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maticks lead us to take no account of any thing that is not proved; while primitive truths, those which are seized by feeling and genius, are not susceptible of demonstration. The mathematicks, subjecting every thing to calculation, inspire too much reverence for force; and that sublime energy which accounts obstacles as nothing, and delights itself in sacrifices, does not easily harmoniz, with the mode of reasoning, which is developed by algebraick combinations.

It seems to me, then, that for the advantage of morality as well as that of the understand ing, the study of the mathematicks should be taken, in its course, as a part of complete instruction, but not to form the basis of education, and consequently, the determining principle of the character of the mind. De Staël.

SCRAP OF VIRGINIAN HISTORY. VIRGINIA, so named in honour of queen Elizabeth the virgin queen of England, was the oldest sister, among the American colonies; and she has never been scrupulous in claiming, from her younger sisters, the full amount of respect and homage that belongs to seniority. The first effective settlement of this " ancient dominion, was in the year 1609; thirteen years before the settlement of Plymouth, in NewEngland. The emigrants came over, not in pairs, as the creatures went into the ark, but without wives or females; and were mere adventurers in quest of wealth, who determined, as soon as their fortunes were made, to return to England. As this determination, carried into effect, might have been fatal to the colony, Sir Edward Sandys, in order to attach the colonists to the soil, and to prevent their return, advised the proprietors in England to send them over a cargo of young women, and to exchange these necessaries of life for tobacco. This prudent advice was followed, and accordingly, in the year 1620, ninety girls were sent to the Virginia planters at one time. A freight of sixty more was sent the next year. At first the value of a wife was estimated at one hundred and twenty pounds of tobacco; but as the sale of this precious commodity was rapid, the price soon rose to a hundred and fifty pounds.

It would seem that some of the planters were under the necessity of purchasing their wives on credit; and in order to prevent evasions of payment, which otherwise might probably have happened, especially if they found themselves cheated in the bargain, the general assembly enacted, that "the price of a wife should have the precedence of all other debts, in recovery and payment, because (say the assembly) of all kinds of merchandize, this was the most desirable."

IMPORTANT DISCOVERY.

By some recent experiments, made by Mr. Bertrand, it appears that charcoal possesses the power of counteracting the fatal effects of the nineral poisons of the animal body. He enumerates several experiments to prove this fact, the third of which was made on himself.

"At

half past seven in the morning," he states, "I swallowed, fasting, five grains of arsenick powder, in half a glass of strong mixture of charcoal; at a quarter before eight, I perceived a painful sensation of heat in the stomach, with great thirst. I then drank another glass of the mixture of charcoal. At half past nine, the oppressive pain ceased in the stomach, and was followed by an uneasy sensation in the viscera. Being very thirsty, I drank several cups of an infusion of orange flowers, and at 11, I was completely well. At noon, I dined as

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usual, without inconvenience, and could perceive no further derangement in the digestive functions," The same experiment was made with corrosive sublimate of mercury, with the same result. As we have hitherto been unacquainted with any article capable of rendering the mineral poisons inert, the communication of Mr. Bertrand of the result of his experiments is of vast importance.

We have thought this paragraph from a late London paper worth copying, for the discovery is interesting, and countenanced by the well known chymical effect of charcoal on metallick oxydes, in common experiments. It is not any noxious quality in the simple metal that renders the metallick oxydes deleterious; it is the chymical action of their oxygen on the animal fibre. From the very strong affinity between charcoal and oxygen, the former has long been used for restoring several oxydes to the metallick state. The oxygen, thus combined with charcoal, is more strongly attracted by it, than it was by the metal, and this renders it, when applied to the animal fibre, comparatively inert.

COMMUNICATION.

NEW MEDICAL WORK.

A PHYSICIAN of this town has recently completed

the translation of Brera's celebrated treatise on human worms. This work first made its appearance in Pavia, where the author lives.

After it became known in France, it was deemed worthy of a translation for the use of the French empire; this version has been well done in Paris by Bartoli and Calvet, doctors of medicine, etc. etc. with notes and additions, as it comes to us.

The book contains 400 pages small 8vo. and is divided into four parts.

The first gives the natural history of worms; The second explains their origin in the human system; and the numerous diseases they produce; and The third describes the different signs of worms, The last division of it treats of the several means and methods of curing verminous complaints.

The work is ornamented and enriched by five plates of exquisite workmanship, representing the principal worms, which inhabit our bodies, in their natural state, as enlarged by the microscope, and as variously dissected.

This treatise is greatly superior in point of size and importance to any thing, which has appeared on the subject in the English language. It is much needed in America, and will be given to the publick as soon as peace shall return, to dissipate our embarrassments and restore to us the use of our navigable waters.

POETRY.

SELECTED..

PARAPHRASE

Nov. 1814.

OF SOME LINES BY THE PERSIAN POET, SADI. AROUND the grave of her I still adore

Mark how the fragrant gale delights to play, Forsakes the spicy grove and rosy bower, To wave the grass that clothes this hallowed clay. Return a while, fond gale, on balmy wing,

And to the rosy bower my wishes bear; Say to each violet that marks the spring And every painted tulip blooming there....

"Ye flowers, like me, forsake the garden's soil,
In-one less rich, but sweeter far, to blow :

There shall no impious hand your beauties spoil,
Nor autumn's blast, nor chilling winter's snow.

Sweet pensive Jessamine, if e'er you chose

To deck an humble spot unknown to fame ; And thou of modest blush, fair virgin rose,

If kindred worth and charms thy notice claim

Oh! interweave your branches round yon tomb,
And with united sweets embalm the air,
For innocence, and truth, and beauty's bloom,
All that the poet lov'd is buried there.

THE FAIR PENITENT. FROM "THE POWER OF SOLITUDE," BY JUDGE STORY.

THE loveliest maid, whose native virtues flow Chaste as the airy web of printless snow, Whose modest beauty shines in radiant youth If chance betray'd by falsehood's syren wiles The spotless image of ingenuous truth, What time gay hope is trick'd in frolick smiles, In luckless moment yield her tender heart To passion's riot and the force of art; Vain are the charms which social life bestow, To yield a requiem to her wakeful woes ; Since the dread trance, which reason's power decoy'd. Her honour rifled and her fame destroyed, Since treacherous pride insults with bashful face The helpless victim of his foul disgrace.

Though stern remembrance, with relentless pow'r Renew the horrours of that fatal hour, When life's bright visions by pollution fled, And virtue sicken'd with the tears she shed; Though evening's tranquil scenes no more delight As when enrob'd in nature's careless white, With sportive step sle tripp'd the verdant heath, Or watch'd the sunbeam, as it blush'd in death; Yet shall meek SOLITUDE, with temperate ray, Gild the deep shade, and light the closing day; Lull the keen grief, her bleeding breast that tore, And hallow transports she can ne'er restore.

ARTHUR O'CONNOR'S DIPLOMA.
"UBIQUE gentium et terrarum,
From Edinburgh to Pandarum :
From those who have six months of day,
Ad caput usque Bone Spei;
And further yet, si forte tendat,
Ne ignorantiam quis pretendat,

We Doctors of St. Andrew's meeting,
To all and sundry do send greeting,
Ut omnes habeant compertum,
Per hanc presentium nostram chartam ;
Arthurum O'Connor vocatum,
Donaghadee, Irlandiæ natum,
Who studied stoutly at our college,
And gave good specimens of knowledge,
In multis artibus versatum

Nunc factum esse doctoratum."
Quoth Preses, strictum post examen,
Nunc esto doctor; we said, Amen.

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DEVOTED TO POLITICKS AND BELLES LETTRES.

VOL. I.

POLITICAL.

FOR THE BOSTON SPECTATOR.

ACCUMULATED debt, heavy taxes, loss of commerce and the calamities of war heve taught the American people that a bad administration is a great evil to a nation; but we suspect the full extent of the evil has never yet been realized nor generally contemplated. We believe thousands in the United States deprecated the war, simply on account of the distresses it would produce; and have therefore looked forward to the time, when the people should become tired of their sufferings and disposed to choose new rulers, who would give us peace, as to a period, which, excepting our poverty, would restore us to very much the same situation, we were in, when bad rulers first invaded our prosperity.

This was always a very serious misapprehension; and whenever peace may take place, we shall find that the administration of gevernment is not merely a business between our rulers and ourselves; but that their misconduct may involve us in calamities, the termination of which will depend no less on the will of a third party than our own. We shali find that a bad administration is a greater curse, or rather a more serious judgment, than we have hitherto imagined; and that it is not always in the power of a people to decide just how much penance they will undergo, for corruption and folly of the nation.

We sincerely believe that there are very few individuals in the United States, who do not anxiously desire peace, except the hot-bed plants of war, who live and flourish in such a state, while others perish. Yet are there not many who are disposed to say, that if the British should demand any thing which it would be unpleasant to concede, we had best unite to convince them, that though we, desire peace, we will make no sacrifices, to obtain it? If this war is unjust, and such we have ever maintained that it was, the principie we have just mentioned, plainly amounts to thisWe will select a set of ignorant or abandoned men as our rulers; they become the regularly constituted authorities of the country they represent, and act for the nation. They insult, provoke, attack and injure a foreign power. We are very willing and even desirous our publick servants should cease from their outrages, we are not disposed to aid or encourage them in their iniquitous quarrel: but, if the power they have assailed and injured demand any satisfaction; if it is not ready to pocket the insult, and the wrong, then forsooth we say, it shall, or we will fight-till when ? -till this independent power, having as perfect a right to its tranquillity and security as we have to our own, shall agree to endure our aggressions without daring to demand redress! To take such ground is assuredly to be as absurd as our rulers have been impolitick and criminal. We may fight till doomsday, in such a cause, and we shall not make it justifia ble; and unless our enemy be incapacitated to defend her rights and character, we can flatter onrselves with no hope of success.

It is a question whether our government have not so weakened and impoverished this

BOSTON, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 17, 1814.

country, by a series of the most ill-judged measures before they declared war, and by the grossest mismanagement since, that we are now absolutely unable to sustain a contest with Great Britain, were she ever so exorbitant in her demands; but we do not mean to say that the people ought yet to reconcile their minds to every sacrifice that might be required. Oppressed and exhausted as we are, we might yet perhaps make it cost Great Britain too much to be unjust, were it her incination. We only mean to say, that if she should decidedly insist on some degree of indemnification for the molestation she has experienced, we must judge of its equity; and if it appear no more than reasonable, we are bound by every dictate of justice to pay the forfeit, incurred by the aggression of our servants, whom by the constitution of our country, and our repeated suffrages, we have identified with the nation; and whose errors or crimes cannot be separated from our responsibility.

There is abundant proof that England would have gladly avoided a controversy with the United States; and that, if a conciliatory disposition on her part could have prevented hostilities, they would not have existed. She was however forced into a defensive war, which, besides its provoking character, has been attended by circumstances of irritation. She will wish, by the prosecution of the war to give us and the world evidence that she is not to be wantonly assailed with impunity-yet, considering the ever precarious state of Europe, the jealousies and rivalships to which she must ever be exposed, she must wish, that when a treaty of peace with the United States is established, it may be on such conditions, as may lay the foundation of a permanent friendship between the two nations. She could not expect this result, if she could, and were to, extort from us, concessions, which would materially affect our natural rights or future prosperity. We do not therefore believe that she will insist on any thing, as a sine qua non of peace, which the enlightened part of our citizens will consider Extravagant.

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The last despatches, as far as we can learn, produced a first impression directly the reverse of the former. Then the prevailing outcry was "these conditions will never swer however disagreeable or disastrous, we must unite in opposing such demands. There will be no peace at present" Now we find a strong expectation that our ministers will certainly make a treaty, and not a few believe it will speedily arrive. It is not that the last proposition is more agreeable to Massachusetts, than the former. It is incomparabiy British have almost wholly abandoned their worse; but it has been observed that the first ground, sine qua non and all-it is supposed they will do so again. They will undoubtedly modify, and perhaps admit a distinct substitute for their uti possidetis; they may possibly require nothing but the possession of what floating property they have taken though we see no reason yet to expect it. They had not before professed to have stated all the points they were authorized to discuss; now they have ; and we presne they will therefore be found more tenacious. As the

NO. LI.

cession of a large and valuable part of this state would forever be an eye sore to the people of New England, and a loss which this Commonwealth in particular could never contemplate without a wish for its restoration, for the reasons assigned above, we think the British government will commute their conquest for some boon, not so permanently and sensibly injurious to ourselves. Such a hope we consider rational; such a hope we flatter ourselves may be safely indulged.

But there are other reasons, which prevent our participating with the publick, in the seeming general calculation on a speedy rc

commodation. We must remember that should the British government so change or modify their propositions that every objection on our part would be removed, there is another chance of obstacles; one which our fellow citizens are singularly disposed to overlook. It is well known that our ministers are instructed to advance claims, as well as the English. Will they not probably be as exceptionable to Great Britain, as her's have been to our government? Will our ministers be as ready to yield and qualify as she has been ? Let it be recollected that Mr. Madison's instructions have been published but in partthat the British ministers had not been able to extort from our's, at the date of the last despatches, the principles or terms on which they were thorized to insist. This reserve looks to us like the harbinger of high demands; we have good reason to suppose they were so originally, and no grounds to imagine they were lowered, when Mr. Madison, on publishing the first despatches, found so many ready to pledge themselves and the whole fed-eral party to his war. It seems the President gave directions to wave, if expedient, the discussion of the doctrine of blockade; but on the other hand, to demand the restitution of the property condemned under the orders in council. Nothing is more clear than that, if that property is not claimed, it implies a complete recognition of the correctness of the Orders in Council. Though this would amount to no more than an acknowledgement of the right of retaliation, a right claimed by every belliger-ent, yet as it was the professed cause of the war, and our rulers are deeply committed on the subject, we cannot imagine they will readily own themselves either wrong or defeated, which must be the inference, if the English do not restore the property taken under their Orders. They will not disavow the principle,. nor restore the property.

This we presume will be one point of collision; the plan of a treaty, or provincial arti-cles, or conditions, which our ministers arenow bound in turn to offer, will present others. The privilege of objecting is not exclusively ours, though that seems to be the popular im-pression.

For ourselves therefore, considerfng the distance of the scene of negotiation, we believe we shall see Lord Hill in some

part of the Union, before we shall see a treaty of Peace. It is impossible that Mr. Madison should not foresee the consequences; but there is one trait in his character, as we have been informed by the representatives of both... his friends and his foes, which will drive.

blindly to the end of his career, though our | Union be convulsed to its centre-he is deaf to all counsel, and OBSTINATE TO A PROVERB; sink or swim, with probable success or certain ruin before him, it is the same; he bends not from his purposes.

HARTFORD CONVENTION.

THIS grand object is so far accomplished as that our delegates are now in session-the

loud calls of their fellow citizens will find them business.

If this ruinous war is not speedily closed, by the federal government, New England looks to them to save us from destruction-to give us peace.

And should Peace unexpectedly be the result of the negotiation at Ghent, the publick voice in this section of the country demands security against the repetition of past calamities in a word,the restoration of our sacrificed rights. Peace or no peace, we must be the abject slaves of a government, over which our united influence has no control, until the constitution is so changed that we may derive some advantage from representation. Experience has not only taught us, that our old system was defective in the theoretical security of our rights, but ruinous in its practical operation. It was the principal cause of the American Revolution, that we were subject to laws, which we had no share in forming. We are now the victims of laws, which we strenuously oppose. We are abused and

mocked with the name of self government, while our wishes and our dearest interests are the scoff and sport of insolent masters. Peace might give us a respite from our present intolerable sufferings; but it cannot give us security against oppression, in forms as destructive and more degrading than war. What, in the name of common sense, have we to prize in our nominal Independence? Why should we prefer our present political degradation to colonial dependence on England, France, or Turkey? England's worst assumptions were tender mercies, compared to the tyranny un. der which we now groan. Is this the boasted privilege of being the citizens of a free republick-to remonstrate, plead, and beg in vain? To be involved in a war which we execrate-arrested in those occupations by which we subsist-loaded with taxes, until the fruits of an age of industry and economy are wasting like the dew, and compelled to leave our children a legacy of poverty and embarrassments, to embitter their toil, and defeat their best exertions? If this is a desirable life, let us quietly go on-the course is plain before us. If our country embraces, in its extensive sections, interests which are absolutely irreconcileable, it is certainly not adapted for a common government, and the sooner each section provides a guardian for its own rights, the better. But if, as is the case, there is a mutual relation of advantages and benefits, a variety but no incompatibility of interests, let the wise and virtuous digest such improvements, as shall diffuse the blessings of self government, if it be not a solecism, through the nation, and not suffer the jealousy of one part to sacrifice the prosperity of another.

Our country is once more in a very interesting relation, as to its domestick, political Concerns. The exigencies of the moment are not trifling, nor are the duties of those to whom we look for relief, easy to be performed. But if it be within the scope of human sagacity to discover what measures can restore to us a government that shall impartially respect our rights, cherish our prosperity, and re-establish the harmony of this now distracted re

publick, we may confide in the exertions of
those who are now assembled to attempt this
great and laudable purpose. May Heaven
direct and bless their councils.

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[It is not our purpose to avail ourselves frequently in extracts from our publick journals; but we insert the following article, to shew that the state of New-England is well understood by intelligent gentlemen at the south; and that Mr. Madison has had ample warning of the sentiments his administration has produced among us, and of the measures to which his oppression is forcing us. Will he not listen ? Will he not believe?-Then he will soon find reflection and repentance too late.]

FROM THE GEORGETOWN] REPUBLICAN.

We are in daily expectation of hearing the result of the attack upon New-Orleans. Should the enemy succeed, and the negotiations at Ghent terminate, as we have not a doubt they will terminate, Louisiana will be wrested from us, and the war states of the west will then bleed at every pore.

It is our deliberate

injury had been effected; but we have heard nothing certain.

An article from Plattsburgh, dated the 4th inst. says the enemy have a force of several thousand troops near Chamblee, and are preparing sleighs, buffalo skins, &c. for a winter expedition. No particular object is mentioned.

A cartel arrived at New York last Tuesday from Halifax. She brought home Mr. Mitchill, Agent for American prisoners, his wife and family. He was ordered to leave that place at six days' notice and forbidden to enter

the town.

Mr. Jones, Secretary of the Navy, has resigned his office. No successor is yet appointed.

There is no choice of Representative to Congress in the sixth eastern district of this Commonwealth. Col. Conner, the democratick candidate has a plurality of 14 votes, but there are 50 scattering.

The HARTFORD CONVENTIO was to assemble last

Thursday. The full delegation from Massachusetts,
Connecticut and Rhode Island will be joined by
Messrs. West and Olcott from Cheshire and Grafton
counties in Newhampshire, and it is said by others

from Vermont.

CONGRESS. A National Bank bill has passed the Senate, and is now before the House.

The Conscript bill, which has passed the Senate, is now under debate in the House.

LITERARY AND MISCELLANEOUS.

FOR THE BOSTON SPECTATOR

opinion, that the congress of Vienna will
eventuate in a merry christmas, for the European
powers, and the little Island that has restored
to them their long lost liberties. The inevitable
consequence will be, a refusal to make peace
with Mr. Madison, unless he agrees to terms,
at which the spirit and honour of the American
people will revolt. A further inevitable con-
THE WRITER, No. XXXI.
sequence will be, that before the 4th of July
THE institution of the christian sabbath is
next, New-England will be enjoying all the
one of the very important, as well as one of
advantages of peace, while the Western and
Southern States will be left alone, under the the earliest evidences we have of the truth of
our holy religion; and the observation of it,
gallant and skillful chiefs, Madison and Munroe,
to fight the British, Spaniards, Indians and the best proof, in a family or nation, that they
blacks on the western frontier. These specu- revere their religion, and hold in pious vene-
lations may appear wild to "Hempen, Mo-ration its ordinances. Without entering into
hawk politicians" like the venerable and meek
Mr. Barnett, but a very little time will shew
what section of country and sect of politicians
are to be scourged for their sins. The poor
Creeks and Canadians will yet see a just
providence avenging all their wrongs and
cruel sufferings.

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GENERAL REGISTER.

BOSTON, SATURDAY, DEC. 17, 1814,

FOREIGN. By accounts from Jamaica, St. Bartholomews and New Providence it ap pears unquestionable, that Admiral Cochrane was assembling all the disposable force in the British West Indies, to join several thousands who had arrived there from the Chesapeake, in order to proceed against New Orleans. It is probable that before this time they have arrived at the place of their destination.

DOMESTICK. On the 7th of November, General Jackson, commanding an American army, about 4000 strong, entered the SPANISH city, Pensacola, the capital of West Florida ! The particulars have not yet arrived, but it is reported that the Spaniards, with whom we are not at war, or rather have not professed to be, made very little resistance. The National Intelligencer suggests that orders have been given, a few days since forbidding this expedition. This manœuvre seems to excite little interest now; but a measure so extraordinary will probably become a national concern of moment, hereafter.

con

Letters and papers from Virginia state that the British have ascended the river Rappahannock, above Tappahannock, landed a siderable force, and fired upon the town. Reports yesterday mentioned that considerable

the inquiry with respect to the physical propriety of alternate rest and labour, and the appropriate convenience of setting apart one day in seven for quiet and repose, I shall confine myself, in this dissertation, to the divine institution of the sabbath; and not only offer some reasons, why it ought to be seriously and religiously respected, but give some opinions which may, by some perhaps, be thought s!:perstitious or whimsical, relative to the evils which usually follow a violation of it.

In a religious observance of the first day of the week we recognize, and celebrate with devout gratitude, the resurrection of our blessed Saviour from the dead. And surely so interesting, so glorious and wonderful an event, should occupy our whole souls, and fill us with emotions too affecting and sublime to mix with earthly concerns. We read that. early in the morning, the first day of the week, they came to the sepulchre, and brought sweet spices. This affectionate offering of the first disciples to their beloved master was made even under the melancholy impression that he was slumbering in death; how much more ought we to repair, on each return of this auspicious morn, to adore his living and ascended majesty, and to worship in his temple, since we have the joyful assurance that, "where two or three are gathered together in his name, he will be there in the midst of them." What excuse can justify a neglect or violation of the sacred duties of this day? It is nevertheless most wickedly profaned; and neither respect to the laws of the land, a veneration for the example of our pious ancestors, nor a sense of duty and obligation to God, have sufficient restraints upon the pleasures of some men, or the worldly desires of others, to pre vent a profane encroachment upon the solem nity of the sabbath day. The streets and

roads resound with the rapid wheels of pleasure, or groan under the more sluggish but heavy loaded vehicles of servile labour; whilst those, who wish to devote the day to religion, are disturbed in the exercises of the temple by the various tumult of these impious and unlawful interruptions. It cannot be denied, and it may not be disguised, that a decay of religion, and a neglect of its duties and ordinances, are usually followed by a decay of prosperity, and a visitation of judgment upon the offending individual, family, or people. Let any one observe the progress of vice, and he will be convinced that the wicked do not prosper forever; nor the profane, the dissolute, the irreligious, the sabbath-breakers, escape without dishonour, without some infamy in this world, whatever may be their preparation to meet the awful judgment of another.

At the commencement of the great revolution in France, that unhappy country began the scene of atrocities which made strange murders and the massacre of multitudes frequent and familiar, by an unhallowed prostration of all their religious institutions. Can any one look back upon these events, and see the torrents of blood,which inundated this fairest portion of Europe, without beholding the judgments of heaven riding in this revolutionary whirlwind. It was the practice of these impious times, in all the great cities, to expose placards, posted at the corners of the streets, and in all publick places, with profane and ridiculous allusions to sacred history, and particularly scoffing at the divine institution of the sabbath. The sabbath was soon after totally abolished, and a new calendar formed, in which it was entirely omitted. But "this council and this work was of men"and has "come to nought," whilst the commands of God and the venerable practice of ages have been restored. In our country, the Lord's day has usually been respected. Our fathers observed it with the most religious attention, and it is but of late years that the violation of it has become indecently notorious. It is less respected, it is more profaned at the present day, than at any former period; let those who have seen both prosperous and evil days, judge of this matter, and let those who "observe the signs of the times" apply them. For my own part, I have always observed, and I am fully persuaded, that those families and individuals, who have practically and habitually disregarded the Lord's day, if they have not ended in misery, have eventually become unfortunate and disreputable.

INFIDUS was the son of a wealthy citizen, who was more careful to give him a genteel, than a religious education. He was taught something of the principles of christianity at school, but saw little of its practice, and heard none of its precepts seriously inculcated at home. Where religion is not impressed upon the tender mind of youth by parental endearments, nor urged by parental authority; where it is not nurtured by the example of those to whom the child is supposed to look with the most affectionate love and respect, it is no wonder if its traces should be faint, and easily worn out, or impaired. At college INFIDUS associated with the loosest of his classmates, and too readily adopted the mistaken notion that to ridicule religion was humour, and to speak of the most holy things with levity was wit. These carly practices of impiety, if they did not blot out all belief from his mind, at least so much obscured it,

the pursuit of pleasure, it is easy to suppose, that, without religious habits at home, a young man at his age would acquire none in the course of his travels. He spent a few years in Europe, and returned with increased desires for pleasure and dissipation, and more contempt for what he called the superstitious notions of his countrymen. He often boasted that he never was inside of a church during his tour, except to see its ornaments, nor passed a Sunday in any other way, than in worldly pleasure and amusement.

At the usual age for matrimonial connexions, INFIDUS was married; but as the virtues of piety and religion had no charms for him even in a female mind, he was indifferent in his choice of a wife, whether she was exemplary or not. If she was ever disposed to "keep the sabbath day," his desire and example very soon subdued her inclinations to his own humour, and they were always seen riding abroad on sunday, or performing some new piece of musick from a London publication at home. They usually had company on that day to dine with them, and when they were so fortunate as to have foreigners, or some of the more liberal minded of their own country for their guests, they would form a party in the evening at cards. In scenes like this, and with such domestick examples before them, INFIDUS brought up a family of five children. Is it not easy to divine some unhappy winding up of this drama? One of the daughters married an impostor, who had assumed the character of a gentleman, but who had been a footman in a great family in Europe, had robbed his master, and fled to this country with his booty. He was received into the house of INFIDUS for his genteel address, his knowledge of the world, and his contempt for, and the wit with which he could ridicule, all religious rites and restraints; and thus he ingratiated himsif with the young lady whom he ruined, deceived, and deserted. The sons were all profligate; although INFIDUS had been left with an ample patrimony, he was involved by their extrava- a gance, and finally ruined by being bound in some of their wild and unfortunate speculations. In no time of life was the character of INFIDUS held in estimation; no one ever thought of him for the guardian of youth or innocence; no one relied on his judgment or integrity as an umpire in their affairs. In the midst of his riches and prosperity, he might be courted and flattered, but he was not respected; and when his riches and prosperity were no more, he was despised and forsaken.

ON POETRY.

THE sentiments of poets are the sentiments of the human heart, embodied into words by superior sensibility and genius; poetical ideas are the pure feelings of the soul, of which every one is conscious, but which few can express; consequently every human being, endued with sensibility and feeling, must be highly interested in, and greatly influenced by poetry.

There can be little doubt, that, if the works of the best poets were more generally studied and comprehended than they now are, the human character would not be so degraded by that callous coldness of heart, nor polluted by that vile vulgarity of vice, which, now, so often obtrude themselves upon our sight, in all the loathsomeness of their deformity because the sentiments to be found in those books, if they are felt and understood, raise the mind to such a state of pure and of pleasurable excitement, he had any faith in religion or not. After in that it cannot, possibly, while under their ishing his studies at the University, IN Desinfluence, descend to the contaminating dewent abroad. Thus cast out upon the world in gradation of grovelling and sensual iniquity,

that he never reasoned with himself whether

or to the despicable meanness of pitiful chicanery and fraud. Let any one observe the movements of his heart, while he feels the thrill of sublime delight,or of pathetick emotion, excited by some of the strains of Burns, of Beattie, of Thomson, of Milton, or of Young, and he will find, that they are all tuned to benevolence, to affection, to gratitude, to love, and to adoration of HIM, who rideth upon the wings of the wind; and that no base, selfish, or unworthy sensation can find its way into a mind occupied by such noble and exalted views.

He who acquires an early habit of delighting in and of studying the best ports, will never know that fatal hour when his heart-chords shall cease to vibrate to the sweet impulses of benevolence and of kindness. The sentiments of the poets are the most exalted and the most dignified sentiments of humanity, arrayed in, the splendid garb of language the most forcible and impressive; whence all the emotions, which melt the glowing heart, or chain the soul in speechless pleasure, or dart rapture through each thrilling nerve, or raise the sigh of sorrow, and bedew the cheek with pity's tear at the prayer of want, and the plaint of woe, or lift up the mind to all the elevated feelings, which adorn and ennoble man, which render him a blessing to his fellow-men, and a zealous, faithful servant to his God, are called forth and roused into action, by the strains of our bards of higher faine.

"Then hail, ye mighty masters of the lay, Nature's true sons, the friends of man and truth! Whose song, sublimely bold, serenely gay,

Amus'd my childhood, and inform'd my youth. O, let your spirit still my bosom soothe, Inspire my dreams, and my wild wanderings guide! Your voice each rugged path of life can smoothe, For, well I know, wherever ye reside, There harmony, and peace, and innocence abide."

ADVANTAGES OF METAPHYSICAL STUDIES.

MANY persons there are, who have conceived

prejudice against metaphysical science, because they erroneously imagine that it indisposes the mind towards other pursuits more agreeable to popular taste. The examples of several celebrated men contradict this opinion from the time when

Omnis Aristippum decuit color et status, et res, to the last century, when the taste and knowledge of Berkley surprised the artists of Italy; the accomplishments of the young Helvetius were admired in the circles of Paris; and the grave and the gay, the sage and the youth, could take delight in the conversation of subtle Hume. I am the person whom you wish to see, said Plato to his foreign guests, who desired their agreeable host to introduce them to his grave namesake the philosopher. Why should it be imagined, that the mind grows severe as it becomes enlightened, or that the knowledge of man unfits us for the society of mankind ?

One is, indeed, surprised at the strange notions which men, who are quite ignorant of its nature, have formed of this branch of philosophy. There are some who seriously believe that this science serves only to darken and bewilder the understanding; while others suppose that it consists in the babbling of a pedantick jargon which constituted the barbarous language of the scholastick learning. If a per-, plexed reasoner puzzle himselfand his audience, we are almost always sure to hear his metaphysical subtlety reproved or lamented; and he, upon his part, seldom fails to ascribe the confusion of his ideas to the obscure nature of ali speculative doctrines. If a pert rhetorician becomes entangled in his own sophistries, he

is ever ready to accuse himself of having too much of the very logick which he wants. There is not a mere tyro in literature, who has blundered round the meaning of a chapter in Plato, but is content to mistake himself for a philosopher. A sciolist cannot set up for an atheist, without first hailing himself a metaphysician; while an ignorant dogmatist no sooner finds himself embarrassed with a doubt, than he seeks to avenge his offended vanity, by representing all metaphysical inquiries as idle or mischievous. Thus the noblest of the sciences is mistaken and vilified by the folly of some, and by the prejudices of others; by the impertinent vanity of a few, who could never understand it; and by the unjustifiable censures of many, who have never given it a fair and candid examination. He, however, who has been accustomed to meditate the principles of things, the springs of action, the foundations of political government, the sources of moral law, the nature of the passions, the influence of habit and association, the formation of character and temper, the faculties of the soul, and the philosophy of mind, will not be persuaded that these subjects have been unworthy of his patient attention, because presumptuous writers have abused the liberty of investigation, or because dull ones have found it unavailing. He knows that metaphysicks do not exclude other learning; that, on the contrary, they blend themselves with all the sciences. He feels, the love of truth grow strong with the search of it; he confesses the very bounded powers of the human understanding, while he contemplates the immensity of nature, and the majesty of God; but he thinks that his researches may contribute to enlarge and correct his own notions; that they may teach him how to reason with precision; and may instruct him in the knowledge of himself. His time, he believes, is seldom employed to greater advantage, than when he considers what may be the nature of his intellectual being, examines the extent of his moral duties, investigates the sources of happiness, and demonstrates the means by which it may be more generally diffused.

It is nothing to him, that his tone and his language are ill imitated by the sophist; that he is considered as a useless member of society by the heavy, plodding man of business; or that he is exposed to the impotent ridicule of the gaudy coxcomb, by whom he can never be approved, because he can never be understood. What is it to him, though his name be unknown among the monopolizers,the schemers, and the projectors, that throng the crowded capital of a mercantile nation? What is it to him, though his talents be undervalued by the votaries and the victims of dissipation, folly, and fashion? What is it to him, though grandeur should have withdrawn its protection from genius; though ambition should be satisfied with power alone; and though power should only exert its efforts to preserve itself? These things may not affect him: they may neither interrupt the course of his studies, nor disturb the serenity of his mind. But what must be his feelings, if he should find, that philosophy is persecuted, where science is professed to be taught? Are there not some, who seem de.. sirous of excluding it from the plan of publick education? The advantages which are to be derived from classical knowledge are understood in one place; and a profound acquaintance with mathematicks is highly estimated in another; while the study of the human mind, which is the study of human nature, and that examination of principles which is so necessary to the scrutiny of truth, are either discouraged as dangerous, or neglected as

useless.

well

POETRY.

[We think with Mr. MONTGOMERY, the author of "The World before the Flood," that he selected an "unpromising subject," and the title has probably deterred many a reader from perusing his poem, who would have been highly delighted, at least with many passages, as truly beautiful, and strongly marked with the genuine spirit of poetick fancy. We think the following EXTRACTS sufficient to justify our recommendation.]

MORNING STAR.

'Twas then, o'er eastern mountains seen afar, With golden splendour, rose the morning star, As if an angel-centinel of night,

"Tis his, the mystick meeting to rehearse,
To utter oracles in glowing verse,
Heroick themes from age to age prolong,
And make the Dead in nature live in song.
Though graven rocks the warrior's deeds proclaim,
And mountains hew'd to statues, wear his name ;
Though shrined in adamant, his relicks lie
Beneath a pyramid, that scales the
All that the hand hath fashion'd shall decay;
All, that the eye admires, shall pass away;
The mouldering rocks, the hero's hope shall fail,
Earthquakes shall heave the mountains to the vale
The shrine of adamant betray its trust,
And the proud pyramid resolve to dust;
The lyre alone immortal fame secures

For Song alone through nature's change endures;

From earth to heaven had wing'd his home ward flight; Transfused like life, from breast to breast it glows,
Glorious at first, but lessening by the way,
And lost insensibly in higher day.

PARTING OF LOVERS.

ONE lovely eve, when in that calm retreat They met, as they were often wont to meet, And parted not as they were wont to part With gay regret, but heaviness of heart; Though Javan named for his return the night, When the new moon had roll'd to full orb'd light. She stood, and gaz'd thro' trees that forced their way, Oft as from steep to steep, with fond delay, Lessening at every view, he turn'd his head, Hail'd her with weaker voice, then forward sped. From that sad hour, she saw his face no more

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-SLOWLY recovering strength, he gazed around In wistful silence, eyed those walls decay'd, Between whose chinks the lively lizard play'd ; The moss-clad timbers, loose and laps'd awry,

Threatening erelong in wider wreck to lie;

The fractur'd roof, thro' which the sun-beams shone,
With rank unflowering verdure overgrown ;
The prostrate fragments of the wicker door,
And reptile traces on the damp green floor.
This mournful spectacle while Javan view'd
Life's earliest scenes and trials were renew'd;
O'er his dark mind, the light of years gone by
Gleam'd like the meteors of the northern sky.
He mov'd his lips, but strove in vain to speak,
A few slow tears stray'd down his cold wan cheek,
Till from his breast a sigh convulsive sprung,
And "O my mother!" trembled from his tongue.

MINSTRELSY.

THERE is a living spirit in the lyre,

A breath of musick and a soul of fire ;
It speaks a language to the world unknown;
It speaks that language to the bard alone;
While warbled symphonies entrance his ears,
That spirit's voice in every tone he hears;

From sire to son by sure succession flows, Speeds its unceasing flight from clime to clime Outstripping death, upon the wings of Time.

WINTER.

TATTERFALL'S TRANSLATION OF MR. WILLIAM THOMP SON'S ODE BRUMALIS.

ALAS! no longer now appear

The softer seasons of the year,

Of sports and loves what Muse now sings?
Away my lyre-boy, break the strings.

Old joyless Winter, who disdains
Your sprightly, flow'ry, Attick strains,
Wrapt into sable, calls for airs,
Rough, gloomy, as the rug he wears.

Pleasure, forever on the wing,
Wild, wanton, restless, fluttering thing,
Airy, springs by, with sudden speed,
Swifter than Maro's flying steed.

Ah! where is hid the sylvan scene,
The leafy shade, the vernal green ?
In Flora's meads the sweets that grew,
Colours which nature's pencil drew,
Chaplets, the breast of Pope might wear,
Worthy to bloom around Ianthe's hair?

Gay-mantled Spring away is flown,
The silver-tressed Summer's gone,
And golden Autumn; nought remains
But Winter with his iron chains.

The feather-footed hours that fly,
Say "Human life thus passes by";

What shall the wise, the prudent? they
Will seize the bounty of to-day,

And prostrate, to the Gods their grateful homage pay

The man, whom Isis' stream inspires,
Whom Pallas owns and Phoebus fires.
Whom Suada, smiling Goddess, deigns
To guide in sweet Hyblæan plains,
He Winter's storms undaunted still sustains.

Black, louring skies ne'er hurt the breast
By white-robed Innocence possessed,
Roar as ye list ye winds-begin-
Virtue proclaims fair Peace within;
Etherial power! 'tis you that bring
The balmy Zephyrs, and restore the Spring.

PRINTED AND PUBLISHED FOR
JOHN PARK,

BY MUNROE, FRANCIS AND PARKER,

NO. 4 CORNHILL.

Price three dollars per annum, half in advance.
New subscribers may be supplied with preceding numbers.

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