplexity which tempested the bosom of Mary, is impossible [...] the per­turbed sigh, humid cheek, and swoln eye, proclaimed the anguish of her spirit; while she in vain endeavoured to reassume the wonted fortitude and equability of her disposition.

Last evening, however, wiping from her face the tear of maternal woe, and calling into action all those efforts which it is the privilege of tender esteem to embody, I so far succeeded in my attempts to soothe her mind, as to procure a temporary calm; and press­ing, as an auxiliary, my admired historian, my pur­pose was to draw her off, at least for the moment, [Page 201] from the contemplation of the melancholy conse­quences of her daughter's marriage.

We had but just invested our pensive tete-a-tete, with a degree of apparent serenity, when Mrs. Hamilton, without being announced, rushed hastily into the apart­ment. Our astonishment at so unexpected a visit, was in no sort abated by the wild extravagance of which her air and manner were descriptive; it was, however, the mania of joy; and, without giving us time for re­flection or interrogation, throwing herself suddenly at my feet, with clasped hands, and all the delirium of rapture, she exclaimed—‘O Sir! O my father! bless, bless, your happy child!—delay not to bestow your benediction upon this, the most blissful period of her life; thus giving the paternal voice, to sanction and complete that measure of felicity, which per­haps her wayward and desponding heart hath but ill deserved.’

Alarmed and apprehensive, I would have folded her to my breast, at no moment hesitating to pronounce a blessing, which was ever the spontaneous dictate of my heart; but ere I could utter a word, springing up and hasting forward, she threw her snowy arms around the neck of Mary. ‘O my mother, my more than mother! embrace your now not sorrow­ing, but perfectly assured and extaticly enraptured Margaretta!’

Mary, alternately clasping her to her bosom, and regarding her with looks of agonized terror, struggled in vain for utterance; the impassioned feelings of her soul disdained language, and the perturbed emotions which agitated her spirit, were expressed only by an affecting and descriptive silence.

For myself, I am free to own, that the scene had al­most unmanned me; and, that trembling equally for my wife and daughter, I could not have supported it a moment longer. It was interrupted by the entrance of Edward Hamilton and Serafina. "Ah, my love!" cried Hamilton, ‘why do you thus cruelly deprive me of your presence; at a moment too, when you [Page 202] have, as it were, renovated my existence; when you have relieved me from a burthen that, by its mighty pressure, had well near crushed my every hope of happiness this side the eternal world; when you have new pointed every felicity, and taught me still more highly to appreciate the inestimable worth of yourself, and of your ennobling affection! Were it possible I could call my Margaretta unkind, her absence at such a time, would be the only plea that could justify my accusation. But who talks of accu­sation? Margaretta, like the Being from whom she originates, and who hath formed her a near resem­blance of his blessed self, unreservedly forgives; and, influenced also by an example so fair, while urged by their own lenient benevolence, our revered bene­factors, parents, friends, will likewise condescend to sign my acquittal; and thus their once almost des­pairing culprit, restored to peace and to them, will new plume his hopes, and, re-embarking upon the voyage of life, he will trust that prosperous gales may attend his once shipwrecked prospects.’

Margaretta, encircled in the arms of her husband, bent her sweet face upon his bosom, while Serafina, enthusiastically pressing her hands to her lips, [...] in broken sentences—‘Lovely and forgiving sister! a sister indeed! angelic Margaretta! May God in heaven greatly reward and forever bless my indulgent Margaretta.’

But not to fatigue the reader, by the incoherently agitated manner, in which we finally obtained an ex­planation of these mysterious appearances, I will piece together materials which, through many breaks and pauses, I received, and present a succinct narrative of circumstances, that have produced an ecclaircisement, which hath rendered Margaretta, in her own estima­tion, the happiest of women.

The opening dawn of yesterday presented a serene autumnal morning, and the advancing day confirmed the pleasing indications of its rosy harbinger.

[Page 203] The ripened fruits of autumn gathered in, the in­dustrious swain once more hailed the interval which, crowning his hopes, permitted him to indulge a sus­pension of his labours; the very air, gently moving the motley foliage of the grove, impregnated with the seeds of bland and social peace, and disburthened of the undulating and busy clang, seemed to breathe the true spirit of grateful and unmolested contemplation; while all varying nature apparently wore the semblance of tranquillity.

Margaretta made the comparison—she could no longer support the dreadful contrast which her bosom exhibited; and, asserting herself, she determined to be peremptory in her demand of an explanation. For many hours she revolved her important purpose; her spirit laboured with its interesting design; her breast was the seat of inquietude, and her soul was heavily oppressed. How to present herself; how to introduce her subject; in what language to clothe those sorrows which she had hitherto so assiduously sought to veil from the eye of Hamilton—these were questions which strongly agitated every faculty of her mind; but all her attempts to concert a plan of operation were inef­fectual, until at length, tortured by reflection, hesitat­ing, trembling and irresolute, she bent her steps toward that saloon, which Edward had consecrated the scene of his most retired moments; thither, at certain hours of the day, she knew that he repaired; upon this soli­tude she had never before ventured to intrude; yet, by slow and solemn movements, urged by despair, she now approached: She drew toward the recess, the door was but half closed; Edward and Serafina, for the purpose of obtaining an uninterrupted conference, had pre­viously retired there. Serafina was seated on a sofa, her face bathed in tears; Edward, evidently over­powered by grief, reclined by her side; he pressed the left hand of Serafina to his lips, while her right was thrown affectionately over his shoulder!

"O Edward!" with a voice almost choaked by sorrow, exclaimed Miss Clifford, ‘why are you thus [Page 204] unkindly persevering? False sentiments betray you. My attachment to you is closely interwoven with my existence. I stand upon the brink of a precipice, down which your unyielding obduracy will not fail to plunge me! Again I assure you, that my happi­ness or misery is involved in yours! If you become an exile from your country, doubtless I shall be the companion of your flight; but whither shall we go? in what recess can we hide ourselves? Is it possible that we can voluntarily consign to irremediable ruin, the lovely and affectionate Margaretta? Is it possible that you, that a father, can deliberately resolve to blast the just budding prospects of him, who now, un­conscious of the threatened danger, lulled in the cra­dle of innocence, smiles with celestial sweetness?’

Margaretta had entered unobserved; she had beheld the attitude of two persons whom she had accustomed herself not only tenderly to love, but reveringly to es­teem. The most envenomed pangs of despair at that moment pervaded her bosom—a feverish kind of an­guish seemed to drink up the purple stream of life—her voice was lost, and her sight well near absorbed. Unable to proceed, she sunk upon the ready settee, which the second step presented—she distinctly heard the exclamation of Serafina!!—and the powers of an­imation suspending their operations, she sunk motion­less upon the settee—a sigh burst spontaneously from her bosom—a sigh, that might well be imagined the immediate harbinger of death; it first drew the atten­tion of Serafina—Hamilton started from his seat, and with mingling surprise, anguish and terror, they mutu­ally flew to the supposed expiring sufferer. Their ap­plications were in part successful; the active principle of life resumed its functions, and a gradual resuscitation pervaded the system. Reason, nevertheless, as if in­dignant at the outrages which she had sustained, stood aloof; and it was but too evident, that Margaretta possessed not that fine arrangement which had hith­erto regulated the feelings of her dignified and gen­tle mind.

[Page 205] Her wanderings, however, imbibed the hue, and partook the prevailing bent of her natural disposition; and amid her incoherent ramblings, the true situation of her soul was expressed.

In pathetic language she lamented her own hard fate; and, addressing Serafina, whom she believed to be Mary, she questioned her in regard to the propriety and eligibility of a separation from Edward. She said that her attachment to her husband could never know abatement; but (lowering her voice, as if fearful of being overheard) as he was devoted to another, she thought it was becoming her character to relinquish her claims; she wished, indeed, that Edward and Miss Clifford had sooner understood the nature of their mu­tual attachment—But perhaps they might have much to plead in their own defence; and that, for her part, though she was at a loss to trace the origin of the ca­lamity which had overtaken her, and could not justly accuse herself of intentional error, yet she wished ev­ery body well. That they need not be reduced to the necessity of abandoning the country; for if she could but obtain one of those moss-grown caverns, which she had heard were so numerous in the dominion of Old Ocean's God, in those watery abodes she would seek her deceased father; possibly too, her supplications might draw down the sainted spirit of her injured mother; and if she might be permitted to take with her the darling boy, for whom her last sigh would arise, they would be a family of love—she would soothe the woe-fraught bosoms of her parents—she would pre­pare for her infant son an oozy bed, the sea-green turf should pillow his little head, and, by the murmuring waters of some coral grove, he should be lulled to rest.

Hamilton, agonized beyond expression, in the fren­zy of the moment, would have put a period to his ex­istence; but by Serafina, who is ever present to her­self, he was wooed, and awed to some degree of com­posure.

Serafina, by the assistance of a faithful female, con­ducted Margaretta to her chamber; and, while she [Page 206] offered up to Heaven her silent and fervid vows for the perfect restoration of her friend, she availed herself of the idea she entertained that she was her mother; and, assuming the mildly commanding air, she had so frequently observed Mary to wear, she gently remon­strated, pressed and soothed, until she had placed Mrs. Hamilton upon her pillow, when, seizing the exact crisis, in the softest key, she proceeded to chaunt the most plaintive, harmonizing and dulcet strains, within the compass of her musical voice, until she beheld the disordered mourner embraced by those slumbers, from which she doubted not she would awake, in the full possession of her charming intellects. Having thus ef­fectuated this salutary purpose, leaving Margaretta to an attendant, her next care was to rejoin Hamilton.

It was impossible not to understand the nature of the suspicions, which, it was apparent, had so deeply impressed the soul of Margaretta; and a retrospection convinced them, that even in the bosom of apathy, reason, from a variety of circumstances, would have originated conjectures. Edward acknowledged, that a desperate disease demanded a decisive remedy; he trembled for the consequences; but his dearest hopes now pointed out the most unreserved confidence. Alas! had he known the heart of my daughter, how many pangs he might have spared her. But the lim­ited pages of this publication forbid remarks.

Serafina, obtaining full power to act agreeably to her own discretion, returned to the chamber of Marga­retta, fraught with a sovereign specific for her wounded spirit; when, dismissing the girl, and seating herself be­side her, she impatiently waited her release from that salutary repose, to which she had been so solicitous to consign her.

Margaretta at length opened her grief-swoln eyes; the traces of deep-felt melancholy were visible in her countenance; but reason, it was evident, had resumed her operations, and the expression of every feature was descriptive of a mild and affecting kind of resignation.

"How are you, my sweet friend?" soothingly questioned Serafina.

[Page 207] "Not well, Serafina;" returned Margaretta; and, after a moment's pause, letting fall some tears, in an affecting tone of voice, she added; ‘I am, Miss Clif­ford, the daughter of misfortune; my parentage was early announced; and though the interposition of my blessed friends and benefactors, would, by adopting me into their family, have snatched from me the bitter cup of adversity, yet, to struggle against the unalterable decrees of an all-wise Providence, it is in vain we assay!’

Serafina, inexpressibly affected, delayed not her rem­edy, but immediately taking her hand, which she be­dewed with her tears, she delivered herself to the fol­lowing effect:—

As Miss. Clifford proceeded in her narrative, Mar­garetta had quitted her couch; she had continued highly agitated, traversing up and down her apart­ment. Now her clasped hands, raised eyes, and accel­erated movements, expressed the big emotions which struggled in her bosom; now she threw abroad her hands in admiration, and now raised them to Heaven, in a delirium of joy: Vehemently seizing the first pause, she repeated—‘Tranquillity!—Gracious God!—Can Serafina Clifford Hamilton—my divine sis­ter—my angel friend—my peace-speaking, hope in­spiring genius—can she give so cold a term to the ex­tatic rapture of this blissful moment? Creator, and Almighty Preserver of my life, how have I deserved this fullness of felicity, which, like a mighty torrent, now bursts upon me? O Edward! my faultless, my injured husband! but instantly, on my knees, I will supplicate the benign tenderness of that manly bo­som, to intercede in my favour.’

Margaretta glided through the passage—Hamilton met her in an adjoining chamber; where, with a per­turbed and anxious spirit, he had waited the result of what he termed the crisis of his fate. It was not in [Page 212] his power to prevent the humble posture of his charm­ing wife; Margaretta bent before him; and, with streaming eyes and supplicating hands, besought his pardon for the error, into which a hasty, inexperienced and suspicious spirit had precipitated her. Edward in vain assayed to raise her; by the events of the day her reason was still in a degree disordered, and she in­sisted upon receiving her forgiveness in form.

"My God!" cried Edward, flinging himself beside her, ‘this is too much; receive once more your of­fending Hamilton; endeavour to erase from thy lovely bosom every painful remembrance of his past irregularities, and you may then number him among the happiest of human beings. Dearer to my soul than the light of heaven, my Margaretta hath ever been: All amiably consistent; and mildly good as she is, she hath not, she never could be found in a reprehensible walk; and consequently, her husband must have marked her progress with an approbating eye; consequently, he can have nothing to con­demn, nothing to forgive.’

The appearance of Miss Clifford suspended the [...] tender contention; and Margaretta embraced the op­portunity of hasting to impart to us, the astonishing change which had taken place in her favour.

The subsequent scene, in my reading parlour, nat­urally resulted; and, I only add, that if there are, who do not greatly admire, and highly applaud the une­quivocal demonstrations of joy, with which my daugh­ter received the knowledge, that she must relinquish the independence of affluence, and descend to the hum­bling grade, which scanty and precarious circumstances enrolls,—I pity the frigidity of their bosoms.

N^o. XXII.
DECEMBER, 1793.

MY mind, much occupied and greatly exercised, by the deranged state of Mr. Hamilton's af­fairs, together with some other very painful and deep­ly lacerating events, hath not found itself at liberty to pursue, with wonted avidity, its accustomed avocations.

Thus circumstanced, as a substitute for the subject on which I had intended to expatiate, I present, for the pe­rusal of the reader, the contents of a folded paper I [Page 214] lately picked up, in one of my solitary rambles; and which, being without a signature, it is not in my pow­er to restore, in any other way, to its original proprie­tor. The sentiments and language of this little per­formance, are evidently the devout and spontaneous breathings of a christianized mind. And, as I think that the piece, altogether, may properly enough be characterized, a Eulogy upon the month of December, I have chosen to christen this Gleaner by the name of that celebrious portion of time.

[Here followeth the Paper.]

"DECEMBER—it is true thou hast been fruitful to me of misfortunes; many a time hast thou lacerat­ed my bosom, by ravishing from me my dearest enjoy­ments; thou hast stabbed me in the tenderest part, and thy broadly wild and congealing eye hath seemed to glut itself with my tears; into thy frozen ear it is in vain that I have poured my sorrows; harder than adamant, thou seemest to arrest the stream of pity, and thou regardest my lamentations with stern and unre­lenting severity; thy storms have been as a whirlwind to my soul; and thy tempests, up-rooting my peace, have well near whelmed, beneath the barren heaths of despair, my every hope.

Fell Despoiler I have called thee—for thy hoary visage hath still for me been marked with terror—But hark! what sweet voice is that which issues from yon­der Angel of peace?—it soothes my spirit by the most consolatory assurances—reason and religion it com­bines—with the Shepherd of Israel the commission originates—and, with bland and gentle pity, deep in my bosom it implants immortal Hope.

December—blest era!—thou art the natal month of the Saviour of the world—Let thy winds convey my individual sufferings to that oblivion, to which the Re­deemer hath, eventually, consigned the woes of the exonerated children of men.

To the private considerations of corroding sorrow, let me no longer listen—Let me gird up the loins of [Page 215] my mind, and look forward to that blissful consum­mation, the dawning of which was presented in thy administration.

Hail! returning period—white-garbed month!—thou shalt ever be right welcome to my devoted bo­som—Every moment which constitutes thy admeasure­ment, should be consecrated as sacred to the most re­fined enjoyments of the soul—Henceforth, waving my accumulated griefs, I will love thy flaky footsteps—I will anticipate their approach; and my spirit shall so­lace itself, by a confiding view of the accomplishment of that arrangement, which was designated in thy ap­portioned round.

December—blest period!—most illustrious in the order of time!—thou containest the natal day of the Son of God—and thy broad encircling eye extendest from the man of paradise, to that infant who shall latest swell the sigh of humanity.

Yes, I will love thy flaky footsteps—darkness can­not overshadow thee—Thy shades but serve to render the brightening splendours of thy course the more con­spicuous. The natal day of the Son of God!—what records have engraven so stupendous, so salutary, so momentous a truth!—Thy hours register his birth—the birth of the Prince of Peace—During thy prog­ress, the Virgin brought forth her first-born son—and renovated nature smiled extatic—healing breezes chase the chills of winter—and celestial spirits cluster round the haunts of men.

Soft as the vernal shower his doctrine distilled—and the plant of perfection attained maturity—From the storm he is a Hiding Place—and the burning eye of Divine Justice can never pierce that invulnerable en­velopement, by which he hath encompassed the sons and daughters of men—Sickness fleeth before him, and imbecility dwelleth not with him—Evil shall be exterminated from his dominion—rectitude shall ad­minister unto him—peace shall erect an immortal standard—and innocence, adorned with chaplets of equity, shall be the gift of the Most High.

[Page 216] The deaf shall hear his voice—the blind shall be­hold his day, rejoicing—the lame shall speed before him—the dead, even the dead, shall hear the voice of the Son of God—and they who hear shall live!

Blest thought!—the dead shall again be raised—And the hour approacheth, when, inmingling with depart­ed saints, we shall rejoin that privileged and beloved circle, over whose open graves we have poured the com­fortless, unavailing and corroding stream of sorrow—But from every eye every tear shall be wiped away—nor shall the wide extended universe contain a son or daughter of adversity.

Such will be, such is, the effects of his sway, who first breathed in mortality during the division of hours, which make up thy allotment. Hall, first of months! when I forget thy distinguished auspices may I be dead to the voice of the charmer—when I cease to mark with gratulations thy annual return, may the blest sounds uttered by the tongue of our holy, sacred, and animating religion, no more vibrate upon my heavy ear.

Toward the close of the month, which closeth our year, the Saviour was born—so, in the last day of time, when the divine arrangements are well near completed, the restitution of all things shall be made manifest, and the winding up of the great drama, bringing forward the accomplishment of the designs of an all-wise Creator—Crimes of every kind shall be banished from the family of man—the train of ills, which have infested the works of the Eternal Mind, shall accompany their origin; and sin being annihi­lated, sorrow shall be no more.

Evangelic month!—again I repeat it—surely I will love thy days, O December! and the event produced under thy domain shall ever be right precious to my soul!"

N^o. XXIII.

TAKING my seat, the other evening, in a front box at the play-house, I was, previous to the drawing up of the curtain, not a little amused by the chit-chat of a couple of sprightly girls, who occupied seats at my right hand. The house, the company, and the expected entertainment, alternately engaged their attention. I found, by their conversation, that they, as well as myself, were strangers in the metropo­lis, and that the witnessing the representation of a play, was rather an extraneous occurrence in their catalogue of enjoyments.

"In the name of wonder, sister Peggy," exclaimed the youngest of the girls, "who is that figure that seems placed as a sentinel over yonder avenue, and who is at the same time so curiously bandeaued, that one might be ready to imagine him just starting off upon a game of blind-man's buff?" "That figure? sister Clary," replied Peggy, "why that figure, my dear, is the figure of Justice." "O my conscience, sister," cried Clary, "Justice, do you say? Why surely, Peggy, you must have made a monstrous blunder; for I have heard a thousand and a thousand times, that Jus­tice was nothing but eyes, and that she could see every way at once." "You are thinking of Argus, Clary: The poets indeed describe him with his hundred eyes; but Justice, believe me, is always painted blind." "Poh, poh, Peggy, you are certainly in the wrong; or, if it is as you say, your great writers, or painters, or who­ever they be, must certainly all have been in a dream: Why I would not suffer a blind man to choose me a set of ribbons, much less should he decide upon a ques­tion [Page 218] which involved my life, my character, or even my estate."

The girl's observation was the spontaneous lan­guage of nature, and truth and nature are generally upon the same side.

How long my fair neighbours continued their enter­taining confab. I know not, for the ingenuity of Clary, throwing me into a train of thinking, from which I was only roused by the appearance of the players, I unfortunately lost the remainder of their remarks.

The sentiments of the lively Clary are certainly authorized by reason. Fortune is described as blind; and she is said to bestow her benefactions most capri­ciously. The rich, it is thought, considered in the ag­gregate, derive not their claim to the distinctions with which they are invested, from the suffrage of virtue; Fortune is frequently lavish of her favours to vice, while the good man is seen struggling with all those ills which are the accompaniments of penury. Yet did Fortune always thus designate, we might be ready to say she had undoubtedly the gift of sight, and that the depravity of her taste led her to select her favour­ites from the children of error. But to shield her god­dessship from a conclusion so derogatory to her mor­al character, instances may be produced, where the votaries of rectitude bask in the sunshine of her smiles; integrity is sometimes crowned by her with affluence, and the upright, being liberally endowed, are appoint­ed to administer to the necessities of the sons and daugh­ters of adversity.

Fortune, moreover, is extremely variable in her dispositions, and in the constant revolutions of her wheel, those who are to-day standing tip-toe, upon the highest eminence, may to-morrow be precipitated into the abyss of entanglements, embarrassments, and com­fortless despair. Ingenious therefore is the allegory which permits us to attribute the caprice of Fortune to her deficiency of vision; and those ancients were happy, who, thus regarding her distributions, consoled themselves in the deprivation of her favours, by the [Page 219] possession of that intrinsic worth, which it is not in the power of so uncertain a being to designate or to bestow.

But whatever may be urged for veiling the optics of dame Fortune, is undoubtedly point blank against hood-winking the goddess Themis, or Justice. I am aware that the decisions of Justice should ever be im­partial, and that her visual ray is said to be thrown into the shade, to prevent the bias in favour of appear­ances, that her judgment would otherwise have receiv­ed; but it should be remembered that Justice, divest of fable, is one of the most dignified attributes of Deity; that it partakes the nature of its august Original; and that it is, by consequence, infinitely superior to party.

Justice is enthroned far above all law, since no hu­man arrangements can take cognizance of every possi­ble event, and much must at all times be left to the spontaneous dictates of this illustrious vicegerent of Omnipotence.

Were I to personify Justice, instead of presenting her blind, I would denominate her the goddess of fire; she should possess a subtle essence, which should pene­trate through, and pervade the inmost recesses of the soul; by every insignia of light I would surround and designate her; while among the ornaments which composed her crest, a broad and never closing eye should stand conspicuous; she should possess the pow­er to unravel the knotty entanglements of the most so­phisticated web; piercing as the forked lightning, in­stantaneous and penetrating, she should disclose, at a single glance, the secret and crooked windings of the most profound labyrinth, while, patient and unerring, she should listen with calmness to the various disquisi­tions of the interested claimant; and, careful to inves­tigate, her decisions should always accord with her own important nature and office.

Uniform in her awards, neither youth, beauty, nor innocence, should possess a charm to soften her firm in­flexibility; dignity, age, the venerable head of snow, these should not awe; adversity should not excite an [Page 220] improper compassion, nor should the tears of the widow, or of the orphan, unduly persuade. Of unbending integrity, Justice should feel, hear and see, but truth alone should be the pole star, by which she should shape her movements, and equity only should constrain her determinations. To the ravages of wayward pas­sions she should be at all times superior; and her ad­ministration should be under the regulation of wisdom. Elevated beings are dishonoured by the supposition, that they can possibly be influenced by improper or foreign representations, and my delineation of Justice, armed at all points, should be inaccessible even to the suspicion of imbecility.

August and dignified delegate of the great First Cause! to thee the nations appeal, whatever form their governments may assume, whether democratical, repub­lican, oligarchal, monarchical, or despotical—still they are careful to give their doings the investiture of thy sacred name; they affect thy sanction, they arrest thy ti­tles; the violation of thy laws, is the ostensible reason for the battles which they seek; and, assuming thy ban­ners, they anticipate success, exulting in victories, which, agreeably to thy allotments, the iniquity of their cause may forbid their ever obtaining. Nor is the general disposition of great events alone under thy direction; thou takest cognizance of the minutiae of human life, and with an unerring hand, thou directest all those occurrences in the career of being, which the infidel is accustomed to ascribe to the agency of a blind and undescribable chance. To thee the good man raises the eye of confidence; virtue is sure of thy award; and the oppressed of all ages have flown to thee for refuge.

Thus far I had written, aiming, gentle reader, at thy amusement—when Edward Hamilton looked in upon me. "You are busy, Sir, and I will not inter­rupt you." No, my son, I have always leisure to receive your visits. Sit down, Sir, and unfold the tale, to which your perplexed countenance is a preface.

[Page 221] "I come, Sir, to take your direction in regard to the line of conduct which the untoward state of my affairs renders it proper for me to pursue." I threw down my pen which I had till then held in my fingers; and, grasping his hand, I eagerly exclaimed—Justice, Sir, Justice must be your guide—you are an excellent young man, Mr. Hamilton; and I am happy in the assurance, that you will find no difficulty in following the course of the radiant director, which I take the liberty to point out as the guardian of your every step. Endear­ed as you are to me, Sir, your very fault, the occasion considered, serving to interest me still more in your happiness, I could at this moment with pleasure divest myself of my little inheritance in your favour: Start not, Sir, (for he was extremely agitated at this sug­gestion) considerations of tenderness to the unborn, for­bid my taking this step, and the possessions of her fa­ther, must be secured to the children of our Margaret­ta. I approve much of your declining to avail your­self of the generosity of Miss Clifford. Justice would redden indignant at such a sacrifice. Nature, howev­er, legislators may have ordained, gave that young lady a right to the patrimony she enjoys; and your fraternal affection ought not to suffer you to risk prop­erty, the loss of which would render so amiable a wo­man dependent and uneasy.

Such, my son, hath been the uniform integrity of your commercial transactions, that, to abridge you of your liberty, not a single creditor will present himself. Possibly you might go on to accumulate arrears; but Justice, inflexible and unyielding Justice, must here in­terpose; a full statement of your embarrassments, with an estimate of your possessions, must be immediately given in; not a single article must be withheld; your family seat, which hath, for such a number of years, continued the residence of hospitality, if you are allow­ed time to attempt its redemption, you will confess an obligation; meanwhile, it must be occupied to the best advantage; it may be converted into an annual in­come, which will considerably augment your finances; [Page 222] this house is large, and the hearts of your parents are open to receive you; hither, until the storm be over­blown, you must retire; and by the restoration of that society, the loss of which, I do assure you, we have not ceased secretly to regret, our domestic enjoyments will be inexpressibly advanced. Fortune is blind, and her dispositions are extremely variable; you must per­severingly pursue her; possibly she may relent, and should she in future bestow upon you her gifts, you must not fail to discharge, to the last farthing, every just demand which can be made upon you. I bless God that your own habits, and upright way of think­ing, will irresistibly stimulate you upon this occasion. Bankrupt and limitation acts may succeed each other, and all these may be very well in their place; but the honest man will hear the voice of Justice, he will bend his ear attentive to her pleadings, and Virtue will be the motto of his actions.

Fame once wafted to my ear, a little narrative, which indelibly impressed [...] mind; and I have never reflected upon it, without the accompaniment of an exquisite kind of complacency. I will give it you, my son, as an example.

A gentleman, engaged in the mercantile line, had followed business with little success; his integrity, his efforts, and his abilities were unquestionable, and for many years they enabled him to make head against a tide of misfortunes, which would have overwhelmed a common capacity; his creditors themselves, well con­vinced of the propriety and frugality of his arrange­ments, readily contributed the means, which his con­tinued losses only converted into an accumulation of his arrears. Weary, at length, of a warfare that fate seemed to render so unequal, he summoned all those to whom he stood indebted, and forcing upon them, according to the amount of their demands, an exact proportion of the interest which remained with him; after thus voluntarily divesting himself of every shil­ling of property, he found, to his great regret, that it was only adequate to the discharging of a very small [Page 223] part of his arrears; he received, however, from his approbating creditors, receipts in full; and, thus ex­onerated in the estimation of the law, he very soon made up his mind, relative to his future destination. A generous friend supplied him with a small sum, by the means of which he embarked upon a foreign voy­age; prosperous gales soon wafted him to his desired port, and he presented himself with such credentials as he merited. Shakespeare says, there is a tide in men's affairs! he had embraced the favourable moment of opportunity; every thing he undertook was prosper­ous; all his transactions were marked and crowned by success, and a few years saw him master of a very handsome property. He had kept no correspondence with his friends during what he termed his period of exile; but he no sooner attained that independence, af­ter which his noble spirit had so long and so ardently sighed, than he departed in a ship of his own, richly freighted, full speed for his native country. Inform­ation of his return was conveyed to his creditors, through the medium of a card, soliciting their presence at a public house, to partake of an entertainment which he had ordered for them. His creditors remembered him as an unfortunate, but an honest man, whose ar­rival they should gladly welcome, and they obeyed with avidity his summons. The first compliments were marked by mutual expressions of satisfaction, and from the lips of the welcome claimants the warmest gratulations spontaneously issued. A superb dinner, with much elegance, was served up, and the covers being removed, the bottle was briskly pushed about; but who can express their astonishment, when, in the midst of their hilarity, every man was presented with the full sum he had so formally relinquished, together with every shilling of interest, which would have been legally due, had they received promissory notes instead of the releases they had so voluntarily given! A gen­erous contention immediately ensued; but our mer­chant convincing his friends of his ability, they finally yielded to his remonstrances.

[Page 224] They were, however, determined to exhibit a monu­ment of their admiration and their gratitude; and they solicited and obtained permission of the govern­ment to erect, in a public stand, a magnificent obelisk, the faces of which were inscribed with the name of the upright debtor, and with a circumstantial account of the whole transaction.

How much more honorary is a virtuous fame, than the possession of houses or of lands. The law was not made for the votaries of integrity; their own feelings are sufficient to them as a rule of action; and Justice, unerring Justice, is the great standard of their lives.

N^o. XXIV.

THE various parterres, now putting forth their promising buds, in many sections, in this our country, looks with a very favourable aspect upon a man of my profession; and I cannot but hope, that in the occupation of a Gleaner, I shall be able to cull many a fragrant flower, wherewith to compose a bou­quet, that may throw an agreeable perfume over the leisure hours of the sentimental speculator.

To express myself less technically. The progress of the Drama, in this new world, must assuredly interest the feelings of every observer; and, being under the pleas­ing necessity, in the routine of my excursions, of visit­ing many parts of the United States, and thus, having frequent opportunities of presenting myself in our sev­eral theatres, from the elegant house in Philadelphia to the temporary resorts of itinerant companies, in those little country towns, which will invariably copy the examples they receive from the metropolis, I nat­urally, [Page 225] in the course of my perambulations, pick up many observations, that may possibly serve for the amusement of my readers.

The great question which does, and ought to occupy the mind of every patriotic moralist, is the utility of licensed stage-playing. Perhaps I may as well with­draw the word licensed; for, in the present enlightened era and administration of liberty, the citizen would hardly consent to an abridgment of those amusements, the evil tendency of which could not be unequivocally demonstrated to his understanding; and the late strug­gle in the State of Massachusetts, evinces the futility of erecting barriers, not substantiated by reason.

The law in that State was outraged in its very face: the flimsy subterfuge of moral lectures deceived no one; and though, as I am informed, the theatrical prohibition is but partially repealed respecting the Bosto­nians, and remains in full force upon the rest of the State, yet it is notorious, that itinerant players are constantly marching and counter-marching from town to town, to the no small diversion of the good people of this very respectable member of the Union. But, without presuming to intermeddle with the policy of the legis­lature, my design is, to hazard a few remarks upon the subject in general.

As I abhor the domination of prejudice, and, upon the strongest conviction, regard it as a tyrant, that if once brought to the guillotine, would (provided it is not of the Hydra kind) leave an opening for the intro­duction of an era far more friendly to the progress of genuine and corrected liberty, than the murder of all the humane, virtuous, and religious princes in the universe; so I most sincerely deprecate its despotism; and when­ever I seat myself, with the pen of inquiry, I am so­licitous to raise a rebellion against encroachments, that, however sanctioned by time, cannot, in my opinion, be considered in a court of equity, as legal or natural. The objections to theatrical amusements are many and plausible. I pretend not to decide for others; I would only investigate.

[Page 226] If I mistake not—Waste of time—Imprudent expen­ditures—Encouragement of idleness—and, Relaxation of morals, stand foremost in the catalogue of objections.

Prodigality of time, is indeed an irremediable evil; and if it can be proved, that an hour devoted to the theatre would certainly have been appropriated to any beneficial employment, for which no moment of leis­ure will in future present, I, for one, shall be impelled to allow the validity of the allegation; and, I do hereby invest such plea with full authority to detain every such person from all dramatical representations whatever: But, with the same breath I contend, that those evenings which are immolated at the shrine of Bacchus, which are loitered in a tavern, in unnecessary gossiping, cards, scandal, and the numerous vagaries of fashion, will be comparatively redeemed, if marked by an entertainment so incontrovertibly rational.

The complaint of exorbitant expenditures, is of a similar description. A friend of mine, who resided for some time abroad, once informed me, that he had frequent­ly been stopped, when in full career to the play-house, by a consideration that the indulgence he was about to procure himself, would supply some tearful sufferer with bread, for at least one whole week. Now, all such persons, provided they can make it appear, they are not in the use of any as expensive and more superflu­ous gratification, shall be released, upon their parole given, that they will absolutely and bona fide employ their six shillings to the aforesaid purpose.

To the third objection I cannot allow the smallest weight: Who, I would ask, are the Idlers? Perhaps there is no mode of life which requires more assiduous and laborious application, than that of a good and con­sistent actor. School exercises are certainly not the most pleasurable employments of adolescence; and ev­ery adult can tell, how much more easily he could imprint the memory of his early years, than that re­tention which is the accompaniment of his matured life. But the ambitious and principled actor hath past the age of flexibility, and still his days are, almost un­ceasingly, [Page 227] devoted to study: By frequent repetitions, such is the constitution of the mind, the finest senti­ments too often pall; and the well informed, in­genious and meritorious performer is in danger of losing his taste for the highest mental enjoyments; while the entertainment which he produces for oth­ers, is the result of unremitted and painful labour to himself.

Why then, permit me to ask, if he is solicitous to blend, with our amusements, the highest possible im­provement; if he professedly pursues the means of living; if his manners and his morals are unblemished; and if, by becoming stationary, he in effect takes rank with our citizens—why, I ask, is he so lightly esteemed? Surely, if, under the influence of reason, of gratitude and impartiality, I must unhesitatingly acknowledge, persons ardently engaged in procuring for us a ra­tional entertainment, are entitled to a degree of genuine re­spect, to encouragement, and even to patronage.

It is asserted, and the assertion does not appear un­founded, that a virtuous theatre is highly influential in regulating the opinions, manners, and morals of the populace.

Here we are naturally led to the fourth and last di­vision of our subject.

Relaxation of morals.—And I ask, Doth not a virtu­ous theatre exemplify the lessons which the ethic preacher labours to inculcate? I take it for granted, that none but a virtuous and well regulated theatre will be tolerated. In the southern and middle States, Philadelphia particularly, no performance can make its appearance upon the stage, without passing under the previous examination of the governor and two other respectable magistrates, who, by their avowed appro­bation, become responsible to the public for the merit of the piece. Similar restrictions will, perhaps, be adopted, wherever the Drama shall progress; and my confidence in the trustees of the Boston theatre, repre­sents to my view every apprehension, not only as super­fluous, but absolutely injurious.

[Page 228] Virtue then will be adorned with all her native love­liness, and vice exhibited, deformed and mishapen, as that detested hag, which Milton's energetic pen hath so hideously pourtrayed. Is there a bosom that will not hasten to embrace the one? Is there a mind that will not shrink with horror from the other? The man of firmness, of principle, and of worth innate; the mild, the consistent, the regular, the maternal fair one; these shall be rewarded with bursts of heart-felt applause; while the imbecile or irresolute votary of error, the unprincipled betrayer, the fraudulent villain, the licen­tious, perverse and abandoned female; these charac­ters shall be stigmatized with reproach, exhibited in their native atrocity, and set up as beacons to deter our young people from pursuing a path, which will render them odious to every person possessed of senti­ment and virtue.

Socrates, Cicero, and even Cato, have mingled with the audience in a theatre; and as it is presumed that the buffoonery of an Aristophanes will not be tolerated upon an American stage, it is pleasingly believed, that the dignity of years, of wisdom, and of virtue, will, in no instance, be outraged by the children of the Drama.

The Pompeys of our day, it is to be hoped, will learn many a useful lesson; they will commence stu­dents in the school of the rights of man; and, becoming proficients in the laws of equity and of nature, like the Roman general, they will retire from the theatre, converts to the virtuous and impartial designations of equality.

Religious worship, it is said, gave birth to the Drama; and under proper regulations, it may still conduce to acts of devotional piety. To Athens and to Rome, the theatre became a source of information, refined perception, and genuine morality; and we have only to avoid the causes which finally produced its de­generacy in the elder world, to continue it among us, in these States, an excellent exemplar and preservative of rectitude. The theatre opens a wide field for litera­ry exertions; and we anticipate a rich harvest of in­tellectual [Page 229] pleasure and improvement. The sons and daughters of fancy, the sentimentalist, and the moral­ist; these will engage in the interesting competition. They will consider that their productions are not in­tended barely for the amusement of a solitary hour; that the Drama, pointing every excellence, will im­print upon the heart the sentiment of worth; that it may be in their power to fashion, and to lead, a na­tional taste; that by exalting virtue, and adorning reli­gion, rendering vice disgusting, and stigmatizing infidelity, they will most effectually second the endeavours of that revered body, professedly engaged to beautify mo­rality, and elevate religion.

We trust that a spirit of laudable emulation will be excited; and while the summit of fame, in brighten­ing perspective, uprears its wreath-crowned head, writers will be animated to the splendid career, and with glowing ardour they will hasten forward to the desired goal. How delightful the employ! the mind, while engaged in painting the native charms of genu­ine and philanthropic religion, catching the fervour of divine inspiration, will necessarily become rectified and ameliorated by the delineation. Rectitude, a­dorned by her sister graces, heaven-born contentment, consequent felicity, and ever blooming joy—these will captivate every beholder. Economy, attired by her handmaid competence, with serene tranquillity, present­ing to view the peace reflecting mirror, will not fail of reclaiming from the paths of profligacy the most dissipated wanderer; and frugality and equity will remain prevalent in the mind. Nor will the exhibi­tion of vice be unattended with its salutary effects. Conviction will be pointed to the bosom of the aggres­sor; the deformity of atrocious offences, striking by illustrating examples, will present the disgusting figure, which the conscious culprit will assuredly recognize, and the probability is, that abhorrence and reforma­tion will ensue.

Shakespeare, that penetrating observer, skilful in­vestigator, and indisputable judge of the human heart, [Page 230] makes his Hamlet say, "I've heard, that guilty creatures, at a play, have, by the very cunning of the scene, been struck so to the soul, that presently they have proclaimed their male­factions. I'll have these players play something like the murder of my father, before my uncle." And again; "The play's the thing, wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king."

If it may be presumed, that the stated objections, thus considered, are obviated, I conceive it will not be denied that, from a chaste and discreetly regulated thea­tre, many attendant advantages will indisputably re­sult. Young persons will acquire a refinement of taste and manners; they will learn to think, speak, and act, with propriety; a thirst for knowledge will be originated; and from attentions, at first, perhaps, constituting only the amusement of the hour, they will gradually proceed to more important inquiries.

Clarinda Meanwell, the daughter of a gentleman whom I highly respect, whose education hath been upon the very best plan, continued nevertheless, for the first twenty years of her life, without manifesting the smallest literary curiosity. It was impossible to interest her, even in the pages of a novel; and what­ever she learned, was more the result of a disposition naturally conceding, than of voluntary application. A company of itinerant players visited her native vil­lage; the night of exhibition was announced, every body, as they phrased it, was going; but Miss Clarinda could not be animated to a wish for the entertainment; her accustomed complacency of disposition yielded her, however, the companion of her associates; the piece was interesting; it forcibly seized her faculties; it pos­sessed, to her, in every sense, the charms of novelty; for the world she would not be absent upon any fu­ture occasion. In the course of the day preceding a theatrical entertainment, that she might the better comprehend the several parts, the play-book was in her hand, a laudable spirit of inquiry obtained in her bosom, and with amazing rapidity she ran through, and compassed the sense of every volume within her [Page 231] reach. History, geography, astronomy—in all these, her proficiency is prodigious; and, in one word, I hardly know a better informed, or more amiable young woman in the circle of my acquaintance. But Cla­rinda Meanwell is not a solitary instance; and as I have very frequently observed the good effects of dra­matical representations, I trust that my readers are enough acquainted with a heart, the feelings of which I have, upon various occasions, essayed to sketch, to give me full credit, for that throb of deep-felt compla­cency, which I experienced upon receiving informa­tion of the elegant and superb theatre, which hath so recently been erected for the reception of the Drama, in the State of Massachusetts.

And here, gentle reader, I would with all my soul gratify thee by a full and complete description of this well built and beautifully decorated mansion of the Muses—such as it appeared upon the first drawing up of the curtain; but from the multiplicity of ideas which then crowded the mind, it is impossible to pre­pare an accurate description, and as I write for posteri­ty, I would not willingly leave a single pillar, capital, architrave, entablature, or cornice, unnoted: Fu­ture opportunies may present, and, if I am not fore­stalled, a future Gleaner may delineate the building. My brother Russell hath already informed thee, that "the house was filled from the lowest note to the top of the compass;" and his observations upon the audi­ence may be recognized by truth. The long expected era arrived; it was indeed replete with expectation—the interposing veil was thrown back, and that pleas­ing actor, whose eulogy hath been so frequently pro­nounced, made his entrance amid the most unequivo­cal demonstrations of satisfaction which a sensible, an­ticipating, and admiring assembly could exhibit. The effects of a reception, which must have been every way adequate to his wishes, were pleasingly evinced, by a susceptibility honorary to the manly character; and the prologue then first vibrated upon the public ear, [Page 232] with every advantage, which that truly classical per­formance so indisputably merits.

That this prefatory address is a genuine prologue, notwithstanding every objection which hath been ad­vanced, I take leave to affirm. What can so proper­ly be constituted the harbinger of a dramatic perform­ance, as a succinct account of that drama it is intend­ed to introduce? and what so natural for a general dedication of a theatre, as a delineation of the prog­ress of the art, to which it is consecrated? If variety, and richness of imagery, classical allusions, found mo­rality, nervous expressions, beauty of diction, and much information, constitute a first rate poem, the prologue is certainly invested with the fairest pretensions to the honorary palm. To point out all its beauties, it would be necessary to insert the composition entire; yet I cannot forbear repeating the following charm­ingly figurative lines:

And again,

The allusion to the general deluge is strikingly and inimitably beautiful. The poet was most happy in this thought: I think I have not seen it surpassed; and I question if the Shakespearian panegyrists have ever yet done that immortal bard more ample justice, than he hath received in these finely expressed lines:

I have a strong propensity to go on transcribing; but, full many a time, hath the recollection of the [Page 233] stinted pages of a Magazine, damped the most fervid wishes of my soul. Mr. Paine hath certainly done himself great honour; and I congratulate my country on the possession of a genius, which, in the very morn of manhood, hath boldly seized the golden fruit of maturity. The Poet must doubtless feel himself much exhilerated, as he contemplates the well earned guerdon of superior talents; yet I dare say that he will wear his honours with becoming meekness; and when it is remembered, that Sophocles, the illustrious ornament and patron of the Grecian drama, absolutely died of joy, upon obtaining from his competitors the prize of merit, adjudged him for one of his tragedies, our youthful hard will be tolerated in a considerable expansion of pleasurable feelings.

The play was admirably chosen; it is a time hon­oured piece; and it contains many sentiments, which can never reverberate upon the ear of sensibility with­out speaking to the finest feelings of the soul. In the very first scene, in the first act, our attention is forci­bly arrested, and we cannot avoid taking the deepest interest in the disguised hero, although immured in the mines of Dalecarlia; and while "stretch'd there, where reigns eternal night, the flint his pillow, and cold damps his coverings; yet we behold him bold of spirit, and robust of limb, throwing inclemency aside, superior to the lot of human frailty." With Anderson, spontaneously, "we breathe the voice of virtue, of cordial amity, from man to man, and that benignity that whispers to the soul, to seek and cheer the sufferer."

The sentiments of Anderson, of Arnoldus, and of Gustavus, are the very soul of valour, benevolence, patriotism, and every shining virtue. The subsequent discovery, the entrance of Arvida—the tenderness, the amity of heroes is personified, and we experience an exquisite satisfaction, in yielding our applause to those Dalecarlians, of whom Gustavus says, "I've search'd these men, and find them like the soil, barren without, and to the eye unlovely; but they've their mines within them, and this the day I mean to prove them."

[Page 234] The character of Cristiern is a complete exemplifi­cation of whatever is detestable in a tyrant: Perhaps no language can more concisely group the traits, which go to the composition of the insufferable des­pot, than the following: "Wretches! shall I go por­ing on the earth, lest my imperial foot should tread on emmets?"

The trial of Arvida is admirably conceived; it was an ordeal adequate to the warrior, the lover, and the friend. In the struggles which lacerate his manly bo­som, we take a deep and affecting part, and every feeling of benevolence would invest him with that hon­ied balm, which he so well describes—"Yes, peace has sweets that Hybla never knew: It sleeps on down, cull'd gently from beneath the Cherub's wing—no bed for mortals—Man is warfare—all a hurricane within."

Christina's description of Gustavus, is the breathings of virgin purity, and it cannot fail of captivating the bosom of virtue—"But, O Heaven, what then was my amazement! He was chain'd, was chain'd, my Mariana! Like the robes of coronation, worn by youthful kings, [...]e drew his shackles. The Herculean nerve brac'd his young arm; and, soften'd in his cheek, liv'd more than woman sweetness! Then his eyes! his mein! his native dignity! He look'd as though he led captivity in chains, and all were slaves around." When to the portrait, drawn by love and fancy, we add the finishing touches of the veteran soldier, we shall not hesitate to do homage to a model so perfect: "Fear fled before; behind him rout grew loud, and distant wonder gaz'd—At length he turn'd, and, having ey'd me with a wond'rous look of sweetness mix'd with glory—grace inestimable!— [...]e pluck'd this bracelet from his conqu'ring arm, and bound it here—my wrist seem'd trebly nerv'd; my heart spoke to him, and I did such deeds as best might thank him—but from that bless'd day I never saw him more—yet still to this I bow, as to the relics of my saint: Each morn I drop a tear on every bead, count all the glories of Gustavus o'er, and think I still behold him." These animated and combining tes­timonials, prepare us to hear the illustrious chief him­self; [Page 235] and he arrests, from every sentiment of the soul, the full tide of approbation. "Approach, my fellow soldiers, your Gustavus claims no precedence here; friend­ship like mine throws all respect behind it—'Tis enough—I read your joys, your transports in your eyes; and wou'd, O wou'd I had a life to spend for every soldier here! whose every life's far dearer than my own; dearer than aught, except your liberty, except your honour." But it is not enough that Gustavus is the finished patriot and un­daunted warrior; the milder virtues too are natal in his bosom: Suspicion cannot take root in a soil so noble. "If thou hast aught to urge against Arvida, the man of virtue, tell it not the wind, lest slander catch the sound, and guilt should triumph." The interview be­tween the matchless friends, is uncommonly high wrought, and supported too upon the best principles. Unlike our modern votaries of an illusion, which they blasphemously term honour, Gustavus, innately elevated, esteems it no diminution of his glory, to develop a mystery, which was on the point of precipitating his Arvida into irretrievable ruin. How doth the expla­nation dignify the hero, and how generously pathetic is his defence of the beguiled chief: "Unhappy man! my heart bleeds for thee: false I had surely been, had I like thee been tempted." But the self-reproach which had planted all its daggers in the bosom of Arvida, pro­claims him the proper object of a hero's confidence, and we most sincerely join issue in his conclusion: "Pardon can expiate; it is the lethean sweet, the snow of heaven, new blanching o'er the black'ning front of guilt, [...]at, to the eye of mercy, all appears fair as the unwritten page."

To the bosom of filial piety, the apology of Chris­tina is a necessary and timely relief: "Had I to death or bondage sold my sire, or had Gustavus on our native realms made hostile inroad! then, my Mariana! had I then sav'd him from the stroke of justice, I should not cease my suit for pardon. But if, though in a foe, to reverence virtue, withstand oppression, rescue injured innocence, step boldly in betwixt my sire and guilt, and save my king, my [Page 236] father from dishonour; if this be sin, I have shook hands with penitence. First perish crowns, dominion, all the shine and transience of this world, ere guilt shall serve to buy the vain incumbrance." The address of Augusta to the kneeling beauty, is beyond expression charming: "Ha! who art thou, that looks so like the 'habitants of heaven, like mercy sent upon the morning's blush, [...] glad the heart, and cheer a gloomy world with light, tilt now unknown?"

Upon the ear, hallowed by the benign voice of the Saviour of sinners, the following sentiment must har­moniously vibrate: "Soft and sweet as looks of charity, or voice of lambs that bleat upon the morning, are the words of christian meekness! mission all divine—the law of love, soul mandate!" Thus spake the man who "from the breast, from out the swathing-bands, stepp'd the true child of honour." The scene between Gustavus and the ven­erable matron to whom he owed his being, together with the tender fears of that soul-affecting bud of in­nocence, his infant sister, is almost too much for the feelings of humanity; and the sensations of my bo­som spontaneously thanked the judicious Manager, who expunged the whole scene of the lifeless bodies, the bier, &c. The heart of susceptibility is sufficiently wrung, while listening to the agonized chief. "Then she's gone—Arvida! Anderson! forever gone!—Arnoldus, friends, where are ye? Help here! heave, heave this moun­tain from me—O Heaven, keep my senses!—so we will to battle; but let no banners wave: Be still, thou trump, and every martial sound that gives the war to pomp or levity; for vengeance now is clad with heavy arms, sedately stern, re­solv'd, [...]t silent." I confess, I am happy to find the prin­cess of Denmark again in the path of duty—what justness of sentiment—"Patience and peace possess thy mind; not all the pride of empire e'er gave such bless'd sensations, as one, one hour of penitence, though painful; let us hence, far from the blood and bustle of ambition. Be it my task to watch thy rising wish, to smooth thy brow, find comfort for thy cares, and for thy will, obedience; still to cheer the day with smiles, and lay thee nightly down beneath thy slum­bers."

[Page 237] Gustavus, the victorious Gustavus, is still the same as in the mines of Dalecarlia. "No, matchless men! my brothers of the war, be it my greatest glory to have mix'd my arms with yours, and to have fought for once, like to a Dalecarlian—like to you. The sires of honour, of a now born fame, to be transmitted from your great memorial, to climes unknown, to age succeeding age, till time shall verge upon eternity, and patriots be no more." And again, "Fear not, the fence of virtue is a chief's best caution; and the firm surety of my people's hearts, is all the guard that e'er shall wait Gustavus. I am a soldier from my youth; yet, Anderson, these wars, where man must wound himself in man, have somewhat shocking in them; trust me, friend, except in such a cause as this day's quarrel, I would not shed a single wretch's blood for the world's em­pire."

The royal maid is also still consistent, still equal with herself, when "pleading for a father, for a dear, much lov'd, if cruel, yet unhappy father." But far sur­passing all that is excellent, she bursts upon us with more than mortal glory, when, with all the dignity of sex, we mark, to the lov'd, victorious, supplicating chief, her incomparable reply—"Now aid me, all ye chaster powers that guard a woman's weakness!—'tis re­solv'd—thy own example charms thy suit to silence. Nor think alone to bear the palm of virtue—thou who hast taught the world, when duty calls, to throw the bar of every wish behind them. Exalted in that thought, like thee I rise, while every lessening passion sinks beneath me. Adieu, adieu, most honoured, first of men! I go, I part, I fly, but to de­serve thee!" And again, in return to the hero's re­monstrance—"The bond of virtue, friendship's sacred tie, the lover's pains, and all the sister's fondness, mine has the flame of every love within it. But I've a father, guilty if he be, yet is he old; if cruel, yet a father. Abandon'd now by every supple wretch that fed his years with flattery, I'm all that's left to calm, to soothe his troubled soul to penitence, to virtue; and perhaps, restore the better empire o'er his mind, true seat of all dominion—Yet, Gustavus, yet there are mightier reasons—O farewel! had I ne'er [Page 238] lov'd, I might have staid with honour." This finishing of the character of Christina, is unexpected, and, in my opinion, completes the beauty and symmetry of the performance.

It is impossible to give language to the feelings of an attentive and susceptible audience during the rep­resentation of this masterly composition. The finished elegance of the building, the surrounding lights, the brilliant assembly, so strikingly contrasting the stage scene, where was exhibited the country of Dalecarlia, the tents in perspective, the hardy veterans, arrayed in martial order, passing in review, &c. &c. all this, to­gether with the novelty of arrangements, so far sur­passing what we had ever before witnessed, was, in truth, inexpressibly captivating.

The distant country of the admired chief seemed in reality extended to our view; and, for myself, I am free to own, that as I glanced my eye from the stage, to the throng of respectable citizens, occupying the pit, boxes, and galleries; as I observed the marked attention in the never deceptive eye, the solemn stillness, the tender tear upon the cheek of beauty, and the hu­mid eye of manhood, with the alternate bursts of ap­plause, betokening congenial virtues—as I marked these effects, the agitation of my bosom became well near ungovernable.

On the performers, perhaps, I ought not to hazard a remark. As an American, comparatively new to ob­servations of this nature, I cannot be supposed a com­petent judge; yet, so complete was my satisfaction, that I did not hear without pain, that many individu­als expressed displeasure; and I can only account for this by a supposition that there expectations were too high raised to admit of gratification in the present in­fancy of our Drama.

Surely it ought to be remembered, that the plant, however luxuriant, doth not, immediately on being removed to a foreign soil, continue its pristine vigour; and candor hath already observed that the prohibited play then first arresting the attention of the performers, [Page 239] could not, in so early an exhibition, obtain, in the rep­resentation, the perfection of which it is doubtless sus­ceptible. Yet we think it must be acknowledged, that Mr. Powell, in the character of Cristiern, inspired all those abhorrent feelings which the poet intended to originate; that Mr. Jones supported with admirable kill the part of Trollio, and that the Swedish priest, by so finely contrasting the treachery and baleful tal­ents of the infamous bishop, presented to the mind a most agreeable relief. Such should always figure a herald of genuine religion.

Gratitude and faithfulness, in the character of Laer­tes, were persuasively delineated by his representative. Mr. S. Powell seemed indeed Arvida; and Gustavus shone upon us enriched with native splendour.

In the female parts, the beauty and propriety of fil­ial piety, the captivating magic of the tender pas­sion, the dignity of the princess and the woman, were strikingly exemplified by Miss Harrison; her pronun­ciation was distinct, her emphasis generally proper, and her gestures naturally expressive.

The Spartan virtues personified in Augusta, and en­twining all the tenderness of the maternal character, demanded the most glowing, dignified, and deeply [...] action. We conceive the first theatrical abil­ities were requisite to the performing this part with propriety.

The young Gustava was truly interesting; nor was there a sympathizing mother present, whose bosom did not throb to snatch from the envenomed talons of the fell destroyer the soul-affecting innocent. Mariana was not destitute of merit; she seemed to deserve the place she occupied in the confidence of the royal virgin.

To the comic powers, exhibited upon that evening, ample justice has been done. Unequivocal demonstra­tions of applause resounded from every corner of the house, and, for my part, I congratulate the sons of Momus with all my heart; for, having never yet been [Page 240] able to conceive the smallest evil in laughter, simply considered, I cannot but give my vote in favour of cor­rected mirth. Mr. Collins, Miss Baker, &c. &c. these have all received the tributary laurel; and I do not feel in the least disposed to enter my caveat upon this occasion.

The Gleaner confesses that his expectations were more than answered; but the Gleaner hath never wit­nessed the theatrical abilities of a Garrick, or a Sid­dons; nor is he certain he ought to regard this as a misfortune.

It is always invidious to point out faults; at least it is to me an unpleasing task. From an infant stage I look for improvement. The time will arrive when the performers will in no instance "O'erstep the modesty of Nature." Even tragedy may deal too much in starts: It should be energetic; it should be pathetic; but the pompous swell and strut, make no part of its excellence. Ease and elegance are the naivette of com­edy, and its features are the features of polished and corrected nature.

But I repeat, I look for improvement; gradually we shall progress; the performers will think more of the audience, and they will, by consequence, appear to think less; in other words, they will seem to forget the circles that attend them. Their frequent appeals by eye and hand will insensibly subside; and, through the whole of the representation, they will see the propriety of addressing the person, or persons, to whom they are supposed particularly to speak. In one word—the au­dience will refine the players, and the players will re­fine the audience.

N^o. XXV.

I HAVE often thought, that serious and well dis­posed believers of the heathen mythology, must have found themselves wonderfully impelled to acts of devotional piety. It was scarcely possible for such persons to pursue their course in any direction, which did not present to their external optics, or to the eye of their imagination, beings who were, in their estimation, proper objects of adoration. A respectable writer de­scribes the vast universe as the solemn temple of the pagans; and, we may add, that in every division of this superb fane, altars, sacred to their various rituals present. The empire of fancy is thronged by person­ified ideas; the prosopopoeia is easy, and gods and goddesses cluster in every walk. Hesiod, in his gene­alogical history of the heathen deities, delineates thirty thousand of these dignified beings, and an indulgent imagination readily invests them with their peculiar properties and offices.

To the child of fancy, sheltered in the sequestered grove from the intense heat of summer, the salutary breeze which gently agitates the leaves is the rosy breath of the winged zephyrus, and the murmuring of that stream, which winds its glassy course, is the soft sighing of a river nymph, while, with equal ingenuity, amid the pelting storm, he considers the hoarse bellow­ing of the winds as the sonorous voice of some potent god.

Neptune grasps his trident, and holds dominion in the vast world of waters. Pluto, borne in his sable chariot, bears the keys of ages and of dea [...]; while Jupiter, ascending the skies, mounts his throne of ivory, extending in his right hand the avenging thunder-bolt, [Page 242] and in his left the sceptre of sovereignty. To these suc­ceed a train of subordinate immortals, all possessing their peculiar attributes, and occupying their various departments. Of the seasons of the year, the fruits of the earth, and the different stages of life, infancy, adolescence, maturity, and old age, a presiding deity took charge. In the catalogue of divinities, every virtue found its patron and its patroness; nay, among this multifarious generation of immortals, even the reprehensible passions were not destitute of their pro­tectors. The sincere votary of this mythology, I say, must have been continually stimulated to acts which his directory assured him were proper and necessary; and, for my own part, I am free to own, that however fanciful reason may consider this fabulous hierarchy, I see no impropriety, in still allowing it, in the works of imagination, a visionary being; and poetry, certainly, even to the present era, gathers some of its most orna­mental flowers from this magical, or legendary garden of antiquity.

The history of the heathen gods and goddesses is so interwoven with the occurrences of ancient times, that it is impossible to peruse those venerable pages with advantage, without a competent knowledge of their various characters and powers. I remember, when Margaretta was a child, I began a little biographical volume, which entitling a Theogeny, the better to captivate her attention, I threw into doggerel verse. My design was, to give a succinct account of those de­ities who had figured in history, and who still hold their rank in some of our best poetical performances. An attention to business prevented my completing this bagatelle; but I am not sure that I shall not look it up, giving it a form, and the last polish, for the ben­efit of her children.

If we trace the traditionary fables which make up the bulk of the pagan system, we shall generally find they originate in some momentous and incontroverti­ble truth; and however they may have been combined and adulterated, in the various channels through which [Page 243] they have adventitiously passed, they still retain some features, which, to the eye of observation, sufficiently evince their august parentage.

Through the labyrinth of error, the scriptuarian often follows a clew, which leads him directly to the fundamental principles of that revealed religion, which he reverences as of God, which he believes to be most holy, and which he receives as the ground of his pres­ent tranquillity, and his future hopes.

That chaos, which Hesiod dignifies by the appella­tion of The Father of the Gods, Moses simply calls The earth, without form and void. Hesiod's relation is undoubtedly an allegorical account, wherein the vari­ous parts of nature are personified, of that history of the creation, which the Hebrew writer; in language na­tural and beautifully sublime, so inimitably narrated. Writers have appeared, who have supposed the fable of Prometheus to have taken rise in the character of Noah; others imagine they trace the features of the second founder of mankind in Deucalion. Plausible reasons are adduced for these conjectures; but perhaps we hazard less, in yielding credence to the respectable Boc [...]art, who conceived this favourite of the Almigh­ty to have been worshipped, in succeeding times, by the name and attributes of Saturn. The golden age which is placed under the administration of that deity; the tranquillity, friendship, and innocence, which is said to have reigned in the bosom of every description of mankind; the perpetual spring which invariably flourished; the temperate serenity of the atmosphere, neither veiled by gathering clouds, nor deformed by bursting storms; these, and similar arrangements, un­doubtedly proclaim the interposition of some philan­thropic prince, or benefactor of the race.

The history of the Deucalion flood, if not a descrip­tion, by another name, of the general deluge, bears, nevertheless, strong marks of affinity thereto. Lucian, giving some account of Syria, where it is said the del­uge of Deucalion originated, assures us, ‘That the Greeks assert in their fables, that the first men being [Page 244] of an insolent and cruel disposition, inhuman, inhos­pitable, and regardless of their faith, were all de­stroyed by a deluge—the earth pouring forth vast streams of water’—(in the Mosaic language, the fountains of the great deep were broken up)—‘swell­ed the rivers, which, together with the rains, made the sea rise above its banks and overflow the land, so that all was laid under water: That Deucalion alone, saved himself and family in the ark: That two of each kind of wild and tame animals, losing their animosity, entered into it of their own accord: That this Deucalion floated upon the waters, until they became assuaged, and that he then repaired the human race.’ Writers also describe the eminence which arrested the course of this vessel; and by the authority of the celebrated biographer, Plutarch, we catch a glimpse of the issuing dove which Abydenus denominates a certain fowl, that being twice let out of the ark, and finding no place of rest, returned into the vessel.

The metaphor of Pandora, it is conceived, may be easily developed. The beauty, wisdom, various intel­lectual endowments, matchless eloquence, and harmo­nic powers, with every other combining charm, which so eminently distinguished that accomplished vision, are picturesque of the assemblage of graces that digni­fied and adorned our general mother, while yet, array­ed in spotless innocence, she presided the sovereign lady of those blissful regions, which her presence rendered so truly interesting, and which she was so well calcula­ted to embellish. The mischief consequent upon the disobedience of the first woman, are exactly figured by the catalogue of ills which followed the opening of Pandora's box; and poor humanity hath ever since been doomed to lament the discord, anarchy, anger, envy, calumny, crimes in their variety; wars, famine, diseases, pestilence, decrepitude, old age, and death, which escaped thence—yet hope, blest hope, remained at bottom, and the christian investigator will not fail, in this expressive figure, to recognize the promise given [Page 245] to the fair delinquent, ere yet her trembling footsteps were exiled from that elysium, which, previous to her devious wanderings, she was so well skilled to cultivate and beautify.

The fable of Typhon, and the rest of the giants, with the daring temerity of those hideous monsters; their audacious insult upon the residence of the celes­tials, and their levelling war with the gods; all these astonishing circumstances may find their origin in the Hebrew historian, who describes the earth as bearing a race of men of uncommon stature, and complicated atrocity; who delineates the tower of Babel, and the defeat of that impious confederacy. The design form­ed by Agamemnon, of immolating, upon the altar of idolatry, his unoffending daughter, may be nothing more than a vitiated tradition of that illustrious period in the life of the patriarch Abraham, which exhibits him as preparing, at the command of the Almighty, to sacrifice as a burnt offering, that son, then a beard­less youth, among whose descendants he had been [...] to expect the Shiloh, to whom the gathering of the people should be. But however amusing the tracing this analogy may be, were I to pursue so fruit­ful a subject, I should assuredly multiply words beyond the indulgence of my readers.

It is evident from sacred and profane history, that in the beginning, one only Omnipotent, Omnipresent, and Omniscient Sovereign of the universe, was deem­ed a proper object of adoration; and this unknown Being was devoutly hailed as life, light, and wisdom. All created beings were supposed to be beneficently di­rected by a self-existent and eternal mind to the preser­vation, protection, and final felicity of the whole. This great First Cause, ere yet the imagination of men had clothed him in the habiliments of caprice, was addressed under several appellations. Perhaps the ra­tional religionist of every age hath found no difficulty in adopting the language of Seneca—"By Jove," says that celebrated Roman, "the wise men among the an­cients, did not mean such a one as we see in the capitol, [Page 246] and other temples, but the Guardian and Ruler of the universe, a Mind and Spirit, the Master and Artificer of this mundane fabric, whom every title suits. Would you call him Fate? you will not err; for he it is on whom all things depend: The Cause of causes. Would you call him Providence? you are in the right; for by his wisdom is the world directed; hence it moves un­shaken, and performs its every office. Would you call him Nature? 'tis not amiss; since from him all things proceed; and by his Spirit we live. If you call [...] [...] the World, 'tis well; for he is all in all, and [...] by his own power." It is not strange that a lively and pious imagination, should gradually deify the attributes and favours of so unsearchable, august, and beneficent a being. Thus the family of the gods claim their origin; and, in process of time, the depravity of mankind en­dowing them with absurd and reprehensible passions, rendered them in their descriptions altogether like un­to themselves. Respectable persons of both sexes were next pressed into this sacred order, and thus the multi­farious catalogue was swelled to an enormous size. The joys, the sorrows, the apprehensions, and the ca­lamities of mankind, supplied the materials from which the convenient deity was shaped; the apotheosis was conferred, and divine honours were next in course.

It is needless to inform thee, gentle reader, that I am no pagan. The heathen system is long since ex­ploded; and we have, by common consent, circum­scribed their deities within comparatively narrow bounds; but yet it may be a question, whether in ceding to them the empire of imagination, in leaving the domain of fancy open to their jurisdiction, we have not assigned them circles which are sufficiently ample. However, be this as it may, I am free to own, that while I trace in the Jupiter of antiquity many of the features of that Omnipotent, who presideth over the informed mind of more refined ages, arguing from analogy, I am fond of conceiving, that not a few of their subor­dinate traditions originating in truth, may thus possess a right to claim their ancestry in the invisible world.

[Page 247] A plastic and beneficent hand, fashioning and up­holding the great and various productions of nature, is momently evinced, both to sense and to reason. A thousand circumstances assure me that I exist by the omnific power of a self-existent Being; an innate per­suasion of immortality triumphs in my bosom; I con­fidently expect a never ending futurity. Those who are departed are not lost: they have only obtained an earlier emancipation; in the general assembly I shall rejoin them—the social virtues, commencing on earth, shall be perfected in heaven; amity shall wear a never dying wreath; and, progressing in knowledge, we shall of course recognize those with whom, while habited in garments of mortality, we have tasted the pleasures re­sulting from a sentimental intercourse.

The doctrine of guardian seraphs—this also makes a part of my creed. Some bright celestial was com­missioned at my birth, to preside over my infantile years, and to continue the attendant of my mortal ca­reer. During the hour which shall terminate my pres­ent mode of being, he will be busy round the bed of death, and he will gratulate, with ineffable transport, the liberated spirit. "Myriads of beings tread this globe unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep." I per­suade myself that truth guided the pen of the poet in this assertion. The gross film of mortality veils for the present the visual ray; yet there are, who have been so favoured, even while sojourning in terrestrial abodes, as to catch a glimpse of those natives of Elysium; and the period hastens when the wide expanse shall be outspread before us. But beside those beneficent ser­aphs who, with angelic vigils guard our path, the shades of departed friends hover round; and, when worn by sickness or by sorrow, the gradually attenuated machine admits, through apertures thus made, the dawning light of paradise. These tenderly interested and sym­pathizing denizens of the celestial world, not unfre­quently, with mildly sympathizing aspect, stand con­fessed to the patient sufferer, pointing him, with the finger of affiance, to that opening heaven, upon which [Page 248] he is so apparently verging: And hence perhaps it is, that the period of dissolution is seldom to the expiring individual, marked with those horrors, which in a state of health and vigour are commonly anticipated. Pos­sibly the felicity of those who have bid adieu to time, may not be completed until the final consummation, which shall present the family of man entire. They may witness our actions; when our conduct is marked by regularity and propriety, we insure their approba­tion. When, deviating from the line of rectitude, we engage in reprehensible pursuits, we incur the censure of beatified spirits, and they experience that kind of pain to which immortals of this description may be subjected; the lustre of celestial visages are dimmed; a transient cloud obscures their brightening joys, and the pearly drop of regret suffuses the radiant eye of seraphic pleasure.

What a forcible incentive to a perseverance in the career of virtue, do considerations of this nature fur­nish! The eye of my mind is at this moment thrown upon an amiable and elegant woman, whom I have long known; her whole life hath exhibited a uniform exemplification of every social, every humane, and ev­ery endearing excellence; her conjugal engagement hath been remarked, for some uncommonly splendid traits, and the chaste correctness of her manners have been regarded as the pattern of feminine demeanour. Her married life hath comprised a period of forty years. She has never been a mother, and yet perhaps the an­nals of her sex cannot produce a more perfect model of the maternal character. No less than twenty or­phan girls, at different periods of time, with great care, assiduity and tenderness she hath genteelly edu­cated. By her assistance and patronage, they are com­fortably established, and they look up to her, as the revered source of their every enjoyment.

She is even now, in the present advanced stage of her life, surrounded by a virgin train, who pay her honours, surpassed only by those which they devote to heaven. She hath her stated days of festivity, the [Page 249] return of which are very frequent, when she summon­eth her children, as she calls them—all those who have taken rank in families of their own, to join with her in tender and grateful commemorations. No sove­reign, attended by the dependants upon his bounty, ev­er looked round with half the exultation, which, upon these occasions, glows in, and elevates her bosom. The figure is not good—she is not a sovereign, she is a ten­der parent, regarded with the cheerful eye of duteous affection, by the little community which her own hand hath formed to virtue and to happiness.

It was on one of those convivial days, that, induced by curiosity, I lately looked in upon her. She was seated in the midst of the pleased and pleasing assem­bly. Methought I had never seen an object more in­terestingly beautiful: Yes, beautiful, for the wrinkles of her face possessed more charms, than adorn the red and white of the polished skin of that giddy flutterer, whom all the energy of sentiment could never raise to the en­nobling swell of elevated thought or exemplary action. Dignity was impressed upon her every feature, and it was impossible she could fail of inspiring the venerat­ing glow of admiration. I was coxcomb enough to pay her a flourishing compliment, which I concluded with pronouncing decisively—The reward of your be­nevolence, undoubtedly, Madam, will be very great.

Echoing my last words with inimitable grace, she replied, "Will be very great? Trust me, dear Sir, I have no arrearages to demand. If, as you say, I have obtained the approbation of the good, that approbation is of itself a rich reward; and, Mr. Vigillius," placing her hand upon her breast, "I have peace at home; the plaudit of my own bosom is indeed of countless worth; besides which, the duteous complacency at this mo­ment imprinted upon the countenances of these dear girls, is in truth a great and immeasurable reward; every decent gesture, every proper action, every grate­ful expression, have still continued to me, through a course of many years, a ready source, from which I have momently derived a ceaseless and abundant rec­ompense. [Page 250] And, Sir, if you will indulge me so far, I will confess a sentiment which hath, through life, very forcibly operated upon my mind. I have ever suppos­ed myself constantly under the inspection of numerous, although viewless, witnesses of my actions. These en­circling spectators I have regarded as beings of the an­gelic order, associating with those spirits who were once clothed in mortality; and the approbating smile of celestial joy, which I have considered as illuming the seraphic countenances of the progenitors of these my adopted children, while they have seen me busied about their offspring, engaged in eradicating the evil, pru­ning the luxuriant growth of sentiments, equitable in their source, and in directing and cherishing the prin­ciples of rectitude. Such observance, and such com­placent applause hath frequently given energy to my efforts, placed me buoyant upon the utmost stretch of that invention, which is sometimes necessary to allure to virtue the steps of youth, and abundantly strength­ened, encouraged, and confirmed me in those walks, which lead, as I conceive, to the paradise of the good. And, Sir, you will give me leave to add, that ideas of this kind obtaining in my mind, operate at once as an incitement to regularity of conduct, and constituteth a fund, from which I can freely draw the largest com­pensation."

The Gleaner joins issue with these conjectures; by this controverted hypothesis, he confesseth his mind is essentially influenced; nor can he, gentle reader, con­ceive it dangerous to embrace opinions which probably are the offspring of truth, which wear an auspicious aspect upon the interests of mankind, which produce benevolence in their operation, which furnish motives for goodness, and which stimulate to every proper, ev­ery becoming action.

That scepticism, which is the growth of false reason and degenerated philosophy, may abide during the calm serene of the vernal or summer breezes, which make up the gentle and prosperous gales of life; but, being the superstructure of false and insidious conclu­sions; [Page 251] in other words, being bottomed upon the sand, it will fall before the mountain torrent, before the com­bined and desolating storms of wintry time; and, bend­ing under the accumulated pressure of mighty ills, the dweller in humanity will of necessity lift up his men­tal eye to some propitious, although invisible power, who, he will conceive, is adequate to his assistance.

By the self poized hero, and the worshipper of chance, the Gleaner, henceforward, may be accounted a ridiculous visionary: But he is persuaded that the Christian religionist will enlist upon his side—for in the oracles of his God, the scripturian will find, that the Author and Finisher of his faith, hath sanctioned the idea of guardian spirits, where he pronounces that the angels of the sojourners in mortality, do always be­hold the face of Omnipotence.

The immediate disciples of the Redeemer spoke confidently of the angel of Peter: And the apostle to the Hebrews characterizes the angels, as spirits, ministring unto the heirs of salvation. Upon our knowledge of de­ceased persons, the scene displayed upon the mount of transfiguration, decides: For Peter said—Lord, if thou wilt, let us make here three tabernacles; one for Moses, one for Elias, and one for thee. And Jesus speaketh of sitting down in the kingdom of heaven with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

The Gleaner perceives, while embracing this per­suasion, viz. the doctrine of angels and of spirits, that a most pleasing tranquillity pervades his mind; and he cannot willingly relinquish it, except, in ex­change for sentiments, that he can conceive more di­vinely consolatory, or more morally influential.

N^o. XXVI.
[WRITTEN APRIL, 1794.]

THAT melancholy pause, and extreme dejection, which at this present so apparently pervades every order of citizens among us, is, methinks, rather derogatory to the American character. The question, relative to opening the temple of Janus, seems to be agitated with unbecoming warmth; and a zeal, not properly tempered by knowledge, is, I conceive, strik­ingly exemplified by every party.

That our country hath, during a most auspicious period, been borne forward upon the full tide of pros­perity, no one but the embittered, the cynical, or the interested incendiary, will deny. Peace, with her ol­ive wreath, was to us the celestial harbinger of unex­ampled felicity; agriculture hath flourished in prime­val beauty, fostered on the bosom of liberty, and fan­ned by the genial airs of the meek-eyed goddess, it is rapidly approximating the highest perfection of which it is susceptible. Our manufactures have surprisingly advanced. Our navigation is extensive; almost every stream conveys the well freighted bark; and our com­merce, wafted by the breezy gale, hath accumulated riches upon the far distant shore. Whether trade ought not to partake in some degree the nature of its fa­vourite elements; and whether under the general reg­ulations of rectitude, it would not find its own advan­tageous and equal balance, may be considered as prob­lematical: at any rate, unaided by treaties of commerce, our merchants, obtaining the object of their wishes, have, in many instances, found their enterprizes crown­ed with uncommon success.

[Page 253] The arts and sciences are also attaining naturaliza­tion in our soil; and literature, blest source of rational elevation, literature hath enlisted its votaries: The ex­tensive and energetic movements of the soul are afloat; the sciences and the virtues love the venerable shades and sequestered haunts of liberty; and, cultivated suc­cessfully in this new world, we had hoped they would become patrons of frugality, temperance, and that ho­ly religion, which smootheth the bed of death.

Our citizens, intuitively, as it should seem, had be­come sensible of that indiscriminate advantage, derived to the community in general, where each individual re­ceives from the common fund, and where every member con­tributes his quota, for the benefit of the whole; in one word, every one seemed sensible of the blessings of a good government, and federalism was the basis, on which we were successfully building the superstructure of ev­ery thing useful, every thing virtuous, every thing or­namental. What a fearful and destructive hydra is faction! War is its eldest born, and with the eye of the basilisk it seeketh to annihilate the cherub peace. Dreadful is the progress of war; it is retrograde to almost every virtue; the duties of benevolence it in­verteth; it enjoineth upon every individual to afflict and harass by every possible means. Cultivation is no more. Destruction, with shocking exultation, ex­erciseth in every goodly walk its fatally blasting influence. Population laments its murdered millions; the earth is humectated by the blood of our fellow crea­tures; and those infernal demons, discord and malice, are glutted by the calamities of the human species. A late elegant writer inimitably pourtrays the conse­quences even of successful war; perhaps a review of the picture may be of use.—‘We must fix our eyes not on the hero returning with conquest, nor yet on the gallant officer dying on the bed of honour, the subject of picture and of song; but on the private sol­dier, forced into the service; exhausted by camp sick­ness and fatigue; pale, emaciated, crawling to an hospital with the prospect of life, perhaps a long life, [Page 254] blasted, useless, and suffering. We must think of the uncounted tears of her who weeps alone, because the only being who shared her sentiments is taken from her; no martial music founds in unison with her feelings; the long day passes, and he returns not! She does not shed her sorrows over his grave, for she has never learnt whether he ever had one. If he had returned, his exertions would not have been remembered individually, for he only made a small imperceptible part of a human machine, called a regiment. We must take in the long sickness which no glory soothes, occasioned by distress of mind, anxiety, and ruined fortune. These are not fancy pictures; and if you please to heighten them, you can every one of you do it for yourselves. We take in the consequences, felt perhaps for ages, before a country which has been completely desolated, lifts its head again; like a torrent of lays, its worst mis­chief is not the first, overwhelming in ruin towns and palaces, but the long sterility to which it con­demns the track it hath covered with its stream. Add the danger to regular governments which are changed by war, sometimes to anarchy, and some­times to despotism. Add all these, and then let us think when a General performing these exploits is saluted with Well done, good and faithful servant, wheth­er the plaudit is likely to be echoed in another place.’ But however deplorable the calamities of war, such is the nature of the present scene of things, that there are circumstances which fully involve the necessity of appealing to the sword. When our dearest, essential, and most important interests are invaded, when our existence, as a nation, is put to the hazard, when negociations fail, when we are subjected to contu­melious indignities, when we are despoiled of our prop­erty, and stripped of the hopes of redress—in emer­gencies thus pressing, every sentiment of self-defence will throw the gauntlet for the battle. That it is pre­cisely upon these evil times we have fallen, many re­sentfully and vehemently pronounce; and, not yet freed [Page 255] from the jealousies and entanglements of European politics, while the hemisphere of the elder world is thus dreadfully tempested, nothing but an overween­ing self-partiality, could lead us to expect escaping at least the outskirts of the hurricane; but if we have been unwarrantably and unnecessarily injured, and if our abilities are adequate to the contention, let every American play the man for his country. Let not our faces thus gather paleness; but, when properly author­ised by the authority which we have conferred, let us combine, hand and heart, to work out our own polit­ical salvation; and if our cause is thus righteous, the God of armies will again lead us forth, and doubtless the palm of victory will be ours.

But deliberation here maketh a pause—Against whom shall we commence hostilities? So many are the wrongs which we are said to have suffered from the maritime belligerent powers, that an unprejudiced American will hesitate against which to prefer the loudest complaints; and the investigations made in the general council of our nation, so nearly poizeth the scale of depredation, that the closest observer, un­influenced by party, is at a loss to decide upon the question. Yet, it is said, our obligations to France, furnishing a balance in her favour, ought in equity to destroy the equipoise; and indeed it is greatly to be wished the conduct of that nation had been such, as to have sanctioned the most unlimited election of her in­terests. If, when emerging from the benighted clouds of despotism; if, when exonerating herself from the intolerable oppression of unlimited authority, she had known where to erect the barriers; if she had not out­raged every feeling of humanity, most atrociously committing acts, at which even the bosom of stoism agonizes at every pore, over which rectitude must pour the never failing tear, and at which fortitude hath learned to weep; if she had supported the consti­tution which she swore to maintain, we should doubt­less have felt for her like veneration, as when the gal­lant and virtuous La Fayette, directing her councils, [Page 256] led forth her armies, and, pointing her steps to victory and fame, extorted the mingling and unhesitating ap­plause of an admiring world. But alas! France ex­hibits, at this period, a spectacle, from which lacerated truth indignantly hastes, at which reason stands aghast, while morality and holy religion have received from base and murderous hands a fatal stab.

Perhaps the only advantage which the revolutiona­ry tribunal can boast over the lettre de cachet, or the justly execrated Bastile, is, that not prolonging the suf­ferings of its victims, it hasteth to bestow upon them, through the instrumentality of the executioner, a spee­dy emancipation from its tyranny. Whole hecatombs have been immolated; every person who differeth in opinion from the ruling faction is arrested, tried, and executed. The federalist findeth no mercy; and even an avowed wish to qualify their boasted indivisibility, by a single feature of the American government, is esti­mated as treasonable. With regard to our obligations to France, it ought surely to be considered, whether gratitude can ever teach us to abet, even the most lib­eral and disinterested benefactor, in deeds of darkness and of death: And, when it is remembered, that the well-timed aid, from which we derived advantages so in­disputably beneficial, was procured through the instru­mentality of him, whom we then hailed as our magnani­mous ally—which ally hath, by the most sanguinary men and measures, been, by violent hands, arrested in the middle of his days! when these circumstances are adverted to, they may possibly be regarded as an extenuation of our crime, although barely for the sake of evincing our loyalty to the Gallic name, we should not conceive ourselves obligated to leap the bounds of rectitude.

Yet, strange as it may seem, faction hath introduced its cloven foot among us; with astonishing effrontery it hath dared to list its baleful head; and, drawing the sword of discord, it is preparing to sheath it in the vitals of that infant constitution, whose budding life ex­pands so fair to view, and whose docile texture, yielding [Page 257] ample hope to cultivation, ensures the mellowing growth to every desired improvement. Is not the idea of mur­dering in the very cradle so promising an offspring, a conception which can have received a form only in the maddening pericranium of hell-born anarchy? Is there an individual who will not devoutly say—May the Parent of the universe shield our country from the progress of that Tartarean fiend which hath so long desolated France! Yea, we confidently pronounce that every patriotic bosom hath glowed with indignation, and every virtuous sentiment hath recoiled from the frenzy of that parricide, which so licentiously suspend­ed over the head of our matchless Chief, the execrable guillotine! over the head of that venerable patriot whose bosom is the seat of every virtue; whose disin­terested efforts for the public weal, stand unrivalled in the records of immortal fame; whose superior talents, and whose revolving hours are invariably appropriated to the general good; whose unyielding magnanimity, hath gleamed athwart the darkest and most distres­sing moments, the luminous rays of manly hope; who, far from bending beneath the load of national depres­sion, hath considered every event, with the firmness of inflexible virtue; who, like another Atlas, hath still supported the mighty fabric of a various and compli­cated government; whose penetrating genius, and ex­panding resources, unravelleth the intricacies of dupli­city, and presenteth the extricating hand of wisdom; who glows with the rapture of the hero upon every instance of national elevation—in one word, who was the illustrious leader, the boast, and the very soul of our armies, and who continues the brightest gem in the enfolding robes of peace.

Will ye not veil to the father of your country, ye associated declaimers? Is it your element to arraign, to cavil, to censure, and to exercise a kind of fanciful despotism? Why will you thus pervert talents capable of rendering you, to this younger world, the richest blessing? Yet, if ye will still pertinaciously proceed, the hand of freemen can never arrest your course; [Page 258] for still ye are cherished by the genial influence of that liberty, whose equal ray, in imitation of its great pro­totype, invigorateth the poisonous as well as the salu­tary germe.

But, suffer a fellow-citizen to make the inquiry—What is your object? Why are you thus studious to create divisions? Why are you ambitious of forming an aristocracy in the midst of your brethren? Ought not the nation at large to constitute one vast society of people, bound by common ties, common wishes, and common hopes? Hath any part of the Union constitutionally delegated their powers to you? To whom will you appeal? The late envoy of France, in effect, at least, threatened an appeal to the people! But surely, neither the quondam ambassador or his adherents have sufficiently attended to the origin, na­ture, and completion of our happy constitution.

If ever any government might, strictly speaking, be characterized, in a rationally republican sense, the gov­ernment of the people, the regulations made for the ad­ministration of order, in these States, is indubitably that government. This is an axiom which I should imagine could never be controverted. Perhaps, the manner of obtaining and establishing our government, hath not, in every respect, a parallel. Delegates ap­pointed by the free, unsolicited, uncorrupted, and unani­mous voice of the people, were, by the people, invested with authority to weigh, ponder, and reflect; they assem­bled, they deliberated, examined, compared, and finally arranged. To the consideration of the sovereign people, the result of the collected wisdom of our Continent was presented; every article, every sentiment was examin­ed, in every possible view; it was analyzed and scruti­nized, in the completest, most uncontrolled, and rigor­ous manner. Orators embodied the whole force of their eloquence; writers exercised their most energetic tal­ents, and in the strict examination the best productions of the press were engaged: Every member of the community had an undoubted right to investigate; public bodies lent their luminous aid; and, in the mo­mentous [Page 259] research and expected decision, friends and enemies alike combined. Behold the catastrophe—how loudly doth it pronounce the eulogy of our con­stitution—how doth it dignify and eternize the Amer­ican system! One State and another, time after time, gradually and deliberately, adopt and ratify a plan, which so evidently embraceth the interests of the people at large. In some of our governments, the sanction yielded is unanimous, and, in every part of the Union, the large and respectable majority of the people, is un­exampled in the annals of legislation.

Surely, I say, a government thus originating, thus sanctioned, and thus established, may be unequivocally pronounced, in every proper sense, the government of the people. To whom then, from such a government, can we appeal? The answer is obvious; but, may our political Hercules crush the Hydra faction, however multifarious may be its power of mischief, or however widely diffused its poisonous influence.

In this era of general consternation and perturbed suspense, it is undoubtedly our wisdom to abide the re­sult of those investigations and debates, which properly constitute the department of gentlemen, whom we have commissioned to take upon them the administration of public affairs. If the Gleaner might be permitted to breathe a wish, it would be for the general observance and establishment of order, and that every citizen would learn, habitually, to venerate offices and charac­ters devoted to, and engaged in, the administration of justice, and to which every good and worthy member of the community is alike eligible [...].

The Gleaner, from a series of accurate and unim­passioned observations, is induced earnestly to hope, that the general government will still continue to pre­clude all illegal interference, all foreign, unconstitutional, and unbecoming influence. And he confesses, that he experienced the enthusiasm of approbation. when he observed in the public prints, that dignified movement of Congress, which directed the galleries to be vacat­ed, upon an indecent attempt made, to approbate men [Page 260] and measures, by testimonies, proper only to mark the merit of the votaries of the sock and buskin. Yea, verily, this new world is the heritage of liberty; but it is of that liberty which decidedly avoweth her sys­tem, her regulations, her laws, her subordination; to all of which she exacteth the most scrupulous obedience. I am not ignorant, that licentiousness too often assumes the sacred name of liberty: Licentiousness, engendered by darkness, nursed by ignorance, and led forth by impudence; murder and devastation are her minis­ters; hell-born ambition is her incentive; and the most confirmed and rigorous despotism remaineth her invariable object.

Liberty! heaven descended goddess, rational and refined—No, she hath not a single feature of the auda­cious impostor, who, with such astonishing effrontery, artfully arrogateth her character and offices, and who, by a series of execrable machinations, after clothing herself in the sky-wrought robes of the bright celestial, demandeth her honours, procureth against her the most shocking and libellous declamations, and wound­eth her in the upright exercise of those pure and whole­some institutions, which are replete with the most sal­utary and benign influence, upon the morals and hap­piness of our species. Nay, the blighting and conta­gious breath of licentiousness, stigmatizeth decent and corrected liberty, as the most degenerate and servile traitor! and, denounced by anarchy, the terms, usurper, despot, and tyrant, with every other frightful appellation which the black catalogue can produce, is liberally and indiscriminately bestowed upon her. Be­tween liberty and licentiousness we cannot trace the smallest analogy; they have been strikingly and beau­tifully contrasted. Liberty has been compared to an informed, elevated, and well regulated mind; her movements are authorized by reason; knowledge is her harbinger; wisdom administereth unto her; and all her interpositions are mildly beneficent: Tranquil­lity results from her arrangements; and a serene and equal kind of contentment is her eldest born. Licen­tiousness [Page 261] is said to resemble the unbridled and tumult­uous career of him, who, intoxicated by the inebriat­ing draught, and having renounced his understanding, would invert the order of nature; eager to pour th [...] inundation which shall level every virtue, and annihi­late every distinction, he exulteth in his fancied prow­ess, riots amid the confusion which he creates, and unduly exalting himself, he posteth full speed to destruction.

But my subject unexpectedly growing upon me, the fear of exceeding my limits induces me to postpone its termination to a future Gleaner [...]

N^o. XXVII.

I SAID that genuine liberty recognized her systems, her laws, and her regular chain of subordination; to all of which she exacted the most scrupulous obedi­ence; and, if this were not true, I confess that I, for one, should be inclined to deprecate her domination. Surely, that state must be fruitful of calamities, which admitteth not an acknowledged superior; where eve­ry person hath, in every respect, an absolute and uncon­trollable right to consult his own feelings, submitting himself to no other empire than that of his wayward passions.

It is not, in every sense, true, that Nature is equal in her productions. The same plastic hand that form­ed a Newton, lends existence to an oyster. Nature lev­els and diversifies her wide extended lawns, winds her serpentine walks, and spreads her ample fields; but she also erects her mounds, fashions her knolls, elevates her acclivities, and piles together her stupendous moun­tains. The ocean rolls one vast world of waters; but the little stream murmurs gently and pleasingly along. The huge leviathan and the polypus, are alike inhab­itants [Page 262] of the sea. The elephant and the tatou, the ostrich and the humming bird, respire in our world, while naturalists are at a loss even to name the numer­ous grades, which make up and complete the shades between these extremes. A various growth of flow­ers please the eye; vegetables sustain and nourish; fruits regale the palate; and poisonous plants, obtain­ing a luxuriant growth, rear their baleful heads. To trace the varieties of nature, is indeed a fruitful avo­cation; the region of fancy is stocked with reflec­tions, while, to the curious observer, engaged in the pur­suit, hardly an hour revolves, which produces not an accession of ideas.

Light and shade are productive of the finest effects; the eye is offended by a continuity of the same objects; hills and vallies, succeeding each other, furnish the most enchanting views; the interjacent plain is pleas­ingly terminated, by the sequestered grove; the glade beautifully diversifies the forest; and yonder tall ma­jestic eminence is gracefully skirted by the enamelled meadow which is outspread beneath. The seasons succeed each other, and the revolutions of day and night, pos­sessing their peculiar charms, are salutary and grateful. Nor is this multiformity observable only in the less no­bler parts of the creation: The human being has va­rieties, which may almost be pronounced endless. The degrees of intellect, if we may judge by effects, are ve­ry unequally proportioned. Now a luminous genius darts through the complicated arrangements of nature; its pervading ken is subtil and energetic; its powers are adequate to researches the most profound; it in­vestigates, and obscurity is no more; the arcana of ages, yielding to its animated and elucidating progress, relinquisheth the impenetrable veil; its versatility, and the depth of its observations are astonishing; and, amid the blaze of refulgent day, it lifts its aspiring head. But the natal place of this luminary, the same village, perhaps the same family, ushered into being the unfortunate idiot, whose faculties are scarcely ade­quate to the absolute calls of existence. Some digni­fied [Page 263] minds, born to all the energy of being, devote their time and talents to inform, to rectify, to improve, and in every sense to benefit mankind; others again, are so absorbed in self, that were it not for the catalogue of their individual wants and wishes, we should not know that they continued to vegetate. If persons of this description have any principles but that of self love, they are so completely under the direction of, and as­simulated by this their ruling passion, that it is difficult to trace, in their actions, the smallest vestige of a for­eign influence. Is it just to refuse to merit its un­questionable dues? Is it equitable to deny to virtue the palm of honour? Or, ought we to hesitate in do­ing reverence to a superiority indubitable and decided?

Where is unvaried equality to be found? Not in heav­en, for there are principalities and powers: Not, certain­ly, in any of the distributions which we have traced on earth; for it is unquestionable, that variety constitutes one of the principal beauties in the arrangements of nature. Nor is it the growth of the Tartarean regions; for there the arch fiend exerciseth those powers, which proclaim his regality; and, even Licentiousness hath her chosen favourite whom she constituteth chief of the savage band of murderers. I do not say, that my reading and observation are sufficiently extensive to de­cide; but were I to hazard a conjecture, I would sug­gest, that, from the days of that first murderer who slew his brother, the levelling scheme hath, strictly speaking, continued a chimera, floating only in the brain of the speculatist, or figuring splendidly in the theories, which his fertile imagination hath commission­ed to issue from the press.

Perhaps the late Doctor Johnson, who may be styled the monarch of literature, however rich in resources, could not have hit on an argument more effectually calculated to flash conviction upon the feelings of a certain female historian (of no inconsiderable merit, not­withstanding) than when waiting upon her, in her decent apartments in the city of London, and assuming the humble and serious features of conviction, he ad­dressed [Page 264] her to the following effect:—Madam, influenc­ed by your good sense, and the irrefragable strength of your arguments, you at this moment behold before you, the proselyte of your opinions. I am at length confident, that the children of men are all upon an equal footing; and, Madam, to give you proof posi­tive that I am indeed a convert, here is a very sensible, civil, worthy, well-behaved citizen, your footman; I make it my request that he may be permitted to sit down and dine with us. Doctor Johnson, upon this, or some similar occasion, made a remark, which, agree­ably to the general tenor of his observations, carrieth its evidence along with it, and which the experience of every day may serve to corroborate. "Your levellers," said the Doctor, "wish to level down as far as them­selves, but they cannot bear levelling up to themselves; they would all have some people under them; why not then have some people above them? I would no more deprive certain characters of their respect, than of their money. I consider myself as acting a part in the great system of society, and I do to others as I would have them do to me. There would be a perpetual struggle for precedence, were there no rules to discriminate rank."

There is no calculating the disorders which may re­sult from relaxing the series of subordination; if con­viction is suspended, we need but make the trial. I am surrounded by a family of men and maid servants. I am placed upon extensive grounds, which call for the regular aid of cultivation, for all the various routine of agricultural attention. The vernal season is hasting forward—the morning is delightful. On a day so pro­pitious much business may be accomplished: With the early dawn I quit my pillow, I supplicate Mary to di­rect her woman to prepare me an immediate breakfast; she, carelessly, pronounces me quite as eligible to that task myself. I apply to Abigail, who refers me to another, and another; and, as equality admitteth no distinctions, the probability is, that I am finally brought back again to Mary herself. Possibly, after many en­treaties, [Page 265] the females may all combine; one bear a cup, another a saucer; a table is dragged from that apart­ment, and a tea-kettle from this; ignorant of each oth­er's plans, and having no one to direct, the process is impeded and confused, and when at length the motley assemblage is completed, and the refection presented, the spoiled tea, coffee, chocolate, and bread and but­ter, all evince the opposite hands employed in their manufacture. But this is the fair side of the business; they might have engaged in a tumultuous fracas, and, consigning the whole apparatus to destruction, they might have left me no other consolation, than that of soothing my vexation, by singing, in Homeric numbers, the dismal crash of that eventful morning.

Well, but to proceed. Breakfast over, I sally forth. I advise that the cattle be yoked, and that such a par­cel of manure be conveyed to yonder sterile spot. Jon­athan insists that the horse-cart is sufficient to drag it. Thomas is of his opinion. William sides with me, and we prepare for a trial of strength; equally divid­ed, our opposition bars our purpose; from words we proceed to blows; the females are alarmed; they take their sides; the plot thickens; appearances grow for­midable; a doughty battle ensues; bloody noses are the consequence; and the day is sacrificed to discord. Every morning is thus ushered in; every portion of time is marked by opposition. Now the land shall be hedged with bushes, anon the ready rock shall present the barrier, and again the wooden enclosure is all the rage. To day we will plough, to-morrow we will sow. Nay, you are too early, you are too late; this is suf­ficient, that is not enough; we will go hither and thither, every where, and no where.

Thus roll on the days, weeks and months. Au­tumn is at the door, the lands are uncultivated, and famine, with its meagre stride, is rapidly advancing to our borders. Meanwhile, even in this tumultuous era, my house, my estate confesseth a potentate. An­archy reigneth supreme, and desolation administereth her commands. To prevent, or to guard against con­sequences, [Page 266] which every sober sentiment must deprecate, becomes impossible; no member of the family hath authority to interpose the dictatorial document, and the commands of the fiend are perforce obeyed. Who shall prevent the spreading evil? If licentiousness is successful in her imposture; if, assuming the mask of liberty, she completeth her deception; if we prostrate before this baleful destroyer, where, I demand, is my safety? What security can I have, that my neighbour, whose sinewy arm can bear away the prize of strength, will not snatch from me that patrimony, which, de­scending from a virtuous line of ancestors, I have pre­served, at the expense of laborious days, and many a self-denying conflict? Surely, language, in attempting an enumeration of the calamities of licentiousness, is baffled in the description! and even conception must fall short of the mischiefs which she produceth.

But if the theory of equality is not practicable in the contracted circle of domestic life, much less will that experiment succeed which would realize it, in regard to the heterogeneous collection of beings who consti­tute a nation. Doth not Liberty associate her laws, her regulations, and her distinctions? Is not good gov­ernment the basis on which she erecteth the superstruc­ture of all those operations so beneficial to mankind? Yes, Liberty, sacred and genuine Liberty, draweth with precision the line, nor will she permit a litigation of the inherent Rights of Man. She alloweth no im­aginary claims; she is fearful of disturbing the regular succession of order; she is fond of the necessary ar­rangement of civil subordination; and she dreadeth that tumultuous and up-rooting hurricane, which, in­mingling the various classes of mankind, destroyeth the beautiful gradation and series of harmony, again restoring all that wild uproar, resulting from the rude and mishapen domination of chaos. Yes, we repeat it, that people, that nation, that tribe or family, which is destitute of legislation, regulation, and officers of government, must unquestionably be in a deplorable situation. The strong will invariably oppress the [Page 267] weak; to the lusty arm of athletic guilt, imbecile in­nocence will fall a prey, and there is no power to redress! Hence the time registered axiom, It is neces­sary to relinquish a part, for the preservation of the whole. Liberty delegates her powers, and to this effulgent goddess, her anointed ministers, with that integrity and patriotic firmness which becometh the servants of a patroness, who still regards the children of men with an eye of benignity, fail not to render up their ac­counts.

Let us suppose a people in a state of nature, and let us suppose them made up of all those varieties of con­stitution, intellect, passions, and corporeal strength, which are commonly found in a community. Expe­rience hath convinced them, that anarchy is pregnant with every evil; and they finally combine to form the league of government. What is the mode for the ad­ministration of justice, which we would recommend to such a people? Possessed by a wish to render perma­nent, and give the requisite dignity, energy, execution, and obedience to the social order which we should aim at establishing, we should be solicitous to adopt in our form of polity, that gradatory junction which would cement and bind together, in an amicable and mutual exchange of good offices, the various classes of citizens. Fancy, for a moment, invests me with the venerable and honorary character of a legislator; and, for the purpose of forming, for a set of well disposed men, a code of regulations, I imagine myself seated, with the pen of inquiry in my fingers, and my design being to compile a government of laws, rather than of individuals, I am naturally solicitous to promulgate institutions, which shall be at once salutary, efficacious and pleasing. With a view of tracing and combining an eligible plan, I might turn over huge folios of information, and, pursuing a science of such vast importance to mankind, which in its operations is capable of the highest public utility, or which may become the root of every evil, investigation can hardly be too scrupulously exact. But what would be the result of an application to va­rious [Page 268] writers? Doubtless we should find ourselves in­volved in a labyrinth of opposite testimonies; and, confused by a multiplicity of contradictory and per­haps fallacious opinions, reflection would be absorbed, and decision at a stand.

The ancients have remarked, that, cultivated by the hand of liberty in the dwellings of freedom, the arts and sciences flourished with invigorated charms; that neither the Persians or Egyptians understood their beauties; that from the Greeks, although too often engaged in hostilities, and struggling in the toils of poverty, they obtained maturation; that they declined with that freedom, once the glory of the Grecian re­publics, and that, with their august patroness, winging their etherial way to celebrious Rome, they there con­tinued their splendid career, until the immolation of liberty, in that imperial city, muffled in dark and por­tentous clouds those intellectual luminaries; and hence, from these incontrovertible facts, it is confi­dently asserted, that the arts and sciences can never flourish but in the soil of freedom. Yet, in opposition to a conclusion which may have been too hastil [...] formed, we are told, that modern Rome and Florence have enwreathed with perfection, sculpture, painting, music and poetry; and that Florence, after the usurp­ations of the family of Medici, made the most rapid proficiency in those arts. Ariosto, Tasso, Galileo, Raphael, and Michael Angelio; these illustrious paint­ers, poets and mathematicians, it is observed, were not born in republics. Reubens, it is said, collected and established his school at Antwerp, and not at Amster­dam; and in Germany, the true polish of manners is rather to be found at Dresden than at Hamburgh.

France hath undoubtedly furnished a striking exam­ple of the prosperity of literature in an absolute gov­ernment. Philosophy, poetry, dramatic eminence, oratory, history, painting, architecture, sculpture, mu­sic—these have received the most extensive cultivation, and the highest honours in the kingdom of France: And we are moreover assured, that the cidevant subjects [Page 269] had astonishingly meliorated that most grateful and beneficial of all arts, l' Art de Vivre, the necessary and social art, which involves a mutual interchange of sentiments.

Thus contradictory are those streams of information, which yet may have originated in the fountain of wis­dom. The superstructures of governments have gen­erally been raised upon apprehension and compulsion; in such circumstances, error hath been almost unavoid­able, and it can never be matter of wonder, that hu­man systems are susceptible of improvement.

In the novelties of Lycurgus, the features of artifice and fraud are but too prevalent. Solon, although the votary of wisdom, and undoubtedly the mild and be­neficent friend of mankind, yet even Solon entertained despotic ideas of the powers vested in him, and we can­not forbear observing, that he considered himself as possessing an optional authority, to implant the germe of despotism, or to emit the rays of bland and correct­ed freedom. Numa, by virtue of the goddess Egeria, might have originated the grossest impositions; and it is an indubitable truth, that the rights of man are irreconcileable with a relinquishment of that privilege of inquiry, which may erect a barrier to the inunda­tion of evil. Turning, for a moment, from all those reservoirs of knowledge, which, nevertheless, I must ever unceasingly venerate, I wave the occupation of a Gleaner, and simply lighting the torch of reason at the flame of experience, I will, for the organization of my sketch of immunities, consult those sentiments and conclusions, which are the natural growth of a plain mind.

Common sense pronounces, that a people destitute of a leader, and destitute of legislation, loudly demand the protecting hand of a guardian power; and, liberty adds, that a chief should be obtained by the joint suf­frages of the people at large. To this end, they must be convened in their several districts, where, uninflu­enced by party or by passion, let them commission him, whom they esteem most worthy, to assume that august [Page 270] title—The Father of his Country; and, after reciprocat­ing the most solemn engagements, after consecrating him by their joint affections and benedictions, let them invest him with authority to lead them against their combined enemies, to fight their battles, and, by the wisdom of his regulations, to procure them victory, and to guarantee their just immunities. Let this their chosen patriot be aided by a general council, consisting of delegates according to the number of the people. Let these delegates be appointed by a decision, influ­enced only by the intrinsic worth of the candidates. Let them form two distinct deliberative bodies, or houses, properly qualified and authorized to ACT AS CHECKS upon each other; and, let these three branches be invested with powers, fully adequate to all the pur­poses of legislation. To the departments thus appoint­ed to these high offices of trust, let the utmost veneration be annexed; but I would ordain, that the individuals who filled them, should, after a stated time, be remov­able at the pleasure of the people. Even the First Magistrate should hold his place but in consequence of frequent re-elections; and for high crimes and misde­meanors, he should be considered as amenable to the laws. Upon legislative acts he should possess only a conditional negative; and while his fellow-citizens were aided by his counsels, they should be secured from his encroachments. He should always be considered as the Chief Warrior of the people; but in the forma­tion of treaties, he should call in, at least, one branch of the legislature, and the same concurrence should be necessary to the appointment to offices. The com­merce or currency of the nation should not be sub­jected to the prescriptions of its Executive, nor should he arrogate, in matters of conscience, even the shadow of jurisdiction. As a faithful and vigilant friend of the people, he should be unwearied in his informations, recommendations, and all such constitutional measures, as he should conceive would conduce to the public weal; and, during his administration, he should be careful to exact a faithful obedience to the laws. If [Page 271] in any single instance I entrusted him with discre­tionary or absolute power, it shall be in granting re­prieves, or remission of offences; for, as I would always give the scale to preponderate on the side of mercy, so I would arm the Executive with the lenity of clemency, while I debarred him the exercise of measures unduly sanguinary.

Yet with the dignified and honorary distinctions of government, I would be careful to invest the Man of the people. Ambassadors, and other public ministers, should mingle in his train, and every rational insignia of respect should ornament his department. His office should ensure the highest respect; and I would yield obedience to the individual as long as he was entitled to public confidence and respect.

The judicial power should be separate from the ex­ecutive, and I would invest it with as large a share of independence as could consist with reciprocality and union; while the degree of guilt involved in crimes of almost every description, should be determined by the empan­nelled peers of the culprit. "But all this is only col­lecting the instruments, while the code of institutions are yet unfashioned." True, but as legislative acts should be the result of the most mature deliberation, we will search in the great volume of nature, we will turn over the leaves of experience, and thus selecting the gems, and from time to time accumulating our system, we will finally present the luminous compendi­um to the consideration, and, as we hope, to the ac­ceptation of unprejudiced reason. Meanwhile, skim­ming the surface of my subject, I present only the rudiments of a system, which fancy hath pleasingly contemplated.

Doth the reader exclaim—"Surely these hints are nothing more than the lineaments of the constitution of the United States!" Well, honest friend, they are the lineaments of nature—the lineaments of liberty—they make a part of that contract to which she consents; and, without entering into the complex and admirable intertexture of those united and separate governments, [Page 272] which constitute our federalism, we pronounce, that these are the leading features of that subordination, without which, GENUINE LIBERTY would no longer irradiate our hemisphere.

May the parties which are originated, stimulate the exertions of her real votaries; may no description among us ever assume the gorgon head of faction; and, may the mutual jealousies, dissentions and ambi­tion, which pervade, serve as antidotes to each other. Parties, in a state of civil and political liberty, have been compared to the passions of an individual; and, as the passions are said to be the elements of life, so the animated and resuscitating spirit of party is ob­served to be essential to the existence of genuine free­dom. Be it so; and may the public weal, the public tranquillity, be, by every means, promoted.

N^o. XXVIII.

WITH sensations of ineffable complacency and high glee; with feelings, the felicity of which it would be difficult if not impossible to delineate, I set me down, upon this 27th day of May, 1794, to re­count unto the good-natured reader an event, which, if I have not been extremely erroneous in my calcula­tions, will render him, in no inconsiderable degree, a partaker of my joy.

I say, good-natured reader; for, without incurring the charge of credulity, I conceive I may fairly pre­sume, [Page 273] that persons of this description have, from time to time, been constrained to take an interest in the fate of Margaretta Melworth Hamilton. I say, good-natur­ed reader, because the Gleaner hath never yet had the arrogance to conceive his powers sufficiently energet­ic to arrest the attention of the phlegmatic, the satur­nine, or the fastidious. Individuals possessing minds cast in these moulds, he hath considered as inaccessible, and he hath imagined them turning from the pages of the Gleaner, with all the frigidity of apathy, with all the glooms attendant upon rigorous severity, disgust, or contempt. Nor doth he enter this remark as a complaint; he hath been humble enough to content him­self with the esteem of the candid and sincere; in the bosom of sensibility he fondly conceives he hath ob­tained a place, and he is ambitious of rendering his efforts worthy that degree of consideration with which they may be regarded. Addressing then the humane, the benevolent, and the ingenuous; in one word, those who are willing to be pleased, he hardly hesitates in promising himself at least a hearing: and, he is free to own, that he possesses such a comfortable share of self complacency, as to become confident, that when­ever he consecrates his efforts by the name of the daughter of his affection, he ensures a share of ap­probation; nor will he consent that this idea should be imputed altogether to an over-weening conceit of his own abilities; for surely it must be acknowledged that an amiable and meritorious woman, struggling with misfortunes, is an object which virtue must ever regard with commiseration and applause. For the officious length of this exordium, I supplicate the indulgence of those gentle spirits, upon whose favour I have presum­ed; a candidate for the patronage of benignity should hasten to gratify the feelings of susceptibility, and af­ter narrating a few previous arrangements, without further delay, I shall pass on to a developement, which hath not only invested our daughter with high afflu­ence, but hath, moreover, restored to her a blessing, which she entertained not the smallest conception of ever being permitted to possess.

[Page 274] My last communications relative to Mrs. Hamilton, crowned her with those honours which bloom most becomingly upon a female brow; the propriety of her conduct in the matrimonial career could not be ques­tioned, and her patient merit was, in her own opinion, amply rewarded, by a discovery that neither misfor­tunes or caprice had robbed her of, or in the smallest degree abated the affectionate attachment of him, to whom her gentle heart was unreservedly devoted.

That tumultuous delirium of joy, of which the sketch of the scene in my reading parlour, in the month of November last, can have given but an in­competent idea, gradually subsided into an exquisitely pleasing calm. Peace, with every accompaniment, which ever clusters in the train of tranquillity, was re­instated in her bosom; rosy confidence, fruitful in the soil of conjugal complacency, again lifted its auspi­cious head, and the rich perfumes which it breathed around, scattered those salutary sweets that gave to every object a face of pleasure. Margaretta seemed to regard poverty as the angel of serenity: Indeed a true knowledge of her circumstances had relieved her from a mighty pressure, which, becoming quite insupporta­ble, had well near broken the slender thread of her ex­istence; and an assured knowledge that she still possess­ed those undivided regards, which she had strong rea­son to believe no longer reciprocated, very naturally, for a time, absorbed in her gentle bosom every other consideration.

Some days delightfully serene, thus rolled on. I knew that the bursting storm, the tremendous and up­rooting hurricane must succeed; but I trembled to disturb the innocent and unreflecting felicity of the moment. Mr. Seymour, the generous young man who had extricated Hamilton from his difficulties, while hopeless love produced him a wandering fugi­tive in the southern States, had failed for some thou­sands; and although repeated letters, glowing with friendship and matchless generosity, penned by the hand of Mr. Seymour, assured us, that he would ward [Page 275] the blow from us, to the extremest verge of possibility; yet as he continued, for the safety of his person, a pris­oner in his own house; as all his books, bonds, and papers, of every kind, were submitted to the inspec­tion of his creditors; and, as he assured himself that a fair adjustment, producing an amicable compromise, would usher in his liberating hour, the utmost creduli­ty could not flatter us with continued exemption. Mr. Hamilton too, had many other creditors, and they be­came much more suspicious, inquisitive, and trouble­some, than we had expected.

The scene once opened, my knowledge of mankind induced me to fear a rapid succession of distressing events; and necessity, therefore, impelled me to obtrude upon the halcyon hours of my children considerations which threw open the avenues of uncounted cares, and great inquietude. Serafina Clifford continued un­wearied in her remonstrances; she was eager to dispos­sess herself, in favour of her brother, of every shilling which she possessed; and against the ardour and gen­erous impetuosity of her attack, honour, justice, and fraternal affection, although embodied for the purpose, maintained but a doubtful combat; until availing my­self of the rights invested in me by my paternal author­ity, I was reduced to the disagreeable alternative of interposing a positive prohibition.

Miss Clifford, in a kind of frenzy, clasped the little William to her bosom, and calling upon the shade of her departed father to witness her engagements, she vowed henceforward to devote herself and fortune entirely to him; adding, ‘I will, my lovely child, be indefatigable in guarding the soil of thy infant mind from the admission of that fatal germ, which never fails to produce a growth of false principles, of prin­ciples that prostitute the sacred names of honour and integrity, bestowing them upon an unsocial kind of pride, a barbarous sentiment, which compels its ad­herents, although placed upon a precipice of inter­minable ruin, to disdain the assistance of that friend­ship which is warm, natural, glowing, and sincere; [Page 276] of that friendship, which, as it originates affinity and gratitude, as it is the result of the fondest attachment, and meliorated by deliberate esteem, can surely nev­er be regarded as problematical. Sweet innocent! may the kindred blood that swells thy little veins, render thee one day less obdurate than thy dear in­flexible parents. From this moment the interests of Serafina and thine are inseparably interwoven.’

Fear not, gentle reader, by virtue of the patriarchal dignity which I have assumed, I will, upon a proper oc­casion, grant unto the said Serafina Clifford, a full and free absolution from this her inconsiderate vow, which I shall take care to impute to the irresistible impulse of an impassioned moment.

In concert with Mr. Hamilton, without delay I took measures to place the property in his possession, beyond the reach of any single creditor; regulating it in such a manner, as would incontestibly be most for the advantage of, and yield unto every claimant an equal and handsome dividend. Thus prepared for a contingency that we had but too much reason mo­mently to expect, I requested Mary once more to call into action that admirable address which she had so repeatedly exemplified. Go, my love, said I, with all thy winning graces, and affectionate persuasion; with all thy angel softness, and reconcile our daughter to that revolution in her prospects, which must place her again a resident in this family. Margaretta was far advanced in her second pregnancy, and we judged it necessary to observe, in regard to her, the utmost del­icacy; but we had not yet learned properly to appre­ciate the mind of our amiable child. Those particu­lars, which are generally so alluring to a young woman, were not considered by her, of sufficient importance to give her essential or lasting pain. An establishment, ranking as the head of a family, presiding at her ta­ble, giving laws to a train of servants, receiving visits in her own house, with a number of et-ceteras, which have frequently the power of fascinating a young mind, were regarded as considerations comparatively of little [Page 277] or no moment; and while conscious she possessed the affections of the man of her heart; while she retained his society; while she could clasp to her throbbing bo­som her lovely infant; while indulged with the pres­ence of Miss Clifford, now more than ever endeared to her, and bound to her soul by motives of the most del­icate and indissoluble tenderness and esteem; while she enjoyed the approbating countenance of her parents, her superior understanding could scarce forbear a smile at the solicitude we discovered respecting her removal; and, relinquishing her elegant apartments, I verily be­lieve without a single murmur, she hastened, together with her amiable friend, to those parental arms which were ever open to receive her.

Trials, however, awaited her. It was necessary that Mr. Hamilton, who was anxious to accelerate the hour that should honourably exonerate him from his embarrassments, and who was extremely desirous of making provision for the growing family which he had in prospect, should immediately apply to some busi­ness, which might afford an expectation of putting him in possession of wishes so indisputably lauda­ble. A ship bound for Europe, in which he was offered, with the probability of great commercial advantage, a very lucrative and honorary birth, propitiously presented. Of an opening so fortunate, interest loudly called upon him to avail himself; the favourable gale of opportunity was not to be slighted. But his heart bled for his Margaretta; yet manly de­cision hesitated not, and every thing was in train for his departure. We conceived it adviseable to conceal our purpose from my daughter as long as possible; and it was not until two days previous to the period destined for his embarkation, that I took upon myself the painful task of disclosing to her an event, which we judged must inevitably take place. Mary, Miss Clif­ford, Edward and myself, seated with Margaretta, in a retired apartment, had for some time been employed in observing her; while on her part she seemed whol­ly absorbed in contemplating the features of the little William, who, sleeping on a pillow before her, display­ed [Page 278] a countenance truly cherubic. Soul of sensibility! most unwillingly did I recall her from her maternal reverie! but necessity apparently impelling, I thus ad­dressed her:

What is there that Mrs. Hamilton would not sacri­fice, to advance the happiness of the little being, whom she hath introduced into existence? Margaretta start­ed—it seemed as if her apprehensive bosom compre­hended, in a single instant, the agonizing intelligence which she was about to receive. She continued, how­ever, silent, while urged by necessity, I reluctantly pro­ceeded—There is a duty incumbent upon parents, to­wards their children, and from the moment of their birth they are bound to every possible exertion, which they can rationally suppose will contribute to their re­al felicity. Upon Margaretta Hamilton claims of this sort will soon be multiplied, and the probability is, that a long train of sons and daughters will rise up and call her blessed. Margaretta will not surely be found deficient in her maternal character; the expen­ses attendant upon the education of young people, their advancement in life, establishment, &c. how quick­ly will they succeed. It is happy, that when a single means of acquiring property fails, there are others which present.

The ocean opens its hospitable arms to the unfortu­nate man, from whom every other resource is cut off; while the dangers, supposed peculiarly incident to a seafaring life are in reality chimeras, calculated only to appal persons unaccustomed to reflect. Those who acknowledge the superintendence of Providence, the existence of Deity, if they ascribe to him those powers and properties which are essential to the being of a God, must acknowledge, that his protecting arm is, upon all occasions, stretched forth; that he can pre­serve upon the mighty waters with the same facility with which he upholdeth the dweller upon the land. The truth is, we are immortal until the separating warrant passes the great seal of Heaven; and, the breath arrest­ed by a designation so inevitable, no arrangement can [Page 279] redeem. I flatter myself, my beloved Margaretta, that your mind, equal, energetic, and considerate, would not suffer itself to be over much depressed, should the vicissitudes of life produce contingencies, unavoid­ably condemning you to a few months absence from Mr. Hamilton; two or three voyages might perhaps entirely retrieve his affairs, and you would ever after have the satisfaction to reflect that you had contributed every thing in your power; every thing which forti­tude and uniform exertions could achieve, in order to re-instate your Edward in that independence to which he was born. I was proceeding—but I had not been sufficiently cautious. My daughter, during my ha­rangue, frequently changed colour; the lily and the rose seemed to chase each other upon her now mant­ling, and now pallid cheek; she trembled excessively; and upon my particular application to her, the agita­tion of her bosom, becoming insupportable, she sunk breathless into the arms of that passionately beloved, and truly afflicted husband, who hasted to prevent her fall.

"My God!" exclaimed Hamilton, ‘it is too much; restore, compose, and soothe this suffering angel, too often exercised by pangs of so severe a nature; and do, with a wretch who hath betrayed and undone her, whatever seemeth to thee good.’

Mary and Serafina soon recalled the fleeting spirit of the lovely mourner. Hamilton once more kneeled before her, and the copious tears, with which he be­dewed the hand that he alternately pressed to his bosom and to his lips, called forth a mingling stream from the eyes of the beauteous sufferer. The scene was inex­pressively tender, but the humid drops upon the face of my daughter annihilated at least one half of my fears upon her account. "And can you, Sir," in a tremulous accent she exclaimed—‘can you condemn my Edward to bondage, perhaps to irretrievable slavery?’ What means my love? ‘Ah, Sir! do you not recollect British depredations? Do you not rec­ollect the ruthless and unrelenting rigour of that [Page 280] fate which awaits the captive, doomed to wear out a wretched life under the galling yoke of an Algerine despot? Might I but have been spared at this time! might a step so fatal to my peace, at least have been deferred, until the face of affairs wore, to the poor, desolate, and exiled voyager, a more confirmed as­pect, I think I could have acquiesced.’ For a mo­ment she paused; sighs, expressive of the deepest anguish, burst from her bosom. Again she resumed—‘Gracious Heaven! what an extensive and wide spreading error hath my early indiscretion proved! and perhaps its cruel consequences will follow me to the latest period of my existence! Had I waited the parental sanction, ere I lent an ear to a wretch, prac­tised in the arts of deception; had I not blindly and precipitately given the reins to reprehensible inclina­tion, I should never have listened to the pernicious voice of adulation; the faithful heart of my Edward would not have received a corroding wound; he would not have been impelled to a voluntary banish­ment; he would never have had recourse to an ex­pedient, which hath too surely involved in ruin my terrestrial hopes! Forgive me, O my parents! for­give me, O thou best of men! and thou sleeping innocent, forgive, O forgive thy wretched mother! It is now indeed that Margaretta is completely un­done!’

I was immeasurably affected; yet I knew that my daughter would soon become capable of reasoning. She possesses, in an uncommon degree, the power of accurately discussing points, in which she is the most deeply interested; but altogether unprepared for the present calamity, reason had been violently forced from the helm, and we unitedly endeavoured to re­store her to that reflection, to which we well knew she was eminently adequate. The soothings of unques­tioned friendship are the sweetest solace; they yield a balm which is endowed with the sovereign power of mitigation, and they are a consolation in almost every sorrow. It was necessary to bend the mind of Mar­garetta [Page 281] to our purpose, and a few hours accomplished our wishes; gradually we opened our plan; she saw the propriety of every arrangement; the necessity for the steps we had taken, and the idea, then first held up, of the possibility that the time was not far distant, which might legally immure her Hamilton within the walls of a prison, produced the expected effect. Wav­ing her snowy hand with peerless grace, she pressed it upon her closed lips, and bowing her afflicted head, thus tacitly gave that expressive, although melancholy assent, of which, from the beginning, considering the justness of her way of thinking, we had made ourselves sure. Two days, as I said, only remained, and they were marked by a deeper sorrow, than any which has yet pierced the bosom of my daughter! It will not be doubted, that we called into action every motive which could give energy and firmness to her feelings; yet, while pensive resignation dwelt upon her lips, her altered countenance and debilitated frame evinced the struggles of her soul. It was a trial upon which she had never reckoned; in every event, she had calculated upon the supporting presence of her husband, and that she was thus unprepared for the stroke, must apologize for the agonized emotions with which she submitted to the blow! The evening at length arrived, which we conceived destined to usher in the morning, upon which our adventurer was to depart for a neigh­bouring town, in order to his embarkation, and its progress was noted by the heart-felt sighs of corrod­ing anguish.

But just at this juncture, unfortunately, as I then imagined, our Federal Government interposed the late embargo, and joy once more mantled upon the cheek of Mrs. Hamilton. Thus it is, we submit to necessity; we are convinced of the utility of certain arrange­ments, and we are constrained, by conviction, to yield our assent to events which, nevertheless, pierce the bo­som with the barbed arrows of affliction: Yet, if an interposing hand breaks the order to which we had reluctantly submitted; if we are conscious that we [Page 282] have no how aided in producing the incident; if we have, in every respect, acted up to our duty, we seem to forget the good we had expected; we rejoice in a change, which emancipates us from those sorrows we had imposed upon ourselves; we seem to have attain­ed the goal of felicity; and, for a little moment, we become unmindful of those compulsory considerations, which had urged the application of a remedy, ac­knowledged indispensably requisite. Margaretta, not­withstanding the good sense of which she is mistress—notwithstanding the remonstrances of reason—not only regarded the embargo as a reprieve, but involuntarily breathed her wishes for its continuance; and I produce it as an irrefragable fact, that our country contains not a single partizan, whose bosom glowed with more ill-advised zeal, for the extension or renewal of this same embargo. The 25th instant, however, arrived—it passed—the fleet and welcome footsteps of no new commissioned express gladdened the ear of impetuosity—and the embargo expired—Hamilton was again on the eve of his departure. Yesterday, exactly at one o'clock, we were assembled in the dining parlour. This very morning was to have witnessed the agon­ized moment of separation—and melancholy dejection brooded in the countenance of Margaretta.

My servant, a man whom I have loved for these forty years, entered:—"A stranger, Sir, is importu­nate to see you." Admit him, by all means. Marga­retta was hasting from the parlour; she was solicitous to hide her grief from the observation of the uninter­ested; but the stranger was close upon the heels of the servant, and not being able to make her escape, she withdrew to the window.

The gentleman, the stranger, I say, entered; upon his features were imprinted the strongest marks of per­turbed and tender anxiety; and, moreover, they were features with which I was confident I had long been familiar, although, for my soul, I could not recollect at what time, or in what place, they had met my view. He, however, fixing his inquiring eyes, with impatient [Page 283] solicitude, on the face of my wife, and drawing up a heavy sigh, thus laconically apologized:

‘Excuse me, Madam, excuse me, Sir—but my feel­ings disdain ceremony.’ The scrutiny under which the countenance of Mary passed, was soon performed; and Miss Clifford next engaged the attention of a man, who, but for the benign ascendancy, which, amid the most tumultuous agitation I had ever witnessed, was still conspicuous in his countenance, I should have con­cluded, entirely deprived of reason.

"You are lovely," he exclaimed, addressing Miss Clifford, ‘but you are not the angel—at least, I think you are not—of whom I am in pursuit.—Tell me, Mr. Vigillius; tell me, ye incomparable pair! ye who have still continued the matchless guardians of my long lost and unceasingly lamented Margaretta, what apartment in this happy dwelling contains my only surviving treasure?’ Margaretta, who had sought to hide her sorrow-marked visage from the gaze of a stranger, now, lost in astonishment, mechanically turning from the window, presented to his view her tearful face; she catched a glance, and, faintly shriek­ing, would have sunk upon the floor, had not the stranger, whom we now regarded with a kind of indig­nant horror, snatched her to his embrace! Our re­sentment, however, soon gave place to all those en­raptured emotions, which the accession of high and unexpected felicity originates in the bosom, when, in a voice expressive of paternal tenderness, of paternal transport, he soothingly said—

‘Compose yourself, my lovely, my admirable, my inimitable child! It is a father's arms that are at length permitted to enfold his long lost Marga­retta!!! Arbuthnot, thou shalt no more invade my rights; it is again given me to possess my child, and all her beauteous mother stands confest! Saint­ed spirit—this hour shall render thy elysian still more blessed!’

Margaretta shrunk not from his embraces: Strange as it may appear, her agitated spirit did not entirely [Page 284] suspend its functions; and while she seemed, in the arms of the stranger, an almost lifeless corse, her lips yet moved, and every charming feature received an extatic kind of ejaculatory impression.

Among the trinkets belonging to her mother, which had come into her possession on the death of Mrs. Ar­buthnot, was a miniature picture of her father: Per­haps there was not a single day, on which she did not gaze with filial devotion upon this picture. It was a striking likeness; and, by its general contour, her mind was strongly impressed. Hence the effect pro­duced, by a single glance at the original; and it was a frequent observation of this picture, that occasioned the confused recollection, for which, upon the first ap­pearance of the stranger, I was at a loss to account.

It cannot be matter of wonder, that at an interview so astonishingly interesting, not an individual retained that self-command, so requisite to common forms: At length, however, recollection resumed, in a degree, its office. Mary conducted Mrs. Hamilton to a sofa, when, a flood of tears unlocking for her the powers of utterance, with a look of profound and dignified veneration, she quitted her seat, and suddenly kneeling before the honoured man, in this devotional attitude, with clasped hands, and in broken accents, she per­turbedly questioned—‘Art thou a spirit blest—dis­patched from Heaven's high court to soothe thy sorrowing child?—or art thou indeed my father? Hast thou never tasted death? and, if thou hast not, by what miracle didst thou escape those tremendous waves, which we have supposed commissioned for thy destruction?’ Mr. Melworth, forsooth, to say it was he, his very self, raised his kneeling child, and again clasping her to his paternal bosom, in strains of exquisite tenderness, affectionately replied—

‘Be comforted, my love; be composed, my heart's best treasure; I am indeed thy father. At a proper time, thou shalt be made acquainted with every par­ticular; and, in the interim, as I have been inform­ed of thy embarrassed circumstances, know, that [Page 285] riches, more than thou canst want, are in my gift. Thou shalt introduce me to thy worthy husband. I am apprized of the whole of thy sweetly interesting story; and thy happiness shall, if possible, be equal to thy merit.’ Margaretta, wild with transport, now raised her eyes and hands to Heaven, and the most extravagant and incoherent expressions of joy were upon her lips. "Then he shall not go," she ex­claimed—‘Avaunt, ye brooding fiends, that hover round the land of murder!—ye shall not intercept the virtuous career of Hamilton—ye shall not pre­sume to manacle those hands that have, a thousand times, been stretched forth to wipe the tear from the face of sorrow—Avaunt, ye hell-born fiends!—Al­giers, united for his destruction, shall not detain him; for lo, a blessed father descends from heaven, to save his well near sinking Margaretta!’

Edward, who, from the entrance of Mr. Melworth, had remained, as it were, entranced, or petrified by as­tonishment, roused by his fears for the reason of Mar­garetta, now coming forward, prostrated himself at the feet of Mr. Melworth. No one possessed sufficient composure to introduce him—nor was this necessary; the strong sensations which pervaded his almost bursting heart, inscribing upon every manly and ex­pressive feature, veneration, joy, gratitude, and appre­hension, emphatically pointed him out, and rendered a doubt impossible.

But why continue a scene, which may, perhaps, be conceived, but which words can never delineate? Our mutual congratulations; our mutual expressions of felici­ty; the best affections of which humanity is capable; the most rapturous sensations of delight; these were all in course—and these were all afloat; and I will only add, that Edward will not proceed on his voyage—that Margaretta is happy—that every creditor shall be am­ply satisfied; and I hereby advertise—let them pro­duce their several claims; they shall receive to the last farthing, yea, and liberal interest too. Seymour—generous Seymour!—if this Magazine shall reach [Page 286] thee, before thou hearest from thy friend, know, that the hour of thy emancipation is at hand, and that a full reward awaiteth thee, for all the munificent deeds which thou hast so munificently devised.

And, gentle reader, for thy consolation, I give thee my word and honour, that the very next Gleaner, by recounting to thee every particular, relative to Mr. Melworth, which shall come to my knowledge, shall, if it is within the compass of my power, amply gratify a curiosity, which thou needest not hesitate to own, and which I should have been mortified in the extreme, not to have excited.

N^o. XXIX.

THE author, who leaves nothing to the imagina­tion of his readers, is frequently accused of blameable arrogance; and it is often asserted that, puffed up by an over-weening self-conceit, he vainly supposes, that the germ of fancy can flourish no where but in the soil of his own wonderful pericranium.

Now, as the fact is, that I am anxiously solicitous to avoid every occasion of offence, I shall (taking into consideration the feelings of sensibility, and properly influenced by an idea of the ingenuity which is its ac­companiment) wave the description of those delightful sensations, which, in rapturous succession, were the nat­ural appendages of the introduction of the father of Margaretta. The extatic fondness with which he hung upon the accents of his daughter—the mingling pleasures and regrets—the big emotions which sur­prised his soul, as he traced each lovely feature—those well-known features, which exhibited to his view a beau­teous [Page 287] transcript of those that he had early learned to admire in the face of her departed mother—the ex­quisite sensations with which he traced the kindred lineaments—comparing them separately and collect­ively with a miniature of his lady, which he wore in his bosom, and which might have passed for an exact copy of Mrs. Hamilton—the glowing expressions of paternal tenderness, with which he folded the little William to his bosom—the marked approbation, une­quivocally demonstrated toward every movement of the husband of his Margaretta—the manly and com­placent regards that he bestowed upon Miss Clifford—the sweet incense of expansive and immeasurable praise, that he addressed to me, styling me the saviour, the benefactor, the genuine father of his poor orphan girl—the elevated regards, short only of adoration, which he devoted to my dear Mary—those charming effu­sions, consisting in expressive looks, broken words, and unambiguous gestures; effusions which were the spon­taneous growth of uncommon felicity, the reciprocity of exquisite satisfaction which we abundantly inhaled—All this, and whatever else the soul of sensibility can conceive, gladly do I refer to the glowing mind of the feeling sentimentalist; and I do hereby invest imagin­ation, in the utmost latitude of its powers, with full scope; it is impossible it can paint too high; language is indeed insufficient, and the most vivid tints of fancy can alone pourtray.

Nay, gentle reader, I take upon me to assert, that however elaborately thou mayest finish thy picture, after thou has bestowed upon it thy last touches, it may, after all, fall vastly short of the original; and, right sorry am I, that my powers are so circumscribed, as to render it impossible for me to place it in its genuine lustre before thee. But, finite efforts, being doomed to submit to a necessity, the effects of which it must ever be unavailing to lament; we will, without further preamble, proceed in our narration. And here I would not have thee conceive, that I am so unreasonable as to condemn thee to the drudgery of accounting for the [Page 288] sudden appearance of Mr. Melworth, nor can I con­sent, that, setting me down as a descendant of Merlin, thou shouldst place in my hand the magic wand; in­vest me with the powers of incantation, the gift of working miracles, or, of summoning "spirits from the vasty deep." No, believe me, I am no conjurer, and the better to banish every idea of a supernatural inter­position, I hasten to bring forward the promised facts. Imagine then, that the tumultuous and perturbed sen­sations of ungovernable transport, which were conse­quent upon the late developement, are succeeded by that kind of satisfaction which is the result of high com­placency in the present, and the most agreeable antici­pations of the future; or by that state of tranquillity, which must always be considered as a desirable sub­stitute for the hurricane of the passions, whatever may be the magnitude of the event which produced it. The extreme of joy and sorrow, originating commotions as destructive to the order of the mental system, as the up­rooting storm to the apparent harmony of the natural world; the mild and equal disposition cannot but re­gard as a relief, the regular succession of events. Im­agine that our happy circle is retired to the little apart­ment sacred to sentimental pleasures; to that apart­ment, upon which the step of inconsiderate levity, or indifference, obtrudeth not. Margaretta is seated be­tween her enraptured father, and that husband, who experiences for her exemplary worth, with every rising hour, augmenting admiration and new esteem. Ma­ry, Serafina and myself, complete the group, and Mr. Melworth, pressing the hand of Mrs. Hamilton, thus commences his interesting communications.

Unwilling to leave the curiosity of the reader un­gratified, during the tardy revolution of another month, I have felt myself necessitated to curtail the narrative of Mr. Melworth. Many useful observa­tions are omitted. The frequent interruption, breaks, and pauses, occasioned by the susceptibility of Mrs. Hamilton, and the agitation of her father; the unbounded and venerating gratitude of Edward; and the combining admiration, and rapt felicity of our whole party; all this was in course, and to every thing of this sort, I must repeat, that the silently expressive touches of that vivid pencil, which is found in the glowing hand of fancy, can alone do justice.

Already our young people have resumed their ele­gant family seat. Miss Clifford is still the companion of Margaretta. Amelia Worthington is now a congrat­ulating visitor at Hamilton-Place. Mr. Melworth is for the present a resident in that sweetly romantic man­sion; and this very morning, the second day of July, one thousand seven hundred and ninety-four, witnes­sing the birth of a daughter to Margaretta, hath seem­ed to complete our family felicity.

N^o. XXX.

THE multifarious ligaments which bind fam­ilies together, being the handy-work of na­ture, and essentially or closely interwoven with our existence, that shock must be indeed violent, that can burst them asunder. It is true that a long continued series of disobligation may obscure the vivid glow of those images, which nature and habit have impressed upon the intellect. Unkindness is the opaque body, which intercepts the sunny beams of luminous and in­born tenderness; but the eclipse is seldom total, and the cheering influence of affection is frequently invig­orated, and often becomes the more transcendent, for the momentary obstruction, by which it seemed well near enveloped.

Surely that heart must be strangely deficient, which the pleasing sensations that are attendant upon the first stage of being, hath not indelibly impressed; and, that mind is unwarrantably implacable, which, intrenched by inexorable inflexibility, is incapable of being roused to the tenderness of recollection; which is not softened by the remonstrances of nature, fur­nished with arguments, drawn from a series of endear­ing and substantially beneficial proofs, of a generous attachment. Yet I know there are a variety of com­bustibles, which although perhaps not radically natives of the human soil, having, however, obtained a growth therein, and once taking fire, it is difficult to say where the conflagration may end. I am aware there are in­juries which pride and self estimation, consider as un­pardonable. It is a melancholy truth there are ob­durate hearts; and, it may be, that the strong winds [Page 302] of passion may obliterate, or uproot from the bo­som every proper sensation of the soul. But grant­ing that the empoisoned plant may become rampant in the rancorous breast, the Gleaner, while engaged in the routine of his profession, hath at no moment bound himself to select the noxious weed; he confesses he is fond of culling the flowers of humanity, and that, with these, as often as may be, he is solicitous to furnish and adorn his page.

To the well regulated mind, the contemplation of family harmony is inexpressibly pleasing. The phi­lanthropic speculator views the little society unaltera­bly attached, bound together by the strong cords of mutual affection, and rising superior to the adverse in­fluence of separate or selfish claims, as a miniature of that vast family of man, which futurity shall see col­lected under the protecting auspices of a benign and paternal God. Order, unbroken confidence, celestial tenderness, energetic love—in this august assembly, these shall all triumphantly officiate. Peaceful an­gels shall hover round; discord shall find no entrance there; offences shall be no more; but truth, sky ro­bed innocence, unimpeached integrity, unblemished virtue, and undeviating holiness, shall be established, from everlasting to everlasting, and of their dominion there shall be no end. Yes, it is pleasing to trace the strik­ing resemblance which is exemplified in the animated sketch. Mild, affectionate and judiciously indulgent parents; duteous and confiding sons and daughters; mutually complacent, and unequivocally attached brothers and sisters. The royal bard of Israel, striking­ly, feelingly, and poetically delineates the family of love: "Behold how good, and how pleasant it is for breth­ren to dwell together in unity." Well might the sacred poet summon the aid of a splendid fancy, and arrest the most expressive figures to image the fine effects and pleasing utility of domestic complacency; the rich perfumes which consecrated the anointed priest of the Hebrew tribes, the fertilizing dew descending up­on Hermon's verdant summit, and resting with ge­nial [Page 303] influence upon the adjacent eminence; these but shadow forth the sublimity of that union, upon which our God hath commanded a blessing, which originates a dignified and blissful immortality.

Yes, it is pleasing to trace the striking resemblance which is exemplified in the animated sketch. The contemplation of domestic harmony soothes and ele­vates the mind, and although it is undeniably true, that the philosopher will extend his regards from the little group which constitutes his relative circle, to friends, to country, to the universe at large, until he commences a citizen of the domain of heaven; yet he will not refuse to acknowledge those ardors, those hopes, and those fears, which upon his opening mind, in the white winged hours that marked his dawn of being, were, by the strong hand of nature, irreversibly engraved.

Affection is very properly said to descend; and it is generally true, that while we venerate with pious duty the authors of our being, while our hearts are warm­ed for them by love and reverence, we are in the same moment impelled to acknowledge for our offspring, augmented and more energetic tenderness. Nature, it is said, hath implanted these superior and irresisti­ble sensations, for the purpose of nerving our efforts for the preservation and advancement of the infant candidate; but, be this as it may, in whatever wise regulations it hath originated, the fact is indubitable. Family ties of every description are variously respect­able, and variously estimable, in their various depart­ments: I have been lately led to an appreciation of their comparative value by a disquisition on which I was a silent attendant, that aimed at deciding what relative character deserved the preference. The investi­gation was rather curious than important; but it serv­ed, however, to amuse, during a vacant hour, which might have been worse appropriated.

The attachment of a well informed and tender fa­ther, to an amiable and grateful daughter, has been said to resemble that which is experienced by a guar­dian angel, to the being who is committed to his charge [Page 304] —tender, delicate, and divested of all that can debase, the paternal eye regards with immeasurable com­placency, his beauteous, his dependent child; and the finest feelings of his soul become embodied. To pro­tect her from every ill he is sedulously attentive; his judicious cautions hover round her inexperienced steps; his protecting arm would present the invulnerable shield; and his auspices are those of wisdom. Ever vigilant, ever upon his guard, to save her, even from the imputation of dishonour, he would consider his life as a comparatively trivial sacrifice. It is true that he is impassioned, but his ardours are those of virtue; his affections are pure, innocent, laudable, elevated, and refined; and, originating in nature, orig­inating in God, they will be perfected in heaven. All this is irrefragably just, and yet I take leave to ob­serve, that the fraternal department, when filled by a good and virtuous mind, more exactly answers the ideas which I have indulged, of that attendant cher­ub, ordained to tread with holy vigils, the destined path of the expecting voyager. In contemplating the character of a father, however beneficial its offices, we can hardly forbear recollecting, that, having pro­duced the being which is cherished, the consequent at­tachment may be the result of that selfish principle which so universally, more or less, actuates the human mind; and, it is undeniably true, that the operation of a selfish principle essentially diminishes the lustre of the most beneficial and exemplary action.

A brother, it hath been divinely observed, is born for adversity; a gentle and confiding female can hard­ly boast a more agreeable or disinterested relation; the general arrangements of nature authorizes a hope, that his protection will continue coeval with her mor­tal career, and if he fulfils the duties of the fraternal name, he will still continue a natural, patronizing, and consolatory resource. What eye is not charmed by a view of the marked and delicate attention, which is paid by an elegant young man to the gentle and ac­complished maiden, who is the daughter of his father [Page 305] and of his mother. Grant that opportunities of this kind are extremely rare, the sensations derived there­from are, nevertheless, in a superior degree, pleasing. The attachment of a brother to a sister, if it is genu­ine and sincere, if it corresponds with the designation of unadulterated and upright nature, partakes the ex­quisite delicacies and refinements of love, devoid of its tumultuous caprices, or interested and ungovernable fervors; with ineffable satisfaction it yields that pro­tection, to which nature and education combine to give the sex a claim. It is not stinted in its regards; it is tender, elevated and refined; it is generous and com­municable; it is sympathetic and permanent. A true brother unites the duties of the paternal, with the more equal, sweet, and social pleasures of the fraternal in­tercourse; the heart of a brother hesitates not to ac­knowledge the bland, endearing, and indissoluble ties of amity. A true brother is at all times a guardian friend; he rejoiceth in his fraternity; and, I repeat, that his attachment may claim kindred with those sen­timents, which are supposed to actuate the tenderly watchful seraph, who, commissioned by the high court of Heaven, enters with the first moment of our exist­ence upon his trust, and fulfils his celestial mission, by attending through every stage of life his progressing charge.

Richardson exhibits the character, proper to a Broth­er, in the most vivid and glowing hues; but if his Grandison originated not in fiction, the portrait doubt­less owes many embellishments to the incomparable pen of that inimitable writer. It is a melancholy fact, that eminent virtue, of whatever description, is a gem that the hand of nature, however indulgent, hath too seldom produced. Yet, for the honour of humanity, I cannot deny myself the gratification of affirming that I, at this moment, contemplate more than one brother who hath uniformly supported that endearing character. Who, as far as circumstances have called them forth, have amply proved their title to rank in the same grade with Richardson's finely imagined delineation.

[Page 306] Much do I regret that I am not authorized to name those fair examples, which, through a course of years, I have been accustomed to admire. But the emblaz­oning voice of fame might possibly tinge their cheeks with the hue of disapprobation; for it is certainly true, that genuine merit "Does good by stealth, and blushing finds it fame." Yet, if, while sketching the outlines of characters so replete with excellence, their celebrity should induce the finger of perception to point out the living portraits, the Gleaner presumes he ought not to be made responsible for consequences which, by the foreign traits wherewith he hath studiously diversified his descriptions, he hath been solicitous to avoid. It is indubitably an exalted and sublime kind of pleasure which we derive from a view of transcendent worth; and that writer should at least be considered as venial, who, fond of contributing to enjoyments resulting from an unexceptionable source, is careful to collect instances which adorn and elevate his species. A laudable mo­tive is justly admitted as an advocate for the propriety of an action. If it issues pure from the fountain of rectitude, we are not, I have conceived, to be regarded as responsible, for the adventitious mixtures which it may connect, as it winds its course through the murky grounds of opinion, malevolence, misconception or de­traction. But, be this as it may, the reflections to which this essay owes its being, have originated in a view of real life; and the probability is, that if virtu­ous, informed and judicious parents were multiplied among us, family attachment would be continued, and individuals, branching out in their several directions, would still, however, reverting to their ancient stock, continue encircled by the bonds of amity. Character may some time preserve its ascendency over education; but education will, nevertheless, remain a powerful agent in the formation both of the heart and the man­ners; and observation convinces us, if the principals exhibit the pattern, the family will generally be en­dowed with the virtues, the graces, and the elegance of humanity.

[Page 307] Happy in my connexions—I have known many charac­ters highly worthy of imitation. I have known fathers dignified by the integrity of their hearts, the clearness of their understandings, and the humane and indulgent liberality of their sentiments. I have known mothers, who, superior to the frivolity and want of character, which is rendered by education, and subsequent events, pe­culiarly feminine, have contrinuted much to the emol­ument and elevation of their family. Possessing minds capacious and extensively cultivated, truth seems to receive from their lips additional ornament; they express themselves with elegance, precision, and fluency—their language is the language of propriety, and they add a grace to every sentiment which they utter: the sincerity and candour of their dispositions are equalled only by the frankness which is conspicu­ous in the manners, and gentleman-like deportment of their respectable coadjutors in the voyage of life, and all their plans for the regulation of those who are en­trusted to their care, are marked by wisdom and una­nimity.

From such parents we expect a result happy for the individuals immediately under their tuition, and auspi­cious to society at large. They will early endeavour to endow the minds of those sons and daughters, whom they rear to maturity, with the fortitude so necessary in the voyage of life; they will fashion in the opening mind a disposition which will teach accommo­dation to the unavoidable evils consequent upon hu­manity; they will cultivate that spirit of patient re­signation which is so proper for the dependent being, whose part it is to submit without a murmur to the strokes of Providence, and when called upon to resign into the hands of their Creator God, any of these little individuals, who are rendered by nature and habit incalculably dear, an opportunity being thus fur­nished to enforce their precepts by example, no impious expressions will escape their lips; the sighs which they will swell, will be the sighs of submission; with holy acquiescence they will bend to the decrees of Heaven; [Page 308] in no instance violating the consistency of their char­acters, they will support with uniform propriety, the Christian name, and they will possess that applause which should invariably attend the benevolent and the good. In the families of such parents, regularity pre­sides. The morning is ushered in by the devout breathings of cheerful and solemnized spirits, and the return of "sober suited evening," witnesseth their grate­ful and pious orisons. The various duties of humanity are punctually discharged, and the hours of leisure are uniformly devoted to the cultivation of the minds of those children, whom they design as natural friends to each other, and as useful and ornamental members of the community to which they appertain.

It was from such a stock that the venerable and truly respectable Hortensius descended; and, having marked with uncommon satisfaction the serene pleas­ures which gild the evening of his days, we wave the privilege of a novelist, whose character places in his gift a choice of heroes, and hazard the mentioning a character, the original of which, having continued through revolving years the boast of fraternal records, may perhaps immediately occur to the reader, who is at all conversant in the list of those worthies, that in our Columbian world have given splendor to the pres­ent day.

Hortensius was bred to business, and his probity through all the complicated scenes in which he hath been engaged hath remained unimpeached. Frugali­ty and industry are considerable traits in his charac­ter; his efforts are crowned with success, and he is in possession of affluence. A severe disappointment in early life, relative to the maiden of his election, steel­ed his heart against every subsequent approach of the tender passion, and ambitious of the title, Citizen of the World, he devoted himself to a series of beneficent ac­tions, consulting in every movement the felicity of the family of man.

Hortensius was exemplary as a son, and it was one of his principal enjoyments, "to rock the cradle of declining [Page 309] age;" his parents continued in life to extreme old age, and after gently sloping for them their passage out of time, he laid them decently in the earth, bedewing their exit with a manly and a filial tear. In the me­tropolis, where he was ushered into being, he hath sustained through succeeding years, and with unblem­ished reputation, the office of an upright and impor­tant magistrate, and he is beloved and respected as universally as he is known. Hortensius is learned, re­ligious and cheerful, and his liberality is only circum­scribed by his abilities. But if you would give the finishing touches to the character of Hortensius, you must borrow the pen of his sister.

This amiable woman, although accustomed to his benignity, can hardly mention him, especially if you advert to his benevolence, without tears. To the nu­merous family, of which he is the head, he at once discharges the duties of a parent, and a brother; but, by her, he is considered as meriting epithets more ten­der, more respectful, and more expressive than language hath yet fashioned; and her tongue untired, delights to expatiate upon his many virtues. She was in the bloom of life widowed of her dearest hopes, and the hour which marked the exit of him, with whom she had exchanged her youthful vows, who had been the deliberate choice both of affection and of judgment, and to whom she was devoted by every motive which can endear a bosom friend, that fatal hour yielded her a monument of woe! while the virtues of her lost companion, seemed amply to justify those demonstra­tions of heart-felt anguish, which, notwithstanding the length of years that have since elapsed, she still occa­sionally indulges. A number of infant sons and daughters, incapable of estimating the amount of their deprivation, while they augmented her grief, armed her with resolution to attempt encountering the ills of life. Yet, destitute of property, (for a train of pe­cuniary misfortunes had preceded the demise of the father of her children) unaccustomed to any ardu­ous effort, and rendered imbecile by sorrow, the prob­ability [Page 310] is, she must have sunk under the pressure of calamity.

But Hortensius saw, he pitied, and he flew to res­cue. A commodious and elegant habitation was pre­pared; his sister and her little family were put into immediate possession thereof; and, taking apartments for himself under the same roof, he became her solace, her companion, and her protector; and he was, at once, the guardian, the support, and the preceptor of her children. Their education has been the most lib­eral which our country can afford; her eldest son is now a barrister of distinguished eminence; her daugh­ters are apportioned and married into the genteelest families, and they are considered as ornaments of their sex; while the glad emotions of their grateful hearts unreservedly hail the good Hortensius as their father and their friend; and they equitably acknowledge higher obligations to him, than they could have owed to the author of their beings, whose indispensable duty it would have been, to have reared and cherished them.

A view of Hortensius, placed in the midst of the charming group, is gratifying to the best feelings of the heart; he experiences the rapture of a parent, while the children of his affectionate bounty, attached by affinity, gratitude, love, and veneration, behold him as a guardian seraph, clothed in the habiliments of humanity, by that watchful Providence, who de­signed him their benefactor, their guide, and their truly munificent resource! Doubtless, the first of blessings will be found in his train. Nay, he is already in pos­session of that "sweet peace of mind, which goodness bo­soms ever."

N^o. XXXI.

NO—Atheism will never do. The prime procurer and minister of the French arrangements, at length accedes to this axiom; and Gallia, having guil­lotined her sovereign, and blasphemously sought to dethrone and annihilate the Monarch of Heaven, be­comes, in her present resolutions, solicitous to re-estab­lish the Deity in her systems, to invest the Supreme with those divine honours, which the language of na­ture hasteth to bestow, which the dictates of reason in­variably award.

Opposed, from principle, to those sanguinary decrees, which, pronouncing the death-warrant of whole heca­tombs of my species, fail not to let loose the dogs of war, I will confess, that I have not felt for the name of Robespierre any of those cordialities which consti­tute the aggregate of amity. The anarchy and con­sequent enormities, prevalent in France, together with those licentious principles, which have apparently been so generally embraced, I have considered as replete with incalculable evils, as the baleful precursors of ev­ery ill which can afflict humanity! Such my senti­ments, I expected not from the report of Robespierre, those strong and glowing sensations, which, whenever I attend to the voice of truth, most delightfully expand my soul—But I have read—and, charmed with the prevalent contour of the composition, the energy and beauty of the diction, and the demonstrative propriety [Page 312] and sublimity of the observations—while I do homage to the translator, I cannot but join my suffrage to those applauses, by which America has marked the new-born piety of the French politician.

It is true that, as being a member of the protestant community, I am necessitated, by my creed, to re­nounce all supplications made to saints, whatever eclat may have attended their canonization. I may not feel at liberty to cry out, "Oh! Sancta Robespierre, ora pro nobis;" yet if he, in reality, shall at length pursue the mild dictates of truth and reason, every senti­ment of my soul will combine to wish him God speed. An admirer of the report in the gross, I yet conceive that the following extracts can hardly be too often repeated, can scarcely be too strongly inculcated, or too deeply engraven upon the tablets of reflection. "What was the wish of those, who, in the bosom of the conspiracies with which we were surrounded, in the midst of the embarrassments of such a war, at the moment while the torch of civil discord was still smok­ing, suddenly attacked all kinds of worship by violence, to establish themselves as the furious apostles of anni­hilation, and as the fanatic missionaries of atheism? Attend only to the happiness of your country and the interests of humanity; cherish all opinions and institu­tions which console and elevate the mind; reject those which tend to degrade and corrupt them; revive and exalt all those generous sentiments and those great moral ideas which they have wished to extinguish; reconcile by the charms of friendship, and the bonds of virtue, those citizens whom they have wished to divide. Who has given thee the mission of announcing to the peo­ple, that the Deity does not exist? To you who are at­tached to this barren doctrine, and who are not ani­mated in the cause of your country, what advantage do you derive from persuading man that a blind force presides in his destiny, and strikes by chance his virtues or his vices; and that his soul is only a transient breath which is extin­guished at the tomb? Will the idea of his annihilation inspire him with more pure or more elevated sentiments than that [Page 313] of his immortality? Will it inspire him with more re­spect for his fellow men, or for himself; more attach­ment to his country; more firmness in braving tyran­ny; more contempt for death or pleasure? You who re­gret a virtuous friend, do you not delight to reflect that the most valuable part of him has escaped decease? You who weep over the corpse of a son or a wife, are you consol­ed by him who tells you that nothing more of them remains than a vile heap of dust? Unfortunate men, who expire under the stroke of an assassin! your last sigh is an appeal to eternal justice! Innocence, on the scaffold, makes the tyrant turn pale in his triumphal car: Would it have this ascendency if the tomb put upon a level the oppressor and the oppressed? Miserable sophist! from whence do you derive this right of rending from in­nocence the sceptre of reason, and of placing it again in the hands of vice; to throw a melancholy veil over na­ture, to drive misfortune to despair; to encourage vice, to afflict virtue, to degrade humanity? The more a man is endowed with sensibility and genius, the more is he at­tached to those ideas which aggrandize his being, and which elevate his mind; and the doctrine of men of this character should become that of the universe.

I had but recently perused the whole of this very excellent moral report, when one of the best informed, and most sentimental of my friends, put into my hands a piece selected from the London Morning Chronicle of November 29, 1793.

To the matured judgment of this friend I am in the habit of paying high deference; and he conceived, that whether we regarded the little narration as a fact, or an ingenious reproof of the conduct of the predomi­nant party in France, it contained a sufficient quantum of good sense to merit preservation. It is a proper supplement for the celebrated report of Robespierre, and in my office of caterer for my readers, perhaps I [Page 315] could not do better than to offer it to their acceptance. I subjoin it, therefore, with an added with, that it may contribute as largely to their pleasures, as it did to the satisfaction of the Gleaner.

"A few days after the bishop of Paris and his vi­cars had set the example of renouncing their clerical character, a curi from a village on the banks of the Rhone, followed by some of his parishioners, with an offering of gold, silver, saints' chalices, rich vestments, &c. presented himself at the bar of the house. The sight of the gold put the Convention in very good hu­mour, and the curi, a thin venerable looking man, with grey hair, was ordered to speak. I came, said he, from the village of—, where the only good building standing (for the chatteau has been pulled down) is a very fine church; my parishioners beg you will take it to make a hospital for the sick and wound­ed of both parties, they being equally our countrymen; the gold and silver, part of which we have brought you, they entreat you will devote to the service of the State; and that you will cast the bells into cannon, to drive away its foreign invaders. For myself I am come with great pleasure to resign my letters of ordination, of induction, and every deed of title, by which I have been constituted a member of your ecclesiastical polity. I am still able to support myself with the labour of my hands, and I beg you to believe that I never felt sin­cerer joy than I now do in making this renunciation—I have longed to see this day; I see it, and am glad."

"The curi turned his footsteps homeward; and the Convention looked for some minutes on one another, before they resumed their work of blood."

The Gleaner is aware, that the republishing of the foregoing, cannot fail of unveiling him to the gentle­man, from whom he received the manuscript; but he has such perfect confidence in the indulgence and hon­our of the disposition of his respected friend, and in that of those with whom he stands immediately con­nected, as to rest assured that they will not betray a secret, which he, the Gleaner, hath delayed to reveal to the dearest of his associates.

N^o. XXXII.

THE value of an equal and accommodating dis­position, cannot, I conceive, be too highly appre­ciated, too energetically inculcated, or too often ex­patiated upon. Such, and so frequent are the vicis­situdes of life, that an unbending mind, refusing to yield to that necessity which is imposed upon its ex­istence, is broken by the boisterous winds which are abroad, and too frequently prostrated by those calam­ities, or adverse transitions, to which an acquiescent spirit finds it wisdom, with humble patience, to submit. "The burden becomes light by being well borne." I have not forgot that this is an old adage, but I re­peat, that its antiquity doth not deduct the smallest par­ticle from its rationality; these venerable old saws fre­quently contain the very pith and essence of sentiment, and I have often thought that the pen appropriated to the pointing out their excellence, might be much worse employed.

Say, thou discontented and repining mortal, what emol­ument hast thou derived from continually tracing the dark shades in the picture? Hast thou received injuries, and dost thou find thy recompense in eternally brood­ing thereon? Do such contemplations meliorate thy vir­tues, or promote the sunshine of the soul? Are the ge­nial and salutary airs of tranquillity originated or waft­ed forward by reflections, which wound the mind, and fire the bosom with indignation?

Health of body, serenity of soul, sweet complacency, sprightly mirth—all these are among the victims of cherished, gloomy and corroding resentment! The soul of the vindictive is the region of horror, and the most black and baleful passions harbour there. What are [Page 321] the pleasures of the angry man? It is undeniably true that he is his own tormentor; and if he throws the reins upon that implacability and inveterate revenge which so fearfully predominate in his breast, his most uniform or confirmed enemy could hardly devise means more adequate or better calculated for the destruction of his felicity. Have not the attentions I have received been commensurate with that merit, with which my self-par­tiality hath invested me? Have I to complain of cold indifference or neglect from those upon whom nature, circumstances, or amity, had furnished me with indis­putable claims? Have I not only been defrauded of those dues to which the inviolable laws of society hath entitled me; but hath insult, and even outrage been also added? Well, it is really a pity-moving situation, and I would certainly turn as often as possible from the view. Canst thou derive either satisfaction or profit from an enumeration of thy grievances? I pity the malignant spirit, which can delight to prey upon food on which the fiends assembled in Pandemonium might joy to riot. Reader, if thou wert ever angry, then hast thou expe­rienced the ravages which the war of the passions mak­eth upon thy peace—like all other wars, desolation follows in the train, and reason can never estimate their profit; yet, if upon a fair calculation, the sum total proves thee a single drachm, or even a half drachm, nay, the hundredth part of a scruple the gainer; I will then consent that thou shalt in future vex thyself to a skeleton more hideous than the brain of fertile poesy ere conjured up, though sickening envy, or yellow jeal­ousy, or fell revenge, stalked full in view—"Yes," cried Maria, ‘the sensations which are attendant upon the contemplation of a virtuous action, are undoubt­edly divine. I would pass by a thousand supposed injuries, but I would dwell forever upon the contemplation of genuine worth. The reflections which are the accom­paniments of offences do not exercise, they do not invigorate the finer feelings of the soul. I listened to the pleasing matron,’ continued Maria, ‘I listened with rapture, for her tongue expatiated upon the philanthropy of Alberto.’

[Page 322] "My son," said she, ‘was on a voyage; he was a stranger, and he took rank among the lowest grade which made up the ship's company—my son fell sick; he was dangerously ill; gloomy was his situa­tion—but Alberto commanded the ship; he sought out my son; he soothed his woes; he lodged him in his own cabin; he attended him in person, and my son was restored to health. Immeasurable are my obligations to Alberto; and his name, next to that of the Supreme, is entitled to my utmost veneration. Alberto is my brother; I am many years his senior; I have known him the most beauteous of infants, and he gladdened the hearts of his parents. How sweet are the praises of a brother! Alberto, dear Alberto, for this, and many similar anecdotes of thy short life, I will remit unto thee all, and every one of the peccadillos, which, shading thy character, do but serve to render thy virtues the more conspicuous. Yes, the genuine benignity of thy soul shall serve as a sponge wherewith to obliterate all recollection of those asperities, that the rough contour of thy in­born integrity so frequently presents.’

The election of Maria exemplified her accustomed penetration; for reiterated observation of proper and becoming actions, has upon the heart the most saluta­ry effect. Was I called upon to delineate the path which would most assuredly lead to as great a share of happiness as is compatible with humanity, I should dictate to the candidate for felicity, a frequent recur­rence to the fair side of persons, circumstances and events; almost every thing may be viewed in different mediums, and even the various emphasizing of any given narration, may furnish the same fact with fea­tures directly opposite. Resolve then to view every occurrence in the very best possible light; and if there is a pleasing construction, seize with avidity the suppo­sition which points to complacency. Make, I beseech thee, the experiment; determine to be pleased for one week, and then tell me how smoothly fled the hours. Here I am aware of an objection; misfortunes may [Page 323] await, the pressure of which may cloud even fortitude itself. This is certainly true, and yet it should be re­membered that habitual equanimity can blunt the edge even of the real calamities of life, and that every evil is undoubtedly mitigated by patience.

Resolution can do much, the embodied faculties of the mind, disciplined by virtue, are equal to almost any situation; and they effectually arrest the progress of that fretful ennui which is commonly the offspring of indolence, and strongly marks the want of those efforts that are so proper to a rational being.

Murmuring, repining, captious discontent, invidious cavilling, these are fiends armed at all points against our repose; disagreeable recollections, wounding sar­casms, irritating recriminations—these are hunted after, as if they were some hidden treasure, and they stab our choicest comforts; they are the dark assassins, who, aiming at the vitals of tranquillity, fatally destroy our peace. Of what consequence is it who was the aggres­sor? humanity is subjected to error, and that immac­culate Being, to whom alone belongeth undeviating rectitude, hath given us a dignified example of forgive­ness. Take the advice of a friend; make the most of life; enjoy with avidity; reverence virtue, make it the goal of thy wishes; pursue and overtake, cultivate phi­lanthrophy; give ample scope to every benign sugges­tion; take not upon thyself the character of a public accuser, or censor; but, leaving this invidious office to those to whom it may legally belong, accustom thyself to expatiate upon the good qualities of thy associates, upon the benefits accruing from an intercourse with thy con­nexions, and upon the eligibles of life: Tread lightly upon offences; if thou shouldest awake the sleeping mischief, it will sting thee to the soul; its envenomed shafts will find their way to the deepest recesses of thy spirit. Do not magnify or even investigate the ill of­fices which have been done thee; few circumstances can justify the perturbating scrutiny; anger will grow in thy bosom. How shocking, how deforming is an­ger! Seneca's description of anger is not too high [Page 324] coloured; and it is just as true at the present day, as it was near eighteen hundred years since. Seneca, upon anger, may not be in your library; I take leave, there­fore, to transcribe an extract from his admired page.

"He was much in the right, whoever he was, that first called anger a short madness; for they have both of them the same symptoms; and there is so wonder­ful a resemblance between the transports of choler and those of frenzy, that it is a hard matter to know the one from the other. A bold, fierce and threatening countenance, as pale as ashes, and in the same moment as red as blood; a glaring eye, a wrinkled brow, violent motions, the hands restless and perpetually in action, wringing and menacing, snapping of the joints, stamp­ing with the feet, the hair starting, trembling lips, a for­ced voice; the speech false and broken, deep and frequent sighs, and ghastly looks; the veins swell, the heart pants, the knees knock; with a hundred dismal accidents that are common to both distempers. Neither is anger, only a bare resemblance of madness, but many times an irrecoverable transition into the thing itself. How many persons have we known, read, and heard of, that have lost their wits in a passion, and never came to themselves again? It is therefore to be avoided not only for moderation sake, but also for health. Now, if the outward appearance of anger be hideous, how deformed must that mind be that is harassed with it? for it leaves no place either for counsel or friendship, honesty or good manners; no place either for the ex­ercise of reason, or for the offices of life. If I were to describe it, I would draw a tyger bathed in blood; sharp set, and ready to take a leap at its prey; or dress it up as the poets represent the furies, with whips snakes and flames. It should likewise be sour, livid, full of scars, and wallowing in gore, raging up and down, destroy­ing, grinning, bellowing, and pursuing; sick of all other things, and most of all of itself. It turns beauty into deformity, and the calmest counsels into [...]: It disorders our very garments, and fills the mind with horror. How abominable then is it in the soul! [Page 325] Is not he a mad man who hath lost the government of himself, and is tossed hither and thither by his fury, as by a tempest; the executioner of his own revenge, both with his heart and hand; and the murderer of his nearest friends? The smallest matter moves it and makes us unsociable and inaccessible. It does all things by violence, as well upon itself as others; and it is, in short, the master of all passions."

Say, my fair friend, doth the portrait disgust thee? Fly then, lovely sentimentalist, from the very first ap­proaches of the fell destroyer; rude and mishapen, it assimilates into its own frightfully shocking aspect the finest features; and, beneath its horrid and imperious sway, prostrate beauty fades, and is extinct; its dep­redations on the sweet tranquillity, proper to thy sex, are marked with the most aggravating and unnatural circumstances:—Gentle woman should studiously shun that questionable path which may remotely terminate in the most distant approximation to the hell-born fiend; for every mild, every bland and social virtue, should constitute the aggregate of the female charac­ter. How charming is the sunshine of the soul! how friendly to the growth of mental life is the milk of hu­man kindness! how divine is the precept—"Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfil the royal law of love."

But stop—let me not presumptuously invade the province of the preacher. The fact is, thought hath followed thought, until, having overshot my purpose, I have widely deviated from my original plan: In­deed, the want of regularity is not the least of the in­conveniences which are the accompaniments of the vagrant tribe—but my humble pretensions must, at all times, be my apology.

My design was, to have devoted this Gleaner to the consideration of the utility of supporting with equa­nimity, the unavoidable misfortunes incident to life: And I was furnished with an exemplification of the advantages I had in view to delineate, during a tour I lately made through the out-skirts of one of the east­ern States: Thus the eccentricity of my occupation too often deranges my most favourite views, and I am [Page 326] necessitated to admit the multifarious produce of an excursive or fugitive imagination; yet, although thrown from my course, I will not be prevented from presenting my example; I think it cannot fail of strik­ing agreeably, and it may possibly give birth to those very identical reflections it was my wish to embody.

It was on a beautiful morning of April last that, seeking the pleasures of solitude, I wandered from the company at our little inn, and, mounting my horse, I threw the reins upon his neck, determining to leave to chance the direction of my ramble. We were equally strangers to the road, and a few miles in a country hardly emerging from a state of nature, conducted us to a thick wood, when, securing my horse to the trunk of a tall tree, I prepared to penetrate a coppice which presented the only vestige of the wants or ingenuity of man, which the eye could trace; and, proceeding onward to the extremity of the wood, which bordered a few acres of ground, equally remarkable for the sterility of its soil, and the strong indications it bore of the persevering patience and uncommon industry of its proprietors, I was roused from my reverie by a number of voices that, arresting my attention, imme­diately drew me forward to the place from whence they proceeded. I suspected the employment of our rustics, and, lest I should interrupt operations so prop­er to the season, I made my advances with care. The opening scene presented a poor built cottage, which, in language unequivocal, proclaimed industrious pov­erty; the heathy appearance of the grounds evinced the stinted produce, with which they repaid the mas­ter's culture; a few sheep and a single cow, whose thin forms demonstrated the scanty pittance on which they fed, stood forth additional vouchers of the penu­rious soil. But a fertilizing stream, which murmured by, and bore in its bosom various descriptions of the finny tribe, diversified the view, and gave birth to the pleasures of hope.

A well looking man was busily employed in turn­ing up and shaping the glebe; a sentimental carol vibrated upon his tongue, and his features were ex­pressive [Page 327] of content. A graceful female at a little dis­tance, round whom no less than eleven children, of different ages, were collected—was directing the eld­est boy, a rosy-cheeked youth, in setting some plants, while she herself committed to the prepared earth, those seeds from which she cheerfully anticipated the distant harvest. The vestments of the family were the vest­ments of penury; and if they could be considered as garments, they were entitled, for so respectable an ap­pellation, to the unwearied diligence, which, still fol­lowing the well worn robe, had so repeatedly repaired each time made breach, as to render it impossible to decide, of what hue or texture it was originally possess­ed: Yet the voice of gladness echoed round, and the hi­larity of the heart seemed impressed upon every feature.

I contemplated, with folded arms and grateful ad­miration, the uncommon group. The face of the matron was not immediately turned toward me, nei­ther had the shepherd observed me; but the children had begun to amuse themselves with my figure, when their mother, having finished her employ, was drawn by their innocent mirth to the spot on which I was fixed. I have already confessed mingling surprise and pleasure at the gay tranquillity, which was apparently the appendages of a scene so barren of good, and so remarkably devoid of the eligibles of life; but no language can express my astonishment, when, in the countenance of the penuriously garbed matron, I re­cognized the once opulent, truly amiable, and highly deserving Flavilla!

Gracious God!—spontaneously I exclaimed—Is it possible? do I in reality behold the long idolized, and ever charming Miss Kneller? Flavilla, accustomed to the vicissitudes and caprices of events, uttered no per­turbed exclamation; but, with that genuine dignity, which nature delights to confer upon a consciousness of innate worth, with a grace and manner which I have not often seen equalled in a drawing-room, pre­senting her hand, she expressed her satisfaction in an interview so unexpected; and, leading me to her hum­ble abode, we were soon joined by Honorius and the [Page 328] little family. I had known Flavilla from early youth: She was born to affluence, and her education had been in the first line. Her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Kneller, had no other child; and this daughter, promising in every view, was, of course, regarded as an inestimable treasure. Honorius was the man of her heart, and her union with the youth she loved, and who recipro­cated her attachment, received the cheerful sanction of the authors of her being.

Soon after the marriage of Miss Kneller, her pa­rental friends paid the great debt of nature, leaving Honorius and Flavilla in possession of an ample for­tune. But, from this period, thick clouds began to gather, and they experienced a most distressing reverse of circumstances. The career of their misfortunes was ushered in by a dreadful conflagration, in which their mansion-house, containing many valuable articles, was reduced to ashes; a series of calamities succeeded, un­til, at length, of all their vast possessions, scarce a ves­tige remained; yet a principle of rectitude triumphed in their souls; of their inborn integrity, the malice of their fate could not divest them; and discharging, with interest, the last farthing for which they were in­debted, with the poor pittance which was left, they retired, like Thompson's Lavinia—"far from those scenes that knew their better days," and purchased in this remote spot—'twas all they could—the barren grounds from which they have ever since obtained a scanty and hard earned subsistence. Their original stock consist­ed of thirty sheep, one cow, and a yoke of oxen; the sheep were almost immediately destroyed by the wolves; the cow fell a victim, probably, to the steril soil to which she was confined; and, in an attempt to level a tall tree, one of their oxen was killed upon the spot. Succeeding years has reduced to the lowest state the necessaries which made up their personal and family wardrobe, and it has not been in their power to possess themselves of the smallest supplies! Yet, strange to tell, neither time nor sorrow hath been able to infix their deadly fangs in the bosom of Flavilla; health dances in her veins, and beauty glows upon her cheek; her [Page 329] smiles still display the dimples of youth; and in her mildly expressive eye, corrected vivacity yet beams. It was impossible I could forbear expressing my aston­ishment and my admiration! and when I inquired by what means they had, Flavilla especially, supported such an uncommon measure of tranquillity, in the midst of such a calamitous reverse of circumstances, Flavilla replied—

"It is simply this, we have considered the brevity of life, and the certainty of our removal to another, a better, and a more permanent state of being; we have adopted, realized, and reduced to practice, the sentiment of an admired poet; we have been taught by experi­ence, that "earth-born cares are vain; that man wants but little here below," we have fully known; and we do not expect to want "that little long."

To contribute to the relief of Flavilla, or her family, is impossible; for since the discovery of her retirement, in regard to which she hath enjoined the strictest secresy, however ingenious I have been in my attempts to aug­ment their finances, I have still found myself, and with a firmness almost unexampled, uniformly repulsed. To have put Flavilla in possession of every thing which her situation seemed to claim, would have been the highest luxury which benevolence could have tasted; but while I regret, as an individual, her steady rejec­tion of all pecuniary assistance, I cannot but admire the genuine elevation of her high-souled sentiments. She listened, it is true, to those remonstrances with which, after more indirect methods had failed, I ven­tured to address her; but she listened only to ascertain her rejection.

"No, Sir," with all the calmness of inborn superi­ority, she replied, "I am but too much obliged in re­ceiving your munificent proposals, but no one shall say that he hath enriched either Flavilla, or her family. Flavilla, and her family, will depend only upon Na­ture, and Nature's God; habit hath reconciled us to our situation; we are resigned, we are contented—besides, my friend, the prospect now gradually brightens upon us; by rigid economy, we have replaced our stock; our [Page 330] children are growing up; my boys will assist their father; we have already laid the foundation of a little tenement, in which we expect to meet a tranquil close to waning life. Labour will ameliorate even the steril earth; many hands will bear from some more friendly spot the rich manure; the increase of our own fields shall yet spread us a plenteous board. See yonder flax, already it assumes a promising and healthy aspect. The finest threads are spun by my girls, and even by myself. Lydia is mistress of the weaving business; William has a fine mechanical genius, his looms are nearly com­plete, and the well made web, the product of our own industry, will ere long furnish us with decent and be­coming vestments."

Happy, deservedly happy woman! felicity, more than wealth can give, is thy well earned portion.

Felicity hasteth from the discordant spirit of the cap­tious murmurer, although the child of affluence, and enveloped in gold and purple; it hasteth to the bosom of contentment; it seeketh shelter in the breast of equa­nimity, bestowing on its votaries, although dwelling in a humble cottage, the choicest of its blessings.

N^o. XXXIII.

DISGUISES are frequently the convenient asy­lums of villany; and as they are always ques­tionable, they are with propriety always suspected. To trace the labyrinth of folly, into which the flagitious delinquent is precipitated, requires more than human penetration. Many are the windings and doublings of the proficient in error; all his paths are intricate; he is fruitful in subterfuges, and he is enveloped in mys­tery. I do not say that virtue hath never worn a veil, or that integrity may not suppose it necessary to hold up false lights; but I contend that the practice of deception, [Page 331] being an expedient that must be acknowledged extremely hazardous, ought never to be resorted to but in the last extremity; and I am free to own, I have found a singular pleasure in indulging a hope, that truth and innocence will generally bear their own weight.

The smooth surface of the limpid stream out-spreads its azure flow to the most curious investigation; the orient luminary of day emits a flood of light; it issues forth a transcendent body, elevated in itself, while its splendours are confessed by every eye; and the upright ancient wished for a glass in his breast, that the possibility of concealment might be thus erased from the cata­logue of his abilities. Ambiguity casts a veil over the most irreproachable life; it originates the invidious ar­dours of speculation; and it gives to the features of vir­tue the contour of folly. I confess I am charmed by frankness of soul; ingenuity and integrity of manners, carry with them their title to my unreserved esteem, and upon the honest sincere man, reason, unbiassed by fashion or habit, is ever ready to pronounce a eulogy. I abhor duplicity in every form; doubtful meanings, double entendres, playing upon words, with every baga­telle of this description, are, in my opinion, at least in­elegant and unbecoming; nor can I allow that they make any part of manly sense, true wit, or genuine hu­mour. In a fair, open, consistent manner of thinking, conversing and acting, there is both dignity and pro­priety; and an elevated reputation is the well earned reward of persevering and unequivocal worth. We list­en, with unrestrained pleasure, to the man of unim­peached honour; to him, whose upright soul hath never been entangled in the wiles of deceit, who hath never debased himself by an alliance with falsehood, nor sported with the credulity of his associates; who, worshipping at the shrine of truth, hath still held her inviolate, regarding all her instigations as sacred, and disdaining to purchase the smile of levity at the expense of that j [...]st which borrows its humour from a breach of ve­racity; and it is then that we confer upon him the most honorary distinction, when, with unlimited confi­dence, we repose upon his word the most unhesitating faith.

[Page 332] It is dangerous to amuse ourselves with the semblance of vice; the habit of uttering merry falsehoods, will soon blunt the fine edge of our feelings, and we shall easily slide into the most serious and capital violations of truth. Integrity dignifies a character; frankness is truly ami­able, and if the offence is not highly enormous, soften­ed by the ingenuity of a candid acknowledgment, we are ready to press the offender to our bosoms; we al­low him a second lease of our esteem, and it depends altogether on himself, whether we shall ever again serve upon him a writ of ejection. A moment of con­cealment is a moment of humiliation; and although circumstances may sometimes render it necessary, yet, it is certain, that when the paths of innocence are encom­passed by ambiguity, the lustre of her crown is dimmed; her blooming honours seem to wane, and we hesitate, while uttering those applauses which should be reserv­ed to enwreath the brow of unequivocal merit. Myste­rious arrangements excite suspicion; conjecture is a­float; jealousy is roused; the aerial mischief feeds up­on the thinnest diet, and peace evaporates in its grasp. Monimia is perturbed and agitated; not an hour in the day but a variety of tormenting ideas succeed each other in her mind; and the most vexatious inquietude, is the despot of her dreams. Monimia once boasted of her felicity, and her present sufferings are the offspring of conjecture; delicacy forbids her to question, and yet her tranquillity will never be restored, until she learns to what fair hand her loved Eugenio was indebt­ed for the expressive device so elegantly enwreathed, and so curiously cut, which hath recently come into his pos­session, and which he carefully preserves in the cover of his watch. Clarissa is agitated and unhappy; she accidentally discovered in the escrutoir of Horatio, a lock of hair; it was beautifully glossy; she is positive that it never made a part of her own auburn tresses; it was neatly folded in some lines, sweetly pathetic, and tenderly poetical: Perhaps the rape of that immortal­ized lock, which Dan Pope has so sweetly sung, al­though it interested the celestials, was not productive of more real anguish—and I persuade myself that eve­ry [Page 333] susceptible fair one will drop a tear over the sor­rows of Clarissa. Cordelia, whose attachment to her nuptial lord is still unbroken, hath passed months of dis­satisfaction, occasioned by her incertitude, relative to the disposal of a pair of sleeve-buttons, which she for­merly presented to her Henry as a pledge of love.

‘But these are all unjustifiable sources of inquiet­ude—they are the imbecilities of the mind, and, originating in the caprice of affection, they are of too small moment to merit attention; and they are, be­sides, too reprehensible to be countenanced.’

I grant they are at present comparatively small; yet if I am unhappy, I am unhappy, whatever may have pro­duced the evil; and when the peace of a family, or even of an individual is involved, a full explanation, with ev­ery attempt to soothe, is as necessary as it is generous; and it should always be remembered, that the unex­tinguished flame, which, raging with increasing vio­lence, pursues its desolating career, and issues in the most distressing conflagration, was once a lambent spark, whose genial warmth might easily have been suppressed, and whose agency, under a judicious direc­tion, might have produced the most beneficial effects.

Yes, the peace of families is too often sacrificed to false delicacy, and to an ill-judged silence on facts and circumstances, which ought to have been scrupu­lously narrated and critically examined. Inviolable secresy, preserved for any considerable length of time, supposing the event we are solicitous to conceal of im­portance to those with whom we are intimately con­nected, is hardly within the chapter of possibilities; a word, or even a look, accidentally transpiring, will give the alarm; the truth, however latent, is thus in part divulged; curiosity commenceth the pursuit, and a clue is obtained, which may be just sufficient to intro­duce the interested person into a labyrinth, from which, never being able to extricate himself, he may be despoiled of all that treasured serenity, which he had vainly hoped would serve as a fund, for the sup­port of a life of rational enjoyment.

A lovely woman at this moment rushes upon my [Page 334] recollection; she is not personally known to me, but although the vast Atlantic rolls its waves between us, yet, with reiterated pleasure, I have frequently traced the lineaments of her fair mind, as I have seen it pour­trayed in many a well-written page, the product of her inimitable pen. She hath, I am told, a pleasing exterior, and her understanding is elevated much a­bove the level of mediocrity. Nature, when she be­stowed upon her uncommon parts, endowed her also with an exquisite tenderness of soul. Her imagina­tion is lively and fertile, and she has a taste capa­ble of distinguishing, and highly enjoying the beauties of poetry. Early enlisting in the service of the Muses, she became one of their most successful votaries; and, from the beautiful parterres which ornament the Par­nassian grounds, she hath skilfully and happily combin­ed many an elegant fancied bouquet. She was always a nymph of the sober-suited train, and to airs the most pensively melodious her lyre was uniformly attuned.

Sweet Eliza! in the enchanting walks of poesy, thy feet have ceased to stray; that confirmed melancholy, which the sunny beams of hope can no longer impress, will no more permit thee to attune the neglected chords; the voice of the chantress is forever mute, and the lovely minstrel hath forgotten to charm. Unhap­py fair one! the rose of thy tranquillity is blighted, and "thy violets, alas! have all withered."

It is to the ill-judged silence of Eliza, and her ma­ternal parent, that her misfortunes must be imputed, The story of her life is simple: I owed unreturnable obligations to her father; it was to him I was indebt­ed for the systematic and rational mode of thinking, which has constituted the most tranquil and refined moments of my existence. He was a man in the lite­rary line; his writings are copious and energetic; and for strength of argument, perspicuity of diction, and self-evident demonstration, he hath never yet been surpassed; but having attained, in his favourite pursuit, the highest possible excellence; he became nearly absorbed in those contemplations from which originated so large a part of his felicity, and repre­hensibly [Page 335] inattentive to every consideration which he deemed of less moment. It too often happens that real or original genius, although rich in resources, and dis­tinguished by the most shining qualifications, is never­theless found destitute of those very necessary requi­sites, which can alone bestow a capability of a bene­ficial intercourse with mankind.

Mr. Mortimor, the father of Eliza, made his nup­tial choice with so little discretion, as to exchange the marriage vow with a woman, who, at the very mo­ment she met him at the altar, knew herself to be the wife of another! With this perfidiously abandoned in­grate, he lived in total ignorance of her criminal con­nexion; and lavishing upon her every proof of an at­tachment almost unexampled, until the perjured mis­creant, having stripped him of every valuable article which he possessed, found means to abscond with the paramour of her choice, at a period when the treach­erously betrayed Mortimor was engaged in the dis­charge of some benevolent offices, which his philan­thropic disposition had imposed upon him as duties.

It was not until after her elopement, that the turpi­tude of her life was disclosed to him; and yet he could not, even then, although convinced of her atrocity, be persuaded to take measures calculated to bring her to condign punishment! Many years elapsed before the wound he had received admitted a cure; his ten­derness of soul, and his innate sense of rectitude, still combated his peace, and reason, for a long time, plead in vain. At length, however, the lenient hand of as­suaging years, aided by the intellectual accomplish­ments, and prepossessing exterior, of a truly deserving female, effectuated the most salutary change. Hope once more dawned in his bosom; it gleamed like some heavenly visitant athwart the melancholy region of his benighted soul; by degrees it obliterated the gloo­my ideas which hovered there, and he again asserted the native dignity of his character. To the sweet sooth­er of his sorrows, his hours of leisure were invariably de­voted; a sentimental intercourse commenced; it was ameliorated by the strictest amity, and it terminated in an attachment of the tenderest kind.

[Page 336] Hymen once more light for Mortimor his sacred torch; and had he attended to some legal steps, which should previously have been taken, the auspices under which he entered into this second engagement, would have been most happy: Yet, those arrangements, which slower souls would have deemed indispensable, must have occasioned delays; the process of the law was tedious; Mortimor had many enemies; obstacles might be interposed; and if upon application he should not be able to obtain the necessary form of divorce, his expectation of happiness would be defeated. What was to be done? Concealment was a ready resource; and, wrapping himself about in the veil of secresy, in his own retired apartment, in the presence of the ho­ly priest and a few select friends, he plighted his wil­ling faith. Mrs. Mortimor (still received merely as the friend of her husband) retained her family name; and, although many might suspect, those only who were bound to secresy could decisively pronounce.

At length, however, revolving months ushered into the world the infant Eliza; and impenetrable mystery standing centinel at her birth, she was produced in so­ciety by the name of Montague; and her parents in­troduced her as the orphan daughter of deceased rela­tives. Indeed, having conducted their engagement with so little observance of forms, however innocent in intention and in fact the parties in reality were, the se­vere penalty annexed by the laws of England, against that irregularity or breach, a description of which would undeniably involve their connexion, rendered it incum­bent upon them carefully to avoid an explanation.

Eliza was educated with the most scrupulous atten­tion; she was nurtured by the hand of elegance, and trained to the observance of every virtue. As early as her opening reason authorized a confidence so im­portant, under the strongest injunctions of inviolable silence, she was made acquainted with the secret of her birth; and that discretion, armed by filial piety, with which she guarded a communication on which was suspended the life of her father, abundantly justified the reposing a trust of such a nature in so tender a [Page 337] bosom. Fifteen happy years were passed by Eliza, amid the soft endearments of parental tenderness; each cheerful morn was ushered in by new proofs of provi­dent care, and the feathery hours were all marked by gentle admonitions, tender cautions, or well-judged ad­vice; and each returning evening saw her encircled by those arms, and pressed to the faithful bosoms of per­sons, who sealed upon her balmy lips their wishes for the repose of the night, always concluding their pious benedictions by so natural an avowal of feelings, which were the genuine offspring of a species of tenderness that perhaps cannot be surpassed. How fatal for Eliza was the hour, that just at this period robbed her of a father, who, actuated by a spirit of universal benevo­lence, and breathing the mildest and most benign ex­pressions of philanthropy, glowed with uncommon ten­derness for a daughter, whom, in his most unimpassioned moments, he could not but acknowledge as highly de­serving, every way amiable, and comprising in herself the sum total of a father's wishes.

The demise of Mr. Mortimor presented a moment, in which it would have been wisdom to have opened on society, with a full and unequivocal eclaircissement. Death had placed the victim the law would have de­manded, beyond the reach of its penalties; and, clothed in the habiliments of conscious integrity, they had then nothing to hazard by an explanation. The priest, who joined the hands of the parents of Eliza, could, at that juncture, have been produced; and the few friends who were present at the marriage, were still in existence.—Alas, alas! they are now consigned to the silent tomb! and, strange to tell, letting slip the golden season of op­portunity, Mrs. Mortimor was still known by the name of Laughton, while Eliza was addressed by that of Montague!

It is certain that reserves, except imposed by necessity, are never justifiable; and the necessity of mystery, ceased with the death of Mr. Mortimor. From this period five succeeding years performed their annual round, [...]re the discreet Eliza selected from the circle of those who respectfully presented themselves as candidates for [Page 338] her election, a youth with whom her gentle heart could unhesitatingly consent to inweave the silken bands of tender, conjugal and indissoluble amity. But her choice once made, she deferred not to banish from the bosom of him she approbated, that perturbed suspense that so fatally corrodes each promised joy; and al­though her every step was pointed by virgin delicacy, yet did she skilfully enwreath therewith a noble and dignified frankness, which hushed that tumultuous whirlwind of the passions, that hath shipwrecked the peace of many a manly breast. Pity she was not per­mitted to be uniformly explicit; but the maternal pro­hibition was strangely and unaccountably interposed, and her nuptials were solemnized under that disguise, which, although justifiable for a time, was most im­prudently continued, and should never have been worn in the presence of a man, whom, in every other respect, she had honoured by the most unbounded confidence; but she remained perseveringly, reprehensibly silent! and this silence hath been fatal to her peace. The first years of her wedded life were uncommonly serene; she bore to Altamont many fine children; and none but tranquil days seemed written for her. How pre­carious are terrestrial joys! An untoward accident sud­denly reversed the scene. A paper, written by herself, and addressed to her mother, breathing the language of ambiguity, deeply fraught with mystery, and yet obscurely hinting at the truth, unfortunately met the eye of Altamont! To the nicest sense of honour Atla­mont is exquisitely alive—the soul of ingenuity is his, and the delicacy of his sentiments refuseth to tolerate the most distant appearance of deception. He drank in the contagious lines; every word operated as an envenomed draught; and while he shrunk from the fearful contents, they became, in effect, like those subtil poisons, which are said to procure immediate death; for they infixed their deadly fangs in the very vitals of that tranquillity, which he had fondly hoped was be­yond the malice of fate.

Instantly the fiend, despair, embodied its ministers; they were busy about his heart; complacency was [Page 339] chased from his bosom; the smiles of benevolence are no more; a deep and settled melancholy lowers upon his brow; and the sullen silence which he obstinately observes, effectually bars an eclaircissement. His house, once the seat of social happiness—now, alas! dire suspicion, dark conjecture, and baleful jealousy, hover there; and although months and years have re­volved, no beam of elucidation hath yet illumined those heartfelt glooms, by which he is enveloped. The tear is upon the cheek of Eliza; and her dream of happi­ness, of terrestrial happiness, is gone forever.

The deep melancholy which impressed the mind of Altamont, was immediately succeeded by the most alarming estrangement; his temper seems totally ru­ined. He regards the partner of his sufferings with a mistrustful kind of indignation; she has lost his confi­dence; she has every reason to believe she no longer possesses his affection; and, the probability is, that was she now to come forward with a full and undisguised explanation, it would produce no salutary effect; her vouchers, as we observed, are numbered with the dead; Altamont is haughty and implacable, and Eliza, hav­ing once indisputably deceived him, it is to be feared that he will yield her no future credence!!!

N^o. XXXIV.

I HAVE for many weeks back, been largely in ar­rears to correspondents; and I have frequently contemplated a Gleaner, which should be wholly occu­pied by their various addresses, observations, and com­plaints. But such of my friends, whose letters have been long since received, will have the goodness to for­give my publishing those which have more recently come to hand, when they observe, that the interesting subjects they take up, require immediate attention. [Page 340] And, in the interim, I give them my word of honour, that my first unappropriated Essay shall be devoted to their service. Having thus premised, I proceed to bring forward three explanatory letters.

I could very modestly propose myself as a new proof of the truth of this oft-cited sentiment, which if I mis­take not, time and observation hath elevated into an approved axiom. I could, I say, leaving those who are offended to chew the cud of resentment, easily con­sole myself, by so convenient an appropriation; but I freely confess, that I set a high value upon the opin­ion of the world; I mean the worthy part of the world, to be sure; and that thus stimulated, I feel myself im­pelled to make my defence, by producing a short sketch of my plan of operations.

When I was first seized with the mania of scribbling, I very wisely endeavoured to combat it by much de­liberate consideration, and many a salutary antidote. Wisdom, attired in the alluring habiliments of tran­quillity, and armed with the rhetoric of reason, sagely [Page 346] advanced her plea, and with great perspicuity, and energy of argument, she advocated that kind of seren­ity, which is the accompaniment of the unambitious man: who, gliding down the stream of time, inhaleth not the feverish gale; but wafted onward by the equal breath of contentment, partakes its mildly influence, and lives but to bless the gently undulating zephyr, that is thus silently impelling him athwart that ocean, upon which the adventurous voyager is fated to contend with hopes and fears, and with all those tumultuous winds of passion, which frequently involving him in a fearful hurricane, fail not to wreck his peace, whelm­ing beneath their tremendous waves the brightest moments of his existence! Wisdom pointed out the wretched state of inquietude, anxiety, nightly watch­ings, and daily fatigues, to which that unhappy and misguided wight is condemned, who, betrayed by an ignis fatuus, is allured from the humble vale of soft and silent repose; from the calm possession of each social and domestic enjoyment, to encounter the various ills attendant upon a pursuit of artificial good. Wisdom enumerated a host of weary toils, of woe-begone re­grets, of unrecompensed deeds of worth, of thankless achievements, and of barbed disappointments; and she painted in glowing colours the ingratitude of that world to which I would madly devote those hours, that might otherwise revolve, marked by the most re­fined, rational and exquisite satisfaction.

Wisdom delineated the thorny circles which begirt the hill of fame; she bid me haste from the magic of her voice, from the mad contagion of her votaries; and, sheltering in the sweet and flowery walks of hu­mility, she conjured me to embosom my aspiring views in the deepest recesses of my native shades; and, that she might forever dash my proud pretensions, and in­vigorate that despair, which, with icy grasp, and tor­pid influence, hovered round my steps, she represented in forms tremendously terrific, those deadly fiends, that with ghastly features, and unrelenting rigour, eternal­ly guard the glittering domes of same. Envy, with snaky locks, empoisoned veins, and pestilential breath [Page 347] —Malice, with tongue envenomed, armed with ten thousand shafts of instant death, and smiling at destruc­tion—Pale disappointment, marked by sorrow's train, with sad and solemn step, heaving corroding sighs, quaffing her copious tears, and in despondence garbed—and, last of all, deep shame, with face averted, eyes withdrawn, and red consuming anguish, confessed thy power, heart appalling, spirit wounding, soul abashing scorn. Afflicting ridicule—satires dread sting—the crit­ic's whip, which hissed along the air—with every plague which a poor author ever knew—these Wisdom sum­moned, and in fearful order the direful phalanx stood.

Yet my aspiring mind, steeled for the conflict, all in ar­mour clad, and shielded by temerity—assuming reso­lution, and armed by pertinacity, presumed with dar­ing steps, and enterprizing rashness, to penetrate the embodied opposition, and Reason plead in vain. Head­long ambition, all precepts notwithstanding, continu­ed inflexibly persevering, and triumphed in the con­flict. Ambition selected its ornaments, and it wore on its left breast, close to the heart, a bouquet, whose per­fumed buds were, with intrepid daring, snatched from the stock of ever blooming hope. In this it prided much, and fondly fancied that some future day, be­decked with sunny beams, would give the deathless flowre [...]s to enwreath its time distinguished, time adorn­ed brow. Thus breathing mid such odoriferous airs; incense so sweet inhaling, intoxicated reason, treading enchanted ground, by magic spells enfolded, and wrapped in gay delusion, its firmness lost—Ambition seized the reins—the die was cast—and helter-skelter round the world we drove.

But, seriously, although thus rashly embarked, judg­ment occasionally officiates; and while temerity sets at the helm, she often, matron like, interposes her cau­tionary directions, and to be duly influenced by her counsels, is a prime object, even in the arrangements of ambition.

There is hardly any thing I have so much feared, as the sands of oblivion; and that I might produce a stream of sufficient depth to fleet my little skiff, my [Page 348] faculties, diligently exercised, have been almost con­stantly employed. Mankind have generally furnish­ed my reservoir; and I have set in the circles which I frequent, industriously improving a hint, marking the sentiment of worth, catching every unwrought gem, and eagerly availing myself of those circumstances, which I conceived I might honestly appropriate. Names I have been careful to conceal; and studiously embel­ishing events, and qualifying them to convey amuse­ment, information, or even instruction, I have produ­ced them as candidates for the attention of a vacant moment. Thus occupied, it will cease to be matter of surprise, that I have treasured even the whispers of conversation; my ear is constantly on duty, and it hath proved to me a truly faithful scout. Collected in myself, I am often regarded as a mute in society; but I am careful to hoard every remark, and bearing the multifarious burden to my working hive, it under­goeth a chymical process; and, after receiving in my pericranium the destined form, it is with all due hu­mility submitted to public observation.

Thus Eugenio, if he will give his candour full play, may perceive, that without being the favourite confi­dante, "of all the young, handsome married women of my acquaintance," I may, the loquacity of the sex considered, legally become possessed of secrets, which are whispered to select friends, which are gathered from mysterious words, and which sometimes result from those expres­sive looks, in which the female world are such proficients, and which they so well know when to assume. On the whole, while I have generally aimed at utility, I have studiously endeavoured to avoid all occasion of offence; but if my honest intentions have not been crowned with success, as it is impossible to recal the past, I can only assure Eugenio, and every reader of his descrip­tion, that I will be indefatigably industrious to render my future numbers less exceptionable.

N^o. XXXV.

"TAKE away this child," said the late benevo­lent Dr. Cooper, while seated with the cele­brated Dr. Franklin, in a little retired breakfasting parlour—‘Take away this child—her questions inter­rupt our conversation, and are an impertinent intru­sion upon the enjoyments of an hour, devoted to an entertainment of the highest kind.’ "Nay, nay," cried the philosopher—‘let her stay, let her stay; she is a stranger in our world, and she has a right to make her inquiries relative to the manners and cus­toms of the people, among whom, the probability is, she has many years to sojourn.’

Men and women are too haughty, and form too ele­vated conceptions of the distance between them and the little race of mortals who are, for a season, their dependants. There is a freedom of access, and a chas­tized familiarity, which is very compatible with a due spirit of government; but mild dignity is an association too little known, and too rarely exemplified in the pres­ent order of things.

The trust reposed in parents and preceptors, is in­deed important; the character of the rising generation [Page 6] is in their gift, and the peace or anarchy of society must result from them. When we consider how few parents are endowed by nature, or qualified by im­provement, for the judicious as discharge of duties so es­sential, we are almost ready to give our voice in favour of that plan, which, in a certain celebrated communi­ty, placed their youth under the tutelage of the State, commiting their education to persons deliberately cho­sen, and properly qualified for their high office. Yet, against this arrangement, the authority derived from the Father of the universe, forcibly pleads! The feel­ings of the parent indignantly revolt; and my right to direct my own child, is, in my own estimation, unques­tionable. Well then, there remains but one remedy—Let the cultivation of the minds of the man and woman, in miniature, be of that description which will, in future, enable them to assume with advantage, the guardianship of their descendants.

Much, in this momentous department, depends on female administration; and the mother, or the woman to whom she may delegate her office, will imprint on the opening mind, characters, ideas and conclusions, which time, in all its variety of vicissitudes, will never be able to erase.

Surely then, it is politic to bestow upon the educa­tion of girls the most exact attention: Let them be able to converse correctly and elegantly, (in their native strains) with the children they may usher into being; and, since the pronunciation is best fixed in the early part of life, let them be qualified to give the little pro­ficients a pleasing impression of the French language; nor, it is conceived, ought it to be considered as unsexual, if they were capacitated to render the rudiments of the Latin tongue familiar. An acquaintance with history would capacitate mothers to select their nursery tales from those transactions which have actually taken place upon our globe, and thus useful knowledge would su­persede fairy legendary witches, and hob-goblins. Geography also might be introduced, and the little prattlers, by information that the great globe whereon [Page 7] they move, has received the form of that orange which so pleasingly regales their palate, would, ere they were aware, be ushered to the avenues of instruction. As­tronomy too may lend its aid; the blazing fire may represent the sun, and the little bird revolving to its flame, on which they so impatiently wait to feast, un­der the direction of the well informed and judicious tutoress, may gradually account for light and heat, the grateful vicissitudes of night and day, with the alternate succession of the seasons; and thus would the task of the future preceptor be rendered easy, a thirst for knowledge created, and the threshold of wisdom strewed with flowers.

But children commonly pass from the hands of their parents to that of their tutors at a very early period; and was I invested with the powers of legisla­tion, or was the gift of conferring honours mine, there is no order of citizens which I would so liberally en­dow, and raise to such distinction, as those individuals who devote themselves to the education of youth. But then they should be persons unquestionably qual­ified for their office, and entitled beyond all contro­versy to the approbation of their country. Arduous is the undertaking—the first abilities are requisite—and it is impossible to rate too high the worth of those who are thus suitably accomplished. Permit me, reader, to sketch the outlines of the character of a Pre­ceptor whom I should delight to honour. Imagination this moment presents him—he blends exquisite sensi­bility with uniform patience—he is remarkably en­during—never hasty or impetuous—calmly deliberate in all his movements—carefully investigating, nor ever inflicting punishments, but such as both in quantity and quality are righteously due. He possesseth extensive knowledge of the science or sciences which he teaches—he is free from every external blemish, and remarkable for no unfortunate singularity—his manners are elegant, and in the best sense of the word descriptive of the gentleman. He is celebrated for benevolence—he is an indisputable philanthropist—he possesseth the hap­py [Page 8] secret of assimilating dignity and condescension—his inborn integrity is undoubted, and he is master of sufficient address to obtain an entire ascendency over the minds of his pupils—a stranger to prejudice, he is, strictly speaking, impartial—and, to say all in one word, he embodies every virtue of which humanity is susceptible: Nor is the sketch too highly wrought, for it is assuredly true, that to accommodate the mind to the various dispositions to be found in a large school, and so to understand the intellectual arrangement of each individual as to be capable of rendering him the important services, which are necessary, must indispu­tably require every excellence, and the utmost perfec­tion of our nature.

The austere man can never be successful; he will banish smiles from the face of that season which [...] made for joy; and if the student is not uncommonly endowed by nature, he will create in him an aversion to his book. Severity will always operate upon the opening mind, like the chilling blasts of winter upon the tender plant; it droops its blighted head, its pow­ers are rendered torpid, its strength is prostrated, and it is well, if the progressing principle (if I may so ex­press myself) which is at present latent, doth not be­come wholly extinct. Blows are the most easy expe­dient, and are, perhaps for that reason, too often resorted too—the castigation of the boy, frequently gratifies the passions of the master, and he is sometimes vindictive and inhuman in his punishments. If the giving a wrong sound to a letter, or forgetting a sentence, is to be marked by blows—what resource, permit me to ask, has the Preceptor in the event of capital crimes? A man who is himself free from error, or, which will have the same effect upon his pupils, who is studious to conceal his foibles from their knowledge, who is solicitous to attach them to his person, and who carefully impresses an idea of his own affection toward them, who labours to obtain their confidence, and makes free use of that noble incentive, Praise—such a man will seldom, I im­agine, find it necessary to have recourse to severity; [Page 9] and it is incontestibly true, that punishments, especial­ly blows, should be repeated as seldom as possible; for assuredly, nothing can be obtained by rendering the little offender callous, familiarizing him to disgrace, or banishing from his bosom the hope of unblemished reputation. The first offences of children, whatever may be their na­ture, should invariably be considered as venial; and it would be always right, if practicable, to convict them without a witness—we cannot be too solicitous to spare them he first [...]lush of guilt; the second will not be so deep, and they will too soon leap the boundaries of inno­cence. I would affect to suppose them incapable of the turpitude of a criminal action; and I would constantly repeat, while there remained the least shadow of prob­ability for such an avowal, that I was confident they would never debase themselves by the infamy of delib­erate vice; thus, it is possible, that the fear of forfeiting our supposed good opinion would engage them silently to tread back the path they have reprehensibly entered.

I remember, some time since, being greatly shocked at receiving an account of an arrangement (which I would fain hope is singular) in a certain school of some celebrity, situated in one of our sea-ports not far distant from the metropolis. Rewards are offered, and every method taken to prove a crime—say, for example, a falsehood. While the child, in all the sim­plicity of infantile confidence, remains unconscious of the conspiracy formed against him! Irrefragable con­viction is at length obtained, and the culprit is imme­diately proclaimed throughout the school—he is en­tered upon the lying list, and takes his seat upon a range which produces him a proper subject for the ill-natured ridicule of the whole flock. Nor is this enough—his name is written in capitals with the igno­minious term, Liar, at the end of it. The defama­tory sentence is posted up in some conspicuous place, for the inspection, not only of the children, but of every in­dividual who may happen to visit the school; and this mark of infamy once affixed, is not taken down as long as the aggressor continues a student in this seminary!!! My face [Page 10] glows with indignation, while penning this relation. What has the little wretch to hope for under such tuition; after such a procedure, (labouring under the weight of a most opprobrious verdict, and the victim of unwarrantable severity) where will he find spirits to pursue, with the requisite alacrity, his appointed stud­ies? Or how can he advantageously receive lessons from the mouth of him, who has thus unmercifully blistered his reputation? Are not the ill effects of this arrangement both upon the school in general, and the offender in particular, sufficiently obvious? Is not undue degradation, envy, rancour, implacability, everlasting, disgrace, and consequent despair, thus systematized, and embattled against that order, harmony, and im­provement, which would inevitably result from the adoption of a mild spirit of government? Gracious God!—but let me exercise the patience that I would recommend as the uniform companion and bosom friend of the preceptor, and of which a view of the situation to which the foregoing discipline, or, more properly speaking, infamous tyranny, must reduce the offending student, had well near deprived me—and let me, with all due deference to the general merit, and superior abilities of the gentleman, who will feel himself interested in this representation, calmly ask, would it not be more judicious to aim at acting the part of an invisible spy, continuing a silent observer of every action until the transgression is evident or strongly suspected, and even then would it not be well to follow the offender by private admonitions—to address his reason; to enlist his affections; to delineate in forcible language his error, and energetically to describe the tremendous consequences of an obstinate adherence to guilty pur­suits? Public shame, in the recess of a private interview, might be flashed in his face; probably he would shrink from its horrors, and the hope of escaping so indelible an evil, might engage him to return to the haunts of vir­tue—might ensure his dereliction of vice.

Many of my readers will recollect the method pur­sued by Gang [...]nell, when an inferior Ecclesiastic, for [Page 11] the recovery of a beloved and notorious offender; and all who do, will not fail to applaud. It is, however, a melancholy truth, that these mild efforts will not always procure a reformation. But surely, previous to a publication of disgrace, a consultation of parents or guardians should be obtained; and as those deeply interested characters ought invariably to coalesce with the preceptors in whom they confide, no important step should be taken, without their knowledge and appro­bation. I am aware that this precludes the idea of secrecy in regard to school discipline; and I must confess, that I seriously wish the telling tales out of school, was no longer held up as a bug-bear to children, and that the terror it has so long excited, was entirely abolished. Rectitude submitteth its administration to the strictest scrutiny; the more it is known, the more it is admir­ed; and the arrangements of equity soliciteth inquiry.

The magnitude of my subject, bars the supposition that it can be too warmly expatiated upon. Children, I insist, should be brought forward with gentleness. The wise king of Israel was not always wise; and when he is found so petulantly exclaiming, "Spare the rod and spoil the child," the probability is, that, crowded upon by the ill-regulated offspring of his illicit and multifarious amours, he had lost that balance of equanimity, which is so proper to the philosopher. The tutor should nev­er be permitted to act the part of a despot; he should ever be free of access, and while he uniformly pre­serves a mild spirit of government, the pupil, under proper regulations, should be permitted a sufficient lat­itude of inquiry.

Every anxious parent experiences the difficulty of obtaining a preceptor, to whom he can confide the care of his children. But if the emoluments of the office were proportioned to the solicitude and impor­tance of the undertaking, if it was more honorary, and if there were greater distinctions annexed thereto, an adequate number of candidates, of meritorious candi­dates, would present. Countless advantages would [Page 12] accrue to families, and consequences the most benefi­cial, would result to the community at large.

The ancients, we are told, formed such just ideas of the nature and momentous consequences of education, as to esteem the cultivation of the minds of their young people among their most dignified offices; and per­sons of the first consideration, possessing affluence, and obtaining general confidence, engaged in the arduous task, delighting to employ themselves in shaping the principles, and pointing the views, of those who were to succeed them in the great drama of life. And was not this perfectly right? The good preceptor is of course ennobled; and no just reason can be given why he should not take rank in the highest grade of the community. For my own part, I again repeat, that deliberate reflection upon the nature of his duties, and the magnitude of those effects which frequently de­pend upon his regency, has constrained me to regard him as more consequential, and of higher importance, than even the authority which is constituted supreme in any country; nay, further, that school dame, redu­ced by adverse circumstances to confer the rudiments of instruction, and to call into action the latent seeds of worth, is of more value (supposing she judiciously and faithfully performs the trust reposed in her) in the great scale of excellence, than she, who, from consider­ations of wealth or beauty, receives the adulation of gathering crowds. This is an obvious truth, inas­much as it is the exertions of the tutoress, succeeded by the more extensive operations of the preceptor, that will render easy the seat of the magistrate, and super­cede the necessity of coercive interposition, giving uni­versal order to take place, as naturally as the hours succeed each other, or as the blessings of light proceed from the [...]rb of day. From whence is derived the fe­licity of families? Undoubtedly from a due regulation of the individuals of which they are composed, and particularly from a proper arrangement of the young people who constitute such important parts thereof. From what source results the well-being of the great [Page 13] body of the people? Indisputably from the informa­tion, correct movements, and order of its members. And is not the due qualification of teachers, and the faithful discharge of the duties of their office, the broad and solid basis, on which is erected the superstructure of whatsoever is necessary in the economy of private life, public usefulness, or general celebrity? I say then, if these things are true, let us encourage by every means the worthy preceptor; let us cherish him as the origin of virtue; and while we discountenance every vestige of tyranny, let us firmly resolve to strengthen the hands of those, to whom we have deliberately confided the care of our children.

N^o. XXXVI.

"GOOD Mr. Gleaner," said a rural friend of mine, ‘I think you lose ground by the prolixity of your numbers; and, to say truth, you often remind me of Farmer Straggleford, who whimsically erect­ed a number of huge enormous granaries, which, when completed, remained monuments of his osten­tation, for having rendered himself, by his prodig­ious exertions, and the extensiveness of his plans, an insolvent debtor; his buildings, of course, contain nothing of value, indeed they are nearly unoccupied, and he is regarded as a poor bankrupt, who has been the fabricator of his own conspicuous insignificancy. Now, had neighbour Straggleford contented him­self with a snug little barn, he might have kept his grounds, and, storing it every year with the ripened produce of the season, he might—’

[Page 14] Say no more, Brother Thrifty, cried I—say no more; I perfectly understand you, although it must be con­fessed your illustration is rather far fetched; yet, trust me, it shall be my endeavour in future to circumscribe, as much as possible, my excursive rambles; and agree­able to this determination I abridge a number of sheets, that I had entitled an essay on education, confining myself to a few observations, which I most unfeigned­ly wish may be duly considered.

The question whether private or public education is of the most general utility, has agitated the minds, and employed the pens, of many ingenious writers; but the subject, as far as I am informed, still remains prob­lematical; nor shall I arrogantly pretend to decide where those Doctors of literature so widely disagree. Yet the Gleaner, without incurring the charge of temer­ity, may perhaps be permitted to ask whether it would not be wisdom to defer the choice of public or private tuition, until the disposition of the child is ascertained? The modest, diffident mind, may stand in need of all those stimulatives that are in the gift of a large school. Retiring efforts are often roused to action by emula­tion; and that fame which a conspicuous situation fre­quently confers, may at once allure, and give a mo­tive to ambition. There are minds, peculiarly attu­ned to all the sensibilities, which are at once the ce­ment, the ornament, and the source of those gentler virtues that connect, that meliorate, and that actuate beings who combine, and who are formed to cultivate the endearing charities, the elegancies, and the bles­sings of social life. To accommodate an intellect of this description to the multifarious and frequently dis­cordant scenes that are to be encountered in a world, where ill-judged asperities too often wound the exqui­sitely delicate feelings of susceptibility, a various and extensive intercourse with mankind may be necessary. But the boy, whose bold aspiring temper precipitates him upon an undue assumption of importance, who suddenly rushes forward to those distinctions, which are only proper to maturity; such a boy, methinks, should [Page 15] receive the checks of retirement; should be formed to knowledge and to virtue, amid the shades of seques­tered life; care being taken to furnish him with those views, which may gradually accustom him to a proper estimation of himself.

My wishes, relative to the instruction of young peo­ple, comprise every thing which can be considered as useful or ornamental; but I am especially solicitous, that they should be made critically acquainted with that language, in which they are destined to converse, transact business, and adjust their pleasurable pursuits. Some of my acquaintance have made greater profi­ciency in many branches of study, than in their mother tongue; and I know persons who can pass rapidly through a Latin author, who cannot easily trace the lineage or description of the several parts of speech in their native English; who cannot readily decline a noun; who hesitate with respect to the cases nomina­tive, possessive, and objective; and who are at a loss to follow the verb through number, person, mood, and tense.

Latidius should be a good Latin scholar; he has received the honours of a university; and yet it is a fact, that Latidius cannot write a billet, in which an English grammarian will not be able to point out, I had almost said, as many errors as there are lines! Is Latidius censurable for this deficiency? Perhaps he is much less so than those who had the direction of his education. Great care was taken to usher him into the world, perfectly accomplished in every requisite except his vernacular tongue; but, while engaged in the study of the dead languages, he was never taught a due deference for, or proper estimation of, his own:

I should not be satisfied, if my sons and daughters did not speak, read, and write English, grammatically, critically, and even elegantly. Perhaps the accurate ob­server may, at this moment, shrewdly remark—‘Sure­ly, be who takes upon himself the character of Dictator, or arrogantly assumes the seat of the Censor, ought to be per­fectly free from the errors which he condemns.’ This is [Page 16] assuredly true; and, to the well-meaning and candid objector, I calmly answer—I have no where proposed my­self as a model: It may be, that I am experimentally qual­ified to descant upon the disadvantages attendant upon early inattention. For aught thou knowest, the Gleaner may have been doomed to the toilsome drudgery of gleaning his information, when years, diminishing the flexibility of the mental faculties, have rendered it difficult for them to re­ceive impressions; and, if I am thus circumstanced, I may be allowed to delineate the inconveniences of, and energetically to lament a deficiency from which I so essentially suffer. Admitting, I say, this to be the case, I may, with the strictest propriety and the utmost consistency, proceed to point out the shoals which too often impede, and frequently wholly arrest my progress.

One thing is certain; for the rising generation, the devout orisons of my spirit are daily breathed. I have written primarily for my amusement—Truth is my pole star—I would contribute my mite to benefit my fellow-mortals—I have not designed ill—and, if I err, I hum­bly entreat those who confer on my pages the honour of a perusal, to impute my errors rather to my head than to my heart.

The modern literati are generally sufficiently liberal in the eulogies which they bestow on the ancients; and, as imitation is commonly the offspring of admiration, is it not wonderful, they do not more frequently tread in their steps? Neither the Greeks nor the Romans in­cumbered themselves with a variety of tongues; their own language always obtained a just pre-eminence, and never failed of engaging their earliest and most unre­mitted application. The result was, natural children were qualified to converse, and to express themselves on paper, with elegance and accuracy; they were in­itiated, in the morning of their days, into an acquaint­ance with all the varieties of grammar; they could de­lineate the several parts of speech; the intricacies of their language were rendered familiar to their under­standings; they were capable of determining its com­pass, [Page 17] and of analyzing every sentence; they could, with the greatest precision, resolve each component word, placing it under its original head or description; And hence, it is said, (and the conjecture is founded in reason) proceeded those works of educated genius, which have stood the test of time, extorting a tribute of applause from every succeeding generation.

If I mistake not, (and upon this occasion I do what I seldom do—trust to the tenacity of my memory) there were periods, when the Romans, measuring the importance of their language by the dignity of their rational character, disdained the study even of the Greek tongue. Victors are fond of imposing their laws, their customs, and their language; and the universal preva­lence of any particular mode of speech, would be one step toward the introduction of universal dominion. National attachment should, therefore, dictate the stu­dious cultivation of a national language; and it may be worthy the exertions of an enlightened legislature, to erect a standard, to raise, to dignify, to perfect, and to polish a common tongue.

Is the student designed for the profession of any par­ticular art or science, a vernacular language must be the vehicle of his ideas. Gentlemen at the bar de­liver their harangues in their mother tongue; in na­tive strains they address the impannelled jury, and jus­tice frequently hangs upon their forcible, intelligent, and well constructed periods. The sacred Orator ad­dresses his listening audience in familiar accents. The Representatives of our free, sovereign and independ­ent States—Senators enrobed with power—Chief Jus­tices delivering their solemn charges—and our august President, the Patriot WASHINGTON, invested with all that authority which virtuous liberty can confer, with every intervening grade—are all found delivering their sentiments, and arresting attention, in the well known sounds which designate the English tongue.

Letters are indisputably the elements of language; and the due arrangement, and fit construction of those words which they compose, is the broad basis on which [Page 18] towers the arts and sciences, forming, in their several orders, a superstructure replete with elegance, beauty and usefulness. It is from this source that the orator must draw his materials; poets too submit to its ad­measurement; and the grave historian must be tried by its rules. Indeed, an early acquaintance with the nature, construction and latitude of a vernacular lan­guage, is of such importance to every class of people, that it is wonderful there should be found parents and preceptors who can preserve their equanimity, while conscious that those committed to their charge are, in this truly essential part of education, almost totally neglected.

The train of reflections introduced by my subject, at this moment presents to my mind a person, who is now suffering much from this unnatural omission; and, as examples often enforce conviction more effectually than general remarks, I present him by way of illus­tration.

Leontius, born in the midst of affluence, was nursed in the lap of plenty; and being the only son of deserv­ing parents, who were generally judicious in their ar­rangements, his education was regarded as a matter of the greatest moment. No expense was spared; and his preceptors were rewarded for their exertions not only with a liberal, but with a lavish hand. He had hardly completed his sixth year, when it was judged necessary he should commence his studies of the Latin tongue; and from that moment, hurried on from one stage of erudition to another, no portion of time was found to attend to his progress in that language, from which he was in a great measure to derive his future respectability. It was absurdly supposed, (if indeed it ever obtained a place in the reflections of either pa­rents or tutor) that English would be a matter of course; and thus the boy was left to form unto himself a style, just as whim or caprice might direct. For a place at a celebrated seminary he was early presented a candidate; his acceptation was full and honorary— [...]e passed through the university, attending the accus­tomed [Page 19] routine of instruction, and, enriched with aca­demical applause, he received his first degree. Thus endowed, he made his entrée upon society, better quali­fied to figure in any walk than as an English scholar. Without arrogating the gift of prophecy, it was easy to predict an event, which was precisely that which reason would have calculated. Awkward and untaught, his education had in effect produced him a stranger to those scenes in which he was hourly called upon to take a part. If he assayed the, to him, arduous task of entertaining his friends with an English book, false pronunciation, emphasis, and accent, were visible in every paragraph; comma's assumed the distinction of full stops, while the finely turned period lost all its beauty: Colons, semicolons, notes of interrogation and admiration, these were all promiscuously huddled together; and while by one continued monotony of sound, ideas were jumbled, and the auditory nerve dis­gusted, it was in vain that his hearers fatigued themselves by an expectation of the sentiment of an author. Har­monious accents, delicate inflexions of voice, and that animation, or energetic propriety, which is the vehi­cle of intelligence—of these he had no idea; he seem­ed in effect the determined foe of good reading, and he ought to have been arraigned as the murderer of sense. Candour would, however, have appeared as his advocate; and she might truly have specified, that such erroneous conclusions had obtained in his bosom, as taught him to regard every thing merely English with a sensation bordering upon contempt; and, she would have added, that he had been unavoidably pre­cipitated upon these conclusions, by the total silence of his preceptors. As a writer, too, Leontius is highly deficient; and a girl who is dependent upon her nee­dle for her support, supposing she has been properly educated, ought to blush if she could not surpass him in the correctness of her epistolary productions.

Yet it was expected that our young gentleman would attain eminence, deserve well of his country, and make his way to popularity among a race of beings who [Page 20] spoke, wrote, declaimed, and transacted their commer­cial concerns, altogether in English. Leontius was bred to no business; he was, as has been intimated, born to high pecuniary expectations, and it was presumed that his natural and acquired abilities would raise him to distinction. His exterior is dignified and preposses­sing; and, notwithstanding his deficiencies as an En­glish scholar, high ideas of his literature are entertain­ed. He early wedded the discreet and beautiful Hen­rietta, and soon became the father of a family; his parents and the friends of his youth have sunk into the grave, and misfortunes have robbed him of that patrimony, which, in the warmth of a youthful imag­ination, he had calculated as exhaustless.

For Leontius what now remains? Education hath unfitted him for the preceptor of his own children—he is unqualified for every thing that is simply English; and while nature has endowed him with abilities which might capacitate him to become the bard, the essayist, or even the historian of his country, education inter­poses its effectual barriers.

The want of an early and critical knowledge of a vernacular tongue, is deeply felt by a writer; an em­ployment, which might otherwise be advantageous and pleasing, becomes real drudgery, and the experience of persons thus circumstanced, will oblige them to confess that it is something late to begin the study of a lan­guage, after the age of adolescence hath passed away.

Necessity, however, hath called into action the facul­ties of Leontius; some beautiful essays, with infinite labour, he hath completed; but he blushes at every line, lest the critic should detect him in doing violence to the subtleties of grammar; and each revolving day witnesses his lamentations that he was not early taught his mother tongue.

I condemn not the extensive studies in which our youth are engaged—far from it—French, Latin, Italian, and whatever else the understanding can attain, these are all little enough; but while my mind continues under the dominion of reason, I shall ever contend for a de­cided [Page 21] preference as indisputably due to the mother tongue; and under this persuasion the necessity of en­treating parents, guardians and preceptors of every description, continually to bear in mind what country is destined the theatre of action to those committed to their care, becomes apparent.

The English language is by inheritance ours. It is that in which we first breathe forth our filial grati­tude; in those sentences which it comprises, we mani­fest our family attachments—express our amities—shape our devotional orisons—transact business—form the most tender of all ties—address an infant family—fash­ion the lives and manners of that family—and, final­ly, embody that last solemn adieu, which is to precede our exit from the present to a higher order of existence.

The advantage of acquitting ourselves, on these occa­sions, with propriety, must be obvious to every thinking mind; and the Gleaner imagines he can hardly be too importunate on a subject of such magnitude.

N^o. XXXVII.

IT is with superior pleasure, I appropriate this Gleaner to the performance of my promise, of long standing, made to my several correspondents. Having arranged in order such of their letters as are admissible, I proceed to publish them, exactly accord­ing to their dates; presuming that the reason hereto­fore urged, will apologize for a delay which has in truth been occasioned by a multiplicity of avocations. They follow verbatim, as they came to hand.

[Page 34] Successive Gleaners shall pay the requisite atten­tion to the letters inserted in this number; and, in the interim, impressed with all possible consideration for my respectable correspondents, I offer them that grati­tude which is so eminently their due.

N^o. XXXVIII.

THE picture which Mr. Plodder has given of his situation, is truly pitiable; and I am so far from regarding it as a caricature, that I am induced to be­lieve its most prominent features will generally stand confessed, in the life of those, who live and die bach­elors. I, however, once knew a happy exception to this conclusion, who, I confidently conclude, has now taken his station in a higher state of being. His de­parture out of time was marked by the orphan and the widow, with the deepest regret—sighs and tears were a tribute which his virtues necessarily drew forth, and his memory is embalmed by the richest per­fumes which gratitude can bestow. But the dwelling of this singular character was not a dreary solitude; it was irradiated by the smiles of infancy; and while the sons and daughters of penury, of every description, shared his bounty, the numerous offspring of a wid­owed sister, with their truly amiable mother, who was endeared to him, as well by kindred virtues, as by consanguinity, graced his board, became unto him as the children of his youth, and not only threw into ac­tion those paternal feelings which were inherent in his bosom, but furnished also an ample field for the exer­cise [Page 35] of those uncommon abilities, which were largely drawn out in the course of their education. All who knew John Parker, esquire—generally distinguished by the name of Sheriff Parker—of Portsmouth, in the State of New-Hampshire, will readily acknowledge, that the voice of panegyric can hardly swell too high a note, when sounding the praises of this great and good man, who lived and died a bachelor.

But it is true, nevertheless, that the life of a bachel­or is almost invariably gloomy, or thinly strewed with rational pleasure. My friend Oswald may serve as an epitome of this class of men; he was bred a lawyer, and his youth passed in literary application; he either regarded la belle passion as below that dignity of character at which he aimed, or his moments of leisure were not sufficient to those attentions which its refinements require. Years rolled on, and succeeding seasons still found him busily engaged in scientific pur­suits, until he attained the sober age of sixty, without having made a single attachment which could interest the heart, or forcibly engage the tender affections. The classics were enchanting; they still continued the fasci­nating companions of his studious hours; and, although highly social by nature, his ruling propensities seem to have been, for a course of years, strangely over-ruled—but when once they were set afloat by reflection, he was roused to a melancholy view of his situation, and could not forbear regarding himself, in a very essential sense, alone in the universe. The guides of his youth, those persons whom he had been accustomed to revere, were mostly removed out of time, and the companions of his juvenile years were, to a man, "doubled in wed­lock and multiplied in children." Oswald was solicited to pass a month at the villa of Myrtilus, who had been his class-mate; he obeyed the summons, and he found the mansion of his friend the seat of domestic happiness.

During a period of twenty-five years, the life of Myrtilus had been ameliorated by the sympathies, cor­rected sentiments, endearing tenderness, and faithful attachment, of a lovely and elegant woman; a nume­rous [Page 36] and beautifully promising family of sons and daughters seemed to emulate each other in their filial attentions; eagerly they watched every turn in his countenance, and while their animated features were impressed by glowing and duteous affection, they de­lighted to anticipate his wishes, and were on the wing to fulfil his commands. Thomson's family piece was strikingly exemplified; the union of Myrtilus and his charming wife was cemented by sacred love; the holy priest had witnessed their plighted faith; and, enriched by his pious benediction, their mutual tenderness con­fessed the righteous sanction. "The world, its pomp, its pleasures and its nonsense," were to them compara­tively of small estimation; possessing in each other what­ever they accounted transcendantly excellent, ‘some­thing than beauty dearer, both in the mind, and mind illu­mined face—truth, goodness, honour, harmony and love.’ In natural succession their smiling ‘offspring rose around’ transcripts of either parent—‘by degrees those human blossoms blew, while each succeeding day, soft as it rolled, evinced some new charm, the father's lustre, and the mother's bloom’—the skilful hand of kind assidu­ous care, had formed their opening minds; ‘to rear the tender thought, to teach the young idea how to shoot. To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind—to breathe the enlivening spirit, and to fix the generous purpose in the glowing breast.’ This had been, of these blest pa­rents, the "delightful task." Perhaps they would have found it difficult to embody, by language, the sensa­tions of their enraptured bosoms, when, glancing round upon their little family, ‘Nothing struck their eye but sights of bliss—All various nature pressing on the heart: An elegant sufficiency, content, retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books. Ease and alternate labour, useful life, progressive virtue, and approving Heaven;’ and perhaps, on such occasions, the tear of luxury which strayed adown their checks, was the most expressive testimony they could give of their ineffably exquisite feelings.

On the contemplative mind of Oswald nothing was [...]ost—the past, the present, and the future, crowding [Page 37] to his view, combined to furnish a most humiliating comparison; and spontaneously he exclaimed—‘These are the matchless joys of virtuous love; and thus their moments fly. The seasons thus, as ceaseless round a jar­ring world they roll, still find them happy; and consent­ing Spring sheds her own rosy garland o'er their heads: Till evening comes at last, serene and mild; when, after the long vernal day of life, enamoured more, as more remembrance swells with many a proof of recollected love—together down they sink in social sleep; together freed, their gentle spirits fly to scenes where love and bliss im­mortal reign.’ What an enchanting view! how beautiful, and how highly finished! Did poet ever pen superior lines?

Our bachelor heaved a sigh—a contrast so glaring was forcibly felt. "No young props," said he, ‘lift their green heads for my support; not an indi­vidual of the rising generation is bound to me by the silken bands of attachment, and this is a consequence of the arrangements of nature and of justice; for no mode of reasoning will invest me with a title to the fervours of that mind, which I have not particularly contributed to form, and in whose flexile dawn I have not been solicitous to obtain an interest. No deserving female honours me with her distinguishing regards—no gentle bosom swells for me the sigh of affection. I have not sought to lay the foundation of happiness; and it is in vain that I look for the superstructure of enjoyment. I have lived in vain, alas! for me it is now too late to form advantageous connexions, or to enter into engagements which should be the growth of many ripening suns. When I expire, my name will be extinct, and all remembrance of me will cease from the earth!!’

Our comfortless old gentleman was perfectly right in his conclusions; and we would advise friend Plod­der to take the hint—should any mercenary female, caught by the lure of that establishment in his gift, cast her lot with him, we are apprehensive his chance for happiness will be small. It is too late in life for [Page 38] him to begin that career, which should at least com­mence in the meridian of our days; and, besides, we think his motive for wishing to become a married man, is rather invidious. Revenge is rarely ever the parent of that tenderness, which is so indispensably requisite in a matrimonial connexion. We think he may have judged erroneously of his kindred; it will be strange if in a family so numerous he cannot find a worthy object; we advise him to make the experi­ment, to cultivate those attachments which nature authorizes, and to resign, at this late period (for we have good and cogent reasons to believe him turned of sixty instead of fifty) all pretensions to wedlock.

But however Mr. Plodder may determine, it cannot affect Serafina. The name of Clifford is now absorb­ed in that of Seymour; and the accomplished maiden, who wore it with transcendent honour, has added one more to the list of those matrons, who give dignity to, and bestow the brightest ornament upon humanity. I will own that some months have elapsed since the receipt of Mr. Plodder's letter; and, farther, that the marriage of Miss Clifford was not then solemnized; but as I was apprized of her engagements to a worthy man, and as neither his epistle, nor that of the facetious Mr. Bellamour, contained any thing which was considered of sufficient importance to stop proceedings, I did not think it absolutely necessary to derange my plans, by an earlier attention to their letters. Uninfluenced and undismayed by the threats of Mr. Bellamour, I might have contented myself with simply announcing the marriage of Miss Clifford; but feeling a degree of compassion for Mr. Plodder, and sincerely wishing ev­ery man and woman judiciously disposed of in holy wedlock, before they have fully completed their thir­ [...]eth year, I have produced a more copious exordium, than is perhaps necessary; and, as I know a wedding is a very grateful subject to most of my fair readers, I will, after briefly narrating a few preliminary articles, invite them to that of Miss Clifford.

[Page 39] The reader will have the goodness to recollect the important advantages which Edward Hamilton re­ceived, during his southern tour, from a friend, resi­dent in the State of South-Carolina; he will remem­ber also, the subsequent embarrassments of that friend, and that circumstances induced a belief that the state of bankruptcy, into which the generous Seymour was precipitated, if not procured, was at least accelerated by his efforts in favour of Edward Hamilton. Ingrati­tude can never take root in a noble mind; it could therefore find no place, either in the bosom of Mr. Hamilton, or that of the father of his Margaretta.

The abilities of Mr. Melworth were, on this occasion, commensurate with his wishes; and, after devoting a few days to paternal claims, and making ample pro­vision for the complete adjustment of Hamilton's af­fairs, he hasted upon the broadly philanthropic wings of benevolence, to South-Carolina. His dignified mein, conspicuous merit, and letters of address, pro­cured him a free access to the creditors of Mr. Sey­mour; and, with that dispatch which evinced the thor­ough accomptant, their several claims were examined, and a fund appropriated fully adequate to the reim­bursement of every just debt, while the unfortunate debtor, unconscious of the steps taking in his favour, wore away his melancholy hours immured within the walls of a prison.

The misfortunes of Seymour were not the result of misconduct; if there was a fault in his arrangements, the principle which produced it, conferred thereon a lustre which gave it, both in appearance and effect, the rich colouring of the most splendid virtue. It is im­possible but he who suffers by his extensive benevolence, and his commiseration for the unhappy, must carry with him his credentials of superior worth—must exhibit unequivocal testimonies of the justice of his title to admiration. It is true that the injunction to be just before we are generous, is worthy of observation; but if I endow a fellow creature with the means of obtain­ing a competency to-day, and to-morrow the ship in [Page 40] which was contained my remaining property, is, by a stroke of Providence, whelmed beneath the waves, I do not see that I am greatly censurable because I did not, in the dread of this evil, withhold the solace which it was yesterday in my power to give. Mr. Seymour was of that class of men who never shut their ears against a tale of woe, and by consequence he could not lay up to himself much treasure; and when his ships of mer­chandize were either wrecked or captured, he had no means of satisfying those rapacious creditors, who, op­erated upon by principles the reverse of those which actuated his bosom, pursued him with unrelenting se­verity.

It was not until Mr. Melworth had procured a reg­ular course of proceedings; until every thing was in train; legal documents obtained, and the formalities necessary to his liberation completely adjusted, that he waited upon Mr. Seymour in his confinement; and he introduced himself to the then, (in his own estimation) unfortunate man, by words to this effect:—

"My name, Sir, is Charles Melworth. I am no stranger to the feelings of the unhappy. I am perfect­ly acquainted with the history of your rectitude, of your misfortunes, and of your generous munificence. But, Sir, you must not expect to contribute so nobly to the necessities of an Edward Hamilton, and to exercise toward that young man such unexampled forbearance with impunity: The day of retribution is at length ar­rived; the son of Charles Melworth, the husband of his Margaretta, must not submit to unreturnable obligations. Here, Sir, is your discharge in full; you are, from this moment, exonerated from a pressure, which must have been truly irksome to a mind like your's; and you receive this exoneration as a debt, which is your incontrovertible due. At liberty to pursue your own wishes, you will, doubt­less, be expeditious in departing from a place so little suited to your feelings and your character. But, ere you go, as we are now upon even ground, I request a lease of your good opinion, to be continued or forfeited, as I shall, in future, merit."

[Page 41] Melworth might have proceeded uninterruptedly to a much greater length; the understanding of Sey­mour underwent a kind of temporary petrifaction; astonishment absorbed his every faculty. Melworth paused in vain, and it was not until he had taken a variety of methods to rouse him to attention, that he was capable of listening to a regular eclaircissement. But to sketch his feelings, when the liberating truth first opened upon him, were a fruitless attempt; as well might I delineate to mortal view a disembodied spirit, as give the form of language to those exquisite sensations which then pervaded the bosom of Sey­mour; he however struggled not against the extricat­ing hand of his nobly generous friend—his composi­tion contained not a particle of false delicacy—he was conscious that a change of circumstances would have produced in him a similarity of exertions; and his unexpected enlargement, while it confounded his ene­mies, restored to his numerous friends that peace which his misfortunes had chased from their bosoms.

His emancipation, giving him an opportunity of an accurate investigation, he discovered many frauds by which he had been grossly injured; these he expos­ed, and debts to a considerable amount were recover­ed, while the return of several cargoes, that had been detained by the British for adjudication, by putting him in possession of considerable property, once more un­furled for him the golden wings of successful com­merce! Again he floated buoyant upon the stream of prosperity; and the expanding buds of hope obtained in his bosom primeval vigour. Hardly had he com­pleted his twenty-eighth year, ere he had witnessed all those vicissitudes which I have thus hastily sketched; and he may in truth be considered as an early profi­cient in the school of adversity. That he embraced the first possible opportunity of visiting Hamilton-Place will not be doubted; and it will readily be conceived that his arrival there was expected by his friends with uncommon impatience. Seymour was not only an accomplished man, but he had performed the part of a [Page 42] guardian angel to Edward; and both Margaretta and Serafina regarded the moment which was to introduce them to a character whose virtues were unequivocal, and to whom they were essentially indebted among the most distinguished of their lives. Margaretta ad­vanced to meet the protector of her husband, with that chaste and elegant freedom which the dignified mat­ron knows to assume, nor did she conceive she trans­gressed any rule of propriety when her snowy hand was extended to his manly pressure, and her lovely cheek was modestly bent to his salute. Serafina ac­quitted herself with more timidity—her manner was characteristic of virgin delicacy; and while Seymour pressed her hand to his lips, "a higher bloom" suffused her animated features; and she permitted those civilities to which as the sister of Hamilton she was entitled, with silent complacency: Admiration and tender grat­itude were, however, evinced in her every gesture; and her expressive eye beamed those unequivocal tokens of welcome which her tongue refused to utter.

Edward ardently wished to reward the deserving Seymour, by some signal token of his grateful affec­tion. He regarded the hand of his sister as an inesti­mable prize—too rich, in his estimation, to be con­signed to the possession of any but his friend; and Seymour, on his part, from the moment he beheld Miss Clifford, became the most impassioned of men. But Serafina, devoted to the family of her brother, had repeatedly declared her absolute and unalterable predilection for a single life. Seymour was privately advertized of this resolution, and its motive, by Ed­ward and Margaretta; and thus obtaining a secret clue to her affections, he made his approaches with that address, which, in this age of finesse, seems to be a nec­essary part of the character of a finished gentleman. Had he directly attacked the fortress, by the common methods of assailment, the possibility is, that, prepared for an event, an expectation of which might have been induced by a variety of circumstances, she would resolutely have maintained her ground; but, proceed­ing [Page 43] covertly to undermine, he slowly made his advan­ces, until, gradually sapping the foundation of her re­sistance, a coalition became an event in course. Ham­ilton and his charming wife; the little gentleman, whom Serafina regarded as a prodigy, with the infant Margaret­ta; these were the themes of panegyric, on which the enam­oured designer copiously dwelt, during those interviews that were frequently extended far beyond the limits which would have answered the wishes of common amity. The hours passed unheeded by; they were sentimental and refin­ed; the heart of Serafina was deeply impressed; she was conscious of her situation, and she secretly ex­claimed—"Yes, these delicious moments, snatched with the man who hath thus imperceptibly interested my best affec­tions, are productive of more highly zested pleasures, than I have ever yet experienced."

Edward and Margaretta saw that their utmost wish­es for their lovely sister was on the point of gratifica­tion, and they felicitated themselves on the prospect of an establishment for Miss Clifford, that was every way commensurate with her beauty and rare qualifications. They were careful not to interrupt the progress of a union they had so much at heart. Apparently uncon­scious of the growing importance of a friend, to whom they were so warmly attached, not a single observation escaped them; and thus was Serafina entrapped and captivated, before she had received the least suspicion of the combination formed against the singular resolu­tion she had avowed.

Seymour is one of the most accomplished men I ever beheld; his person is uncommonly handsome, and wonderfully prepossessing; his manners are easy and dignified; his morals are unexceptionable; and, me­liorated in the school of adversity, he unites, in him­self, every requisite which can insure felicity to a con­fiding female. To Serafina he every moment became of still more consequence, until, imaged upon her every thought, that hour was marked by frigid insipidity, that presented not the man of her heart—that witnessed not his indefatigable and tender assiduities.

[Page 44] It was after his return from one of those little neces­sary absences, which Serafina secretly lamented as real misfortunes, that, finding her alone, with his accus­tomed freedom, he took a seat by her side; and, after relating a new instance of the benevolence of her broth­er, he fixed his fine eyes tenderly upon her; the ready tear, at the recital of Edward's virtues, had strayed unbidden from its chrystal source, and was making its pearly way adown her lovely cheek, when, unable longer to resist his feelings, he took her not reluctant hand, and impressing upon i [...] the second kiss of love, he ardently exclaimed—"Ah! Madam, how happy is your brother! I love you, Miss Clifford—passionately love you—and every faculty of my soul does homage to your peerless perfections: Forgive, loveliest of women, the freedom of a declaration, which I can no longer withhold. Surely, the sister of Edward Hamilton may still preserve that enviable character, and yet condescend to wear the title of the tender friend of Seymour. Turn not, I beseech you, from my ar­dent gaze—if I am reprehensible for devoting my every thought to you, thus, on my [...]ended knees, sweet arbitress of my fate, I supplicate forgiveness—while, with the same breath, I solemnly protest, that an error so extatic, can nev­er be relinquished, but with my life."

Serafina, overcome by a declaration which she had long fervently wished, had averted her face for the purpose of regulating those tender emotions, that, ris­ing in rebellion against their lovely mistress, crimsoned her face, and filled her eyes with the most delicious tears she had ever shed. Soon, however, resuming her native fortitude, she wiped from her checks those of­ficious drops; and, smiling with more beauty than poets ever yet attributed to the dewy morn, with mild dig­nity (having previously entreated the supplicating Sey­mour to quit his humble posture) she thus responded: "You are, Sir, entitled to my utmost frankness—the confidence which you repose in me, invests you with this claim. I had formed a resolution to continue single: Penetrated by the virtues of my brother, and my not less amiable sister, I knew not that the universe [Page 45] produced similar excellence—But you, Sir, appear to me to possess a mind fraught with those perfections I have delighted to trace. To adhere to my plan, after conviction of the error which originated it, would draw upon me the accusation of obstinacy. True, I imag­ined myself unalterably attached to it; but why should I blush to find—why hesitate to confess—that justice necessitates me to relinquish it—that I relinquish it to the virtues of a Seymour—and, that I can have no ra­tional objection to binding, by yet added ties, merit so unequivocal to a family, to which I am, by affinity, gratitude, and inclination, unalienably attached? Ac­cept, Sir, this attachment, as a pledge of that, which du­ties, yet superior, will impress upon my bosom."

Serafina ceased to speak—she trembled excessively; and, by a kind of involuntary motion, threw her hand­kerchief over her glowing face—Seymour caught her hand in extasy—But it was not our design to finish this scene; and not a step further will we proceed therein.

The now affianced lovers received the congratula­tions of their friends, with their accustomed dignity of character; no unnecessary delays were permitted; a few revolving weeks produced the bridal morn; Sey­mour plighted his faith with Serafina at the altar. Mr. Melworth, with that delicacy and propriety, for which he is remarkable, officiated as the nuptial father of Miss Clifford, and the venerable Urbanus received, while bending angels registered, their vows. Serafina was a beautiful transcript of Margaretta; her dress was white muslin, wrought after the same elegant pattern of the robe, which had been worn upon a sim­ilar occasion by her friend. But our party was not so select as that which had graced Margaretta's wedding-day. Some choice spirits attended the relations of Mr. Seymour, from South-Carolina; and they were resolved, as they said, to make a day of it. Their boisterous mirth, however, did not essentially impede the pleasure of the sentimentalist. Margaretta, aided [Page 46] by Mary, presided; and it is unnecessary to observe, that hilarity was chastised by delicacy. The evening was concluded by an elegant rural ball, and every arrange­ment announced the ample fortune and capacious heart of the munificent Hamilton.

Mr. Seymour has erected a neat edifice in the neigh­bourhood of Hamilton-Place; he has displayed much taste in his buildings and his gardens; but his elegant fancy has been no where so conspicuous as in a beau­tiful grove, on which he has bestowed every embel­lishment of art and nature; and his seat, principally discriminated by this enchanting spot, is best known by the name of Seymour-Grove.

Mr. Melworth too, has tried his talents at architec­ture, and he has distinguished the paradisiacal retire­ment which he has completed, by the appellation of the Cottage of Amity. Thither, when we would inhale pleasures of the purest and the highest kind, our re­spective families collect; and if mortality is ever the abode of felicity, this mansion is, upon these occasions, its residence.

Serafina's attachment to the family of her brother, is, if possible, augmented since her marriage, and her regards are abundantly reciprocated.

Margaretta has introduced into being her third in­fant, to whom she has given the combined names of Mary-Augusta. Serafina continues her predilection in favour of the little William; but Mary whispers me, that a few months will probably produce a new candi­date for the affections of Mrs. Seymour, who will, doubtless, generalize, or render less marked, her at­tachment to the children of her brother; and, in the mean time, she has perfect complacence in her matri­monial connexion; she regards her husband as the first of men, and hesitates not to confess herself the happiest of women.

N^o. XXXIX.

HONEST Captain Seafort is in possession of the full commiseration of our respective families. The Melworths, the Hamiltons, the Seymours, with Mary, and myself, swell for him the sigh of regret. We wish indeed he had taken the command of his own ship, and we would gladly lend our aid to furnish the hawser, which should warp the bark into smooth water.

If we comprehend Captain Seafort, when he says—"frequently has she flung out false colours, and after bring­ing to her lure many a gallant sail, she has up jibb, and borne away quite in another direction"—we cannot altogether acquit Miss Seafort. It is true, a weak, inconsistent, and irregular mode of conduct in the commerce be­tween the sexes, from its supposed characteristic features, hath been hitherto tolerated, or has not excited that degree of contempt, and severity of reprehension, in the female, as in the male world. But in this enlight­ened period, when the sex seem emerging from the clouds which have hitherto enveloped them, and the revolution of events is advancing that half of the human species, which hath hitherto been involved in the night of darkness, toward the irradiating sun of science, we had ho­ped that women would have been contented to have resigned their charter for absurd and cruel trifling, and that a female coquette would have been held in as much detestation as a male. We allow, however, [Page 48] that old habits are not easily relinquished; gradually the morning breaks, and we are willing to wait, until mid-day, for the meridian perfection of the sex.

For Miss Seafort, we hope she will call into exer­cise the heroism of the female character. Upon the glassy stream of tranquillity, her own efforts must again produce her. It is surely a pity to yield a coxcomb such a triumph, as her continued inaction, and melan­choly wearing away, upon the flats of apathy, would be­stow. She will consider that by the "false colours she has hung out," she has in some measure provoked the attack, that she is in one view the aggressor—that if she hath suffered, she hath also inflicted sufferings; and that although it is evident she hath not merited the neglect of him for whom she mourns, yet it is rare that re­taliation is consigned to the individual hand of him, who was originally aggrieved: The past, we know, cannot be recalled, and we counsel Miss Seafort to view her accounts with the world as adjusted, the bal­ance struck, and her arrearage fully paid. We rec­ommend it to her to begin her traverse anew, to place her worthy father at the helm, and to hoist every sail, and keep a steady course, until she once more makes the harbour of rectitude.

It may be an alleviation of her misfortunes, to con­sider, that the silly fellow, who, without suffering his words to invest her with a legal claim upon him, has barely amused himself with her easy credulity, would, had it suited his convenience to conclude with her a matrimonial bargain, have become either neglectful or domineering; the character of an idle, unprincipled, and dissipated young fellow, is not necessarily ameliora­ted by marriage; and a virtuous woman has no resource but her tears. Miss Seafort cannot esteem her "fair weather spark." His conduct is not calculated to give a favourable impression of his mind. Let her remem­ber that love, not grounded upon, nor invigorated by esteem, is more evanescent than the structures reared by the aërial illusions of fancy. The life of a woman of senti­ment and virtue, wedded to a man she cannot esteem, [Page 49] is a constant warfare. Alas! that the welfare of society, and the laws of our country, admit no remedy for so com­mon an evil!

A man, thus circumstanced, it is notorious, is in possession of various means of dissipating his chagrin, and of eluding the shafts of disappointment—but a woman, (such are the laws which propriety enact) must waste her life in silence, and in solitude. Miss Seafort may be assured, that first attachments are frequently ill-judged; that they are not indelible; and that a woman of spirit, if she commits the conflict to resolution, will assur­edly entitle herself to the honorary wreath of victory. The homage paid to first love is a pernicious idolatry. The sentiments entertained of the durability of la belle pas­sion, have usurped a prevalence, which hath consigned the hours of many an amiable female to unavailing regret. I contend that love, in a good mind, will assur­edly expire, if not nurtured by esteem; nay, further, I as­sert that it is in fact a short lived passion, that its dissolu­tion is unavoidable, its own intense ardours naturally procure its destruction; and meliorating esteem is the Phenix which ascends from its ashes.

How deplorable is the situation of that wedded pair, who are not endowed with the requisites to insure mu­tual esteem; their conduct is necessarily under the daily observation of each other, and to the penetrating eye of keen and momently investigation their minds are frequently unveiled. How careful then should the sexes be to endow themselves with those intellectual qualities, which will procure mutual confidence and mutual complacency. Let Miss Seafort cultivate the worthy propensities of her nature; let her either con­tinue single, or wed a man of a sound understanding and cultivated mind, of pleasing manners and mild integrity, and I hazard my reputation on the trial. I pronounce positively, that her situation will be much more eligible, than if she had given her hand to the fop who now probably derides the aggravated anguish he hath originated.

[Page 50] I will confess, that my resentment is forcibly exci­ted against an idea which hath committed such devas­tation on the peace of society. I am determined that my children, the little Margaretta, and Mary-Augus­ta, shall receive timely impressions of the impotency of that chimera, endowed by imagination, with in­vincibility; and they shall be early taught, that dis­cretion ought never to quit the helm of a female mind; that reason is ordained to triumph over every weak idea. In one word, we will help them to attain the government of their passions.

The poor Lavinia is a melancholy instance of the fa­tal consequence of an unlimited indulgence of those sen­sibilities, which, under the requisite control, frequently make the felicity, and are always the ornament of humanity. She possessed a heart, glowing with every sentiment which is dictated by benevolence; she was eminently capable of friendship; disdaining suspicion, her confidence in the appearances of virtue was exactly what it should have been in long tried worth, and her susceptibility was extreme. Born to an opulent for­tune, she had multiplied opportunities of gratifying the propensities of a munificent mind, and she was re­garded by the sons and daughters of penury as the angel of consolation. She had lost her father in her in­fancy, and she continued the only prop of an amiable mother, of whom she was the richest solace; she was beautiful in her person, of a pleasing understanding, and highly accomplished; her manners were a transcript of her mind, open and undesigning; and a man of feel­ing would have suffered death, rather than have pur­loined the tranquillity of a bosom so exquisitely at­tuned, or betrayed the confidence reposed in him by such transcendent excellence. I think I have never seen a more amiable female than Lavinia; I recollect attending Mary and Margaretta, on a visit made to her and her worthy mother. Margaretta was then a child—she had been with us only one month; but young as she was, the prepossessing Lavinia captivated her little heart. A large party was assembled, La­vinia [Page 51] extorted general admiration; her equal attentions to her numerous guests, the elegance of her move­ments, her solicitude to contribute to the pleasures of every individual, her duteous attention to her mother, the eagerness with which she hastened to divest her of every care, while the eyes of her enraptured parent followed her with an expression of extacy, which I have seldom seen equalled, and never surpassed; all this was calculated to produce the highest degree of approbation, and she necessarily received the hom­age of every eye. At our request, she played and sung, and her execution gave general satisfaction; dancing constituted a part of our entertainment, and the movements of Lavinia were attuned by harmony. Every heart congratulated the mother of such a daughter; and we became assured that Emly-House was indeed the abode of felicity.

From this sketch it will be imagined that the edu­cation of Lavinia had not been neglected; and indeed, the truth is, that her anxious and tenderly interested mother had spared, in the cultivation of her mind, neither pains nor expense; nor was there any defi­ciency, except in those cautionary guards with which young people should invariably be furnished, particu­larly when their sensibilities are manifestly glowing, and their brilliant imaginations are sketching scenes, which, alas! the present lapsed state of humanity will never give them to realize. To throw a restraint up­on the confiding innocence, the fine feelings, and gen­erous propensities of the opening mind—to plant the germ of suspicion in that soil which hath hitherto pro­duced only a growth of the most sweet scented flowers, is an act which seems to wear an invidious aspect, and it is undoubtedly a painful effort; yet, such is the imbecility of our nature, and such, in many instances, its depravity, as to render it the duty of every pre­ceptor, to endeavour as early as prudence will permit, or reason can digest the information, to give his pupils an accurate view of "man as he is."

[Page 52] It will not be doubted that the personal charms, fine accomplishments, and independent fortune of La­vinia, produced many candidates for her favour. In fact, she was surrounded by a little army of admirers; but although her heart refused to surrender to any of those passionate declarations, which assailed her ear, (and she invariably received every one who distinguish­ed her by his regard, with that ingenuous frankness, which, upon these occasions, always marks the conduct of an amiable woman) they still persisted in their so­licitations, affirming that her avowed preference of an individual should alone constitute a period to their pursuit. Among the acquaintance of Lavinia, figured conspicuously an accomplished youth, for whom her gentle bosom had long sighed. All her secret wishes were breathed for Alphonso, but Alphonso had never taken rank among the number of her declared ad­mirers. This, however, was, by the enamoured La­vinia, imputed to an excess of del [...]t [...]y; and often did she whisper a selection from a favourite ballad:—"Among the rest young Edwin bow'd, but never talk'd of love." Mean time, every day, and almost every hour, gave new energy to the assiduities of Alphonso; and no opportunity passed unmarked by his distinguishing attentions. In those rural walks, in which it was the custom of Lavinia to accompany her juvenile compan­ions, Alphonso was still by her side; for her the ripen­ed berry was culled, the elegantly fancied bouquet was presented with a modest and impressive air, and, to encircle her auburn tresses, he enwreathed a garland of the choicest flowers.

He was careful to procure for her every new pub­lication, and he would pass whole days in reading to her those volumes which he judged worthy her atten­tion; every impassioned sentence he would render still more glowing, never forgetting, by emphasis and gesture, to point to the heart of Lavinia each moving senti­ment. Often did he fix his eyes, apparently beaming with love, on her glowing face; on these occasions he would assume a tender air, sigh deeply, place his spread hands upon [Page 53] his heart, anon clasp them in a kind of enthusiastic rap­ture; and rarely ever did he conclude this well acted farce without a tear, which he affected to conceal, and which the too credulous Lavinia never failed to impute to delicacy, strength of affection, and unexampled respect. He was inva­riably her conductor to places of public resort; and he seemed to regard every gentleman who offered himself by way of escort, as an invader of his prerogative.

Thus rolled on the halcyon months. Lavinia's at­tachment every hour augmented; all her sensibilities were in full force; her unbounded confidence was en­gaged, and her highest complacency ensured. Of du­plicity she had formed but a vague idea; she had heard, it is true, of the existence of a propensity which she esteemed monstrous, and it ranked in her mind, with the stories of giants and hobgoblins, which she had received from her nurse, in her days of childhood. To have imputed nefarious purposes to Alphonso, she would have regarded as a most cruel outrage against the brightest assemblage of virtues, which ever irradiated a human bosom; and to restrain the expansive flights of an ardent and luxuriant fancy, she had never been taught. She esteemed—she loved—and at the shrine of tender friendship, she offered the most impassioned vows. The numerous friends of Alphonso and La­vinia, gave them to each other; the world announced their marriage as an event which would speedily take place; her professed admirers, conceiving she had made her election, decently withdrew their pretensions, avowing a manly resolution, to act, in future, "a brother's part." Alphonso continued to evince himself in every action, and in every arrangement, the most impassioned of lovers; and yet, strange to tell, his tongue had never uttered a single sentence, which announced what his eyes were continually proclaiming; which amounted to the simple declaration—I love you. The mother of Lavinia beheld with approbation the grow­ing attachment of her beloved child—she regarded Alphonso as a man every way worthy of her daughter; and she anticipated a rich harvest of domestic felicity, [Page 54] when Lavinia, wedded, should augment her joys, and probably give to her embraces a blooming offspring, amid whose endearing caresses she should breathe her last maternal sigh.

At length, however, the wary matron could not for­bear to question—"It is strange, my dear Lavinia, that Alphonso is not more explicit—you have received his attention with all that indulgent complacency, which is proper to a modest and a decent girl; he cannot doubt your approbation; what then can suspend his most unequivocal declarations? What delays his ap­plication to your mother?" Lavinia blushed expressive­ly; but it was not, however, a blush of conviction. The doubt, implied in the observations of her mother, she conceived derogatory to the immaculate honour of the man, whom she deemed incapable of error; and she had never before felt so much inclined to arraign the can­dour, and even the justice, of her, who, from the first dawn of reason, she had regarded as a perfect model of every excellence. ‘Alphonso, she replied, is the most delicate of men—of his ardent love I have had incon­testible proofs—a thousand times has the most une­quivocal declarations trembled upon his lips; but that uncommon respect which inmingles with his re­gards, his tender awe of me, hath hitherto restrained the fervour of an avowal, which is but delayed. Ought I to regard as reprehensible a mode of conduct, manifestly the result of his consideration for my feelings? Alphonso, Madam, is not to be influenced by common principles; he is affectionate, amiable, and disinter­ested; his passion is sentimental, precisely of that de­scription which I wish; and so eligible is my present situation, indulged, as I am, with the presence and tender approbation of my dear mamma, and amply gratified by the full enjoyment of those pleasures, which I derive from contributing to the relief of the necessitous, that, provided the assiduities and tender friendship of Alphonso is allowed me, I cannot form a higher idea of earthly felicity.’

[Page 55] Thus was the matron silenced; and she the more readily acquiesced in the sentiments of her daughter, as her upright mind could not conceive of turpitude so enormous, as that which must excite a being, deliber­ately to perpetrate the murder of the peace of a fellow creature, without a single apparent motive to stimulate to a deed of such atrocity. She also knew how to estimate the value of her daughter; she was conscious of her exquisite beauty, and rare accomplishments, and she was sensible that her fortune was amply sufficient to gratify the most ambitious views; an impartial decision would, she confidently imagined, pronounce her in every respect the equal of Alphonso, and she therefore gave to the winds her maternal anxieties.

In this train matters continued many weeks longer: Alphonso contrived to extend his treacherous entangle­ments to the utmost possible duration. Perceiving, however, that he had at length attenuated the thread to the very point of breaking, he thought proper sud­denly to decamp; and having made up his mind, he announced to the family, quite in [...] manner, his intention of taking a journey, mentioning it as a thing of course, and, quaintly enough, expressing his wishes that he might soon meet again, friends, whom he should ever value.

The mother of Lavinia now saw clearly the fate of her beloved child; but she hesitated to make a discov­ery, an apprehension of the consequence of which, fill­ed her with immeasureable dread! while Lavinia still continued ingeniously reasoning away appearances. Alphonso was still the best, and most undesigning of men—she confidently expected his speedy return; nor did she experience any other regret, than what his ab­sence occasioned, until many succeeding posts passed without bringing her a single line; then, indeed, her utmost tenderness and candour was put to the test, to invent apologies, or to account for a conduct so am­biguous. Still, however, the particular days in which the post returned, might have slipped his memory; his letters might have been written; his servant might have delayed [Page 56] to put them in the office; the courier might have been un­faithful. In short, struggling to detain the deluder hope, there was scarce an absurdity which she would not have admitted, rather than suppose that bosom, where she had treasured up her dearest expectations of earthly bliss, should have relinquished every good. Conviction, however, could not be delayed; it per­force obtained; and when she learned that the beau­tiful Monimia had become the object of his pursuit, she could no longer doubt.

She received the information with a steadiness and composure, which was more terrifying to her mother, than the most violent exclamation of grief. She shed no tears, nor uttered a single complaint; but, folding her snowy arms, with a look expressive of the deepest woe, and all the aggravated anguish of a broken spirit, she meekly bent her head in token of resignation; and while evidently assaying to arm herself with fortitude, overpow­ered by the magnitude of the struggle, she fainted in the arms of her agonized parent! On her return to life, she gave [...] tokens of a deranged intellect; and the disorder of her mind hath hitherto baffled the power of art. For a time, her lucid intervals cherished the hope of a perfect restoration; but her sensibility was extreme; and, unaccustomed to yield the control of the passions to the regency of reason, is it wonderful that, upon an occasion so cruelly calamitous, she became unequal to the combat?

Let the Monimia's of the female world beware, however meritorious they may be—they do not, they cannot surpass the amiable, the highly accomplished Lavinia; and an Alphonso who could meditate the destruction of a happiness so well founded, as was that of the now desolate sufferer, is abandoned enough to harbour the most atrocious purposes.

The glimmerings of reason which Lavinia discov­ered, during the first weeks that succeeded her misfor­tune, were transient, and more and more unfrequent; and the faint traces of recollection which she evinced, produced the most heart affecting melancholy that [Page 57] can be imagined. She is now a confirmed maniac; and so total is her derangement, that some months have elapsed since she has manifested the smallest atten­tion even to her mother. She frequently holds long ideal dialogues with Alphonso, responding for him, and it is observable that she utters the answers which she shapes for him precisely in his tone of voice. Accord­ing to the caprice of the time being, she alternately upbraids and soothes him; and she is, by turns, grave and gay. Now with floods of tears she weeps his exit, chanting at his supposed obsequies, the funeral dirge; and anon, in an extacy of joy, she felicitates herself on his restoration to virtue and to her; not a sentiment does she utter in her strongest paroxysms, but is chastised by delicacy, but is descriptive of the purity and benev­olence of her soul. The scattered gems glitter with transcendent lustre upon the dark clouds in which she is enveloped; and it is hardly possible to conceive a more calamitous situation, than to be marked down the hourly witness of her plaintive sorrows. Yet this task is assigned to a fond, an aged, and a widowed mother. To other hands she refuseth to relinquish the care of her poor unfortunate! "No mercenary hireling" she exclaims, "shall inflict upon my gentle child, unnecessary sufferings. It is enough, that the blossoms of her youth have been thus untimely blight­ed. It is the part of her mother to soothe, as far as circumstances will admit, her woe stricken spirit; and no earthly consideration shall induce me to yield my melancholy charge, or quit for a single hour my faultless mourner!" Every night her bed is prepared in the apartment of her daughter; and she takes no sustenance but what she receives in her presence. Alas! alas! what a heart piercing contrast is mo­mently exhibited, to those scenes which she had con­templated as unveiling to her declining life, when, in the full enjoyment of her complacent hours, the chil­dren of her beloved daughter passed in vision before her.

[Page 58] Lavinia, like another Maria, is suffered to wander over the grounds which make a part of her paternal inheritance. Her insanity being of the melancholy and pathetic kind, she is never boisterous or unruly; her mother, and her woman, are continually the com­panions of her rambles; of these she takes no other no­tice, than barely to petition, in the most supplicating tone of voice, for any article of which she happens to fancy herself in want: She is particularly fond of stray­ing amid those walks to which Alphonso was attach­ed; and every tree and shrub is addressed by her in the most pity moving strains!

When death shall deprive Lavinia of her guardian parent, the augmentation of her calamity will be in­calculable. Nor can this event be far distant—accele­rated by the sad catastrophe of her daughter's once luminous expectations, and by her hourly sufferings, it must soon take place. She will sink into the grave; a distant branch of her family will succeed to her in­heritance, who, very probably, regarding the deranged Lavinia as an incumbrance to the accession which awaits him, will, by pretended necessary severity, hasten the demise, which it will be his interest to procure!!!

I visited Emly-House not long since—great God, how changed is the aspect of every object which presents! The servants, the apartments, the superb furniture, every thing seemed to partake the general gloom! In a remote chamber I beheld the aged mother—her head white as snow—on her bended knees, with suppli­cating hands, and streaming eyes, she was conjuring her daughter to relinquish a purpose, which she had recently declared, of putting an end to an existence that (with greater manifestations of reason than she had demonstrated for a long period) she affirmed was no longer to be endured. I joined, with an assum­ed authority, the entreaties of her mother, when, waving her hand, in a manner descriptive of inexpres­sible anguish, she bowed her assent to our united re­monstrances. Never did I behold loveliness so pro [...] ­trated; she is astonishingly emaciated—her pallid cheek [Page 59] is wan as death—the dimples which played around her enchanting mouth, are succeeded by the cavities of woe—no expression of gladness beams from her sky tinctured eye, a fixed melancholy is brooding there; the lines of her fine face are deeply sunk—a premature old age seems rapidly advancing; and her folded arms, (a posture she generally prefers) while they indicate re­signation, proclaim her, also, in the same moment, irretrievably the child of unrelenting misfortune!!!!

Could Alphonso now behold her—even Alphonso would pity.

N^o. XL.

IT appears that the declaration of Miss Clifford's marriage, has answered only one part of the letter of my fair correspondent, Miss Monimia Castalio; and, as I make a point of paying the most minute at­tention to the epistles addressed to me in my official capacity, before I commence my responses to the wor­thy Mrs. Aimwell, I will briefly reply to the remain­ing query contained in that address.

Let me see—Miss Monimia Castalio and Miss Prim­rose wish to know, what the ladies Hamilton and Sey­mour think of naked elbows; whether they have thrown aside their modesty pieces, and whether they dress their waists as short as Mrs. Modish says they do? Now, that I may give to my anxious inquirers every possible gratification, I shall answer their queries both generally and particularly: And,

First, generally. It is not true, that the ladies are in the habit of employing Mrs. Modish. It is notori­ous, [Page 60] that this sometimes excellent modeller, at all times pertinaciously insists upon her own whims, however ab­surd and fantastical they may chance to be, and that she frequently precipitates her determined votaries in­to the most ridiculous vagaries. Margaretta and Sera­fina take a cursory view of her followers, and adopt only such regulations as are proper and becoming; they are never fond of extremes; and hence the sud­den transitions of fashion cannot produce them outrée figures. If a particular colour is said to be the rage, and it does not happen to suit their complexions, they do not impose upon themselves the necessity of wear­ing it; their ambition is, to display their fine features and persons to the best advantage, and this their pre­dominant wish in dress is never prostrated to any in­ferior consideration; they have no violent desire to be considered as the standards of mode, or to be exalt­ed to the summit of taste; they have heard a favourite poet say, that

and, following the example of all other commentators, they contrive that the text should square exactly with their own ideas previously conceived; they produce it as an antidote to all extravagance in the materials or modification of their habiliments; discarding pomp, they adopt elegance, and generally appear as if attired by the Graces.

Secondly, particularly. I have never heard them give an opinion relative to naked elbows; but, since the request of Miss Monimia Castalio, I have accu­rately observed their sleeves, or, to speak more tech­nically, the dress of their arms, and with the assistance of my good Mary, I may perhaps present an intelligi­ble view of this section of their garments. It seems they have never worn long sleeves, except when rid­ing; and hence, it will rationally enough be conclud­ed, they have no violent predilection for a long sleeve; but I will whisper in the ear of my fair readers, a truth to which they may not perhaps immediately recur— [Page 61] they have uncommonly fine arms: Their sleeve, then, de­scending one quarter of an inch, more or less, below that well turned curvature y'clepped an elbow, there re­ceives its graceful slope, the extreme edge being orna­mented with muslin, slight gauze, blond, or Brussels, as may suit the quality of the gown, or the occasion on which it is to be worn. They have not thrown aside their veils of modesty—God forbid they ever should—but with regard to modesty pieces, so called, in all their varieties, or those parapets upon parapets, behind which breast-work the fair intrencher seems to challenge the attack—as a sub­stitute for all these, their delicate muslin, simply edged with a border, varied agreeably to the elegance of their fancy, is drawn round the neck, and fastened with a knot of ribbon behind, over which the handkerchief receives a form somewhat conformable to the reigning taste. For their waists, as they never appeared like inverted cones, so their skirts have not yet obtained an addi­tional half yard in length, for the purpose of usurping that part of the body where the blond tucker formerly obtained a station. If the ladies make up a new dress, they so far condescend to the then fashion, as not to render themselves conspicuous for their non-conformity; and I believe this piece of accommodation makes up the sum total of their compliance with the fashionable world.

Thus having adjusted, as I conceive, this important particular, I turn with pleasurable alacrity to the ma­ternal epistle of the truly deserving Mrs. Aimwell. Tremblingly alive to every thing which can affect her beautiful charge, does not Mrs. Aimwell too readily admit those corroding apprehensions which undermine her peace? She confesseth that nature hath been liber­al, and that the mind of her daughter is exempt from those adverse inclinations which too often, even in the bosom of childhood, become fearfully productive. Ought she not then to felicitate herself upon the happy disposition of her Sophia? I pronounce that patience and perseverance will perfect her wishes. Miss Aim­well hath but recently attained her twelfth year. It is [Page 62] rather early to expect a love of uniformity, and a pur­suit of regularity, as a matter of choice. The season of youth is happily marked by vivacity; and the playful candidates for more substantial good are filled with interesting wonder at every novel scene that comes un­der their observation. They love to walk, set, or stand, precisely as an imagination which does not readily submit to the sober agency of reason, shall dic­tate. The young lady in question at present, takes rank among this little eccentric class of beings; but under the judicious auspices of Mrs. Aimwell, she will eventually become that accomplished female, who will exhibit an exact transcript of the model already form­ed in the mind of her excellent mother.

Yes, indeed, I do conceive that the hand of skilful cultivation may implant an ardent thirst for knowl­edge; or, in other words, a love of reading in that mind of which it was not the original growth; nay, further, I affirm, upon the authority of experience, that the useful and fertile exotic will take as deep root, flourish as luxuriantly, and produce as plentiful a har­vest, as in its native soil; and perhaps the conforma­tion of this artificial taste, is one of the most eligible uses which can be made of novel reading. Curiosity in the minds of young people is generally if not always up­on the wing; and I have regarded curiosity, combined with necessity, as the grand stamina of almost every improvement. Narrative, unencumbered with dry re­flections, and adorned with all the flowers of fiction, possesses for the new plumed fancy a most fascinating charm; attention is arrested, every faculty of the soul is engaged, and the pages of the interesting and en­tertaining novelist are almost devoured. Thus an at­tachment to reading is formed, and this primary ob­ject once obtained, in that paucity of those kind of writings, which the watchful parent will know how to create, the entertaining biographer will become an acceptable substitute; the transition to history will be in course; geography constitutes an essential part of history; and the annals of the heavenly bodies will ul­timately [Page 63] be studied with avidity. Pope's Homer may originate a taste for poetry, even in the very soul of frigidity; and a perusal of the beautifully diversified and richly ornamented numbers of the Adventurer, induces a perigrination through every essay which has been written, from the days of their great primogeni­tures, Steele and Addison, down to the simple num­bers of the humble Gleaner. In this view, novels may be considered as rendering an important service to society; and I question whether there is not less risk in placing volumes of this kind in the hands of girls of ten or twelve years of age, than during that in­teresting period which revolves from fifteen to twenty. The mind is instructed with much more facility, at an early age, than afterwards; and I have thought that many a complete letter writer has been produced from the school of the novelist; and hence, possibly, it is, that females have acquired so palpable a superiority over us, in this elegant and useful art. Novels, I think, may very properly and advantageously constitute the amusement of a girl from eight to fourteen years of age, provided always that she pursues her reading under the ju­dicious direction of her guardian friend: By the time she hath completed her fourteenth year, (supposing the voice of well-judged and tender premonition has occasion­ally sounded in her ears) I am mistaken if her under­standing will not have made such progress, as to give her to rise from the table with proper ideas of the light­ness of the repast; of the frivolity of those scenes to which she hath attended; of their insufficiency, as sources of that kind of information which is the off­spring of truth, and of their inability to bestow real knowledge, or those substantial qualities that nerve the mind, and endow it with the fortitude so necessary in the career of life.

Under the requisite guidance, she will learn properly to appreciate the heroes and heroines of the novelist; repetition will create satiety, and she will have risen from the banquet before the consequences of her intox­ication can materially injure her future life. She will [Page 64] have drank largely, it is true, but revolving hours will give her to recover from her inebriety, and happily those hours will intervene ere yet she is called to act the part assigned her; and she will have extracted every advan­tage within the reach of possibility, from this line of reading, while the pernicious effects attributed thereto, can in no respect essentially hurt her.

When a torrent of novels bursts suddenly on a girl, who, bidding adieu to childhood, hath already entered a career, to her of such vast importance, the evils of which they may be productive are indeed incalculable! aided by a glowing imagination, she will take a deep interest in the fascinating enthusiasm they inspire; each gilded illusion will pass for a splendid reality; she will sigh to become the heroine of the drama; and, selecting her hero, it is possible she may be precipitated into irremediable evil, before she may have learned to make a just estimation of the glittering trifles, by which she is thus captivated. I say, therefore, I would confine novels to girls from eight to fourteen years of age; and I would then lay them by, for the amusement of those vacant hours, which, in advanced years, are frequently marked by a kind of ennui, the result, probably, of a separation from those companions, with whom we have filled the more busy scenes of life.

I grant that novels, under proper direction, might be made much more extensively subservient to the well being of society, than, with a very few exceptions, they have ever yet been. Was not love, unconquerable, unchanging, and omnipotent, their everlasting theme, they might abound with precepts and examples conducive to the best of purposes. This remark leads to the consideration of the question proposed by my anxious correspondent. In my toleration of novels, have I not exercised a discriminating power? Most assuredly I have. There is a class of novels, and of plays, which it ap­pears to me should be burnt by the hands of the com­mon executioner; and were it not that the good natured world generally takes part with the sufferer, I could [Page 65] wish to see strong marks of public odium affixed upon the authors of those libidinous productions.

But it is as painful to dwell upon subjects of repre­hension as it is pleasurable to hold the pen of pane­gyric—let me hasten, therefore, to a selection which I have conceived indisputably worthy of preference; and, in the first grade of those writings, that take rank under the general description of novels, and that are entitled to the highest notes of eulogy, I have been accustomed to place the history of Clarissa Harlowe.

In my decided approbation of this admired pro­duction, I have the satisfaction to reflect that I am not singular. My paternal grand-father, who was one of the most respectable characters of the era in which he lived, indulged, perhaps to excess, an invincible aver­sion to novels. Yet, the Holy Bible and Clarissa Har­lowe, were the books in which he accustomed his daughters to read alternately, during those hours in which he attended to them himself. The Rev. James Hervey, Rector of Weston Favell, in Northampton­shire in England, celebrated as well for an exemplary life and purity of manners, as for the elegance and piety of his literary compositions, in a treatise written upon the education of daughters, recommends Clarissa, as a suitable present to those young ladies, who are to be trained in the paths of virtue and propriety; and a late writer, has asserted, that Clarissa Harlowe is the first human production now extant. He hesitates not to place it, for literary excellence, above the Iliad of Homer, or any other work, ancient or modern, the sacred oracles excepted.

But without taking it upon me to defend this opin­ion. I will only say, that it appears to me admirably well calculated as a useful companion for a female, from the first dawn of her reason, to the closing scene of life. It has been said that many a Lovelace has availed himself of plots, fabricated and developed in those volumes, which would never else have entered his imagination—be it so, I only contend for the placing them in female hands; and I affirm that they con­tain [Page 66] the best code of regulations, the best directions in every situation which they exemplify—in one word, the best model for the sex, that I have ever yet seen pourtrayed. The character of Clarissa, it has been as­serted, is too highly wrought: but I ask, what perfec­tion did she possess that we should be willing to dis­pense with, in the female, who we should delineate as an accomplished woman! Was I to advance an objection against a work of such acknowledged merit, I would say that it is the character of Lovelace, and more par­ticularly of the Sinclairs, the Martins, the Hortons, and the Harlowes, of those pages, which are too highly wrought. It is surely much more easy to conceive of an amiable woman, acting precisely as did Clarissa, than of that degree of turpitude and inexorable se­verity, which must have preceded the perpetration of actions so black, and the manifestation of rigour so ill sounded and unrelenting.

It has been generally imagined that Clarissa's only deviation from strict propriety, consisted in her flight from the protection of her father; but a moment's re­flection will evince the error of this conclusion—that cannot [...]e a fault to which I am compelled. Clarissa met her betrayer with a design to remonstrate, and to con­ciliate, but with a determined resolution not to abandon the paternal mansion; it appears that she was precipi­tated upon that fatal step, and, environed by the deep laid machination of the deceiver, her escape would have been miraculous, yet she continued to struggle, and even at the moment she was hurried away, the beauteous sufferer still vehemently protested against accompanying the wretch, who was armed for her destruction. Clarissa's error (if indeed, all circumstances considered, she was ever in any sort reprehensible) must be traced further back; it consisted in her correspondence after the parental prohibition, and in her consenting to meet the treacherous villain. Yet, when we take a view of the motives which stimulated her to those decisive measures, we can scarcely deem her censurable; and [Page 67] she extorts from every bosom that kind of applause, which we spontaneously yield to persecuted merit.

Love, in the bosom of Clarissa, was always subservi­ent to virtue. It would never have taken the lead of duty; and, had she been left to the free exercise of her fine faculties, had she been permitted to call into action those rare abilities of which she was mistress, she would have completely extricated herself from every embarrassment. Love, in the bosom of Clarissa, was the noblest of principles; it was uniformly solicitous for the genuine felicity, establishment and elevation of its object; but it would never have permitted her to have allied herself to a man, who could barbarously triumph in the destruction of that sweet peace of mind, which is the bosom friend of the innocent and of the good; who could inhuman­ly meditate the ruin of those confiding females who were en­titled to his pity and his protection. Liberated from the resentment of her hard hearted relations, and moving in that enlarged and elevated sphere, to which her matchless intellect and uncommon information en­titled her, she would doubtless have investigated. The libertine would inevitably have stood confessed, and would as assuredly have been discarded from her fa­vour. In one word, love, in the bosom of Clarissa, was what I wish, from my soul, it may become in the bosom of every female.

The deportment of Clarissa, after Lovelace had so artfully betrayed her into a step which her judgment invariably condemned, has been the subject of much cavilling; she is accused of undue haughtiness; but surely such censurers have not well weighed either her character and situation, or that ambiguous mode of conduct, which the despoiler so early assumed. How often did he hold her soul in suspense, and how necessary was it for his nefarious purposes thus to do.

But I am not now writing a criticism upon Clarissa; the foregoing hints will inform Mrs. Aimwell what class of novels I particularly approbate; and I proceed, agreeably to her request, to select a few of those let­ters, which made a part of the correspondence be­tween [Page 68] Mary, and Margaretta, during an early part of Miss Melworth's life.

N^o. XLI.

TO arrest the warm affections of the youthful voyager, very little address is requisite. Easily susceptible of impressions, the opening mind generally estimates persons and things, with the benefits which accrue therefrom, agreeably to its own vivid imagina­tion; and its calculations, accumulated by a productive fancy, highly o'ertop the judgment of reason. Grat­itude, if not spontaneous, is implanted in the glowing bosom, almost without an effort; and affection, stamped by gratitude, is a substantial basis for the superstructure of education. To convince young people of our en­tire attachment, and that all our views, and every ar­rangement relative to them, are directed to their pres­ent and future advancement, is indisputably of the greatest importance. Children will receive lessons with confidence and advantage, from the lips of those whose tender attachment they do not consider as prob­lematical; and reciprocity of regards, between the teacher and the taught, is absolutely indispensable.

Happily, in the mind of Margaretta, an indelible conviction of our unalterable and disinterested attach­ment was early produced; and a reciprocation of re­gards, a decided preference, and even veneration, for our characters, with that calm reposing confidence, [Page 73] which naturally results from affection so entire, and esteem which she conceived so well grounded, origin­ated in her gentle bosom the warmest sensations, and ultimately procured the very best effect. Many of her letters are too expressive of the impassioned feelings of a fervid and enthusiastically grateful heart, to meet the public eye; and, as Mrs. Aimwell requires only a specimen, I am at liberty to suppress them; selecting others, as they may happen to occur, without attend­ing to the order in which they were written. The fol­lowing are, however, in course.

N^o. XLII.

Margaretta, thus receiving permission, rushed in­stantly into our apartment, and such were the rapidity of her movements, that, ere we were aware, flinging herself almost breathless at the feet of her mother, and clasping her knees in a kind of extasy, she exhibited a spectacle the most charmingly interesting which can be imagined. Mary raised her in her arms—alternately we pressed her to our bosoms, and, until that moment, I had never experienced transports so exquisitely de­lightful!

Thus ended an affair, that some may possibly regard as a "much ado about nothing;" but Mary, availing her­self of the ascendency she had obtained over the mind of her daughter, had purposely wrought it up to the high­est [Page 88] importance. She was solicitous to uproot every propensity which discovered the most remote tendency to the malignancy of scandal. She conceived, that as impressions are generally made with success in the early part of life, she could hardly be premature in her efforts to implant a proper detestation of this hydra evil; and the event proved she had acted judiciously; for this little circumstance, with all its consequences, was indelibly stamped upon the mind of Miss Melworth; the serious solemnity with which it had been attended, engraved it there; it confirmed her the irreconcileable foe to detraction in all its varieties; and she recoils, with a kind of horror, for which perhaps she does not always stop to account, from the very semblance of a malevolent remark; nor do I believe she has, from the above era to the present moment, ever uttered a single sentence, that could, by any rational construc­tion, be termed invidious.

It was the design both of Mary and myself, to pro­duce our daughter, in that career on which she was entering, both theoretically and practically, a philan­thropic moralist. And to this valuable end were di­rected both my admonitions and precepts, as well as the conversation and letters of her mother. We were well aware of the vast importance of the first informed movements of reason, of first principles, and of a com­mencement in the path of rectitude. We were sensible that individuals, connected in society, necessarily de­pend upon each other; and that, of course, our felicity or infelicity is more or less deducible from sentiments and arrangements beyond our control. We proposed to Miss Melworth the general approbation of man­kind, as an object worthy her unremitting pursuit; and, as we could not conceive of a human being so insignificant, as to bar the possibility of his, or her, future influence upon our prospects, so we taught her to estimate the good will of every individual as a de­sirable acquisition. It must be remembered, however, that we always inculcated the necessity of circumscrib­ing a wish for universal applause, in itself laudable, [Page 89] within the boundaries of virtue; that we erected our standard of rectitude, and first of all, carefully impressed an idea of the superior importance of self-complacency, and of approving Heaven. But, having taken down in short hand, as I was seated at my writing-desk, in a closet adjoining to Margaretta's, a few disjointed sentences, which fell from the lips of my wife, during one of those hours appropriated to the instruction of her beloved charge, I transcribe them from my minutes.

My minutes go no further, yet they may serve to give an idea of those sentiments, which were repeatedly and carefully inpressed upon the mind of Margaretta; and I can scarcely imagine the reader will think their introduction in this place stands in need of an apology.

N^o. XLIII.

N^o. XLIV.

N^o. XLV.

N^o. XLVI.

N^o. XLVII.

N^o. XLVIII.

N^o. XLIX.

N^o. L.

N^o. LI.

N^o. LII.

N^o. LIII.

[Page 207] POSSIBLY, the number of letters, which my solic­itude to comply with the wishes of Mrs. Aimwell hath engaged me to furnish, may not have been in unison with the feelings of the generality of my readers. I am aware, that when a husband and a father sit in judgment upon the productions of a beloved wife and daughter, an impartial decision can hardly be expect­ed. If, however, I am considered as reprehensible, apologies will but augment my error; and therefore, after addressing a few lines to my young friend, Miss Aimwell, I put a period to those efforts, which have had their origin in a tender anxiety for the improve­ment and felicity of the young proficient.

N^o. LIV.

PERHAPS there is not, in the gift of art, a more prevailing incentive to propriety of conduct, than the hope of reward. To look for a recompense, is very consistent with the dependent state of humanity; and it belongeth only to the Father of Intelligence, to move essentially and independently upon the great square of rectitude.

Reason no sooner begins to bud, than the child is stimulated to act rightly, by the hope of a sugar-plum, a gingerbread toy, or that more honourable inducement, a mother's approbating smile. The student calleth into action every effort, allured by the prospect of a new book, the eulogy of the preceptor, or an accelerated holi­day; and the man of letters, while he indulgeth con­templations congenial with his nature, is rendered more indefatigable in his researches, by the honest hope of a splendid name. As the love of fame is more or less influential on every mind, it may be properly charac­terized a universal passion; and we conceive, that the expectation of an honorary, if not of a lucrative compensation, frequently bestoweth the motive, and furnisheth the prevalent excitement, to good and proper actions.

Under this persuasion we are induced to wish, that in every commonwealth, town and village, some par­ticular guerdon was assigned, to be annually bestowed on such persons as had attained, in pursuits confessedly useful, a superior degree of excellence. I recollect, some years since, perusing a volume written by Mad­ame de Genlis, which contained a circumstantial ac­count of an institution, that would, if I mistake not, could I transcribe it accurately, exactly illustrate my [Page 212] meaning. Unfortunately, Madame de Genlis is not in my library; and a sketch, drawn from a memory not remarkable for its tenacity, will be necessarily im­perfect. However, without aiming at the method or language of this admired lady, it may be sufficient for my present purpose, if I am able to preserve the most prominent features of a narration that gave me much pleasure at the time, and indelibly impressed on my mind a high sense of the utility of an expressly specified public recompense for eminent or singular virtue.

The institution, which is beautifully and elegantly commemorated in the pages referred to, received its establishment at a very early period after the com­mencement of the Christian era; It was the growth of Salency, a village in Piccardy, and owed its being to a St. Medard, who was a native of that peaceful hamlet, and sole proprietor of the territory. Surely, the mind of this St. Medard must have been chaste, elegant, and highly susceptible of every virtue. But those amateurs of excellence, who have not traced the Festival of the Rose in the highly embellished writings of the French authoress, are here presented with an op­portunity of judging for themselves.

The institution is called, the Festival of the Rose: The prize contended for, is annually furnished—this prize is a hat, fancifully decorated with roses—and the elevation it confers, enhances its value far beyond all price. The candidates for this expressive emblem are females—it is always the reward of indisputable supe­riority—all claims but those of virtue, are inadmissi­ble—the distinctions which originate in the gifts of fortune, beauty of person, or grandeur of descent, in­volve not the smallest pretensions to this honorary meed—and it is invariably adjudged by the voice of impartiality. The ceremonies attendant on the inves­titure, are said to be the most ancient which are now extant. Many centuries have witnessed its influence, and have reaped from its excitements the most substan­tial benefits. Three village maidens are proclaimed candidates for the ensuing year; and the ancestors of [Page 213] these girls must be, for many preceding generations, persons of irreproachable lives and unimpeached man­ners. What an irresistible motive is thus furnished for the observance of every rule of right! The desire of descending with honour to posterity, and of surviv­ing even the icy darts of death in our offspring, is, I presume, inherent in every mind; and the knowledge, that a scrutinizing investigation of our actions would annually succeed, even after we had ceased to be visi­ble upon this globe, would indubitably insure a more general and exact circumspection of conduct.

The claims of the three lovely competitors, when established by meritorious ancestry and personal worth, are formally presented to the Lord of Salency, whose office it is, to elect from this trio, the candidate whose conduct, on a strict investigation, he shall regard as the most faultless. Every considerable action is brought to view; the best possible information is sought; wit­nesses are heard; circumstances are compared; the most upright conclusions are formed; and the Lord of Salency proceeds to proclaim the beauteous para­gon, queen of the approaching year. Nor is his task invidious; for emulation, in the bosom of females, whose minds are properly turned, and who are edu­cated with such splendid expectations, never degene­rates into envy—they are sensible that an election must be made—they are within the circle of excellence—it is glorious to be considered as a candidate—to make one of such a trio, they have stood upon the verge of perfection—another year may witness a confirmation of their claim—they have only to commence anew their efforts—those efforts which the corrosive murmurs of discontent would forever blast—and they hesitate not to join the acclamations, which responsive hail the lovely competitor. Many days previous to the ceremo­ny attendant on a bestowment of the prize, the name of the successful candidate is publickly announced, and the sacred aisles reverberate her praises; a certain day in the year is appropriated to the celebration of this festival; its revolution is rendered important, by the [Page 214] reward it confers on virtue, and it is graced, by every effort of rural taste. It is selected from the vernal season—its pleasures are long anticipated, and its dawn is marked by all the fervour of youthful expec­tancy, sanctioned by the matured complacency of lengthening years. To the sequestered haunts of vir­tue, the Lord of Salency shapes his path, and he en­ters, with a kind of veneration, a cottage which has reared to maturity such transcendent excellence; he receives the hand of the daughter of worth, and he conducts her, who is arrayed in all the charms of tri­umphant modesty, to receive the reward, deliberately and righteously adjudged to merit.

The rays of royalty have sought to cast over this institution, additional lustre. A monarch of France, persuaded of its beneficial effects, and charmed with its simplicity, dispatched a favourite nobleman, who was commissioned to present to the matchless maid a ring of value, with a ribbon of expressive blue; and from this epoch the crown of roses is adorned by a blue ribbon, which flows therefrom in graceful stream­ers; while amid the time honoured wreath, a ring obtains a conspicuous situation; and the chosen maid­ens, who are selected to make up the train of the queen, wear on their shoulders a blue ribbon in the manner of a scarf; thus carefully preserving the memory of an attention, which they naturally regard as truly dignifying. The queen, on the day of her coronation, is distinguished by every possible mark of elevation; the procession is interestingly and pleasing­ly affecting; the new elected sovereign is attended by twelve young girls, arrayed in white garments, and decorated by blue ribbons fancifully disposed; twelve youths, who likewise wear the uniform peculiar to the day, form her escort. She is preceded by bands of vocal and instrumental music; and the commencement of the procession is announced by the martial, deep toned, and animating sound of the drum. The streets of the happy village are lined by long and thick ranges of admiring spectators, who are collected for [Page 215] the purpose of rendering to merit the voluntary hom­age of the heart. Through these ranks the dignified maiden passes along—every tongue joins to applaud, and spontaneous benedictions mark her footsteps. On the lips of the surrounding matrons dwells the eulogy of discretion—assembled fathers hail the auspicious era; they recount the meritorious maidens whom they have seen thus triumphantly conducted to the fane of virtue, they compare the present with the past, and, divested of every particle of misanthropic rancour, they mingle in the mirthful train.

In the centre of the temple, a consecrated seat is converted into a kind of temporary throne, which, adorned with more than regal splendor, receives the elevated nymph. Religious rites succeed, which having performed, the venerable clergy lead the van, and the Lord of Salency, taking the hand of the elect­ed lady, is joined by her appropriated train, and fol­lowed by the populace, who in goodly numbers throng the streets, while loud and continued acclamations are heard, until they reach the chapel of St. Medard, when a sudden and affecting silence pervades the whole of this promiscuous multitude. The officiating clergyman then holding in his hand the emblematical­ly decorated hat, with a solemn and affecting tone of voice, pronounces thereon a blessing. He expatiates with devout energy on the ways of wisdom, they are indeed strewed with flowers. Behold how bending thousands prostrate at the shrine of virtue; see how well, even in this life, her votaries are rewarded; ob­serve how lovely is her appearance; she is captivating as the morning of life, beautiful as heaven, and grace­ful as the daughters of paradise. Thus proceeds the man of God, still holding the crown of roses, while the enchanting maiden kneels at his feet. What an ele­vating and truly interesting scene! how deep must be the impressions of such a moment! what noble incen­tives to rectitude are hereby furnished [...] the spectators are universally affected; the humid drop glitters in every eye; while not a heart but melted by the sweet [Page 216] and persuasive voice of truth, seemeth to experience on the spot, the intuitive glow of virtue. Religion appears enrobed in loveliness; a kind of pious awe is conspicuous in every countenance; while the priest, having in a dignified, animated, and solemn tone of voice, completed his pathetic eulogium, places upon the meritorious head, that crown which in the estima­tion of reason, is of more intrinsic value than all those splendid gems that ever yet encircled the brow of royal­ty. The solemn act of coronation thus decently and properly performed, a Te Deum commences, in the course of which, the procession is again formed; and the blooming sovereign, attended as at the first, and dis­tinguished by her well earned crown, enters once more the church; and, proceeding to the middle of the choir, takes her stand as before, exhibiting, until the conclusion of the service, an example of modest and genuine devotion.

The rites of public worship being concluded, our young queen hath next to receive the renewed homage of an affectionately attached and crowded audience, who attend her to a consecrated spot, fitted up by the hand of rural elegance, in which beautiful recess, this daughter of excellence, and queen of innocence, is met by duteous and expecting subjects, who approach her with those simple gifts that make up the riches of the village swain, and which she receives as the volun­tary tribute of well disposed loyalty. She is then es­corted with the same demonstrations of respect, to her usual place of residence, where it is at her option to spread for her noble conductor and his retinue, the feast of innocence. This feast consists of all those ru­ral delicacies which are in the gift of elegant simplic­ity; and the healthful viands, disposed by the hand of taste, constitutes a [...] repast, becoming the hilarity of virtue, and well suited to the guests, who are sum­moned to partake thereof. If I mistake not, Madame de Genlis informs us, that there have been instances, where the crown of roses has been, for many succes­sive years, decreed to the same individual candidate, [Page 217] until, perhaps, (for the diminution of virtue so illustri­ous, could not but be marked with exquisite regret) the lovely model had sunk the claims of maidenhood, in those more complicated duties, which are involved in the dignified character of a matron.

If it should be imagined that our fair authoress in the recital, from which the foregoing particulars are rec­ollected, is leading us over the enchanting grounds of fiction, it is still capable of improvement; and the scheme, although the offspring of imagination, may, nevertheless, when made the subject of legislative con­sideration, suggest hints, and be productive of plans, friendly to the cause of every species of excellence. From conspicuous rewards of merit, the female world seem injudiciously excluded. To man, the road of preferment is thrown open—glory crowns the military hero—the bar, the pulpit, the medical career, the hus­bandman, the merchant, the statesman, these all have their points of eminence; and virtue, blended with first rate abilities, may conduct their possessor even to the Presi­dential Chair of the United States. But the sex, agree­ably to existing regulations, can enjoy but secondary or reflected fame; and he, who shall be happy enough to add a new motive, to those virtues which are natal in the female bosom, will, undoubtedly, deserve well of mankind.

On this subject I am reminded of an observation I lately heard from the lips of one of the most valuable of our countrymen. In our hostile fields he contin­ued a long tried and well approved veteran; and his victorious arm, since the completion of the revolution, hath been employed in quelling an audacious insurrection. In the bosom of peace he is a respectable and illustrious citizen, actively engaged for the promotion of the general weal; his leisure hours are, nevertheless, devoted to literary pursuits; and his well written manuscripts, will, I pleasingly believe, enrich this younger world with a number of truly elegant and useful productions. This Christianized sage observed,—He had often thought that in proportion as the [Page 218] female proficient advanced in the career of excellence, in exact such proportion she regained her superiority in the scale of being. "It is evident," said he, "that the woman was originally the head of the man, for thus the sacred text pronounceth—The consequence of thy trans­gression shall be, that thy husband shall rule over thee," from whence he inferred, that, previous to her declension, she was invested with sovereignty; otherwise, her supposed punishment must have been considered as an unmean­ing parade of words.

Perhaps the desire of sway attributed to females, may invest this idea with a powerful stimulus to pro­priety of conduct; and yet I should question the sta­bility of a superstructure erected upon such a founda­tion. But I am, nevertheless, free to own, that if I cannot implant intrinsic worth, I have imagined, that even the semblance thereof bestows upon society a fairer polish, and is attended by more salutary consequences, than a total neglect of appearances. For if the conduct, from whatever motive, is irreproachable, and the tur­pitude of the heart is confined therein; it is the indi­vidual alone who can be considered as the sufferer.

N^o. LV.

HAD indulgent Heaven entrusted me with the care of a young family, I should have been solicitous to have implanted in their opening minds, as early as possible, a fervid wish for as great a share of independ­ence, as might have consisted with that subordination, in which they were designed to move. He, whose prin­cipal funds of enjoyment are securely laid up in his own breast, can draw his bills without the incumbrance of formalities; and, as he will be in little danger of [Page 219] making false calculations, he will rarely ever find them protested. A spirit of independence naturally involves an attempt to call into action those efforts, from which the respectable establishment at which we aim, must generally result; and he, who possesses ability to shape his own fortune, provided integrity is the main spring of his movements, will assuredly find the justice of his claims upon the esteem of mankind fully acknowl­edged.

I should not be so anxious respecting the particular employments of my children, if their avocations were reputable, as that their talents and qualifications might be such, as would give them to fill their stations with advantage to those with whom they were con­nected, and with honour to themselves. An attempt to bias the mind of a child, can hardly be justified by reason: Nature should make her choice; and the parent, with all those aids he may be able to command, should implicitly follow her direction. Yet, while I acknowledge the propriety of such a procedure, I am free to own, that ambition, irresistibly operating in my bosom, would spontaneously point my views to the learned professions; and was the suffrage of my wishes decisive, I should certainly qualify my son to take upon him the duties of an able lawyer. I am aware that it is commonly supposed such an election is un­friendly to the morality of the individual thus appro­priated; but, I am very far from adopting this prej­udice; it is unquestionably rational to conclude that he who is constantly occupied in the contemplation of right and wrong, in weighing the merits of the various pretensions which may come under his observation, will find his understanding enlarged and informed—will learn properly to appreciate; and if his mind is rightly turned, he will naturally become enamoured with the beauties of virtue, and evince an utter dere­liction of vice. Some of the first characters which America has to boast, are selected from the bar; and at the head of those distinguished luminaries who have deserved the eternal gratitude of their country, figures [Page 220] that truly illustrious patriot,^* John Adams, Esq. Vice-President of the Union; a man who is not only the pride and ornament of Columbia, but who is also rendered, by his rare abilities, highly eminent amid those celebrated nations of the elder world, where science, virtue and patriotism invariably command the meed of well-earned applause.

I once knew a lawyer, (but he is now dead to me) nature had stamped upon his breast her most exquisite sensibilities. Integrity, too, was the prime source of his actions; he would never accept an exorbitant fee; he uniformly refused to cloud the pure atmosphere of his understanding, by those pleas which are condensed in defence of a bad action; and as he was constantly the advocate of virtue, if he ever lost a cause, the odium rested either with the jury, or with those hon­ourable Judges, to whose special verdict the decision was referred. About the skirts of his heart no chica­nery ever hung; and while he possessed an infinitude of ready wit, in the most intricate pleadings which he was ever necessitated to deliver, he uttered no sentence which originated in sophism, or which would not bear the closest investigation of reason.

Quickness of perception, brilliancy of imagination, fluency of expression, and pointed wit—these are among the qualifications which he ought to possess, who would assume this important profession; nor can the young novitiate attain to any considerable degree of eminence, however fervid his pleadings may be, if those requisites are not, in some measure, inherent in his nature. But when these are all embodied, led on by judgment, and retained in defence of truth, what can resist their prog­ress? An action may be sometimes so intricate, as to require the best informed judgment to develope its complexure; and yet it is true that a sudden thought may turn the whole course of the pleadings, which, from apparent necessity, had almost extorted a mani­festly cruel, or, perhaps, in effect, unrighteous verdict.

[Page 221] Doubtless, my readers have frequently admired the pleadings of the ingenious Portia, in the Merchant of Venice. Suffering the terrors of apprehension for the worthy Antonia, we are ready, in his favour, to break the staff of justice, and to violate those laws by which the sacred bands of government are closely bound, and all its salutary and essential rights protected. We listen with eagerness to the newly announced advocate; and we experience a degree of horror while we hear him pronounce, that the Venetian law cannot deny the forfeit: that there is no power in Venice can alter a decree, &c. &c. Yet we are soothed by his beautiful expostulation—‘The quality of mercy is not strained; it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven, upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed; it blesseth him that gives and him that takes.’ But the sentence is passed!—Antonia must prepare his bosom for the knife! and we are ready to wish ourselves possessed of the power of the basilisk, that so we might dash from ex­istence the inhuman Shylock, who stuns us by his vociferations. ‘A Daniel come to judgment; yea, a Daniel. O wise young judge, how I do honour thee,’ &c. But if our indignant feelings are wrought up to the highest pitch, how exquisitely gratifying is the instan­taneous transition; and how do we echo those applau­ses bestowed on the disguised Portia, when she emphat­ically proceeds to say, ‘Take thou thy pound of flesh; but in the cutting, if thou dost shed one drop of Christian blood, thy lands and good, are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate,’ &c. Thus, upon a single thought, obvi­ous when conceived, the scene of death is changed; justice preserves her sacred rights, and mercy beams triumphant.

Every reflecting mind must have remarked how frequently the concatenation of ideas associates remote resemblances, and under this influence, the develope­ment produced by Portia, brings to my recollection a little narrative that I received from a person of intel­ligence and observation. It is not, either in its process or object, so sanguinary as the tale arranged by Shake­spear; [Page 222] yet, as in lieu of the enchantments of fiction, it connects the credentials of truth, it may, in that view, as well as from the circumstances it involves, arrest the attention of the reader.

A gentleman residing in one of the small towns in the neighbourhood of the city of Dublin, and possessing a genteel competency, not only supported the reputa­tion of an ancient family, but even added additional lustre to those claims his ancestors had possessed upon the esteem of mankind. He knew the full value of the independence he enjoyed; and, although genuine hospitality, that true Hibernian trait, sustained no diminution in his individual character (his style of living being in fact munificent) he was yet well aware that the observation of a regular system of economy was the surest foundation for the continued exercise of that liberality which was inherent in his nature. Having no offspring of his own, he had taken into his house a favourite nephew, who naturally be­came the object of all those tender feelings and various emotions that succeed each other in the bosom of a parent. His education was on the most liberal plan; and every incitement to improvement was generously furnished. The judicious arrangements which had been adopted, were crowned by success, and the young gentleman attaining his twenty-first year, pos­sessed a mind well informed, admirably intelligent, and extensively accomplished. It was a received opinion that he would succeed to his uncle's estates, and the youth himself had imbibed, as a matter of course, these reversionary expectations. The old gentleman was sensible of this consequence of his indulgent pat­ronage, and it became to him a source of anxiety. He saw it probable that his nephew, entertaining an idea that a respectable establishment was already secured to him, would aim at no meritorious achievement—that he would devote himself to a life of imbecile inactivity, supinely passing those hours which should be marked by application, diligence and usefulness; and, solicitous to teach him properly to estimate his own value; to [Page 223] rouse to action the energies of his soul, and to open his views to those resources which depended entirely upon himself—he deliberated long, fondly struggling with that ardent affection which nature had authorized, and habit confirmed. At length, however, he had recourse to an expedient that was, perhaps, as singular as it proved propitious; and on the evening of a se­rene day, devoted to literary ease, our good old gen­tleman summoned his nephew to his closet, address­ing him to this effect:

"I think, Sir, it is now some months since you have written Man, and from your first dawn of being, I have still supported you. Nature hath furnished you with solidity of understanding, and she hath connected therewith great brilliancy of imagination; nor have the aids of education been wanting. Perhaps my plans have been too extensive; but the event will either furnish my acquittal, or fasten upon my mind a con­viction of error. I have hitherto discharged to you, Sir, the part of a parent; you have been in all respects distinguished as though you had been in fact my son; yet you are not my son; you are only my brother's son. You possessed no legal claims upon me, but I have qualified you to shape your own fortune, and that too in a reputable and genteel line of life: You know, Sir, that the necessary steps have been taken to furnish you with credentials for your appearance at the bar—those credentials you now possess; and your future eminence rests wholly on your own efforts. But you are yet to learn that from this night you are to look for no fur­ther aid from me! I have provided two excellent horses, and an honest man to attend you in quality of a servant. With to-morrow's sun you must depart for Dublin, there to take such steps for your reputable establishment as your deliberate and best informed judgment shall dictate. Here are twenty guineas—they will serve you till you come to some decision. I sincerely wish you success; but whatever may be your circumstances or exigencies, expect no further favour from me, nor ever reckon on another shilling of my [Page 224] fortune. This is the last time I will ever meet you until you are invested with that property and respec­tability which shall give you a right to the independ­ence that abilities like yours ought ever to command. Neither will I, until that period shall arrive, hold with you the smallest intercourse. This hour I draw the separating veil; and I am, with regard to you, to all intents and purposes, as if I had ceased to exist! Farewel, young man! May God go with you, and may the blessings of virtuous industry rest upon your head."

The careful, the paternal friend, having thus uttered himself, (to conceal emotions which he had till that moment governed) rushed instantly from the closet, and sought shelter in the retirement of his bed-cham­ber; while the young man, sinking under a thousand mingling sensations, and almost petrified by astonish­ment, passed the night in a manner which may be better imagined than delineated. He, however, knew his uncle too well to remonstrate; and, actuated by disappointment, tender regret, and perhaps a tinge of resentment, with the early dawn he bid adieu to that native village, and to those sweetly rural haunts, which, from his infantile days, had been to him an Eden of delight; where he had imaged all that he conceived of bliss, and sketched such years of happi­ness, as never yet revolved since paradise was forfeited by man's transgression.

The reader who is sufficiently interested to pass on to the next Essay, may attend to the sequel.

N^o. LVI.

DEJECTED, forlorn, and almost despairing, our young adventurer reached Dublin. A spacious inn afforded him shelter; but, ah! how dissimilar to that paternal mansion he had perforce relinquished! [Page 225] He wished for a retired apartment, and he requested to see the landlord. The host entered; and the eye of our sorrowful youth immediately marked a fixed melancholy which seemed to brood in every feature of his face. Softened by what he then conceived the most dreadful of misfortunes, his sympathetic feelings were easily arrested, and he spontaneously questioned—"What is the matter, landlord?" The landlord, unlike to other landlords, was not disposed to be com­municative; he returned an ungracious answer, and as if to avoid further interrogation, abruptly quitted the apartment. "This poor man," said our young proficient in the school of adversity—"this poor man is afflicted; affliction is fond of society; I will court his confidence, nor will I yield the pursuit until I have extorted the secret of his sufferings." Again he rang, and again summoned the landlord, who, with the sam [...] wo-begone countenance, made his second appearance. "Suffer me, Sir, to repeat my inquiries; I am not actuated by idle curiosity, but calamity seeks compan­ionship; I, too, am a son of sorrow, and we may possibly aid each other." "No, Sir," returned the landlord, "aid is out of the question; but my story is easily told, and it is too notorious for me either to expect or with concealment.

"This inn, Sir, with all that it contains, was once mine. The traveller, each day, contributed to aug­ment my honest gains, and I deemed myself beyond the reach of indigence. But, alas! on one fatal evening, three gentlemen, apparently possessing integ­rity, and abounding in affluence, took apartments under this roof: They were engaged in a law-suit, and they had claims to establish, which required time to investigate. They deposited in my hands a large bag of gold, to an immense amount, obtaining my promise that I would not deliver it, except the where party united to demand it. Some weeks had succeeded this transaction, when, going abroad in the morning, as I imagined to prosecute their business, one of the associates returned in great agitation, conjuring me to [Page 226] produce the gold, affirming that their cause was brought on, that they should obtain a verdict on that day, and, if they were not possessed of the immediate means of gratifying their advocates, it would be lost for want of the necessary efforts in their favour. In a moment of weak credulity, I yielded up the deposit, nor was apprized by a single foreboding of the ruinous consequences, until the return of evening brought the other two coadjutors. I met them with a face of con­gratulation, concluding they had obtained a fortunate decision; but judge of my surprise when I learned that many days would probably elapse, before they could be gratified by a hearing, and that they had not yet made their arrangements. My astonishment was beyond expression; yet I was not apprehensive of the conse­quences to myself. Conscious of my own integrity, I simply related the truth, and asked them what steps they would take? With abundance of sang-froid, they replied, they had no steps to take—they had deliv­ered a sum of money to my care, obtaining my prom­ise that it should continue as a deposit, not to be relin­quished but at the united demand of the parties con­cerned; and that, of course, they should assuredly require it at my hands! Nothing could exceed my consternation; they delayed not to make their requi­sition, and they took care it should be attended by the legal formalities. Neither my abilities nor my incli­nation admitted of a reimbursement so unjust. I made application to council, and was flattered by a certainty of a favourable issue. An action was speedily com­menced. Pleadings have been heard, and lawyers' fees, together with many etceteras have exhausted my resources. I have been barbarously pillaged—to-mor­row is the day appointed for a final hearing—ruin stares me in the face; and if I escape imprisonment for life, both myself and family must be turned out houseless wanderers, commencing in the evening of our days, the sad progress of indigence and beggary!"

"You are then positive that judgment will go against you," replied the young novitiate. "O, most un­doubtedly," [Page 227] cried the landlord, "the law, I am told, cannot be wrested in my favour." "Permit me," returned our adventurer, "to obtain your confidence; you behold, in me, a person qualified to take upon him the part of an advocate for the oppressed; and, if you will join me to your council, I feel assured that your affair will terminate happily." "What, Sir," exclaimed the landlord, "are you seeking the glean­ings of those hard earned gains, which your wealthy brethren have so rapaciously plundered? No, Sir, I have no more pieces to squander; and I should not be sorry, if I knew I should never more behold the face of one of your mercenary profession."

The young man, allowing for the petulancy of a person, who apprehended himself on the eve of becom­ing the victim of misfortune, pointed by injustice, mildly returned—"It is necessary, landlord, in order to your being considered as my client, that I receive a retaining fee. I have, in my own mind, no doubt of obtaining a successful issue to your business; one guinea, however, will be sufficient; and if I do not procure a verdict in your favour, I pledge my honour that I will return it." The landlord drew up a heavy sigh—"You look like an honest man—you may be an honest man—God forbid that I should ever suspect an honest man. Here, take it—'tis my last piece, and may it redeem its master's property."

Matters thus adjusted, the eventful morning at length dawned; the court was assembled, and the ad­vocates for the plaintiffs and defendant prepared to call into action their most energetic abilities; while a respectable jury, arranged in due form, stood fixed in mute and solemn attention. The council for the plaintiffs urged, that the deposit had absolutely been made, and a promise obtained that it should remain as a sacred trust—they expatiated eloquently and learnedly on these facts; and they concluded with a solemn appeal to the jury, praying for a grant of that restitution, which they so justly demanded. The council for the defendant endeavoured to invalidate [Page 228] those affirmations, insisting on the expediency of strong­er proofs. It was their plan to perplex, by cross ex­amination, and at any rate, to procure a suspension of the final determination. In short, it became evident that law, and apparent justice, were for once constrain­ed to appear in opposition to a decision, which the un­biassed equity of every mind would have unhesitating­ly pronounced; and no hope for the poor, despoiled, and betrayed landlord seemed to remain.

Just at this juncture our young gentleman produced himself at the bar. It was his first pleading, and his mien and gestures were marked by a graceful and prepossessing diffidence. His diploma was unques­tionable, and he was announced as an advocate for the defendant. A confused murmur pervaded the court; and the council, on both sides, betrayed une­quivocal marks of disapprobation. It being, however, beyond their power to contest his credentials, he was permitted to proceed; and, with a modest assurance, he concisely delivered his sentiments.

"My lords, and gentlemen of the jury—I stand up as council for the defendant; and to avoid giving this honourable court, and this respectable jury, any further trouble, we divest ourselves of every subterfuge—we acknowledge the justice of the pleadings of the council for the plaintiffs—we freely acknowledge the deposit, and the conditions on which said deposit was made; which conditions were, that no part of the property should be returned, without the presence of the parties severally interested; and whenever the three individuals, from whom we received the trust, shall all unite to make the demand, precisely conformable to the letter of the obliga­tion, into which we entered, we are ready to deliver up the whole of the deposit, with which we were charged."

Astonishment immediately moulded the features of the court; the extricating expedient was so simple, so obvious, so exactly conformable to the letter, as well as spirit of equity, and in the same moment so replete with protection to the upright but too credulous landlord, that it was wonderful it had not before oc­curred. [Page 229] But it is hardly possible to give an idea of the unbounded joy of an Irish populace, assembled upon such an occasion. Their sympathetic feelings had irresistibly engaged them on the side of the suffer­ing host, who it seems had uniformly sustained the character of an honest man. Loud and affecting ap­plauses reverberated from every quarter—they embrac­ed the young advocate in their arms—they would have borne him to his lodging upon their shoulders, and they could hardly be prevailed on to remit these clamorous testimonials of their approbation. The landlord—but agreeably to my usual custom, on every of these occasions, I very freely bequeath the delineation of his transports, and his gratitude, as an exercise for the imagination of the susceptible reader.

To our young adventurer, the high road to fame and fortune was now thrown open; handsome grati­fications were poured in from every quarter—he as­cended with rapid steps the hill of eminence, and he soon became enriched beyond his most sanguine expec­tations. The whole of the judicious plan, laid by his venerable, his paternal friend, now became obvious to his understanding; he sighed to embrace once more the hand of him, who, having endowed him with ca­pability, had compelled him to those movements, from which originated his splendid fortunes; and or­dering, upon a remarkable fine morning, a superb equipage, he took his way to his native village, at­tended by every vestige of that independence, which his uncle had made the condition of their future inter­course. The shades of evening brought him to those well known haunts, where he found the good old man, reclining in an arbour, which formed a fit recess for age and contemplation. With expressions of grate­ful, duteous and unbounded affection, he instantly prostrated himself at the feet of this venerable parent, (whom he properly and pathetically hailed as his guar­dian genius) and his reception exceeded his fondest hopes.

The old gentleman evinced his wonted firmness and dignity of character; but these prominent traits [Page 230] were, however, blended with all a father's tenderness. Having raised his nephew, he clasped him to his bos­om—"You are welcome, my son—right welcome to these aged arms, and to this, your rightful heritage—Think not you have any information to give me—the faithful being, whom I bestowed on you as a servant, has been my constant correspondent; and, in conse­quence of my instructions, he has proved a close ob­server of your actions. No movement has been con­cealed from me: and my emotions almost deny me utterance, while I pronounce that I know, and I approve."

This respectably venerable sage continued, to life's extreme, a complacent witness of the elevation and confirmed celebrity of his nephew; and ere he closed the scene of mortality, his last rational act pronounc­ed this son of his adoption the sole heir of all his pos­sessions. Those of my readers who are acquainted with the private history of the celebrated Mr. Delany, one of the most able and eminent law practitioners in the city of Dublin, will readily recognize these outlines.

N^o. LVII.

I PITY, from my soul, every candidate for literary fame! If they are warm in the pursuit, and en­gaged with ardour in the profession of their election—if they are industrious in their application, and unof­fending in their subjects, diligently labouring to endow them with every valuable property, of which they are susceptible—if the precepts they inculcate are enforced by the example of their own lives—if they do and are all this, they certainly have much merit, and are entitled to no stinted share of that applause, for which they are probably solicitous. But alas! how are their steps environed with peril! their family, their education, their persons, their characters—these all become stand­ing subjects of conversation! while their matter, and [Page 231] their manner, are regarded as free plunder, and the invidious critic is deaf to the voice of candour!

What author but trembles at the critic's lash! and how many are deterred from the eventful path, by the ap­prehension of the lion in the way! And was real merit soothed and encouraged, were faults detected and pointed out with mildness, was strict impartiality observ­ed, and justice always the aim, I, for my part, should bid the lion roar on, wishing, very sincerely, that his terrors might become properly influential.

It is the opinion of some persons of sound judgment and great abilities, that nothing more is left for a modern writer, than to give a new dress to old ideas; but great men are not infallible, and possibly this con­clusion may be rather hastily drawn. Solomon said "there was nothing new under the sun;" but since the days of Solomon, what profound discoveries have been made; how momentous, how honorary, and how useful! How have the arts and sciences improved, and how has knowledge increased in the world. The use of the loadstone—printing, that capital vehicle of in­formation—the art of war, meliorated by the composi­tion and use of gun-powder, &c. &c. while hardly a day passes, on the which novelty peeps not out.

It is, perhaps, true, that the heaviest charge prefer­red against literary adventurers, is that of plagiarism: After an original thought, a hue and cry is raised—it is traced from author to author—the cheek of inno­cence is tinged with the indignant blush, excited by suspicions of fraud; and a group of respectable char­acters are supposed to stand convicted of the high crime of knowingly and wittingly purloining their neigh­bours' goods.

To condemn, upon presumptive evidence, is both treacherous and cruel, and it is a procedure which finds no place in the decisions of equity. I do not contend that plagiarism is never practised—far from it; I be­lieve it constitutes the essence of many a volume, and that it is a kind of depredation, which is too often the dernier resort of the scribbler; but I insist, and I can [Page 232] produce proof positive of my assertion, that the charge of plagiarism is frequently unfounded, and consequent­ly unjust. Originality is undoubtedly rare, and it is probable it will become still more so. A writer finds many subjects touched, and retouched, if not wholly ex­hausted; and, should his abilities embrace a new ob­ject, or even a novel arangement, he is condemned, ere he can establish his hypothesis, however self evident it may be, to combat the giant prejudice, to wage war with a host of cavillers, to oppose himself to the bur­nished shafts of criticism, and to withstand the secret machinations of envy. But, every discouragement notwithstanding, I humbly conceive there is much more originality in the world, at this present time, than is commonly imagined.

What, I would ask, constitutes originality? or, in other words, cannot an original thought be twice con­ceived? Let not the critic sneer, before he permits me to explain myself. An idea is expressed in conver­sation, and a stander-by declares—"I had this moment the same thought, Sir." Query: In whose bosom was the idea original? Suppose, that in the days of Ho­mer, there had arisen, in the wilds of America, or in any other remote part of the globe, a genius, who had delineated every idea of that immortal bard, who had painted the charms of another Helen, arming monarchs and heroes in the licentious cause of a per­fidious woman! whose fertile brain had teemed with other Hectors, skilfully opposing them to that Achil­lean arm, which was nerved for their destruction; suppose his sentiments, his similies and expressions had been nearly similar; and, (since nature, liberal in her operations, might have produced a second prodigy, the suggestion cannot be justly said to wear the fea­tures of impossibility) suppose proof irrefragable had been furnished, that not the smallest intercourse had subsisted between these children of indulgent munifi­cence, and that they had not even a knowledge of each other's existence; should we not, in such an ar­rangement, have characterized both bards, as possessing original excellence?

[Page 233] For my own part, I am so far from regarding it as wonderful, that a similarity of talents should exhibit a similarity of ideas, and even of expressions, that I am really astonished such similarity is not more frequently demonstra­ble. Let us reflect for a moment—Two beings, en­dowed with strong understandings and clear percep­tions, are educated in different and far distant parts of our world; but their language, their government, and particularly their religion is the same; from the same decalogue their precepts are drawn; virtue is the goal to which they are pointed, and from one source every excitement to virtue is educed. Matu­rity is at length attained; and, setting down to con­template a given subject, ought they to be accused of plagiarism, although their productions receive a kin­dred stamp?

The good divine, whose mind hath been early im­bued from that identical fount at which his cotempo­raries have quaffed, receives a like education, and like academical honours; and with religious sentiments exactly corresponding with his brethren, he mounts the pulpit, and opens the sacred book, ordained at once a standard of his testimony, and the origin from whence he is to deduce those momentous truths, on which he is to expatiate. His text cannot vary, and he may be a stranger to the flagitious crime of stealing, although the branches growing upon one root, should resemble each other.

A writer may, without being a just subject of repre­hension, enrich his page with the most brilliant thoughts of another; he may himself be deceived; from extensive and miscellaneous reading, scattered ideas, sentiments, and sometimes sentences, are collected. The volume of memory containeth many pages; and from child­hood to ripening and declining years, what multifa­rious images are inscribed thereon. From this reserv­atory we naturally draw, and, it may sometimes happen, that ideas deduced from thence, may be mistaken for original productions of the mind.

[Page 234] I once had a friend—were I at liberty to name him, every individual, acquainted with his uncommon worth, would bow to his superior merit: Ah! how have his fine qualities and gigantic talents been ob­scured by a train of adverse circumstances, all pointed and brought home to his bosom, by a natural propensity to melancholy. Unfortunate son of genius! I drop a tear over thy present misfortunes, while I recollect, with unabating admiration, the radiant commencement of thy career. I know it, dear Sir, this apostrophe is nothing to the present purpose; and I sit corrected.

This poet (for a genuine poet he verily was) possessed a strong understanding, with a correct judgment, and a glowing fancy; and, what is not commonly an appen­dage to these advantages, his memory, also, was aston­ishingly retentive; and he was as far removed from the practice as he was from the necessity of plagiarism. Our bard, thus highly qualified, employed himself one morning in penning a poetical epistle to a friend, whose abilities were respectable. The epistle finished, forwarded and received, was perused with much sur­prize; for, strange to tell, it contained a number of lines that were found verbatim in a favourite author, with whose productions the person addressed had recently furnished his library! and said lines bore on their margin no quotation marks! It is the part of a sincere friend to point out a fault, and our poet was questioned on the subject; he detested plagiarism, and positively [...] his entire property in the problematic essay; but, [...] and to [...]—the book was pro­duced, and the poet eagerly seizing it, cast his eyes on the title page, which he no sooner traced, than instantly recognizing, he clasped it to his bosom with all that strong enthusiasm and [...] which ever marked his character. The volume proved an old acquaintance, which had been the delight of his boyish days, and of which he had long been in pursuit; and it appeared, that writing in a similar manner, and on the same topic, he had drawn those lines from the store-house of memory, where they had been many years safely lodged, un­conscious [Page 235] that the well adapted fugitives were not the true born offspring of his own brain. Now this, gentle reader, is a kind of plagiarism, if such it can be called, which cannot come under the description of fraud; and whatever may be the effect of its operation, it is in­disputably guiltless in its source.

But, while I pledge my veracity for the authenticity of the foregoing anecdote, I readily grant that circum­stances seldom concur to produce events of this com­plexion; and, conceding thus far, I expect that every person accustomed to reflection, will unhesitatingly ac­knowledge the propriety of what I have advanced, (viz.) that similarity of ideas and expressions, when the subject is the same, may often originate in different minds, evidently obtaining in those bosoms, where inborn integ­rity and conscious propriety had implanted so strong a sense of right and wrong, as to create a just and spontane­ous abhorrence to whatever could, in the remotest degree, be denominated plagiarism. I had lately an opportunity of conversing on this subject, with a female, to whom I am naturally attached—she has for many years been a scribbler, and she feelingly lamented that she had re­peatedly seen ideas, and complete sentences, issue from the press, which had long been contained in her manu­scripts, and which she had flattered herself with the privilege of presenting, as original thoughts! This, however, happened more frequent in her prosaic, than in her poetical productions; yet, even in the last, she adduced some instances of considerable similarity; from which, by way of illustration, and for the amuse­ment of the reader, I take the liberty to select two. On the 28th of January, 1784, this penwoman wrote some lines on a particularly interesting occasion, which lines contain the following simile:

[Page 236] Early in the year 1784, copies of the whole of this poem were put into the hands of several gentlemen, who may perhaps recollect it; but still it is only a manuscript; and it is not until within a few months, that she has met with that beautiful production, enti­tled, the Botanic Garden, the offspring of an elegant European pen, first published in the year 1793; in which she observed, in the following highly finished lines, the same thought.

Now it is demonstrably certain, that neither of these writers borrowed, or, more plainly speaking, purloined from each other. Producing, therefore, the foregoing lines as a proof in point, I proceed to the second in­stance. Previous to her perusal of the Botanic Gar­den, she had been requested to write an ode on a very affecting occasion: This ode was to be publickly chaunted, for the benefit of a worthy young man; and it was an address to the benevolence of the audi­ence. It is not my design to give the ode entire; I on­ly transcribe the part which is necessary to introduce the lines that she imagined similar—thus they are expressed:

The ode was published; and the writer was some time afterwards attracted by a resemblance in the fol­lowing energetic lines, found also in the Botanic Garden:

Many are the instances, which, from my own indi­vidual experience, I could record; and my volumes of manuscripts, that I was positive were enriched with many original thoughts, from my delay to publish, have now, alas! been generally forestalled. My plans, my ideas, my metaphors, ah, well-a-day! in almost ev­ery thing I have been anticipated; and whenever my lucubrations are presented, innocent as I am, the prob­ability is, that I shall find myself indicted in the high court of literature for the debasing crime of plagia­rism! Yet these Essays, although the offspring of many a careful hour, deducing very possibly their highest charm from novelty, have now lost, even in my own estimation, much of their power to interest and to please; and I do not, I am free to own, very deeply lament their fate.

But a recent discovery having stripped of originality this my youngest born, my pet, that I have cherished [Page 238] with such unremitted tenderness, culling for it the fairest flowers, gleaning every sweet, and adorning it up to my best abilities; and now to find, that after all, I have been rearing the bantling of another! It is really almost too much for my philosophy to bear; nor can my atmost equanimity prevent the hag vexa­tion from adding another score to those furrows, which time and disappointment have already so deeply indented!!!

No, I can never part with it—still it is the child of my adoption, and I must ever remain its protecting father. Sympathizing reader, I will tell thee the sto­ry. Thou knowest how much I have prided myself upon the title of these numbers: It was ample enough for my purpose; it was unassuming; yea, as humble as the smallest particles which fall from the granary of the opulent dealer; and yet by the wonderful force of its elastic power, it could extend itself over the vast fields of science, wandering upon the superficies of the grounds, and snatching those gems which are some­times the reward of industrious mediocrity.

It was, I have a thousand times said, a complete shield from every accusation of literary theft. It was—in short, it was abundantly commensurate with my most sanguine wishes; and what, in my estimation, inexpressibly enhanced its value, was, that I imagined it had never before been thus appropriated. Judge then, what were my sensations, when, two days since, turn­ing over a volume written by Voltaire, I observed, among his account of literary publications, the follow­ing paragraph, which, by way of exciting thy com­miseration, I shall transcribe, verbatim.

‘Miserable pamphlets!—the Gleaner!— the Fault­finder, &c.—Wretched productions! inspired by hun­ger, and dictated by stupidity and a disposition to lying! &c. &c.’

To find my boasted title thus unexpectedly flashed in my face; and to meet it, too, coupled with infamy!!!—But my feelings may be better imagined than described; [Page 239] and the candid reader, while he acquits me of an in­stance of plagiarism, so impolitic and so absurd, will not fail to sympathize with, and to vindicate

N^o. LVIII.

MANKIND are too prone to consider opulence and grandeur as synonimous with the first en­joyments this world has to bestow; and every effort is made for the purpose of assuming that style of living, which may produce us candidates for a rank in assem­blies that are frequented by persons who are pro­nounced the first people in a village, a town, or a city. Alas! alas! how erroneous is this calculation! Under the smiling countenance, which, to the super­ficial observer, appears the seat of contentment, what woes, what clustering evils may rankle! The broad laugh, descriptive of such extravagant marks of glee, why it may be the frantic expression of despair; while those contemplative features, where pensive re­flection sits enthroned, may be the index of a mind attaining tranquillity by viewing persons and things precisely in that arrangement which ensureth compla­cency. Appearances, it is undeniably true, are not to be trusted; and the experience of every day evinceth, that a superb house, rich furniture, and splendid equipages, are not always infallible marks of the af­fluence of their possessor.

My friend, Pelatiah Carewell, was returning home­ward, after a wearisome journey, taken for the dispo­sal of some articles of traffic, for which his frugality [Page 240] induced him to imagine he could not afford to pay the commissions consequent on committing their sale to other hands. Nearly exhausted by fatigue, he had hardly strength sufficient to urge forward his horse, who seemed equally as dispirited as his master. He was in an open sleigh, on a very rough road; it was in the inclement month of January, and the rude winds buffetted those locks which time had plentifully sprinkled with venerable grey. Thus was Carewell circumstanced, when a superb carriage, finished in the highest taste, passed rapidly by him; the horses, richly caparisoned, were in a foam; the curtains in the front of the carriage were closely drawn; it was attended by two servants, whose livery was perfectly well known to Carewell; and by a glance catched at the side glasses, he discovered a gentleman who was the companion of his boyish years. They were natives of the same little hamlet, were bred at one school, and began business with similar prospects. But Claudius had left the rural seat of his ancestors, and for many years had figured on a very large scale in the metrop­olis. He had been a noted speculator, had dipped deeply in navigation, and had accounts open with ev­ery capital house in and about the city. Carewell imagined the present expedition of Claudius had for its object a visit of state to his aged parents, who still continued at the village; and he reflected on the ele­vated situation to which fortune had raised his quon­dam school-fellow, with sensations tinged with the deepening hues of envy.

How partial, thought he, are the dispositions of what we term Providence; from the hour in which I could write man, I have observed a uniform system of economy; the beloved woman, who did me the hon­our to accept my hand at the altar, hath exemplified, through her whole life, a perfect model of discretion. Frugality has been the order of our house: every un­necessary expense has been absolutely precluded, and yet my circumstances are very moderate; and if I would not leave pennyless those whom I have intro­duced [Page 241] into being, I am, in advanced life, necessitated to continue those exertions, and that rigid observance, which has attended me through my commercial career.

Claudius, on the contrary, entered on the privileges of manhood with marked avidity; he plunged head­long into the stream of pleasure; he has never been known to deny himself a single indulgence; his build­ings are magnificent, his furniture is in the highest style, his town and country houses are crowded with servants, his dress is that of a nobleman, his equipages are multiplied and splendid, and both himself and fam­ily are in the first line at every place of public and private amusement. What, in the name of wonder, is the source of his prosperity? and to what cause am I to trace my own comparative depression?

Such were the murmurings of Carewell; he drew up a heavy sigh, and gloomy discontent pervaded his bosom. It was just at this juncture that the high sheriff of the county passed him, as it seemed, in full chace! This was a phenomenon that arrested the whole attention of Carewell; for an officer of justice had never before been known to visit the peaceful hamlet of B—. His curiosity urged him forward, and he had no sooner reached his own dwelling, than he learned that Claudius had been taken into custody, just as he was entering the door of that cottage in which he drew his first breath! that his fine estates were all attached, and that it was supposed, upon an equi­table distribution of those possessions which Claudius had so nefariously obtained, his numerous creditors would not receive a single shilling on the pound!!

Carewell dropped a tear over the errors and the misfortunes of Claudius. He entered his little par­lour—neatness presided, the blazing hearth had receiv­ed the polish of industry, the kettle boiled for tea, the elbow chair was placed in order, and Amanda, with open arms, and a smile of rapture, welcomed his re­turn. His children, too, crowded around him; and a little spruce waiting maid, under pretence of ar­ranging [Page 242] the tea apparatus, catched a peep; while a domestic, who had grown grey in his service, took the opportunity of replenishing the fire, to hail once more the benign countenance of his master. Carewell seat­ed himself—his eyes and hands were raised to heaven, and exclamations the most extatic burst spontaneously from his lips.

"This decent and completely finished tenement is my own; my income, combined with my regular ex­ertions, bestows on me the blessings of competency; every thing about me is elegant: Amanda is the most amiable and tender of women: my children come forward with dispositions that authorize the most pleasing expectations; no man can advance a demand which I cannot immediately discharge. What is show, pomp, and all the retinue of fashionable pleasures? real happiness dwells not with them. Gau­dy apparel, cards, plays, assemblies—henceforth I spend no sigh on such frivolities. Contentment shall meet me in the bosom of my family, and gratitude, eternal gratitude, shall raise her altars in my breast."

Carewell and Claudius are contrasts which are strongly marked; but the intervening shades are many, and from their example more than one useful lesson may be dedu­ced; the fallacy of appearances are strikingly exempli­fied, and we learn to estimate the value of economy. We have said that profusion is not generosity; and the propriety of this observation must be sufficiently ob­vious. Many a time has the humane and well design­ing Eugenio been called to lament that his extrava­gant benefactions to prostitutes, vagabonds, and par­asites, have prevented his bestowing small sums, that would have furnished honest industry with the means of obtaining a livelihood. Society is not benefited by the shilling I squander on him, who, depositing it in the next whisky or rum shop, will issue thence a dis­grace to his species, and probably in a state of inebri­ety, which, rendering him incapable of attending to himself, may produce him, with dislocated or broken limbs, a burden on the next parish. But how clear [Page 243] are his claims on my property, who sues for the means of equipping himself with the implements of agricul­ture, manufacture, commerce or navigation. The truth is, the necessity of discriminating, must be appar­ent to every sober observer. Principle, plan, regularity, economy, charity—a wise man will embody every of these requisites, and to their combined administration he will constantly submit his movements.

Stories seem naturally to produce or grow out of each other; and a little narration, although perhaps not exactly analagous to the foregoing observations, floats, notwithstanding, amid the visions selected by fancy.

Flauntinetta was educated by the hand of discre­tion; but it is not always that education can overstep nature, and Flauntinetta continued vain, silly, and consequently devoted to all the vagaries of folly. She lost her father in her infancy, who, reposing per­fect confidence in the good understanding, integrity, and tenderness of her mother, had left the whole of a very decent property at her absolute and sole disposal; and committing also her daughter to her direction, he had resigned into her hands the authority with which nature had invested him. Flauntinetta was soon capable of calculating her mother's income; she knew she was in easy circumstances, and her warm imagination represented her funds as sufficient for ev­ery thing, which vanity and ambition had taught her to consider but as reasonable appendages to a young lady of her figure and rank, and who was, besides, an only child. Honoria had educated her daughter on the most liberal plan; and, labouring to implant in her opening mind a persuasion that the mere exteriors of pomp were beneath her attention, no day past, in which she was not solicitous to instil some elevating principle or meliorating truth. Flauntinetta, how­ever, continued refractory; she sickened for the haunts of dissipation; was never happy but when visit­ing or receiving visits; and those public entertain­ments, which she was not permitted to partake, were [Page 244] viewed with the deepest regret. Silks of the richest kind, laces of the highest price, jewels, &c. &c. these all made a part of her reprehensible wishes; and ev­ery maternal check produced an altercation, during which she tacitly accused Honoria of mercenary mo­tives, of undue severity, and want of affection.

Honoria, while she assiduously endeavoured to tu [...] her views into a right channel, and to erect those cau­tionary guards, which her tenderness and her anxiety convinced her were necessary, firmly persevered in prohibiting every improper indulgence. She was a discreet as well as a fond mother; and her affection was chastened by judgment. The circles in which she permitted her daughter to mingle, passed individ­ually under her judicious inspection; and instead of the richly covered brocade or golden tissue, the gen­teel person of Flauntinetta was habited in a neat, plain lutestring; her laces were chiefly English rather than Brussels; and whenever her muslins were wrought, the flowers were the result of her own in­dustry. She was sometimes seen at a public assem­bly, but more frequently at a play; and these amuse­ments, with private dancing parties, occasional visit­ing, and some rural excursions, during the fine weath­er, constituted the routine of her diversions.

But these economical regulations were a constant source of vexation to Flauntinetta. "See, mamma," she would exclaim, "how richly yonder lady is habited; she looks divinely enchanting, and absolutely moves a goddess." "And see, my dear," returned Honoria, "yon beauteous nymph, how exactly that plain mus­lin is fitted to her elegant form; she is a lovely young woman; her countenance is an index of serenity, and I could almost venture to pronounce, that friend­ship, truth and honour, with every feminine virtue, are the residents of her bosom." Still, however, Flauntinetta entirely disapproved her mother's con­duct; and she determined, whenever fortune should put it in her power, to make herself large amends for [Page 245] the penurious discipline to which she was, for the present, constrained to submit.

Thus rolled on the hours and days, which at length ushered in the destined morn, equally dreaded by Honoria, and wished by Flauntinetta. It was the morning that was to witness her espousals to a man of merit, and of handsome property. The beauty of Flauntinetta had procured her an establishment, that, had her mind corresponded with her person, would have been fully commensurate with those fine qualities she would then have possessed. And Honoria, ere she resigned that power over her daughter, with which nature and the confirming arrangements of her hus­band had invested her, enforced with increasing ardour all those excellent precepts she had so often inculcated; but Flauntinetta heard her with alarming coldness, secretly resolving to disobey her in every particular! and she was no sooner a house-keeper, than, rushing into the stream of dissipation, she mingled with the most inconsiderate of its votaries, freely indulging in amusements which reason and discretion refused to warrant. Over the mind of her husband she obtained an entire ascendency, who was ready to exclaim with Milton's Adam, ‘That what she wills to do or say, seems wisest, virtuousest, discreetest, best; all other knowl­edge in her presence falls degraded.’

Honoria still hovered round her, and like the mat­ron bird would have pointed out the danger; but the prudent regency of Honoria was no more; and Flaun­tinetta, who had ever regarded her mother in a false point of view, now triumphed in her liberty, constant­ly receiving the admonitions of her anxious parent with an averted face, and such freezing expressions as would have thrown the icy darts of death at any affec­tion less than maternal. A period of five years, how­ever, terminated the career of vanity, and the catastro­phe was truly deplorable! Sickness followed in the train of poverty, and a melancholy and premature death brought up the rear!

[Page 246] Flauntinetta, the long incorrigible Flauntinetta, became a widow; and both herself and children were totally destitute!! It was in the moment of her ca­lamity, that the eyes of her understanding being open­ed, she consequently beheld the revered guardian of her youth, adorned with every virtue which can digni­fy humanity; and, once more sheltered under the ma­ternal wing, she hath, at length, learned to estimate the value of rational tranquillity.

To Honoria she feels the weight of her obligations; but even delicacy hesitates not to cherish and to avow the most unbounded gratitude to the source from whence existence is derived; and she is frequent and fervid in her acknowledgments, that she is indebted to the discretion and economy, which she so often and so madly profaned; that her children have yet a paren­tal dwelling; that they are indulged with the means of education, and of making decent figures in those cir­cles, in which their birth and their expectations give them a right to mingle.

N^o. LIX.

TO develop the various avenues to the human mind, extensive knowledge of men, as well as books, is necessary. Virtuous principles are sometimes so completely muffled by vice, as not to emit even the most attenuated ray by which to ascertain their exist­ence; and it should be the business of those who are skilled in the complicated windings of the heart, to make every effort to reclaim its wanderings. Mild persuasion often procures the best effect; and malig­nant [Page 247] passions are frequently mollified and duly attem­pered by acts of kindness: Yet it is a melancholy truth, that there are individuals who are proof against the interference of tenderness; and it is beyond a doubt, that in such instances coercive measures become absolutely indispensable. Adversity sometimes proves a powerful operator; it throws down the barriers reared by the impious hand of atrocity; it breaks in pieces the nefarious purpose; it assuages the tumult, and smooths the asperities of the soul; and it brings to light and establishes those sentiments of virtue, which were prostrate in the bosom. A well authenti­cated illustration of this truth is strikingly presented in the records of a family, who have long been respectable dwellers in the State of New-Hampshire.

Mercator, an opulent gentleman, in the interior part of that division of our country, beheld the wealth he possessed, and all the independence it conferred, as the fruits of his own industry; and having in early life ate the bread of carefulness, he knew how to appreciate the harvest, consequent on his laudable exertions. He had laid in her grave the affectionate companion of his youth; but he continued wedded to her memory, and two boys, the only surviving pledges of their mu­tual love, shared equally the affections of his bosom. Their education was precisely the same; but nature, true to herself, asserted her own prerogative; and, in defiance of every rule of art, produced them perfect contrasts to each other.

Acetus, the eldest, was a prodigy of vice! Deprav­ed, to the utmost degree of which humanity is capable, he seemed to know no joy but in the most daring acts of atrocity; and it was wonderful that he stopped short of an ignominious death. Yet, although highly criminal, he, however, possessed the most insinuating address; and having the art to throw over his enormi­ties the transient veil of concealment, he had obtained, while on an excursion at a distance from his native village, the heart of a truly amiable woman, whom he wedded; and it was hoped that a virtuous connexion [Page 248] would produce his reformation. But ill habits are not easily corrected. The libertine too soon threw off the mask; and the misfortunes of the ill-fated Matilda, with her two beautiful children, were pronounced ir­remediable!

Adrastus, the younger son of Mercator, was indus­trious, frugal and discreet; and with the exercise of generosity and every ennobling virtue, he was familiar. To Acetus, as his eldest born, Mercator had appropri­ated the better half of his possessions; and he pursued every method which involved the least probability of rendering him worthy his name and family: Alter­nately he remonstrated, soothed and threatened; but Acetus was inaccessible to every mode of attack; and large sums, conferred by the indulgence of his father, instead of being converted to the aid of an injured wife and her helpless innocents, were devoted to the bottle, squandered at a gaming table, or lavished on prostitutes! Mercator had but one step more to take: He assured Acetus, that his succeeding to any part of his estates rested wholly on his total change of conduct. Acetus smiled at the unmeaning threat. That Mer­cator should disinherit him, he conceived, an event not contained in the chapter of possibilities; and, confid­ing in the severely tried affection of his father, he disre­garded this, as he had every other previous measure, and persevered in the path of ruin!

Months rolled on. Mercator drew near the close of life; and, being in the full exercise of his reason, he deliberately proceeded, in the most solemn manner, to the constituting that testament, which, bequeathing to Adrastus, his youngest son, his vast possessions, pro­claimed that young man his sole heir, and legally cut off all the prior pretensions and natural expectations of Acetus! A few succeeding weeks placed Mercator upon his death-bed; and his dissolution, accelerated, possibly, by the atrocious irregularities of his enor­mously offending son, was speedy and unexpected!

The hopes of Acetus now utterly extinguished, all the energies of his soul took the alarm; and despair, [Page 249] in his bosom, became the parent of the most astonish­ing exertions! With a kind of sullen indignation, he strode from the mansion of his late father, and making sale of the few moveables which remained to him, in a tenement constituting a part of the paternal estate, and now devolving to his brother, he pathetically addressed the innocent victim of his unwarrantable irregulari­ties: "Go, my Matilda," in a tone of despondency he exclaimed, "go—return to the scene of thy better days—I bless God that thou hast yet a father to shelter [...]—Take these cherub children; bear them to the author of thy being—he will receive them—he is in­deed a father—Acetus has no more a dwelling—I dis­dain the little moment that I breathe under this roof! Leave me, my Matilda, sole object of my love and of my commiseration—leave, to his unparalleled mise­ries, thy wretched husband. Acetus has not now the ability to provide for Matilda, or to succour her infants." Through all the devious paths of vice, in which Ace­tus had so daringly strayed, Matilda had never wholly lost that ascendency, which a mildly virtuous woman so naturally maintains, even in the bosom of culpabil­ity; yet, on this occasion, her tears and her remon­strances were ineffectual! On her bended knees she supplicated him still to continue her the partner of the woe-fraught scene—but she supplicated in vain; and, well near sinking under the mighty pressure of her calamities, she returned to that abode, which had wit­nessed her early hopes and fears, and from whence, on the wings of high-plumed expectation, she had so late­ly flown. But, to receive the hapless wanderer and her lovely children, a father's wide extended arms, and still more ample heart, were tenderly expanded; and she continued with this revered and natural protector, a melancholy and beautiful model of sweet propriety.

Acetus, penetrating very far into the interior part of the country, laid out what he had raised from the sale of his goods in uncultivated lands, which he pur­chased at a low rate; and he immediately applied himself, with unremitted diligence, to the felling trees, [Page 250] and all those preliminary arrangements, so necessary upon new grounds. To all his bad habits, in one de­cisive moment, he bid an eternal adieu; and suddenly he became that very Acetus, which the good Merca­tor had, through a long succession of years, laboured to produce. His efforts were prodigious; what man, industriously intent upon emolument, could accomplish, he assuredly did: But still he was alone; and having expended every shilling he could command in his orig­inal purchase, he had not the means of procuring la­bourers, nor could he obtain those additional grounds which were highly necessary to the completion of his estate. It was at this juncture, that the difficulties of his situation appeared to him in their most glaring colours, when a blank cover supplied him with bills to the amount of one thousand pounds! It was to no purpose that he diligently sought to investigate the source of this opportune relief; and, in a manner equally mysterious, sums, answerable to his real exigen­cies, were from time to time furnished.

At the expiration of a few years, Acetus saw him­self enriched beyond his most sanguine expectations. His grounds were extensive, remarkably productive, and uncommonly well stocked. His buildings were multiplied, many of them elegant, and all of them in excellent repair. Heaven smiled propitious on the re­claimed prodigal, and all his enterprizes were crown­ed by success.

In an elegant carriage, constructed for the occasion, Acetus appeared before the paternal dwelling which had sheltered his Matilda. The tender mourner had continued ignorant of the fate of her husband! Acetus was to be in all things eccentric! Mechanically she approached the window—she raised her humid eyes—Acetus issued from the carriage!—"Gracious Heav­en!" she exclaimed, "continue my reason—my Ace­tus approaches. My children, behold your father!" In a moment she was in the arms of her husband!—Acetus was restored to her—this circumstance was of itself calculated to render her, beyond expression, hap­py [Page 251] —But he was restored to virtue too—and was be­come worthy, not only of the tenderness of an affec­tionate wife, but of the approbation of reason, and the esteem of every good person.

Acetus, accompanied by the father of Matilda, spee­dily removed his family to his own ample and commo­dious seat. Arrangements, prescribed by discretion, and sanctioned by reason, now took place. Matilda was the charming directress, and happiness became the order of their lives. It was just one month after Ma­tilda was reinstated in all those privileges and immuni­ties, to which she was in every view entitled, that Acetus received the subjoined letter from his brother.

N^o. LX.

IT is a common practice to arraign the despotism of custom; and, lovers of liberty, we revolt from every thing which would begirt us with the lines of necessity. The truth is, depraved nature spurns at government of every description; and since the fatal [Page 254] era which engendered pride in heaven, and plunged a third part of its denizens into the abyss of guilty dis­obedience, a spirit of disorganization hath prevailed; and it is only in proportion as the disorders in the mental world are rectified, and the mind informed, that we become solicitous for the general good, and are confirmed proselytes to the beauty and propriety of order. It is undeniably true, that customs, inju­rious to the well being of society, have sometimes ob­tained undue influence; against these, to set ourselves in array, is laudable; but still, those rules which have obtained the sanction of revolving ages, should not, it appears to me, be discarded for trivial inconvenience.

My reflections have been thrown into this train by a little incident, and a simple tale, which perhaps I cannot do better than narrate, as the subject of this Essay. It was on the evening immediately preceding our last annual Thanksgiving Day, that a worthy tradesman, seated in my parlour in a contemplative at­titude, with folded arms, and eyes fixed on the cheer­ful hearth, as if he was preparing to pronounce a pane­gyric upon the beauties of my fire side, very gravely re­marked: ‘This Thanksgiving Day is really an im­position on the free citizens of this State. It hath absolutely swept away more of my running cash, than would have supported my family decent­ly for a full month. I declare I should rejoice greatly to see the observance of a period, which orig­inates so much extravagance, erased from our cata­logue of old fashion customs, and I would very readily sign its death-warrant.’ There is some reason in your complaint, said I; and if it has noth­ing to recommend it but barely custom, I also would freely consign said day to oblivion. It is true, it may be urged, that it is rational and pious to devote a par­ticular day to offer up our joint praises, and to manifest our united gratitude to that omnipotent and all-gra­cious Being, who gives us so richly to enjoy; but to this it will be replied, that our orisons and thanksgiv­ing ought to ascend with every returning day, that [Page 255] God is not now honoured by the blood of those inno­cents, which are the usual victims of a Thanksgiving Day; that luxury enervates both bodily and intellec­tual health; and, that my friend, the tradesman above cited, is not the only sufferer from the extravagant profusion of a Thanksgiving Day.

All this is pointed by conviction; but my mind, fond of investigating, doth not easily yield its assent to a disputed hypothesis; and in the course of the week which contained our last annual gala, I termi­nated a sentimental ramble, during which I had se­riously reflected on the subject, by a visit to a valuable woman, whom I have long known; and observing, that in her accustomed manner she had distinguished the era by distributing to the necessitous, I could not forbear remarking on that benevolence which was eminently prevalent in her bosom; while, on her part, that she might effectually arrest words which were issu­ing in a panegyric on her virtues, she immediately drew my attention to an unfortunate female, with whom she had just parted. This female was born in a rank of life generally exempted from servile depen­dence; for he who derives his support from the real or imaginary exigencies of the opulent, admitting he is industrious and frugal, almost necessarily commands respectability; and the young Ursula was cradled in the tranquil recesses of competency; she was nourish­ed, cultured, and reared to maturity by parental ten­derness; and the peaceful morning of her days was protected by a father's love. But Heaven deprived her of her maternal parent, whose place was soon fill­ed by a step-mother; and a train of those evils suc­ceeded, which too commonly result from second mar­riages, when children were the offspring of the first.

Ursula was marked the daughter of sufferance; but a short interval succeeded her father's ill judged connexion, ere she was reduced to the necessity of pro­viding for herself; various misfortunes have attended her solitary steps; and, mortified and dispirited by the prostration of her early hopes, the disposition of [Page 256] her mind hath acquired a gloomy kind of acrimony; she hath passed through life without forming a par­ticular connexion, a prey to regret, dissatisfied with herself, and with a world to which she is so little in­debted. She is now far advanced in years, and she is struggling with infirmities. A scirrhus, from the progress of which she at times suffers exquisite pain, is gradually poisoning the springs of life; yet she may still live long; and although her exertions to obtain the means of living have been marked with unremitted industry, she hath, notwithstanding, been frequently reduced to the last extremity. Of pecuniary inconve­nience, however, she hath seldom been heard to com­plain. She hath almost invariably preserved a decent kind of pride, which hath imposed upon her lips, in this respect, the seal of silence.

But on the day immediately preceding our last Thanksgiving, comparing, doubtless, the aspect of this returning festival to those which had formerly met her view, her fortitude forsook her; and, pale, emaciated and desponding, she sought the parlour of my philanthropic friend. The children of misfortune know where to apply; and the road to the dwelling of the beneficent matron was pointed by a thousand good actions.

"What shall I do, Madam?" said Ursula, as she en­tered the apartment, ‘I fear, alas! I fear that I must at length submit to the rigour of my fate. To-morrow will be Thanksgiving Day, and I have not enough in the world to purchase a single basket of coal!’ "Pray what is the price of a basket of coal?" Probably the fifth part of a dollar, more or less, ac­cording to the caprice or mercenary disposition of the vender. ‘Not enough to purchase you a basket of coal! Astonishing! but cheer up, Ursula, you shall spend your Thanksgiving Day with me; and I would advise you to recollect that He who commanded you into being, hath all hearts at his disposal; that he is the friend of the destitute; and that the calami­ties to which we are subjected, are the dispensations [Page 257] of paternal wisdom, of paternal love.’ Ursula bow­ed in silence; she was too full to speak; but an af­fecting kind of patient resignation seemed gradually to pervade her grief-worn countenance.

Just at this period, a gentleman entered the apart­ment: He had occasionally seen Ursula, and he was a man of humanity. Ursula, afflicted, and much op­pressed, would have modestly retired; but our philan­thropic gentleman detained her. ‘How are you, Ur­sula?’ "Well, I thank you, Sir," returned the poor unfortunate. "You do not look well, Ursula—to-morrow will be Thanksgiving Day—I would have every heart glad on that day"—and he gave Ursula a handsome benefaction. Excellent memento! we will record this circumstance in favour of Thanksgiving Day; and, if it is found, that the custom of administering to the necessities of our fellow-mortals, is coeval with this festival, we will, without hesitation, pronounce its eu­logy.

Ursula courtesied, burst into tears, and withdrew. A ray of hope once more illumined the bosom of the cheerless traveller; she was animated to new exertions, and again resuming her plans of industry, she imme­diately sat out for the purpose of securing some work, which a fear she should not be able to accomplish, had induced her to relinquish. On her way, she looked in on a person, whom she had been regularly in the habit of assisting, for the reimbursement of a debt, incurred in order to provide herself with a small bed, on which to repose her weary limbs. Ursula possessed great rec­titude and integrity of soul; and the reflections occasion­ed by a recollection of engagements she might possibly never be able to fulfil, had frequently tortured her bo­som; but she now met her creditor with an invigor­ated prospect of being one day able to discharge the last farthing.

Lucinda was her creditor; she is a young and ami­able woman; she is an orphan too, and altogether dependent on her own efforts for her support: But, while ingenuity is her handmaid, competency hovers [Page 258] round her; and those females, whom she so largely contributes to adorn, must experience genuine compla­cency, while they contemplate so fair a model for those of the sex, to whom niggard fortune hath been parsimonious of her favours. Admirable young wo­man! upon thy decent features, elegance and becom­ing modesty sits enthroned; propriety mingles in thy train; and, while I admire thy virtues, I will daily pray, that thy love of independence may be crowned by success.

"Ursula," said Lucinda, ‘you are indebted to me just fourteen shillings—to-morrow will be Thanksgiv­ing Day—Were it in my power, I would prepare for this day, by an action which should calm every per­turbed mind, wipe the tear from the cheek of sor­row, and hush to peace the sigh of anguish; but, however limited my abilities, what I can, I will—From henceforth, that is, from Thanksgiving Day, you are free; and remember, that for your future work you are entitled to full and prompt payment.’ This was not the first time Lucinda had tasted the luxury of doing good; for never had she sent a bundle of work to Ursula, in which she did not convey a half-worn gown, cap, skirt, &c. &c. Yet, let me repeat, Lucinda cannot command a single penny, but what she receives as a compensation for her ingenious and persevering efforts at her needle. She is single and un­protected—but consistent virtue still remaineth an in­vulnerable shield! Do you wish to know what spot contains this wonderful paragon? Go then, and do homage to a little milliner, not a hundred miles from Cornhill!

Ursula blest her youthful benefactress, and return­ed to communicate her good fortune to my benevolent and sympathizing friend. It seemed, upon that day, that the genius of benignity had been busily employed in favour of Ursula. By a removal, to which she had been suddenly and unexpectedly necessitated, she was lost to some well disposed persons, who had frequently assisted her; neither was her place of refuge within the [Page 259] knowledge of those officers of the church, with whom she communicated, who had been entrusted with the distribution of benefactions, collected for the use of the indigent children of sorrow; a kind hearted man had interposed in her behalf, and her proportion of the charitable appropriation awaited her, at her hum­ble abode.

Thanksgiving Day arrived—it was whispered that Ursula had said she had not sufficient in the world to purchase a basket of coal—one and another, on that day, contributed more or less liberally; and a cheering ray of competency, diffusing its genial influence over the declining life of poor Ursula, her heart was made glad.

Thanksgiving Day is, in our country, a munificent festival. It hath, in every view, its beauty and its propriety—all orders, and every description of peo­ple, assemble, to offer up their general acknowledg­ments, and devout orisons to the Parent of the uni­verse. The week, on which this jubilee is appointed, is devoted to the most benevolent purposes—to the recog­nition of the claims of the unfortunate, to the implant­ing, in the bosom of the orphan, the bud of hope, and to the making the widow's heart sing for joy. See the thronged streets—crowds of destitute persons assert their accustomed prerogative—they pass on to the dwell­ings of affluence—the season, habit, and the feelings, consequent thereon, conspire to render liberality still more liberal. Every present want is supplied, gene­rosity is constituted almoner, a face of hilarity displac­es that anxiety, which naturally clouds the brow of suf­fering poverty; they return to their now joyful retreats—they smile over the sudden plenty—their hearts overflow with gratitude—their spirits are attuned to praise—their dispositions are in unison with their fel­low-citizens—they chant the song of thanksgiving—they join in grateful prostrations to the God of their life; and, the expectation of this Thanksgiving Day fre­quently serves to mitigate the calamities, and to soften the penury, of the intervening year.

[Page 260] Let me, therefore, leaving my honest friend, the thrifty tradesman, to lament for his "running cash," frankly acknowledge myself a confirmed advocate for THANKSGIVING DAY. May the wisdom of our legisla­tors continue to recommend, and may our well dispos­ed and orderly citizens cheerfully obey—may they honour this festival in their accustomed manner—may it still be distinguished as the poor man's holiday—and may it be the coeval of this Columbian world. Yes, I will own, that I am enthusiastically fond of following, as far as may consist with rectitude, the example of my ancestors. I bow with reverence, to the holidays which they have consecrated as sacred; and, above all, I am extravagantly—yea, passionately, fond of Thanksgiving Day.

N^o. LXI.

THE great secret of deciding with accuracy, abid­eth in the breast of deliberation; hasty conclu­sions must ever be hazardous, and a rational man will never submit that to chance, which patient and atten­tive investigation may reduce to certainty. I have for many years had the felicity of ranking Patronius among my intimate friends; we have lived in the most unreserved confidence; and I do not recollect a single instance, wherein he has ever been necessitated to re­tract an opinion which had received publicity from his adoption.

He is never assuming; his sentiments are always advanced with modesty, and by consequence the blush of error never tinges his cheek. I am aware that this is a high panegyric, but an analytical examination of the system of Patronius, will, if I mistake not, evince [Page 261] the practicability of a wise man, whatever may be his internal perceptions, appearing to observers always in the right.

It is one of the first principles of Patronius, to listen to the sentiments of those with whom he associates, before he hazards even a conjecture of his own; and as he has an aversion from controversy, he never ven­tures upon a subject, except with a view of giving or receiving information. He is, on no occasion, the noisy disputant; he will not contradict peremptorily, nor assert dogmatically; he does not presume that a thing is, or is not, precisely as it happens on a cursory view to strike his perception. He is a close reasoner, but then he is a reasoner; his disquisitions are marked with calmness; and he would prefer remaining silently attentive during the most interesting conversation, to the uttering a single syllable in favour of an hypothesis which he conceived false and untenable. Hence, it will be concluded, that he is much more frequently a hearer than a speaker, and this, indeed, of necessity happens; yet persuasion dwells upon his lips, and his opinions are rarely ever ascertained, that they are not instantaneously adopted. His character is marked by firmness; he is known to be consistently virtuous; and his movements, rather than his language, are decisive. He is an accurate definer; and when he speaks, silence, in rapt attention, bends to hear. He proposes his subject at large; marks, with precision, its general contour; expresses those ideas suggested by an aggre­gate view thereof; and methodically proceeds to indi­vidual observations, from whence he deduces his com­prehensive and self-evident conclusions.

Truth is the great object of his pursuit; and his research after this inestimable gem is uniformly con­ducted with moderation. He is a pupil of the Socra­tic school; and, by a regular series of questions put to his opponent, the invidious task of refutation is soft­ened, and his tenets are established without involving those rancorous feelings which are too commonly the appendages of disputation. By this mild mode of [Page 262] convincing, Patronius is sure never to offend. Persons are imperceptibly informed; they admire his under­standing, without envying its brilliancy; and I have frequently seen the brow of this accomplished victor adorned by the cheerful voices and ready hands of the grateful vanquished, with the fairest laurels that ever grew in the aromatic haunts of animating praise! From interrogatory arguments, Patronius derives an obvious, advantage; he is spared the arrogance of assertion; conviction is gradually produced; and ev­ery one is ready to join issue in opinions which become self-evident, which they have helped to elucidate, and which, with a pleasing persuasion of their authenticity, pervade the mind. Thus are the feelings of compla­cency invigorated; prejudice imperceptibly undermin­ed; and that pertinacious adherence to a favourite sentiment, so natural to human pride, when attacked with less judgment, skilfully divested of its imposing power. Patronius generally leaves it to his little au­dience, to furnish with the garb of words, the conclu­sion which he has irrefragably demonstrated; and hence, should his reasoning undesignedly have connect­ed a latent error, he is spared those unpleasant sensa­tions which would have attended the necessity of yield­ing his hypothesis, had he proposed or defended it with obstinacy: Thus he is a stranger to the culpability of error; and my eulogium is, strictly speaking, a sober fact—its conscious blushes never ting [...] his cheek. I grant that Patronius has been rarely equalled; and that he is placed in our world, a luminary of the first magni­tude; and yet, I humbly conceive, I may propose him as a model for imitation; for although we may never reach the summit he hath attained, emulation may nevertheless produce its effect; and every advance we make toward the point of rectitude, will be honourable to ourselves, and beneficial to society.

Patronius has the felicity to combine those qualities which have been supposed heterogeneous; and, while his movements are the result of cool deliberation and noble firmness; while his conduct is under the guid­ance [Page 263] of prudence and propriety, the fervour and con­stancy of his regards amount to the enchanting and amiable enthusiasm, inseparable from sublime and ho­ly friendship. Patronius evinceth that a strong and well regulated mind is susceptible of every excellence; and his actions may, in the same moment, be consid­ered as the spontaneous growth of nature, and the re­sult of educated wisdom—they are rich and abundant­ly productive; they are luxuriant as the wild and in­discriminating impulses of unsystematized liberality: But a nice investigator will observe them carefully pruned by reason, and circumscribed by the inclosure of discreet munificence.

I do homage to the active mind of Patronius. In­tellect, it is said, will always command respect; and, from full conviction, I receive this sentiment into my treasury of incontrovertible facts. Will a weight of years destroy the energy of talents so conspicuously em­inent? If it will, we could almost breathe a wish to arrest the progress of time; and with a little variation we apply and devoutly aspirate the Homeric petition in favour of Nestor; "What now thou art, Oh! ever mayst thou be; and age the lot of any sage but thee." But the uniform temperance of Patronius, will entitle him to an old age of health; while his mind will continue cheerful and active, pursuing un­interruptedly a course of usefulness to the latest period of his mortal existence; thus finishing his career with those meliorated splendors that in the morning of his days shining with strong effulgence, emitted the fairest hopes of meridian excellence. While he lives he will possess the applause of his fellow men; and posterity will learn to venerate his memory.

"The applause of his fellow men!" cries Apathy; "And pray, good Mr. Gleaner, of what use will this be to Patronius? Please to inform us to what the ap­plause of his fellow men will amount? Fame is a wind blown vagabond; she delighteth not in durable habi­tations. Virtue, in the person of WASHINGTON, hath en­deavoured to render her stationary; but the flood of light [Page 264] with which she hath encompassed the hero, hath at length become insufferable; it hath struck blind a number of well meaning individuals; and it hath so far excited the rancour of the screech-owls of our day, that, if the guardian chief should not suddenly escape to his native skies, it will be wonderful if they do not for the time being; envelop him in that dense atmos­phere which circumscribes their own ideas; it will be astonishing, if, encircling him by the murky clouds of envy, they do not despoil him of the vagrant fame. Yet, lured by the charms of a conduct irreproachable, should fame continue to enwreath the honoured brows of Washington, as worth so rare is seldom the growth of mortality, pretensions more equivocal must submit to the veil of obscurity, or consent to become the sport of alternate censure and applause. Praise is an airy com­modity; a breath bestows it, and a breath retracts; it soothes for a moment, but it soon evaporates; it ener­vates the mind, insinuating a persuasion, that, having reached the ne plus ultra of intellectual attainments, every future effort is superfluous, and it renders us im­patient under the most gentle and necessary reproofs. For my part, although I may admire your Patronius, I nevertheless throw my gauntlet, and positively as­sert the inutility of every species of commendation; being fully able to prove its inability to confer happi­ness, and its inefficacy on the morals of mankind. He who expects his peace from the eulogizing voice of fame, is making his couch on the pointed thorns of ca­price—is building a superstructure on the fluctuating waves of opinion, than which nothing is more futile and unstable. I trust not then the treachery of senti­ment, the bubble fame is not an object of my pursuit; and I am regardless of the opinion of the world."

Stop, stop, Mr. Apathy—attend a moment, if you please. The world is a vast, an ample theatre, and its inhabitants are an audience to each other—we are alternately actors and spectators; and, if we hold in contempt the opinion of those who are assembled as our judges, the probability is, we shall soon view with [Page 265] indifference those virtues, the attainment and practice of which, is the purchase of their esteem; and it is to be feared we shall ultimately become unworthy of the good we have learned to despise. I should trem­ble for a son or daughter who regarded with indiffer­ence the sacred interests of reputation. To what pur­pose are we diligently employed in embellishing our persons, or in polishing our manners? these adventi­tious graces make no essential part of inborn integrity, or of a solid understanding; yet, they are pleasing ex­teriors, which render us acceptable to those with whom we associate. But, was there no individual whom we wished to impress—was there no heart, on whose fair tablets we were anxious to stamp ideas of our merit, these external ornaments would, perhaps, be but little studied; nay, in defiance of custom itself, the probabili­ty is, they would gradually be totally laid aside.

‘Sir, I say again, I regard not the opinion of the world; my period of emancipation has arrived, and I, at length, feel myself superior to its censures or its applauses.’

Alas! alas! Mr. Apathy, you have then lost an admirable incentive to consistent rectitude, and you have but one step further to go—you have only to throw off those feelings of restraint, which have hith­erto influenced you, in regard to that all-pervading Being, who created the world and those intelligencies whom you now so heroically despise—you have only to leap this barrier, and you rank with the four-footed tenants of the soil! your fears and your expectations are, like theirs, bounded by the gratification of the mo­ment. To the duration of communicable good, you are a stranger; for you cannot participate the enjoy­ments of those, whom you contemplate with such un­feigned and systematic contempt.

But, as I would hope this globe, in its extensive round, contains not the human being, who is, in his heart, at all times, and upon every occasion, an unwa­vering Atheist; so I pleasingly believe, that there exists not a rationally intelligent man, or woman, who is not [Page 266] ambitious of that fair fame, which is, sooner or later, the accompaniment of virtuous deeds.

The Gleaner, solicitous to cultivate the good and amiable qualities of his readers, would endow them with that delicacy which trembles at the voice of ac­cusation, and which, enwrapping itself in the mantle of propriety, is sedulously careful to avoid even the shadow of suspicion. He would endow them with that kind of sensibility, or exquisite perception, which should produce them primarily desirous of rendering themselves well pleasing to Deity; and, thus insuring the approbation of their own hearts, he would next implant the ardent wish to conciliate the esteem, affec­tion, and judiciously distinguishing applause of wor­thy persons of every description; nor could he, it is humbly conceived, present his friends, the younger part of them particularly, with a more powerful stim­ulus to, or truly efficacious talisman of, CONSISTENT VIRTUE.

N^o. LXII.

AS there is no idea, by which I am so exquisitely tortured, as that of annihilation, I naturally turn, with disgust and horror, from the reasonings of him, who, laying impious hands on that principle of [Page 267] animation which originates in Deity, would confound it with the common mass of matter; and who, with grub like industry, having enveloped himself in his earthy cone, entertains as little expectation of breaking his sepulchral enclosure, as the reptile who thus me­chanically encrusts itself.

"Mamma," said my little grand-daughter to Mar­garetta, "Mamma, where do butterflies go?" I re­peat, that a child may ask a question which would puzzle a Sir Isaac Newton to resolve. But although neither the wise nor the untaught may be able to des­cant learnedly on the destination of butterflies, yet do we take inexpressible pleasure in tracing their various and surprising transmutations, and in dwelling with eager attention on their eventful career, until, borne on the gentle zephyr, they become tenants of the aërial world.

May not the butterfly be considered as a humble figure of the creature Man? In its reptile state it seems fastened to the earth; it is indefatigable in its attempts to obtain that subsistence it will need but a little while. At length it is evidently on the decay; it sets about preparing for its departure; it makes ready the filaments in which it enwrappeth itself; it enfolds and contracts them; gradually they become a sepulchral crust, in which securely enveloped, the de­ceased insect apparently bids a final adieu to the busy scenes in which it hath taken so laborious a part. But mark the astonishing change: These habiliments of death are thrown off—the hideously disgusting form is no more—its newly acquired wings are expanded—they assume a variety of hues, and look as if designed in the gayest moments of a fertile and brilliant imag­ination. Hardly will the little flutterer deign to rest on the bosom of that earth, to which it formerly so closely adhered; and, perched on some beauteously fragrant flower, and indulging in all the rich variety of ambrosial food, it sips the embosomed sweets. With what astonishing celerity its movements are per­formed—lightly it pursues its elevated path, and we [Page 268] gaze with admiration upon its wonderful improve­ments. Was not the whole process submitted to our observation, we should call in question its reality; and cold philosophy would teach us, first, to reason—second­ly, to doubt—and, finally, to embrace the creed of infi­delity.

Man, in his present state of being, moves heavily on this opaque globe—he is principally solicitous, respect­ing matters which appertain wholly to this life—he is often anxiously oppressed, while every accession to that property he is carefully seeking to augment, does but increase his burdens. But whatever impediments may seem to bar his way, he, however, advances on­ward—he attains the period when his quick sense of earth-born joys is no more—he verges on the days on which he can say he hath no pleasure—for a little mo­ment he abides, and his open grave is prepared—he is inclosed in the narrow house, and the green turf clothes, with undistinguishing verdure, the hallowed spot where he reposes. Do we say that we have bid him an eternal adieu? we do not speak correctly; for, in the morning of the resurrection, he shall burst the bar­riers of the grave—he shall issue from the chambers of the tomb. Behold how mortality hath put on immor­tality—he is beautiful as the inhabitants of the celes­tial world—he hath become as a winged seraph—he mounts, he soars on high—he pursues his trackless way—he attains the heaven of heavens, and he min­gles with the angels who surround the throne of Deity.

Is my figure exceptionable?—I shall not contend—I did not expect it would answer in all its parts. I think, however, some of its features will be acknowl­edged striking; and I could as easily, had I not ocu­lar demonstration, believe the resurrection of the body, inclosed in yonder tomb, as I could lend my credence to the egg, the worm, the cone, the aurelia, and the butterfly.

Yet, I do not vehemently insist on the resuscitation of this time-worn tenement. In the bloom of youth, and vigour of my days, my reluctance to a final sepa­ration [Page 269] from organs so incomparably well adapted to my exigencies, was extreme; but a length of years have revolved—the fine machine is going to decay—I begin to detect its inconveniences—it is a heavy clog upon my purposes—and, when I am bounding for­ward with all the celerity of thought, I am retarded and pulled back by its unwieldy properties. I natur­ally wish for a vehicle more agile; and imagination, darting into futurity, anticipates accommodations more consonant with my wishes. Hardly a day passes, in which I do not discover, in my present residence, new instances to prove that the building is greatly im­paired; nor is this a circumstance of regret. My glass informs me, that time hath furrowed my face; that my eyes no longer sparkle with the vivacity of youth; that the glossy ornaments of my head are rap­idly giving place; that my form is bent; that I hob­ble in my gait, &c. &c. No matter—my attachment to this earthly residence is also on the decline, and I will support, with fortitude, the sufferings which may be necessary to its dissolution. Whether my all-wise and omnific Father will raise it again on a nobler principle, is a question that cannot greatly agitate my mind, since I know that his paternal goodness will or­dain for me, precisely that habitation, which shall be the best calculated for the full enjoyment of all my faculties. If I—if my best self can escape from this wreck of nature, I am then sure to be as "blest as I can hear;" and, the superiority and inferred durability of spirit, is beyond a doubt.

"Certainly not," cries the opposer, ‘for the mental faculties decay with the corporeal; thus evincing the truth of the hypothesis, which describes them as both per­ishing together.’

But against such a comfortless and derogatory sen­timent I enter my protest. The immortal principle of life, retaining, in this debilitated body, its pristine vig­our, glows indignant at the humiliating idea; and, notwithstanding the decaying organs by which it operates, it still asserts its own inherent fervours. Age cannot, [Page 270] in reality, curtail the inborn powers of the soul; their elasticity, for want of use, may be abridged, but their native energies can never depreciate. From the mo­ment in which the immortal mind becomes a sojourner in mortality, certain organs, by which it is to operate, are assigned to the celestial resident, and these organs become the medium of its manifestations. In infancy the mental faculties are under a necessity of awaiting the acquirements of that progressing machine, in which they are enveloped; and the reason is obvious; the most skilful artist must be furnished with instruments proper to his occupation. In the vigour of manhood the soul still finds many a laudable wish ungratified—its habitation is not in every respect accommodated to its views—it would move with all the rapidity of mo­tion—it would take the wings of the morning, and compass the globe in a day—it would design and exe­cute in one and the same moment—and the restless anxiety it experienceth is a presumptive proof, that it is appointed to a higher and more perfect state. Old age arrives—and the bodily organs, ordained for dissolution, experienceth the imbecility that marked the state of child­hood—the imprisoned spirit assays to quicken the slug­gish stream—it endeavours to rouse the torpid pulse—it would render flexile the stiffening sinews—with tremulous anxiety it searches every compartment, throws its inquiring glance through each avenue, and would act upon the complicated machine as in those days when it appeared so much under its command—but it will not be—and it is in vain to struggle against a statute which hath passed the great seal of Heaven. The retiring immortal at length becomes conscious that it is on the eve of its departure; it collects its scattered faculties, and, submitting to that state which bears a strong resemblance to inactivity, and which is imposed by necessity, it awaits, with more or less resig­nation, the approaching moment of its final emanci­pation. But shall we for this expatiate on its dimin­ished lustre, strip it of its immortality, prepare its fu­neral dirge, and consign it to the gulph of oblivion? [Page 271] Strange perversion of ideas! most illogical conclusion! and truly unworthy sacrifice of all those commanding incentives to virtue and splendid hopes, that originate in an expectation of future existence.

That it is highly irrational to characterize the im­mortal mind, from the demonstration it maketh of its faculties by the medium of decaying bodily organs, is apparent from a variety of considerations. An illus­trative figure this moment presents. I take my seat in the midst of a respectable company—a musician is introduced—I have heard much of this performer—he is very eminent, understands every branch of music, is unequalled in the line of his profession, and particu­larly excels upon the piano-forte—the instrument is opened, and he commences his efforts with a favourite piece of music. But what a futile attempt!—sounds the most discordant issue from the piano—not a single note is in unison—the flats and sharps are confounded—he is out of time—a child, practising his lesson, would have produced better tones. O horrid! I exclaim; surely, the artist is either grossly deficient, or he has lost those exquisite powers of execution, for which he has been so highly celebrated; his faculties, probably, are on the decay.

"Mistaken man," replies the master of the house, "your conjecture is erroneous; nothing can be fur­ther from the truth. The instrument, my good Sir, is out of tune; nay, more, an accident hath despoiled it of its principal keys; the complicated machinery is obstructed in its most capital parts; in short, it is worn out by time, disastrous removals, and unskilful usage." Ought I not to feel conscious of my injurious estimation of the mu­sician? Does not the circumstance of the decayed in­strument restore my high raised ideas of his abilities? and will it not be proper, that I henceforward render him the homage which must ever be due to superior acquirements?

I confess, I take a superior pleasure in tracing, im­proving and cherishing, every idea which establishes the pre-eminence, independence and immortality of the mind; and, in the multifarious reflections I have anxiously [Page 272] made on this subject, I have derived much consolation, from recurring to the surprising activity the spirit of­ten evinces, when the bodily organs are fast locked in the embraces of the image of death. I have thought, that the action of the spirit is in no moment entirely suspended; and although I have passed many nights without a consciousness of having dreamed, yet it does not therefore follow, that the mental faculties have been unemployed. The most pleasing visions have sometimes gathered round my sleeping hours; meth­od and propriety have been in full exercise; but when the re-action of the corporeal organs has re-called the vagrant spirit, only disjointed images have remain­ed, and it has been beyond my power to recover a sin­gle connected idea. Again, I have only been able to recollect that I have dreamed, without the vestige of an impression, by which I could trace the nature of the vision. From these facts I gather, that I may dream without being at all conscious, after the shadows of the night have fled, that my mind has been thus occu­pied. It appears to me of consequence, to establish the constant activity of the soul; for, if it can, for a single moment, be divested of its consciousness and the appendages of animation; if it can slumber with the body, it may slumber for ages, it may lose its identity, it may sink into oblivion; and we are, by consequence, conducted to the comfortless verge of materialism! But having expressed myself freely on this subject in an Essay, which may in future be submitted to the public eye, I wave it for the present.

I know that dreams are whimsical, perplexing and fallacious; yet we do not always understand their ori­gin or tendency; and, I conceive, there may be anal­ogies in nature, of which we are entirely ignorant. One thing appears to me certain, that dreams furnish no inconsiderable evidence of that pre-eminence, inde­pendence and immortality, which I am solicitous to con­firm. A person far advanced in years, and entering on the winter of life, every day accumulates infirmi­ties. Suffering under a severe paroxysm of the gout, [Page 273] after a succession of hours marked by anguish, nature, quite exhausted, forgets itself in the arms of sleep; to the couch of misery the pain-worn body is still con­fined; but the gladdened spirit, as if felicitating it­self on its momentary exemption, indulges the full ca­reer of fancy. The scene is instantly changed—a sur­prising revolution succeeds—youth again blooms on the cheek—the nerves are new strung—the sinews re­sume their wonted agility—the blood flows briskly through the veins—health braces the frame—hope glows in the bosom—the heart leaps for joy—all is enchantment, the enchantment of the morning of life—he contemplates the tenderest attachment—he forms new connexions—he becomes impassioned—and he feels over again the ardours of youth. But alas! the fleeting vision is on the wing—a creaking door—an impertinent footstep—the charm is broken—and the mind is again embodied by age, infirmity, and conse­quent suffering. Yet, I ask, has it not thus produced a proof of its pre-eminence and independence; and may not its immortality be fairly inferred?

But it is said, that we vainly deduce a proof of the immortality of the soul from dreams, since there are existing many strong reasons to suppose, that dogs and several other animals dream. And let them dream—they have my cheerful permission; nor have I any objection to those faithful creatures bearing me company in my native sky. I should be charmed with a treatise which should prove, beyond the shadow of a doubt, the future and immortal existence of every animated being. I should be right happy to witness the era predicted by the prophet Isaiah, who tells us, that the lion and the lamb shall lie down together; and should they be led by the hand of blooming innocence, the scene would be still more highly wrought. In one word, could I answer my little Margaretta's question, "Where do butterflies go?" it would become to me a new source of pleasure.

N^o. LXIII.

PERHAPS there is no individual, who is impress­ed with a higher idea of the advantages resulting from extensive literature, than myself. I cheerfully do homage to science; a conviction of its excellence necessitates me to place it among the first of blessings; and I would enjoin persons of all descriptions to seize with avidity every opportunity of accumulating knowl­edge. He who has neglected to store his mind with ideas, to invigorate the intellectual powers, and to habituate himself to reasoning, comparing, investigat­ing, and concluding, hath not only forgotten to con­stitute a fund on which he might occasionally draw, but hath also defrauded society of that assistance which mankind had a right to reckon on from his abilities; and thus committed a crime against his species, for which, alas! it is beyond his power to atone.

But while I deliberately render all possible respect to those acquirements, so indispensably requisite to him who would run with honour the career of life, I can­not forbear confessing my superior admiration of those fortuitous candidates for applause, who, in a great measure unassisted by the schools, have reached the highest eminence to which a human being can aspire; nor does this diminish the odium so justly affixed up­on him, who, inattentive to the means of information with which he has been furnished, produces himself upon the world an unlettered blank, waiting the cas­ual impressions of every interested compositor, whom chance may direct to fill up the vacant pages.

[Page 275] But circumstances may have combined to deny the means of instruction; and the proprietor of genius may pass those years when he should have been entered and continued the pupil of science, without receiving those adventitious aids, which, with lapidarian influence, would have given to acknowledged merit the most brilliant polish; and if under a predicament unques­tionably disadvantageous, he attains to eminence, if although unfashioned by the cultivating hand of a preceptor, he bursts through those intercepting clouds in which a variety of unpropitious arrangements had enveloped the morning of his days, and, rich in native resources, blazes forth in meridian lustre, we surely can­not hesitate to subscribe to the justice of that decision, which, eternizing his name, invests him with immor­tality. It is true he will not combine the learning of a Johnson; his diction may be neither elegant nor correct; he will be in the situation of a man who has to shape his materials, as well as to construct his pile of building; but he may strike out some bold originalities, his superstructure may possibly create a new order in literature, and he may form very just pretensions to rank with those venerable ancients who have, through a long succession of ages, possessed the admiration of mankind. Grammaticaster may un­doubtedly convict him of a false use of nouns and pro­nouns, of confounding modes, tenses, verbs and ad­verbs, and of the heinous crime of mistaking a colon for a full stop; but the judicious critic will not ex­pect to find the child of nature miraculously impressed with an accurate knowledge of the refinements of dic­tion, nor intuitively familiar with those rules which originated in convenience, and are the production of the combining efforts and continued improvements of succeeding centuries. The candid investigator will be occupied, while perusing the compositions of unculti­vated abilities, in searching for those natural beauties that are the offspring of genius; these he will point out to public view, while he will take a sublime pleas­ure in imagining the summit his author would have at­tained, had he been assisted by education.

[Page 276] Had Grammaticaster lived in the days of Shake­spear, he would undoubtedly have attacked, with true Zoiluan rancour, the splendid Bard of Nature. The two Witches solus, which Shakespear is said to have introduced, would have excited his most splenetic indignation; and he would have sought out, with in­defatigable avidity and wonderful ingenuity, those bagatelle, denominated defects, thence decisively pro­nouncing the divine poet of Avon wholly destitute of merit of every description. Poor Grammaticaster, how his soul is wrung by envy! See where, with fiend-like aspect, he hovers over the flowery haunts of genius; malignantly industrious, he is busy in collect­ing the deforming weeds, which, amid a garden so richly furnished, have perchance sprung up; these, with invidious cunning, he combines; he eyes them with all a murderer's savage exultation; ‘he grins over them a ghastly smile;’ and, after passing them through his pericranium, he produces them from the magic process as high crimes in the court of lit­erature!

The conduct of the admirer of Shakesperian worth, or, in other words, of him who is capable of viewing with a steady eye the luminous path of genius, is the reverse of this. He traces the embodied prodigy to his morn of life; he beholds him the son of care; im­perious circumstances deny his continuance even at a free school; he is accustomed to the most rigid econ­omy, and he is initiated into all the penury of traffic; he is early bound by the ties of matrimony, and to a life of labour he is apparently destined. An accident, however, of a dark and unwarrantable hue, appears to be the procuring cause which unexpectedly engages him in the most arduous pursuits; and these preced­ing facts will augment the astonishment and admira­tion of all those who candidly reflect upon his subse­quent achievements, and upon the unequalled elevation to which he soared; they will operate as a sponge, which will, in effect, erase from his pages all those pec­cadillos, that in an author receiving a regular educa­tion [Page 277] would have been unpardonable. Far from im­peding his eagle flight, they seem to point more forci­bly his inimitable attainments; they are foils, which like spots in the sun, strikingly contrast his original lustre, and irresistibly enforce the vigour of an under­standing, that hath proved a rich and inexhaustible source, from which many a lesser light has borrowed its effulgence.

Miss Hannah Moore, (the celebrity of whose char­acter might almost sanction error) writing to Mrs. Montague in favour of the milk woman of Clifton, and speaking of Shakespear, elegantly embodies those ideas which I am solicitous to enrobe. But Voltaire characterizes this prodigious and incomparable genius, as a barbarous poet! Milton also is ranked in the same class by this civilized writer! yet it will not be within the compass even of a Voltaire, to diminish those splendours necessarily attached to luminaries of the first magnitude in the literary hemisphere.

As the satellite of Miss Moore, the milk woman must still be considered; and, if it is true that an adverse cloud hath for a time intercepted the beneficent rays of that resplendent orb, preventing the continuance of their genial influence on the humble daughter of ge­nius, the innate refulgence of an intellect, both elevat­ed and informed, will undoubtedly consume every opaque impediment which hath officiously obtruded; and she will once more receive to favour the gentle female whom she hath presented to observation, and whom she so kindly sheltered.

Woodhouse, the Crispian bard, extorts our pity and our admiration: Like the milk woman, common read­ing and writing comprized the whole of his educa­tion; and, from an application to even these useful branches of study, he was taken when he was only sev­en years of age. Perhaps Miss Moore's account of Mrs. Yearsley, might be strictly applied to Woodhouse; but, be this as it may, he was, however, bred a shoe­maker, at which business, he was no more than a journeyman, and condemned to labour with indefati­gable [Page 278] industry, for the support of a beloved wife, and an infant progeny. We cannot but venerate both his genius and application; while we view him seated at his depressing employ, the pen and ink are at his el­bow; he arrests the couplets as they present, and, penning them down for future revision, he again pur­sues the duties of his occupation. Of his thirst for knowledge, we receive a very high idea, when we contemplate him after a day passed in earning the scanty pittance adjudged the price of his labour, ap­propriating those hours usually devoted to the restora­tive slumbers of the night, to the obtaining that intel­lectual food, fortunately so amply supplied by books, with which the indulgence of his patron at length furnished him; and we yield him our full commisera­tion, when we hear him in his poem, entitled Spring, pensively complain, not indeed so much for himself, as for the beauteous fair one whose fate was entwined with his. The circumstances and scanty advantages of the poet, induces us to allow to his lays their full merit; and the invidious attempt to point out a blemish, would seem to connect a degree of criminality. Thus thought the elegant bard of the Leasowes, when, with the utmost tenderness, and a benevolence truly charac­teristic, he commended, sanctioned and patronized; while his dignified condescension was only equalled by the gratitude of Crispin, who was ambitious of elevating almost every poetical essay, by the admired name of Shenstone.

Imagination, when tracing the progress of genius, unassisted by education, necessarily stops to drop a tear of regret over the misfortunes, and to render the tribute of applause, indisputably due to the merit and sublime genius of Chatterton. Uncommon youth! with what facility did he arrest and annex whatever could enrich and embellish; and how wonderful was the progress of this untutored bard! Excellent young man! de­frauded, whilst thou sojourned among mortals, of whatever could soothe, invigorate, or sustain; thy ex­istence became the forfeit! and nought, alas! remains [Page 279] for posterity, but to raise a monument to thy memory, which shall endure as long as the smallest vestige of intellectual worth shall continue.

But the efforts of genius, unassisted by education, are alike entitled to superior panegyric, whatever track it may pursue. To the natural powers of a Brindley, the celebrated projector of navigable canals we do reverence; and, while we envy the felicity of the Duke of Bridgewater, who first called into action talents, so inherently energetic, we unhesitatingly confess that the total ignorance of art which Mr. Brindley evinced, while submitting to the investigating interrogations of the House of Commons, renders still more conspicuous the magnitude of his understanding.

The contemplation of the powers of nature, is, undoubtedly, a delightful employ: Native talent in­vests with independent lustre; and every instance of unaided excellence, stamps an idea of the inherent value of intellect. Mankind are proportionably dignified, as the inborn worth of that celestial emanation, which animates them to action, is acknowledged and established; and, impressed with this sentiment, I am free to own, that I trace with singular satisfaction, the brilliant efforts of untaught abilities, warmed to admiration and stim­ulated to exertion by the unborrowed rays which they emit; I love to bask beneath the genial beam; and I hoard, with all a miser's industry, the golden treasure.

KULIBIA, a Russian peasant, commemorated in Cox's travels, is a rich instance of the wonderful powers of nature; he will ever be grouped with examples of ex­traordinary genius; and the bridge, thrown over the river Neva, which he projected, with many other achievements of his untutored abilities, will continue to bear testimony to the sublimity of his intellect.

The consideration of neglected education hath been the ground, on which the superstructure of female abil­ities hath been reared; it hath invested women of elevated understanding with an indisputable claim to superior estimation; for when successfully struggling with those discouragements which are peculiarly sexual; [Page 280] depressed by a situation necessarily humiliating; and checked by the invidious sneer of the supercilious and pedantic critic; when, in defiance of every impediment, with talents almost wholly uncultivated, they boldly seize the palm of merit, we are unavoidably compelled to yield them that respectful veneration due only to mind, and which intellectual excellence must ever extort. But the apology for female deficiencies, furnished by want of education, will not, in future, be acknowledged as valid; the partial distribution of advantages which has too long obtained, is, in this enlightened age, rapidly giving place to a more uniform system of information; and the frequently contested question, respecting the intellectual pretensions of the sexes, may one day be discussed on fair and equal ground.

In the family of Alexy Michaelovitch, Czar of Russia, a striking instance is recorded where superiority of understanding shone forth with decided brilliancy in the female line. Feodor and Ivan, sons of the Czar, evinced in every particular a marked inferiority of intellect, while their sister, the Princess Sophia, was endowed by nature with all those shining talents, and that solidity of understanding in which her brothers were so remarkably deficient. Eminently qualified for her high station; although a woman of uncommon beauty of person, she combined therewith first rate abilities. She possessed an extraordinary knowledge in the theory of government; and she knew how to reduce to practice its true spirit. Of persons of genius and learning she was the avowed and liberal patroness; and the introduction of polite literature into Europe, was encouraged and sanctioned by her example. At an era when the lowest species of composition both assumed and disgraced the name of morality, this elegant princess occupied her leisure hours in transla­ting the Medicin Malgrelui of Moliere. She also composed a tragedy, supposed to be the first extant in the Russian language; and a circumstance which adds essentially to the merit of this essay, is, that it was [Page 281] the production of a period when the most dangerous intrigues were excited and fomented against her ad­ministration; when the spirit of rebellion was abroad; and, when, [...] consequence, every faculty of her mind seemed totally engrossed by the most momentous affairs.

N^o. LXIV.

IF all those persons, who are ambitious of taking rank in what is called the first grade of society, would be careful to adopt those manners which are descriptive of the real gentleman, of the real lady, if they would be solicitous to attain those virtues inhe­rent in the bosom of the truly noble, we should not so often be called to observe the indignant blush pervad­ing the cheek of modesty, we should not so frequently lament depressed worth, nor witness the meritorious claims of the truly deserving crushed by the overbear­ing arrogance of those, whose only pretensions to dis­tinction are grounded upon opulence.

A sensation of painful and insurmountable disgust has sometimes arrested my perception, when I have made one in the drawing-room of an imperious wom­an, whose awkward efforts to assume that dignity which is never annexed to affectation, have rendered her truly ridiculous. The approach of timid excel­lence is announced; it enters in the person of a fe­male, whose unassuming manners and retiring sweet­ness instantly call up to recollection Mary Woolston­craft's beautiful apostrophe to modesty. She is adorn­ed with all the graces which designate the milder vir­tues; she might be considered as originating the par­agraph [Page 282] adverted to; and at her appearance the most prepossessing sensations rush upon the mind. The la­dy of the drawing room advances a few steps, then recedes back, stands erect, courtesies formally, looks for­bidding, and assumes, as she supposes, airs of importance; while, in the estimation of reason, she is only giving an exhibition of insufferable haughtiness. In the mean time, the lovely maiden (perhaps in some way a de­pendant) is abashed at a reception so little correspond­ent with her wishes. Of her want of consequence, and the invidious triumph of the lady, there are many witnesses; she is covered with blushes; she seems to shrink into herself; confused and discomposed, she hastens to a seat; and, divested of that innate compla­cency which true politeness is solicitous to cherish, she listens in silence during the continuance of her ill-fated visit, to a redundance of nonsense, dissertations on fashion, and refinements on scandal.

True politeness is but another name for benevo­lence. It is studious to contribute to the ease and happiness of those with whom it is connected—it de­lighteth to give consequence to timid worth—it seek­eth to elevate the humble mind, and it disdaineth to affect ignorance of those characters and persons whose claim to attention is indubitable, and whom it hesitates not to caress in its private parties. Nature, when she produces her offspring, invests them with equal claims; and death reduces them to one common level—but vari­ous are the paths which intersect the passage from the cradle to the grave: Subordination is undoubtedly necessary to the well-being of society; and, without seeking to sap the foundation of institutions which in­volve the public weal, we only contend for that affa­bility which is proper to every condition, and well calculated to ameliorate those mortifying circum­stances attached to humble life.

The celebrated Mrs. Wright, introduced by her un­common talents to a personal knowledge of the nobil­ity and gentry of the kingdom of England, had, dur­ing her residence in that country, an opportunity of [Page 283] making many characteristic observations; and, in one of her letters, she humorously contrasts the manners of the woman well educated, and possessing habitual and real superiority, with those of a female, conducted by a variety of fortuitous events to move in a sphere for which neither her natural nor acquired abilities had qualified her. Mrs. Wright devoted a fine winter morning to calling en passent on several of her patrons; and among the number of those whom she attended, and who were ambitious of obtaining celebrity, by in­serting in their list of acquaintance the votaries of ge­nius, was the lady of a baronet, who had been raised from obscurity, to all the privileges annexed to rank and title.

In the superb mansion of this chance created lady, Mrs. Wright, after sending up her name, was reduced to the necessity of waiting a tedious interval; and, al­though the chilly blasts of December were abroad, no genial blaze decorated, by its cheering flame, the gloomy chimney! It is true the elegant apartment, in which she waited the convenience of the lady, was or­mented in high taste; but this circumstance did not possess a sufficient interest in the bosom of Mrs. Wright to charm her sense of suffering; and she regarded the summons, which admitted her to the presence of the proprietress of the mansion, as an emancipation from a very unpleasant situation. The reception she obtain­ed, was, however, not more to her taste. The lady as­sumed the most petrifying airs of superiority; and both her language and her manner were cold as the icy breath of the northern tempest: But Mrs. Wright, having the address to curtail her visit, hurried away to lady N—, at whose toilette, san ceremonie, she was immediately admitted, and instantly engaged in that pleasing interchange of civilities, which so frequently marks a female tete-a-tete. Lady N—chatted fa­miliarly; soothed the self complacency of our Ameri­can adventurer, by eulogizing the art in which she con­templated future eminence; and, after completing the labours of the toilette, agreeably to a previous appoint­ment, [Page 284] accompanied her to the royal presence; and the benign condescension of the British queen, was evinced by still higher demonstrations of affability, than those which had graced the manners of lady N—.

Mrs. Wright, penetrated with the most lively grati­tude, set no bounds to her joy or her admiration; and, after narrating the particulars of this interview, she observed, that in exact ratio as she approached the lib­eral and splendid source of genuine magnificence, the mild regency of urbanity became more strikingly ap­parent.

Thus the orb of day, with regular munificence, dif­fuseth over the globe its genial influence; while the glow-worm sparkles only for those who take their sta­tion within its narrow limits.

From a gentleman intimately conversant with Mrs. Wright, I have been furnished with some anecdotes relative to this extraordinary woman, which, as their authenticity is unquestionable, I shall present, as a bi­ographical sketch, that I presume will not be altogeth­er uninteresting.

Mrs. Wright was a branch of a family, residing in Crosswicks, in the Jersies, of obscure extraction, and humble circumstances; but remarkable for the pecu­liarities, which distinguished its individuals. Of her father, Mr. Lovel, many singularities are narrated; but, as it appears that his life was unoffending, he had a right to the indulgence of his innocent caprices. After his demise, his eldest son determined to erect for himself a dwelling, agreeably to the fashion of his own ideas; and he combined with this resolution the ex­traordinary ambition of preparing the materials with his own hands. He not only designed, but executed; and, both the tenement and its furniture were the pro­duction of his ingenious industry, while every article evinced the skill of a master! He next constructed a spinnet, from which, self taught, he drew such tones, as are not often surpassed. The violin, too, became sub­ject to the versatility of his genius; and he both made [Page 285] that pleasing instrument, and executed thereon the most extensive compositions.

It appears, that either from want of ability or in­clination, Mr. Lovel, the old gentleman, had not been over solicitous respecting the education of his children. Mrs. Wright was apprenticed to a mantua maker, with whom she continued, until she was mistress of her business. She formed her matrimonial connexion early in life, which connexion was unhappy; and her little family drew their whole support from her indus­trious application. But, although her conduct during this part of her life was truly meritorious, yet, as her exertions were apparently the result of necessity, they did not pointedly evince those remarkable talents, which eventually produced her in the first circles in the me­tropolis of England; nor did the demise of Mr. Wright produce an immediate change in her arrangements—the mantua making business still afforded her a kind of subsistence—her week's work procured her week's support, and her hours revolved in their accustomed routine, until an accident, rendered important by its consequences, originated a surprising revolution. A woman, offering wax figures for sale, stopped at her door; when Mrs. Wright, possessing a large share of that curiosity inseparable from superior abilities, ques­tioned her relative to the composition of her commodi­ties; and, for a small consideration, obtained that infor­mation which proved to her the source of uncommon celebrity, and great pecuniary emolument. The celes­tial spark of genius, so long dormant, was instantly blown into a flame; and, immediately throwing up her business, she became the ingenious fabricator of a new and astonishing creation! Her success was be­yond her most sanguine expectations: from fancy fig­ures, she proceeded to particular resemblances; and from her fashioning fingers grew the most finished likenesses. General admiration was excited, and the gratitude of those, who beheld exact transcripts of their beloved connexions thus multiplied and perpetuated, knew no bounds.

[Page 286] Bordentown, where she had resided during her mar­riage, soon became too narrow a field for the display of talents so rare, and she removed to the city of New-York, where she advanced rapidly in the career of fame! She soon furnished a spacious apartment with her figures, consisting of the most celebrated per­sonages, in sacred and secular history, associated with respectable moderns, and beings, copied from her own imagination. By the liberality of her patrons, she was amply supplied with the necessary dresses, and her rooms became the resort of the curious, the gay, and the idle. Her next attempt was painting; and her essays, in this elegant art were by no means destitute of merit. Among other performances, she painted a miniature of Governor Tryon, which was esteemed an admirable likeness. Thus, uncommonly qualified by the liberal hand of nature, the orbit of this younger world being judged a sphere too contracted for abili­ties so splendid, she was encouraged to cross the Atlan­tic; and, furnished with letters to Doctor Franklin, then resident in England, and many other respectable characters, she bent her course over the great waters, taking with her some of her most capital pieces, as specimens of her abilities. Governor Tryon enclosed, by Mrs. Wright, the miniature she had painted, as a present to his sister, then maid of honour; this proved a most happy introduction. The lady, charmed with the accuracy of the similitude, was proportionably pleased with the instrument; and it is hardly neces­sary to add, that her good offices were, from that mo­ment secured. The protection and assistance of Doctor Franklin was in course, and the nobility and gentry, of every description, were numbered as her patrons. To her American collection of illustrious personages, she added, while in England, the most celebrated char­acters of that nation. Even their majesties submitted their heads to the process of her art, and a just tribute of applause was rendered her, by all ranks. Lord Chatham was among the foremost of her favourers; he was an admirer of native genius, and a likeness of [Page 287] this truly patriotic and deserving nobleman, the pro­duction of her ingenuity, now figures among the prin­cipal ornaments of Westminster Abbey.

Thus countenanced, and thus supported, her income, it will be readily believed, was sufficiently lucrative: She generally averaged nineteen guineas per week; and, considering the rapid progress she had made to attain­ments so splendid, considering her origin, and group­ing in the same view her established and unequivocal celebrity, we are ready to suppose her in possession of a fulness of felicity; but, it is, alas! true, that per­manent happiness is not the growth of humanity.

As Mrs. Wright possessed great depth of understand­ing, her intellectual powers were, of course, much exer­cised, and the calculation of the probable consequences of events, was to her a continued source of inquietude. She was a profound politician, and her regrets, on ac­count of the struggles in which her native country was involved, were immeasurably afflicting. Her attach­ment to the soil on which she had drawn her first breath, was natural, if not laudable; but, it is to be wished that she had forborne to engage in a contest, so invidi­ous, as that of an ardent disquisition, relative to pub­lic men and measures; especially, as it seems to have put a period to those advances she was so rapidly making toward a splendid establishment of herself and family. It has been observed, that, although she was capable of the most solid and forcible reasoning, yet, her conversation was often so fervid and irregular, as to originate an idea of a derangement of intellect; this, probably, was the result of a warm imagination, a de­ficiency in early instruction, and a want of the habit of methodizing her ideas; and, from this trait of incohe­rence in her observations, and manner of expressing her sentiments, her character, in fact inoffensive, may possi­bly have been misunderstood. But, be this as it may, she experienced unequivocal marks of the decline of public favour; and a conviction so painful, together with combining circumstances, induced her to pass over into France, where, under the auspices of Doctor [Page 288] Franklin, she was known, distinguished, and esteemed. At the close of the war, she, however, returned to England, thus demonstrating a decided preference to the Albion shore; and she expressed the warmest wish­es for the perfect restoration of amity and unreserved confidence between the United States and their par­ent country. This astonishing woman finished her mortal career in the month of March, 1786.

In the family of Mrs. Wright, genius seems to be hereditary: Her son now takes rank in the first line of painters in the island of Great-Britain; and we can­not but wish him a double portion of that spirit of em­ulation, which is ever stimulating to the highest attain­ments in the gift of fame.

N^o. LXV.

LET me execute the projected excursion in the month of competency; when the ripened fruits of Autumn, have received their richest finishing, and the life supporting vegetable, crowned by maturity, invites the reaper's hand. This is the selection of many a judicious traveller; but besides that the curtailed days of September and October frequently spread the evening shades, before the distant tour is performed, I have many other cogent reasons for preferring the vernal months to a more advanced season.

The morning of the year lifts its young head, and the enthusiasm of enchantment is in its gift; and although I do not contend for its intrinsic superiority over the more substantial blessings attendant upon [Page 289] harvest home, yet, to the pleased eye of contemplation, it is adorned with inimitable charms. Many and ob­vious are the advantages it possesses—its succession is the wish of every heart—it displaceth the long dreary nights, which, with gloomy regency, have pervaded the wintry months—it unbars the gates of life—the snow clad mountains once more lift their green heads—the howling blasts of winter are no more—the tepid airs are abroad—descending showers succeed each other—the mildly beaming sun emits its genial rays—all nature assumes an interesting aspect—and the pleasures of possession are inseparably blended with those of anticipation. Look where the spreading branches are loaded with the sweet scented and promise giving blossom. See the flowery tribes expand their odoriferous leaves—the surrounding atmosphere is richly perfumed—every breeze bears its proportion of the grateful effluvia, and we bless the salutary gale. The mellow toned warblers of the vernal season pursue their azure path, or enchantingly carol in the branches. The orient beams of light smile along the ethereal plain; not a view but is stampt with the most pleasing impression of which it is susceptible—but is fraught with images of rational pleasure; nor can we do less than partake the general joy.

Just returned from a tour of friendship, my heart at this moment glows with all those complacent sensations inspired by an extensive view of nature, garbed in her most fascinating charms. My excursion has led me through a delightful division of the Union, diversified by grove crowned hills, romantic vales, enamelled meads, and broad meandering streams. My route lay along Connecticut river, and through that part of the State of Massachusetts, which led me over Charles river, Malden, Beverly, and Essex Merrimack bridges. Every observer who hath traced this circuit, will readily acknowledge that it takes in a tract abounding with the sublime and beautiful. The most rapt sensa­tions rushed on my soul, while the poverty of words necessitated me to remain silent.

[Page 290] The last mentioned bridge pronounces a panegyric on the abilities of the ingenious Mr. Palmer. It is totally different from the others, and appears to me to be a complete piece of architecture. It hath a sin­gle arch which measures 160 feet from base to base, and its elevation in the clear is forty feet above high water mark. The liberty, granted by the legislature of Massachusetts, for the erecting this bridge, was, I am told, clogged with conditions of a singular nature; but the particular stipulation designed to crush it, has given it the noblest effect; its stability, by a wonderful contrivance, has received an aërial completion; and, while it exhibits every idea of durability of which its materials are susceptible, it happily unites what is not always combined with this fundamental advantage, a light and airy contour; and its finishing [...]truly elegant. Great commendation is due to the meritorious artist. With much labour he hath since thrown a bridge over that difficult stream, commonly known by the name of Bloody Point Ferry; and he is now, we are told, employed in the Federal City, where, we doubt not, his talents and application will receive an adequate recompense.

Essex Merrimack bridge is useful and productive beyond the most sanguine expectations of the proprie­tors. It joins an enchantingly romantic little island to the main land: Its works are so wholly detached, as to wear the appearance of two bridges; and the convexity produced by the arches, is extremely beau­tiful. A commodious house of entertainment, con­taining dancing and dining halls, are frequently the scene of those pleasurable hours which the gentlemen and ladies of Newbury-Port devote to hilarity: it is distant from that respectable emporium only three miles, on a fine level tract, ornamented on either hand with trees of various growth, elegant seats, distant hills, and verdant plains. From the window of this convivial tenement, we have a view of a beautiful grove on the right, and the towering bridge on the left; and, I am inclined to think, our country produces few more [Page 291] captivating scenes than are to be found upon Merri­mack bridge, and its environs.

I have enjoyed some delightful hours in the course of my tour; I have brightened the chain of amity, and the heart of confidence is invigorated. My af­fections expand, they glance comprehensively on the universal family of man; and I feel that humanity, of whatever description, or wherever found, is inscribed by the finger of Deity, is in possession of the unalien­able rights of fraternity.

Warmed by the genial heat of a vernal day, the in­valid quits the solitude in which he hath been immur­ed; he inhales the salutary breeze, and he becomes invigorated by the parent beam. The resurrection of the year is also a solace to old age, and it is frequently regarded as a figure replete with consolation. "How fares you, Plato?" cried my friend, "I thought this fine season would bring you along; and I am glad to see you with all my heart."

Plato is a black man, born in Africa, who has num­bered, according to the most accurate calculation which can be obtained, one hundred years; and he was for sixty years of his life the confidential friend and faithful servant of his master. The good old gentleman, when dying, evinced his high sense of the merit of Plato, by bestowing on him his liberty, and bequeathing him a piece of land, spacious enough to afford him, and a woman whom he had wedded, an ample support. A neat built cottage was upon the ground, it was suitably and conveniently furnished, and the legacy comprized the necessary farming uten­sils.—"I am glad to see you with all my heart, Pla­to," said my friend—"Tanke, Sir, tanke," replied Pla­to, "I come one pring more; I do know if I eber come agen; but all winter, when e cold weder and e torms come one after anoder, I tink I go and see maser's friends soon eber e come pring. I got no new quaint­ance, maser's quaintance good enough for Plato; so I go e see dem, and den Plato e go home, make e old woman glad to hear e friends all well."

[Page 292] Happy advantage of years, which thus properly throws down those distinctions of which we were once so tena­cious: which gradually slopes the way to that equality, reserved for us in the silent tomb; and which may probably, in some degree, obtain, in the more perfect state of being on which we verge. Plato's spring was a kind of renewal of his youth; and the anticipated regency of the vernal months, helped to cheer and buoy up his spirits when the wintry blasts sounded fearfully in his ear.

A few weeks since, and the trees disrobed of their verdant foliage, bent beneath their icy burden; the vigour of the season arresting the progress of the ready boatman, imposed upon his industry its incontrovertible embargo. How strongly pointed is the captivating reverse—the jocund swain resumes his agricultural employ; he carols gratefully as he hastens over the dewy lawn; he turns the fertile glebe; he strews the promise giving seed; and the golden days of harvest rise to his imagination. The rosy milk maid passes cheerfully on; she joins the music of the groves, war­bling, as she trips along, the rustic lay. Aurora, with her purple fingers, hath opened the gates of morn; the heavens are fringed with gold; the sun-beams glitter over the azure vault, and the children of econ­omy resume their various employments. Again the boatmen ply their oars; the emancipated river invites their efforts; once more it becomes the path of com­merce, and a little forest floats upon the bosom of the silver stream.

I love the various excursion; and the different man­ners and customs, observable even in neighbouring towns, are to me sources of instruction as well as amusement. Perhaps, were I to characterize my countrymen from my own experience, I might orig­inate very erroneous ideas; yet the faithful recorder will register as he observes; and, impelled by truth, I have to say, that as far as hath come under my ob­servation, Columbia hath not neglected to acknowledge the claims of the stranger. Wherever I have wan­dered, [Page 293] hospitality hath hailed me welcome; and the grateful greetings of civility, when far distant from my native haunts, hath vibrated pleasantly on my ear. With a contemplative eye I have passed on, and the tracing of resemblances hath been one of my pleasures: many a dignified matron hath reminded me of my be­loved Mary; to the sympathizing fair one I have re­counted the story of her conjugal faith, and the loves of my Margaretta and her Hamilton hath arrested the attention and interested the feelings of the beau­teous female, who, unacquainted with their personal attractions, could only be influenced by a predilection for intrinsic worth.

But I give place to a lady whose tour of pleasure seems not to have corresponded either with her expec­tations or her merit, and whose remarks may serve as a proper supplement to this Essay.

A continuation of the favours of Miss B—is so­licited. We trust her next excursion will prove more propitious; and we think she would figure with singu­lar elegance as a panegyrist.

N^o. LXVI.

ALL the energies of benevolence, responsive sym­pathy, heavenly commiseration, a heart to con­ceive the most extensively munificent plans, a head to fashion, and perseverance to execute—All these I have seen contained in the compass of one little frame; and this frame, invaded by the despoiler, was constantly struggling to make head against the inroads of an in­satiate victor, whose despotic sway will continue, until the renovating morning, when He, whose government is universal, shall annihilate the power of a tyrant, who hath hitherto exulted to destroy.

Pleasant were his convivial hours; laughter rejoiced in his presence; but his mirth was unoffending, and all the sons of humour flocked to his standard. Ami­ably tender-hearted man! the stroke which severed thy beneficent spirit from the debilitated tenement it inhabited, gave death to the high-plumed hopes of all those, who, calculating on thy capacious benevolence, were in the habit of expecting from thee emancipation from every difficulty. Thou wert hailed as the friend of the destitute, who experienced, as surely as they made application, either thy bounty or thy extricating interference. While a single piece remained, thy purse continued open; and when thy immediate powers of aiding thy suffering brethren were exhausted, thy access to kindred benevolence, facilitated by thy un­common merit, furnished additional supplies; and such were thy resources, that the means of replenishing thy own funds were still at thy command. Often have I blest thy liberal purposes; and well did I know the goodness of that heart, which, alas! hath now ceased to beat!

[Page 298] It can hardly be necessary to name a man, whose general celebrity was so strongly marked. The sons of sorrow will not forget to revere his memory; the lisping tongues of the children of gratitude will still chant the praises of the philanthropist; and the un­bounded benevolence of a Joseph Russell may wake to extacy the yet unborn admirer of transcendent excel­lence. Doubtless, he was a branch of the Shandian family; "the milk of human kindness," with a never ebbing current, flowed in his veins; nor did any Le Fevre languish, within his knowledge, to whom he did not hasten to administer the oil and wine of consola­tion. I recollect an anecdote relative to this benevo­lent man, not perhaps generally known; and, as I conceive it will strikingly evince his affinity to the Shandian stock, I feel impelled to produce it. The circumstance adverted to, took place in his youth, when his pulse beat high for pleasure, and the hilarity of his disposition frequently presented him at the shrine of genuine humour.

A party of young men had determined to devote a morning to shooting. Russell, the soul of every enjoy­ment, was solicited to join in the predatory scheme; and, unskilled in the science of refusal, the tenderness of his disposition was for once sacrificed to his accom­modating temper. The evening preceding the ap­pointment was spent in preparation for the important enterprize; and, at the peep of day, accoutred cap-a-pie for the occasion, he joined his depredating comrades. They marched for a time in a compact line; but judg­ing that so formidable a body would spread the alarm through the little community, against whose rights they were plotting, they conceived some manoeuvring necessary; and, departing in separate directions, they prepared to ambush the little beings, who, alas! pos­sessed neither policy nor defence, sufficient to enshield either their own lives, o [...] that of their beloved nest­lings.

Russell placed himself in a cumbent posture on the velvet margin of a limpid stream, almost surrounded [Page 299] by the tall trees that towered on its banks; his piece, primed for execution, was by his side, and scarce a breeze interrupted the peaceful serenity of the scene. The sun was just rising above the horizon, and its ra­diant influence, darting through the foliage, spangled every dew-drop, and glittered over the azure bosom of the slowly winding rivulet. The birds, at length, flut­tering in the branches, began the progress of the day. A parent robin perched on an extreme bough, im­pending exactly over the head of our young adventurer, unconscious of the mischiefs that awaited him, incau­tiously kept his airy stand. The ambushed foe present­ed his piece, took aim, grasped the trigger, and was on the point of discharging his piece, when the un­wary warbler, apparently in the moment of his fate, poured forth from his little throat such a stream of melody, as was more than sufficient to arrest the pur­pose of a much greater adept in the science of bird-killing. The fascinating notes vibrated on the ear of Russell with swan-like efficacy; he dropt his piece, and again reclined perdue; he still listened; but his design was to [...]ear, and not to destroy. The robin was soon joined by numbers of the feathered choir, who, mingling their matin lays, continued melo­diously chanting; the ambient zephyr echoed the strains; every breath was in unison, and the music of nature floated around. It was a scene worthy of benev­olence, and the rapt soul of Russell acknowledged its congeniality. "Blest innocents!" he cried, ‘go, war­ble in the ear of the maternal bird, and glad, by your sweetest carols, the domestic nest; narrate, my little flutterers, how you have disarmed your enemy, and say, that against lives so unoffending, his hand shall never more be raised.’ The birds, as if obedient to his mandate, or, more strictly speaking, alarmed by the sound of his voice, spreading their party-coloured wings, instantly dispersed; and Russell, shouldering his firelock, triumphantly left the grove.

To the raillery consequent on the tenderness of his nature, he was fully equal. His party had, what they [Page 300] termed, a successful morning; and the feathered vic­tims they produced, evinced the deathful valour of their exploits. Russell, on that memorable day, feasted on vegetables, in all their maturity of excellence and rich variety; he consecrated the era sacred from the repast of blood; and the ripened strawberry, meliorated by refined sugar and a flowing bowl of cream, crowned his dessert; nor was he ever after known to attempt aught against the defenceless and tuneful inhabitants of the grove.

I have thought that Russell's robin was a fit com­panion for Uncle Toby's fly; and, that the annals of benevolence may no longer record the Shandian ebul­lition as a solitary instance, it is here inserted. I con­tend also, that the benign feelings which preserved the life of the robin, were original in the bosom of Rus­sell; for, at that period, his eye had never travelled over the heterogeneous pages of Tristram Shandy.

The action, however trivial, was indicative of the disposition of the man; and it may be viewed as a sin­gle thread of that web, the texture of which was equal and consistent. He was, in the most extensive sense, a philanthropist; the poet has perfectly delineated him. His sympathy and humane exertions primarily embrac­ed those whose alliance to his blood naturally demanded his aid; but the rays of his beneficence, diverging from a centre so virtuously infixed, extended their genial in­fluence to his fellow-citizens at large; and the human being existed not, whose claim to his regard he refused to acknowledge. Nay, his capacious mind, emanating from the Parent of the universe, encircled, by its over­flowing aspirations, every being of every description. He anticipated the extermination of evil; and he saw, in imagination, vice, and its concomitant, sorrow, ban­ished from the wide extensive circle of all intelligence. No wonder then that earth possessed, in his estimation, superior charms, and that, viewing it as the production of a supreme and beneficent Architect, it was dressed for him in smiles. When the severing angel caught from his embraces hose he best loved, he felt, it is [Page 301] true, a pang; but that pang was transient; and, wip­ing from his cheek the natural tear, his elevated spirit rejoiced in the assurance, that he also was in a state of progression, and that he should soon rejoin them in a new and improved state of being. Thus he passed on; and, while he blessed the bounties of Omnipotence, the virtues of heaven were imaged in his bosom. Spirit of Pope! immortal bard! forgive this appropriating paraphrase of thy rich and beautiful versification; a description of the philanthropist must invariably in­volve thy well selected ideas; and it suits with thy mu­nificence to bestow, from thy abundance, a portion of that thou canst so well spare.

Benevolence—philanthropy—The name and charac­ter of Mr. Joseph Russell has been considered as synoni­mous with these virtues. Should I attempt to particular­ize his deeds of worth, innumerable instances would crowd around. Thronging fellow-citizens, aided by counsel and by pecuniary gratuities—bankrupts reinstated—the little tenement and household goods of the widow redeemed from the merciless grasp of the unfeeling creditor—helpless orphans accommodated with pater­nal friends—public measures, tending to the general good, powerfully supported—strangers hospitably re­ceived, and taught to hail a second home.

What were the feelings of the amiable, the youthful La Fayette! How swelled the bosom, and how beat the pulse of his worthy preceptor, when, in the hum­ble guise of persecuted foreigners, their wandering footsteps first pressed the threshold of the benevolent Russell! first met, in that celebrated abode of genial hospitality, a reception so amply suited to their exigen­cies and their merits.

But vain in my recital. A virtue so uncommon, and marked by such a multitude of instances, dazzles by its refulgence; and, although many of his philan­thropic exertions, which should have been recorded by the living fingers of immortal fame, enveloped by in­gratitude, and clouded by a train of succeeding cir­cumstances, are nearly erased from the tablets of hu­manity; [Page 302] yet they are registered in the archives of heaven; from their imagined obscurity they shall again emerge; and, in the day of retribution, they shall blaze forth with additional splendor.

But hark! what plaintive sounds are those which vibrate on the ear? The voice of the pensive Elmira, borne on the stream of imagination, strikes suddenly on my memory; it breathes the sweet accents of grat­itude. Let us listen to its pathetic strains.

"Forbear, my friend," she exclaims, "Oh! forbear—close not the page of panegyric, until I pour thereon my tributary sorrow—until I recite a simple tale, and give a list of benefits, which demand of acknowledg­ment the boldest note that ever yet hath issued from lively gratitude. My days of prosperity were passed at a distance from the philanthropist; I had heard of him by the hearing of the ear, but my eyes had never seen him. My morn of life was happy; cherished in the bosom of parental tenderness, and blest with every requisite which my situation demanded, no rational wish remained ungratified. My wedded days succeed­ed; and my power of contributing to the felicity of my connexions, was rendered more various and pleas­ing. I dreamed not of portending evils, established, as I conceived, in life; I looked not for the bursting storm. Suddenly, however, it arose, and it deluged all those fair prospects which had blest my youth; surrounded by the waves of adversity, I was nearly overwhelmed by its billows. Writs of attachment; irritated creditors, and sheriffs' officers surrounded those doors that were barricaded with a frightful kind of vigilance. Abridged of liberty, that gem of incalcu­lable value, whose cheering influence gilds by its own genial rays, even the cottage of freedom, I steeped the hours in tears; and, at the shrine of comfortless calamity, both my health and my reason were alike im­molated. My name was unknown to the philanthropist, but my sufferings became its passport; and, unsolicited, the benevolent Russell had the goodness to plead my cause: Persuasion dwelt on his tongue; there was a [Page 303] kind of magic in his virtues which generally operated successfully. What mortal could achieve, he did; and, to mitigate those ills he could not cure, he bent his utmost efforts. Change of air, exercise, a long journey—these were proposed by medical gentlemen for the restoration of my prostrated health and spirits. I commenced my melancholy excursion; my unknown friend met me on my way: It was in the beautiful village of D—, that I first saw the philanthropist; he essayed to chase sorrow from my mind, and to rekindle in my bosom the pleasures of anticipation. His kind interference followed me to the end of this tour of necessity; and he mingled with the dearest of my friends to gratulate my return. Nor did his beneficent efforts cease here; he was indefatigably persevering in my favour, taking in my fate the deepest interest, aiding me with genuine delicacy, triumphing in every propitious event, and warding, as far as he might, every adverse cloud. His acts of goodness to me, were the coevals of his being, and the last day of his abode in mortality witnessed his benevolent at­tentions.

"Cruel was the stroke of death; it prostrated the hopes of the desolate; it precipitated from the summit of felicity to depths of sorrow the female whom he judged worthy of his confidence; it blasted the filial expectations of that incomparable young man, who, it is said, inherits with his father's name his uncommon virtues; and it clad in mourning the PUBLIC MIND. Benevolent Man! Matchless Citizen! and now, indeed, Divine Philanthropist! Let the tears that marked thy exit, proclaim thy value. But reflection arrests the tide of sorrow; it imposes silence on my lips, and I bow obedient to the behests of THE ALMIGHTY."

Poor Elmira!—yet we believe her gratitude hath not too far emblazoned; and we therefore constitute her sketch a true specimen of the benevolent and un­commonly useful life of the late uniformly philan­thropic and virtue honoured JOSEPH RUSSELL.

N^o. LXVII.

WITH the subject of my last number I was intimately acquainted; his virtues were daily under my observation, and I was familiar with his deeds of worth. But, to the Honorable Thomas Rus­sell, whose name I am ambitious of inserting in my list of worthies, I was personally unknown; yet, I have frequently listened with rapture to the authentic nar­rator of his meritorious deeds. The record of his life, is a record of splendid actions—of actions, which, gem­med by compassion, and its attendant sympathies, uniformly gave to his character the highest lustre. With admirable propriety has the energetic Divine [Page 305] adapted the sacred text; and a paraphrase thereon might be entitled, an admeasurement of the virtues and the usefulness of this universal benefactor.

"When the ear heard me, then it blessed me." Forlorn and disconsolate, the children of adversity were en­compassed about by sorrow; they looked, and there was no one to help, when suddenly the renovating voice of commiseration vibrated gratefully on the ear. Cheer up, ye sons and daughters of sorrow, behold the almoner of your God! Our common Father hath en­trusted me with a portion of his property, that I may distribute to the necessities of the destitute: Come, therefore, my friends, and permit me to bestow that, to which your claims are indubitable. "When the ear heard me, then it blessed me;" nor is this strange, since so few people know how to approach the children of penury, with that consideration which their circum­stances demand; no wonder that the voice of him who was exercised in acts of benevolence, should extort ap­plause, even from the perception of frigidity.

"When the eye saw me, it gave witness to me." Yea, verily, from the contemplation of benignity, we derive sensations truly pleasurable; we trace, with a kind of conscious pride, those actions which confer a dignity on humanity; and, if sickening envy is composed by the powerful opiates of self-interest, we give full scope to our admiration; our eyes are suffused by the tear of rapture; they delight to mark the philanthropist, and they follow, with ineffable complacency, so illustrious an ornament to humanity. "When the eye saw me, it gave witness to me"—the reason is obvious—"Because I delivered the poor that cried, and the fatherless, and him that had none to help him." Excellent motives of com­placency! indisputable testimonies of transcendent merit! he bent an ear to the lamentations of poverty—he presented the means of living, and thus cut asunder the bands of affliction—he protected the fatherless—he hailed, with the gentle soothings of paternal conso­lation, the bereaved orphan—he became the guide of his youth—he constituted the fund from which he [Page 306] drew an ample support—in one word, he was the pat­ron of his life.

"The blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon me." Do we not see the desolate stranger?—he has not where to lay his head—he is an exile from the place of his nativity—his natural connexions are no more—his spirit is broken by infirmities—the sorrows of his heart have invaded the seat of life—his brow is furrowed by those cares, which, alas! have proved ineffectual—his pallid cheeks are hollowed by the excavating hand of agonizing woe—his frame is emaciated—he trembles on the brink of the grave—"he is ready to perish." But Russell was the friend of the friendless—"of him that had none to help him." Hark! do we not hear the ben­edictions of gratitude?—they are wafted upon the per­fumed gale of fame—"he who was ready to perish" now swells high the notes of praise—existence assumes to him another aspect—hope is restored to his bosom—motives for attachment to life are suddenly multi­plied unto him—his wants are liberally supplied—and, upon the head of his munificent benefactor, his tongue invoketh blessings.

"And I caused the widow's heart to sing for joy!" Poor, desolate mourner! at the period which inhumed in the gloomy mansions of the grave, him in whom her soul delighted, her widowed spirit calculated on an unbrok­en succession of melancholy days; but the heart of the good man still beat compassionately. In the bosom of Russell dwelt the virtues of commiseration—pleasant is the voice of amity, its honied accents sounded grate­ful on her ear, and her heart once more "sings for joy." Yes, undoubtedly, the path of Russell was the path of rectitude; it was pointed by righteousness, and wisdom influenced his election; for admirable is the judgment of that philanthropist, who becomes "eyes to the blind, feet to the lame, and a father to the poor;" who investigat­eth the cause of [...]he oppressed; who "searcheth it out," and arrests the decision of iniquity; who procureth a righteous hearing, and becometh an advocate for the afflicted. Such actions are indeed "as a robe and a dia­dem;" [Page 307] they are productive of general benefit, and they are entitled to universal applause.

That Mr. Russell richly merited the eulogy of virtue, the unaffected sorrow with which all ranks of people re­garded his exit, fully evinceth. To repeat, that he well discharged the filial duties, and was the principal prop of a venerable parent, who still lives to mourn his depart­ure; to celebrate his attachment to the orphan children of a deceased brother; to dwell on his delicate and faith­ful affection to the amiable females who successively be­came the partners of his heart; to descant on his pater­nal goodness to those of whose existence he was the au­thor; or, to expatiate on his beneficent regards to the individuals who composed his household, would be but a superfluous attempt to distinguish and dignify propen­sities, which are the residents of almost every bosom; and, had Mr. Russell possessed only these common at­tachments of humanity, which are but a refined modifi­cation of self-love, he would have merited no tributary lay, and his panegyrists would have incurred the charge of adulation. But to the friend of the friendless, to the universal benefactor, the bard of integrity spon­taneously raiseth the song; and, although the ear of death is heavy, that it cannot hear, yet we pleasingly believe, that the immortal spirit sleepeth not; nor is it irrational to suppose, that it sometimes bends from its etherial elevation, listening with complacency to the effusions of gratitude, to the expressed commendations of those virtuous children of men, whose approbation it once delighted to merit.

To communicate benefits is truly godlike; and, in proportion as we are made instrumental in disseminat­ting happiness to our fellow-creatures, exactly in such proportion we imitate Him who went about doing good. The exercise of munificence is invariably re­garded with a glow of satisfaction; and perhaps this vestige of an illustrious and divine original, is never totally obliterated from the heaven-born mind. That Mr. Russell was eminently conspicuous for the number and value of his beneficent acts, the concurrent testimo­nies [Page 308] of those who best knew him unanimously pro­claim. Seldom have we known a character who hath so fully united the suffrages of all ranks in this partic­ular; and it is, we conceive, on this ground, that the splendor and eclat of his life is chiefly rested.

His integrity and punctuality as a merchant; his extensive commercial knowledge, with the vast advan­tages which accrued from his mercantile career, were but the appendages of sound policy, ingenuity, habit and application. The easy manners, the gracefully elevated deportment, the freedom of access, and gen­uine politeness, attributed to Mr. Russell, but designate the gentleman. Early introduced to, and making a respectable part of, the most genteel circles, it would have been rather surprising, if his deportment had not been that of a man thoroughly well bred. His wealth, and consequent importance, might possibly place him at the head of those societies, over which he presided with honour to himself, and advantage to them; and his opulence may be supposed to have been his passport to many other honorary distinctions. But it has been presumed, that affectionate sympathy and unreserved sincerity are not generally the necessary result of an inter­course with what is called high life; and for these pro­ductive virtues, we are inclined to give the deceased philanthropist full credit; they were unquestionably inherent in his bosom; and hence issued those fertiliz­ing streams, which made glad the sons and daughters of sorrow; hence originated that cheerful and equal disposition of mind, and that frankness of temper, which banished suspicion, and authorized the most un­equivocal confidence; and, to the same source we may likewise trace his unbounded hospitality, and that man­ly and grateful welcome, with which he ever greeted the footsteps of the stranger.

Religion diffused over the excellent qualities of his heart her meliorating influence; he reverenced her laws, and bent in humble acquiescence and filial obe­dience to her dictates. Her ministers possessed his re­spectful and distinguishing regards; he constantly lent [Page 309] them his countenance; he was particularly fond of patronizing men of merit in this line; and the hand­some benefaction which he bestowed on the fund ap­propriated to the relief of those among their widows, whose circumstances are embarrassed, is evincive of his attachment to, and consideration for, this venera­ble body. Here again we are brought round to a contemplation of that liberality, on which we have chosen principally to rear the superstructure of his fame. It is said that Mr. Russell annually appropri­ated twelve thousand dollars to private charities! What an ample relief must this sum, distributed by the hand of economy, have afforded to those indigent sufferers, who were the pensioners of his bounty! How do the virtues which give birth to such liberal arrangements command esteem! how do they endear the man, and exalt the citizen! And who but must painfully regret the exit of a personage, by whose departure such rich and copious streams are, alas! suddenly dried up? Who but must supplicate the Fountain of munificence, that they may again spring forth in the lives of his descendants? who, if they pursue the path marked out for them by their illustrious ancestors, will unquestion­ably insure to themselves the highest possible honours, the esteem, confidence and approbation of their fellow­men, the peace of their own bosoms, and the plaudit of their Creator.

But the munificence of Mr. Russell was not exclu­sively shared by those claimants, to whom his judgment apportioned occasional gratuities; nor was it wholly confined to the citizens of Columbia. Mankind in gen­eral, according to their necessities, seemed to be the object of his beneficence, while his diffusive and equal regards extended their genial influence to the far distant shore. Instances of his generosity are, questionless, echoed in many a clime; but a recent example, strikingly in point, may serve as a close to this sketch.

A respectable house in a celebrated European em­porium, (the capital of which was supposed immense) celebrated for punctuality and probity, suddenly stop­ped [Page 310] payment, and astonishment pervaded every de­scription of our merchants. This misfortune was not attributed to ill conduct, but rather to a succession of adverse accidents; and an arrangement was speedily produced, which enabled one of the firm to visit Ameri­ca, for the purpose of collecting outstanding debts. This gentleman arrived in the town of Boston, the metropolis of Massachusetts, (which place Mr. Russell then dignified by his presence) under the pressure of very unpleasant circumstances. Both the house and heart of the generously hospitable Russell were open for his reception. A travelling prince could scarcely have been received with higher marks of respectful atten­tion; and he found in the bosom of this worthy fami­ly, during his abode there, an elegantly pleasing asy­lum. But this was not enough—the kindness of the American merchant stopped not here. From the pe­riod which announced the failure of the European house, no commercial negociation had been entrusted to its firm. Under such a cloud the wary trader stood aloof; but the bosom of Mr. Russell possessed a sym­pathetic chord, which, as surely as his eye glanced on the children of adversity, uniformly vibrated to pity; he regarded the claims of misfortune as sacred; and he conceived, that the suffering individual imposed on him duties which were indispensable. Through the powerful aid and extensive influence of Mr. Russell, two ships, richly laden with West-India productions, and calculated, with their cargoes, to amount to not less than forty thousand pounds, were consigned to the pros­trate house! The emoluments arising from the sale of these valuable appropriations, let the arithmetician compute. What an advantageous re-commencement of business was thus furnished▪ and what a benign lustre is thereby thrown over the American name! But a further act of beneficence remains to be re­counted.

On the departure of the European, Mr. Russell, with that delicacy which is the appendage of munifi­cent actions, presented him with bills, for his separate [Page 311] and sole use, to the amount of five hundred pounds ster­ling; inclosing, also, like sums for similar purposes, to the unfortunate gentlemen with whom he stood con­nected!!! To throw the veil of silence over virtues thus splendid, would, we conceive, betray a phlegmatic or an envious mind; and the advantages resulting from eulogizing the meritorious dead, are too obvious to need enumeration.

The panegyrist of the everlastingly absent, if he lev­ies no tax on survivors, cannot be accused of interest­ed motives; he has but expressed his admiration of what he has conceived abstractedly good; he does not do homage to the creature, for he regards every vir­tue as emanating from Deity; and he is morally and religiously certain, that he risks nothing by prostrat­ing before the image of his Creator, wherever it may consist with the arrangements of Omnipotence to im­press it.

N^o. LXVIII.

THE experience of every day evinces that hu­manity is subject to error; those calculations that we fancy we have made with the greatest accuracy, frequently, by proving the reverse of truth, betray our total ignorance both of causes and effects. I have [Page 312] sometimes feasted, by anticipation, for many days, on the refined and genuine pleasures which I confidently believed would result from the collection of a select party of sentimentalists, who were, by appointment, to devote a few hours to the social enjoyments of conver­sation. My heart has beat high with expectation, and I have hasted with avidity to the place of rendezvous; but, in vain have I watched for the moment of senti­ment; in vain sighed for the richly enrobed thought, which I might bear as a trophy from a scene where I had calculated to partake the feast of reason; for, strange to tell, the gems of intellect were muffled in the thickest clouds—not a ray was elanced—and the company have separated without a single observation which could merit an inscription upon the tablets of memory!

But, if I have been necessitated to confess that expec­tations, originating in reason, have proved fallacious, my mortification has been amply balanced by oppor­tunities from which I have reaped a large supply of intellectual enjoyments, where I have looked for taste­less silence, or noisy mirth.

Considerations of interest, the duties of good neigh­bourhood, or motives of general civility, have fre­quently introduced me to parties, that, but for the obligations thus imposed, I should have avoided. Yet, in these resorts, a rich repast has awaited me! Nature, unadulterated, and replete with sterling worth, has stood confessed; silence, impressed by respectful at­tention, has hung on the lips of the hearers, and thus endowed with energy even the timid speaker. Inquiry has produced inquiry; a subject of conversation has obtained the general ear; individuals have alternately expressed their sentiments; rational conclusions have been deduced; and I have returned home, informed, complacent and happy.

"We are to have a pantomimical exhibition at the Thea­tre—will you go, Mr. Vigillius?" said an inquirer; No, Sir—I detest pantomimes. Speech was bestowed on man as a distinguishing mark of superiority; and [Page 313] it is, methinks, a strange depravity of taste, which, reject­ing this dignifying advantage, confineth the performer to dumb shew: Besides, I have an insuperable aversion to the degradation of the "human form divine." Man was made in the image of his Maker, and I regard the debasement of this image, as absolute profanity. The antic gestures which the pantomimical performer fre­quently assumes, in my opinion, do violence to every idea of propriety; and I pity the mind which is suffi­ciently vitiated to draw amusement from such fantas­tical sources.

"I will not dispute the correctness of your taste, Mr. Gleaner," returned the gentleman, "but the pantomime is to be preceded by Shakespear's Tempest, or Enchanted Island." What lover of the drama but feels his bosom glow at the mention of this immortal bard? I had read the Tempest, but I had never seen it on the stage; and a friend, whose judgment no votary of science hath ever yet impeached, had informed me its stage effect was wonderful.

Yes, I will go by all means; and, elated by the most sanguine expectations, in a front box I obtained a front seat. The curtain drew up; and the tempested ship—the billowy waves—the storm of thunder and lightning—the affrighted mariners—the crash of the [...]alling mast, all together, obtained their full effect; and I could scarcely have believed it in the power of fiction to have raised such a hurricane in my breast. But, from this moment, I experienced little else but disap­pointment and disgust. Some of the finest sentiments were so mangled and mutilated, that it became impos­sible to re-unite them, or to endow them with that divine energy, thus extinguished by their dissolution, which was breathed into them by the creative bard, when they first received the vital principle. Whole speeches were so mouthed and misrepresented, that we smiled were we should have wept; and were fretting with vexation, when the genuine wit of the inimitable author should have excited the most mirthful approba­tion! Yet the part of Prospero was well supported; he [Page 314] seemed apprized of the gravity of his character, and he seldom forgot his dignity. Ariel, also, the spirit Ariel, her sylph like movements would indeed have become an inhabitant of the blue expanse; she was exactly what we could have wished her, as near celestial as the habiliments of mortality would permit; not a soul but blest the winged vision, and not a hand but was raised to approbate her emancipating ascen­sion. Her "follow, follow, follow," still vibrates melo­diously on my ear; indeed, even the most phlegmatic must confess that Miss Harding is a very lovely and a very promising child. With respect to the other performers, they generally overtopped or undervalued their parts; and, although Dorinda and Miranda were very engaging women, yet they seemed to have little idea of that artless simplicity with which the education they were supposed to receive, should have invested them; and I suspect it will be some time before they will be qualified for an assumption of Shakespear's capital characters.

The play over, I was hurrying away, with the pain­ful reflection that I had lost an evening; but in the moment of my intended departure, I was arrested by the observation, that a serious pantomime was to be pre­sented. A serious pantomime! repeated I. I will stay then, and see of what stuff a serious pantomime is com­posed. La Forete Noire, or the Picture Discovered—this was the title of the piece; and, to my great aston­ishment, it possessed every feature of a well conceived and regular comedy. The plot was evident and strik­ingly worked up; it had its Protasis, its Epitasis, and its Catastasis; and these introduced a most happy ca­tastrophe. Whether the unities are strictly preserved, I cannot exactly determine; but if they are not, while Shakespear abounds with precedents of the utmost latitude in this respect▪ an inferior author will hardly become inconsolable for such defects. On the drawing up of the curtain, Madame G— was discovered at her toilette; from her work-bag she drew a parcel of letters, from which, selecting one, she seemed almost [Page 315] to devour the contents; and while she traced and re­traced the lines, we read, in her agitated countenance, the strongest emotions; Suddenly she arose, and now, with quick and perturbed steps, anon solemn and slow, she traversed the stage, evidently struggling to obtain that self-command, which may put her in possession of some degree of calmness—her efforts prove ineffectual, and she hastens to the wainscot, where, touching a secret spring, the pannel flies back, and exhibits a por­trait, to which she addresses the most impassioned aspi­rations. Every one readily concluded that the picture was the resemblance of a person whose image was unquestionably engraven on her heart, and whose letters she had been so fervidly perusing. On the ap­proach of footsteps she retouched the spring, and the friendly pannel again concealed the object to whom she had been breathing her tributary sighs. A figure, on whose brow the dignity of manhood sat enthroned, next approached; she hastened to meet him; and we hesitated not to pronounce him the original of the portrait, the writer of the letters, and the man of her affections. A tender interview having succeeded, the almost distracted fair one warned him of approaching danger; and, so irresistible, so heart affecting were her pleadings, that, yielding to her energetically enforced wishes, and tearing himself from her embraces, he reluctantly made his escape from the open casement to which she had conducted him. Our heroine then approached an apartment, and a particular signal produced from thence a beautiful boy, whom she em­braced with such animated transport, as induced us to pronounce, without hesitation, that she pressed him to a maternal bosom: After she had evinced, by a variety of animated gestures the inherent claim he possessed to her protection, she led him, all agitated and trem­bling, to her toilette, and, putting into his hands a letter, the perusal of which produces in the child the unequivocal expressions of surprise, affection and filial duty, she has once more recourse to her treasure behind the wainscot; she points it out to the little [Page 316] cherub, who, in a transport of duteous attachment, assays to grasp the respected figure, leaps on his feet, throws abroad his hands, clasps them in a petitioning attitude, as if soliciting a father's benediction; and, in short, demonstrates, beyond the power of language, every emotion which could be supposed to triumph in the affectionate bosom of innocence, on an unexpected discovery of the author of its being. Just at this junc­ture, a loud noise interrupted the sweet and amiable effusions of young attachment; the boy was hurried to his place of concealment, the picture veiled, and the lady prepared to meet the approaching storm; nor was she long held in suspense. Her father entered, and, ignorant of the marriage she had clandestinely procured, he was accompanied by a person, whom from his dress we conclude to be an ecclesiastic, whom he commands her to receive as her future husband. The authority of this father was marked by austere severity; he en­joined with unrelenting sternness, and it was evident that he would admit of no appeal. The lady entreat­ed, but her supplications were ineffectual; her tyran­nic father continued obdurate. It appears he is one of those grey beards, against whom Octavian, in the Mountaineers, is so justly exasperated; and of course he is peremptory and despotic, and his weeping daughter is left to receive the man in black as her intended lord and master. He, good soul, appears to possess a comfortable share of sang-froid, and a most ludicrous scene ensues, to which the lady puts an end by making her escape; when her would be lover sneaks off in a manner which may be termed mock heroic.

The secreted child then presents himself, who, peeping from his confinement, and finding no one to cross his path, is compelled, by a very natural curiosity, to retrace the lines which had given him such surprizing information; he seizes the work-bag, and, skipping with it to the front of the stage, places himself in a convenient attitude for examination; one letter is taken out, and another, and another, [Page 317] which, not proving the paper he wished, are careless­ly tossed about, until, with childish impetuosity, he grasps the whole parcel, and after throwing them promiscuously over the floor, relinquishing the pur­suit, he hastes to catch one more glance at the be­loved portrait, by which he had been so much cap­tivated. With skilful hand he touches the ready spring, the obedient pannel yields to his pressure, and he again exhibits those testimonies of a duteous heart which are so becoming, and in him so hazardous. But as the tremendous thunder and the lightning's glare, to him who had promised himself a serene sky, or as the roar of the hungry lion, to the traveller who dreamed of security, thus fearfully portentous sounded the tread of authority in the ear of the poor affrighted victim, who, all trembling and appalled, flew to his place of shelter, regardless of the letters that strewed the floor, and utterly forgetting to veil the treasured portrait. The old gentleman entered, and, starting with astonishment at the lettered floor, he happened to stumble upon the explanatory paper which the boy had overlooked; he reads, and a hur­ricane of the passions succeeds; all is revealed; the clandestine marriage, the child, his secret residence, the pannel—he raises his eyes, and the uncovered picture vouches the authenticity of every syllable! He traverses the stage, stamps, distorts his figure, and acts a part proper for the madman, which sur­prise and unrelenting cruelty had rendered him. With demonstrations of ungovernable rage, he makes his way to the sanctuary of innocence; and, rudely seizing the little sufferer, he seems about to sacrifice him to his vengeance; but the uproar producing the entrance of two ill-looking fellows, the beauteous boy, with expressions of savage barbarity, is commit­ted to them! In vain the little unfortunate kneels and supplicates; his pleadings avail him not; and the ap­pearance of his mother, while it heightens the agony of the scene, procures no relenting in the breast of the grandfather! She weeps, prostrates and implores; [Page 318] but had she assailed the rude winds, or the impen­etrable rock, her intercessions had been as effectual; driven to desperation, she seizes the lovely child, and once more presses him to her maternal bosom; by command of her savage parent, he is torn from her embraces, and forcibly hurried away by the ruffians to whom he is committed! while the distressed lady, fainting in the arms of her attendant, is borne off, and the scene is thus terminated.

We were next introduced to a dreary forest, where we met the little exile, for whom we were so deeply interested, with the two ruffians, who seem on the point of imbruing their hands in innocent blood!! By the most heart-affecting gestures, the little mourner discovers the agony of his soul; but mercy is denied him, and he trembles on the verge of eternity, when he is suddenly rescued by the captain of a banditti, who, putting those authorized assassins to flight, takes the boy under his protection. The robber's design to guard the child was unequivocally expressed, by his wrapping him in his enormous cloak; and when the succeeding scene presents the assembled banditti, pro­ducing their various booty, we are prepared to admire their chief, who uncovers the rescued innocent as the fruits of his expedition. The disgust expressed by the nefarious fraternity, is the consequent result of their depravity; and we cannot but tremble for the little wanderer, although apprized that his protector is at hand, when we find him on the point of being sacri­ficed to the turpitude of their feelings. His second rescue by the commander of these atrocious offenders—his subsequent pleadings for him whose hand was raised to take his life—the appeal of the chief to his subordinates—his striking comparison between the un­merited clemency of that infant, and their unmanly and groundless malice—with the extorted applause and reconciliation which ensued, were finely imagined, and a most wonderful piece of acting.

On the dispersion of the robbers, we are called to witness a struggle in the bosom of the little hero, be­tween [Page 319] his gratitude to his preserver and his filial af­fection. He wore on his breast the miniature of his mother; this picture captivated the robber, and he endeavoured to prevail on the boy to relinquish it. Agitated to an extreme, he entreats permission to re­tain it—any thing else he would part with—but that picture, clasping it to his heart, that picture must still remain with him. The robber offers him in exchange an elegant watch—this charms him—he seizes it with avidity, views it over and over, admires it much, claps it to his ear—and then, catching the picture, presses it to his lips, and, with a smile of self-complacency, de­livers up the watch. The robber, (I can hardly pre­vail on myself so frequently to bestow on him this de­testable epithet) charmed by the strength of his filial affection, and admiring so much firmness in a mind so young, made him a present of the watch, and led him off in triumph.

The eventful forest then presents the lady herself, surrounded by the banditti. Either a voluntary exile from her father's house, or driven thence by his savage cruelty, she had wandered forth, and, ere she was aware, her trembling steps had led her to those haunts of horror!! All the energies of commiseration are now roused to action. A female—in a thick forest—surrounded by the most hardened wretches—no eye to pity, and no hand to protect. The abandoned villains evidently meditate the worst of purposes—rudely they grasp her hands—they seem to confer on a division of their prize—and, like savage beasts of prey, they exult over their agonized victim. The distress of the lady is beyond description—her fine tresses hang in disor­dered ringlets on her well-formed shoulders—anguish riots in her pallid countenance—and succour, alas! is placed beyond all rational hope. At this moment, the captain of the banditti, accompanied by his little fa­vourite, makes his appearance—a transient gleam of joy illumes the grief-worn countenance of the lady—she snatches her child to her bosom—but alas! the chief, more enchanted by the original than the picture, [Page 320] immediately prefers his ferocious suit—he is rejected with spontaneous marks of detestation—a pointed po­niard seems to be the alternative, to which, presenting her defenceless bosom, she smiles beneath the expected stroke. The mode of attack was then changed; and, while her beloved child is held by two of the most hardened of the banditti, a sword is pointed at his breast, which, it appears, her continued refusal will pierce with the stroke of death! Is it possible to imag­ine a situation more shockingly interesting? Her feel­ings were wrought up to a degree of frenzy—despair nerved her efforts—and, with more than mortal cour­age, she flew, and, snatching the boy, fled with him from her pursuers! Again, however, she was over­taken; but in the struggle, the general attention being arrested by the lady, the boy escaped, and she is borne off by the banditti.

But the pantomime draws towards a close, and hope begins to dawn. We are presented with the hero of the piece; his figure is commanding, and his counte­nance unites the traits of those virtues, which go to the conformation of the gentleman and the soldier. His company is drawn up on the stage, and he is in the act of performing the manual exercise, when sud­denly a little cherub, agitated and trembling, rushes forward, and, kneeling at the feet of the military com­mander, supplicates his extricating hand; and, to make certain the assistance which he solicited, he presents the picture of his mother, then a suffering captive in the hands of the most abandoned of the human race. The picture was instantly recognized; and astonish­ment, paternal affection, joy, grief, love, detestation, pity, indignation, tender apprehension, and determined bravery, in one pathetically interesting and tumultu­ous contrast, were strikingly grouped. But no time was to be lost. Instantly, in a manner expressive of the hurricane in his breast, catching his son in his arms, and followed by his soldiers, he pursued his way to that recess of atrocious villany, to which his little guide directed. The consequences were precisely [Page 321] what might have been expected; the robbers were sur­prised in those haunts which they had believed secure; a skirmish ensued; fire-arms were employed; success declared on the side of rectitude; the banditti were completely defeated; and the victor, when in the mo­ment of plunging his sword into the bosom of their chief, finds his arm arrested by his heroic boy, who forcibly representing the obligations he was under to this generous delinquent, who had repeatedly rescued him from the stroke of death, induced his father to raise him from the despairing attitude he had assumed, and to extend unto him the hand of forgiveness.

The parent of the lady now enters. Sorrow had meliorated his breast, and he seeks his daughter in that forest whither he supposes she had wandered. Trans­ports unutterable grew in his soul at this rencountre; reconciliation and pardon dwelt on every feature and in every expressive gesture; and the piece concludes with an act of general amnesty, which possesses the power of conferring happiness upon every worthy individual.

I will not say that I have given an accurate sketch of La Forete Noire. I saw it only once—some months have since elapsed, and my memory may have been treacherous; but, during its presentation, I was inter­ested, alarmed and soothed, and the finest feelings of my heart were in exercise. From Shakespear's Tem­pest I expected much, but I had the mortification to witness its murder! Pantomimical mummery I abhor­ed—yet the pantomime proved a rich entertainment; and, felicitating myself on the various talents with which humanity is endowed, I was happy they could be thus called into action; and I rejoiced in that ac­commodating pliability which bestowed the power of embodying the feelings, even without the aid of lan­guage.

N^o. LXIX.

I COULD wish, methinks, that men of letters, and professors of the fine arts, would, by mutual con­sent, form themselves into one great and illustrious commonwealth, appointing their several officers, com­mittees of correspondence, and persons duly qualified to examine the claims of every candidate, who became desirous of a situation in their community; and I should, moreover, be solicitous that the republic, when organized, should be careful to impress on the minds of their delegates, the necessity of observing, in the in­vestigation of those pretensions which might come be­fore them, the strictest impartiality.

There are grades in the intellectual as well as the natural world; and he, who may fill one station with respectability, may be utterly inadequate to the duties of another. Yet, let not the mental energies be de­pressed; perseverance may do much; efforts gather strength by action, and emulation, lending wings to [Page 6] ambition, becomes an irresistible stimulus. The classic periods of a Belknap are not the production of every pen, nor is the energy of a Ramsay the growth of every mind; yet, the story of this new world, and the interesting events of the revolution, may become the exercise of humbler talents; and, garbed in simple language, may, for a certain class of readers, possess peculiar charms. From the lyre of Philenia issues the most captivating strains; correct, and highly polished, her deathless page may stand without a rival; but, shall the lowly muse, for this, resign those magic pow­ers, which give lustre to the eye of grief, and sweetly whisper the soothing joys of mild tranquillity? Forbid it, every rich, ennobling motive, which swells to emula­tion. No—rather let the trembling candidate, mark­ing Philenia as a star of guidance, call into action eve­ry glowing energy, each blest incitement, which may allure to eminence, and adventurously assay the radi­ant path, in which the lovely vision, with beamy ex­cellence, so splendidly succeeds.

Well directed ambition, is, perhaps, the master spring of every great achievement, and order should consti­tute the stamina of a literary republic. I would have every description of intellect exactly in its proper place; I contend, only, that the smallest spark of genius, so far from being quenched by cold neglect, or extinguish­ed by the chilling blasts of criticism, should be furnished with those incitements, which are calculated to blow it into a flame; and, was genuine fraternity the broad basis of the commonwealth, which I have imagined—was every individual closely united in the bonds of af­fection, a reciprocity of good offices would be studi­ously cultivated, a combination of efforts procured; and the archives of the corresponding secretary, being considered as the sacred repository of every ingenious plan, or literary attempt, the united abilities of the wide extensive republic, thus concentrated, would be­come a magazine of rich materials, from which the beautiful and august temple of arts and sciences would attain a degree of perfection hitherto unknown.

[Page 7] It has been a general complaint, especially among a particular class of men, that genius has never, except in the short luminous intervals of one or two brilliant epochs, been advanced to that elevation, to which its rare qualities gave it an indisputable claim; and yet, my memory, at this moment, furnishes me with in­stances, that render this hypothesis rather problematic­al. Pindar, we are told, continued, almost a complete century, one of the brightest luminaries in the literary hemisphere. Warriors of the first description, and statesmen of the most elevated rank, contended for his regards. His sacred poesy was acknowledged by eve­ry order of the people—it filled the temples of the gods; and his divine odes, songs, and paeans resound­ed through the Delphian aisles. The ministers of Apollo, erecting his statue, placed it among the most conspicuous ornaments of their temple; and the Py­thean voice audibly pronounced, that one half of those early fruit offerings, with which the pious Religionist, on each returning year, failed not to gratify the con­secrated attendants of the Delphian rites, should be regularly appropriated to him! Thus was the poet, while enrobed in mortality, invested, by the voluntary arrangements of gratitude, with a participation of di­vine honours! and, when he ascended to the celestial abodes, his remains were distinguished by every dem­onstration of the high estimation in which he was held. His fellow-citizens decreed, as a testimonial of their veneration, the monumental pile; artists combined their most arduous efforts, and the beauty of the ceno­taph which arose in the hippodrome, and which was consecrated to the memory of Pindar, continued to ex­tort the admiration of every observer, during six re­volving centuries. Nor was this all—his uncommon worth and singular abilities became the heritage of his descendants: In the days of Plutarch, the posterity of the bard received a portion of the sacred victim. The house which he had inhabited became a barrier to the vindictive progress of the enraged Spartans; and even the Macedonian chief did a kind of homage to this dwelling.

[Page 8] It is true, the fate of Homer may be opposed to the splendid fortunes of Pindar; but every thing relative to that prince of Grecian poesy seems to be envelop­ed by the thick folds of obscurity. I remember once to have read a life of Homer, wherein I was informed that he received the name Homer instead of Melesigenes, by which he was originally designated, in consequence of his blindness; and yet, the same writer afterwards asserts, not only that seven cities contended for the honour of his birth, but also, that there were seven dif­ferent Homers, who lived at distant periods of time, and whose abilities and fortunes were various. Query: Were these Homers all blind? Perhaps all that is cer­tain of the inspired author of the Iliad, is, that his mental powers were unrivalled; and that his fame, col­lecting added lustre from each revolving age, hath thus evinced its unquestionable right to immortality.

Apelles received for his picture of Alexander, grasp­ing a thunder-bolt, the full sum of four thousand pounds. He stood high in the favour of his sovereign, who seemed to conceive scarce any gratification too liberal for talents so conspicuous; even the beautiful Campaspe was not withheld, and Apelles continued, through life, to enjoy all those honours which his trans­cendent abilities richly merited. But antiquity fur­nishes many proofs of the respect which was, in the early ages, paid to mind, and the high estimation with which intellectual superiority was regarded; nor am I willing, hastily, to conclude that the moderns are wholly deficient in this particular.

The career of Addison was both honorary and lu­crative; and, from the fortunate moment which put a copy of his Latin verses into the hands of Dr. Lan­caster, he seems to be reaping all those marks of ap­plause which were due to his genius and his appli­cation. That noble patron of letters, Sir John So­mers, the Macenas of the court in which he lived, obtained for Addison, from his sovereign, a pension of £. 300 per annum, to discharge his travelling ex­penses, [Page 9] subsequent to which we find him the attendant of prince Eugene. He was rewarded for the celebrat­ed poem which he entitled the Campaign by Godol­phin—he accompanied lord Halifax to Andover—he was repeatedly secretary for the kingdom of Ireland—he was created one of the Lords Commissioners of trade—and lastly, he obtained the post of Secretary of State.

The literary fame of Pope was equal to the warm­est expectations that ever bard, even in the moment of poetic frenzy, could have indulged; and his pe­cuniary emoluments also invested him with a hand­some property. The subscriptions which he obtained for the translation of the Iliad amounted to £. 6000; and he received beside, from Linto [...] the bookseller, no less than £.1200. After a patronage so liberal, he purchased his celebrated recess at Twickenham, where he realized the luxury of filial tenderness, sen­timental retirement, the independence to which he was ardently attached, and that kind of friendship which is the rich growth of disinterested esteem. Yet the literary annals of the British page recounts the story of a writer, of no inconsiderable celebrity, who absolutely yielded up his existence for the want of that support so necessary to its endurance. But possi­bly, in this instance, economy and conduct might be wanting. Prudence is not always the appendage of genius; and the most liberal benefactions may prove insufficient, if discretion is not consulted in their ap­propriation. Later times have given us an example in the person of the unfortunate Savage; the efforts of his friends, to place him in any degree of inde­pendence, were rendered ineffectual by his irregular conduct. Occasional largesses but furnished the means of renewed imprudencies; and the pension he receiv­ed from Queen Caroline was annually squandered in a privacy, attended with circumstances of ambigu­ity, from a knowledge of which his sense of propri­ety impelled him to exclude his most intimate friends. But his justly celebrated biographer realized all the sweets of an easy competency, accompanied by the soothing reflection, that what he possessed was she [Page 10] well earned reward of natural endowments, and of acquirements which perhaps have not frequently been surpassed.

But whether the general suffrage of mankind hath preponderated in favour of genius, I do not presume to determine; my present object is only to establish a persuasion of the necessity of a union of plans, and a combination of efforts, in order to the procurement of any desirable end. It is with pain I have marked the operation of that rivalship among the children of science, which too often terminates in a rooted aversion from each other. The acrimony and confirmed hatred of competitors, in any profession, is as unjustifiable as it is injurious; and it is from a view of the alarming effects, too often consequent on a similarity of preten­sions, that I have taken the liberty to suggest the necessity of some general arrangements, which may open a line of communication, promote fraternity, and establish confidence and affection.

I am aware, that, agreeably to the decision of the Abbé Raynal, those are attentions which ought to be regarded as wholly foreign from the contemplations of an American. According to that writer, the rays of genius never have, nor ever will, shed their genial in­fluence on the benighted bosom of a native of this younger world; punished even beyond the fourth gen­eration for the crimes of their ancestors, they are doom­ed, by the pen of this philosopher, to experience an utter dereliction of all those rare abilities, which could give them a title to enroll their names in the annals of fame! But transcendently excellent as was the Abbé Raynal, he was however cloathed in the habiliments of mortality; and while thus invested, we are not to stamp his ideas with the seal of infallibility. America has given birth to philosophers, politicians, and war­riors of the first description; she numbers also a long list of celebrated proficients in the polite arts—West, Copeley, and Trumbull, natives of her soil, now take rank in the highest class of their profession, on the Al­bion, shore; and it is said their admired productions are [Page 11] referred to, as a proof of the flourishing state of painting in the island of Great-Britain! We are fearful to give this article of information all the colouring of which it is susceptible, lest we should be suspected of a design to invigorate that censurable and acrimonious kind of rivalship, we have professed a solicitude to suppress.

Apelles, when painters are the subject, will always be observed as a prominent figure; and the finished touches of his pencil were marked by the winged en­voys of fame. Yet did Apelles extend his regards to every competitor; he was conscious of that superiority with which nature had endowed him; and he ingen­uously confessed that he supposed himself without rival or imitator, in the gracefulness of his figures and atti­tudes; but, with that grandeur of soul which in­volves a detestation of all unnecessary prevarication, he acknowledged his inferiority in many other branch­es of his art. For the purpose of viewing and admir­ing the performances of his cotemporary, Protogenes, he travelled to Rhodes. The first rate talents of Pro­togenes would have blown up the passion of jealousy in a mind less liberal; but, disdaining to submit to an impulse so ignoble, he transfused into the breast of the artist the sentiments of laudable ambition. He drew him from his solitude, enhanced the value of his pic­tures, and, pointing out to the Rhodians his elevated abilities, he extorted from them that applause, which, while they were lavish of their commendations of a stranger, they had, until that period, denied to worth which was the growth of their own soil.

Addison and Pope appear to have been, in some sort, under the influence of a spirit of literary acrimo­ny: Envy, it is but too obvious, more than glanced on their minds; and the murky clouds of discord, dim­med, for a moment, the pure lustre of two of the brightest luminaries in a constellation, which will con­tinue to irradiate the latest ages. Of their disunion, posterity will judge; partizans will enlist upon either side; and it is left for the careful investigator of lit­erary annals, to decide who was the aggressor, or with [Page 12] whom the continuance of rancour remained. But the enthusiastic admirer of Addison, will blush, while con­templating the accusation lodged against the elegant moralist, whom he hath ever delighted to honour; he can scarcely believe him susceptible of duplicity, or that he could possibly, while descanting on a meritori­ous production,

If, however, the fact is incontestibly proved, and it is reduced to a certainty, that "Atticus is the man," ge­nius itself will drop a tear, and the lover of dignified humanity will lament that the infirmity of a mind so truly ennobled, had not been consigned to oblivion.

As this, our sixty-ninth number, may probably stand accused of incoherence, we take leave to state, in few words, a subject, the importance of which we have been labouring to impress. We would open to the votaries of genius, in every part of the habitable world, where they may be supposed to sojourn, a channel of communication; we wish to see candidates for fame associated in every possible view; we are desirous they should cultivate toward each other a spirit of lenity and of candour; we have been aiming to excite an emulation of good offices; and we ardently recommend an unremitted exercise of the habits of affection.

N^o. LXX.

N^o. LXXI.

N^o. LXXII.

N^o. LXXIII.