well as poor, are equally subject to these his arrogance. It is not coarse flattery, nor fine- Vanity is the feeblest of all follies, and cannot for a moment support itself, without leaning upon others. It depends for its gratification on the courtesy of friends, the caprice of acquaintances, the ignorance of fools, the cunning of knaves, and the servility of hirelings. The admiration it delights in is as frequently excited by a tight boot, or a coat fashionably cut, a smart bonnet, or a fine piece of muslin, as by the personal attractions and accomplishments of the wearer; affectation is almost as frequently admired as grace, pertness as wit, and the smile of conceit and self-complacency as that of affability and kindness: yet the hunger of vanity for empty or undeserved praise is insatiable, nor will it be refused from the vilest hands; and, when the present supply fails, no slave can drudge harder, or swindler stoop to meaner artifices, to obtain more. This passion, when encouraged, swallows up every other, banishes modesty, renders feeling callous, and debases the understanding; and its possessor ultimately becomes the object of general contempt, but very seldom of pity. The good of the envious man is the evil of others; and their prosperity is his affliction. If there is one in a thousand more favoured by fortune, or more advantageously situated than himself, and all the rest less so, instead of deriving satisfaction from the comparison of his state with theirs, he will pine with discontent, and let his heart corrode with unremitting anxiety, because that one may be thought in any degree superior to himself. As his pleasure so constantly depends upon the pain of others, one might suppose there is misery enough in the world to make him happy; but, because some few are happy, he cannot choose but be miserable. None are less independent than the covetous. The increase of possessions increases the desire; every succeeding gain brings less satisfaction than the former; and contentment might as easily become the companion of poverty, as of Covetousness. But the most disgraceful of all dependence is in that deplorable state, when the mind stoops to the body; when to wallow in the stye of sensual pleasure is the chief good to be desired, and to accomplish which is the sole exercise of the intellect; this is the Circean beverage that transforms the rational being into the brute. A man totally given up to sensual indulgence, let him be ever so rich or powerful, let his situation be ever so high, and his family ever so respectable, yet in the scale of existence he cannot rank above the hog, nor are his faculties more respectable, or his views more elevated. When we compare the various and sublime enjoyments which are open to those whose minds predominate, with the paucity and meanness of the voluptuary's pleasures, we cannot help mingling some pity with our contempt for the wretch, who is so grossly mistaken, and whose degradation is so complete. It is evident, therefore, that to be independent, we must be divested of pride, vanity, envy, covetousness, and sensuality; that the rich, as as to be in absolute want of the necessaries of ROMANTICK LOVÉ DITTY. O DAUGHTER of the great Ching Chum, The swans their downy plumage lave Six moons have travell'd through the skies, Oh when I clasp thee to my breast! To NIC-LA-DES-POG. TO CHEERFULNESS. By glooms of wayward fancy driv❜n; Bear to thy shrine an homage true ; And musing thoughts will sadness bring. Nor ever hear his rustling wing? Et je n'aime à te voir qu'en de plus doux instans, Avec l'air de l'automne, ou les traits du printemps. Que tes nuits ont de charme, et quelle fraicheur pure Et le sein des vallons, et le front des coteaux; SUMMER DAWN. SWEET is the dubious bound SONNET GRAHAME On a Falling Group in the Last Judgment of A circling weight that crushes into nought DEVOTED TO POLITICKS AND BELLES LETTRES. VOL. I. POLITICAL. FOR THE BOSTON SPECTATOR. BOSTON, SATURDAY, MAY 21, 1814. now that Providence has smiled on a suffering world, we alone are left with the mark of the beast upon our front, probably, before this day, THE United States have been dragged into without a nation in the world, which we can justly call our friend. This is the glorious eftheir present miserable situation by such meafect of that revolution in American politicks, sures of progressive folly, we cannot easily realize what a curse we have experienced in which took place in 1800: this is the consethe past fourteen years of democratick quence of that revolution, by which American Some facts, however, readily present them-politicks ceased to exist; that treachery which made every view or feeling, not subserselves; enough to make us heartily execrate the profligacy of those demagogues, who, to vient to the ambition of France, to be considanswer their own selfish views, have spared ered as hostile to the United States. no effort to make the country poor, weak, and contemptible. sway. With an audacity, which knows no blush, we now find our leading ministerial papers whining about the deplorable state, as they pretend to consider it, in which we are left, at war with powerful, triumphant Britain. Let us look back to the prosperous circum nant. NO. XXI. early go down amid the darkling clouds of adverse fortune. A contemplation of this mighty change, forcibly suggests the impassioned exclamations of the inspired prophet : "Is this the man that made the earth to remble that did shake the kingdoms ! "That made the world as a wilderness; and destroyed the cities thereof; that opened not the house of his prisoners." PARIS, the metropolis of France, the queen of cities, from whose confines myriads have issued for the subjugation of Europe, is now in the possession of her enemies, shorn of her strength, though in full possession of her beauty.-We ardently hope, and confidently believe, that, notwithstanding the provocations. which the Anies have received, this captive city will be treated with that lenity which fallen greatness deserves, and magnanimous conquerors ever extend.. We hope and we believe that her palaces and her towers, her temples and her academies, her splendid domicils and humble cottages will neither be profaned, defaced, or destroyed. PARIS presents an object of peculiar interest-enriched with the spoils of time, decorated with the relicks. of classick antiquity and the productions of modern art, the seat of science and the Muses, the abode of luxurious refinement and profligate dissipation. I do not offer these remarks with a wish to excite unnecessary alarm. Though our government has conducted basely to most of effect the destruction of Great Britain, and to the nations of Europe, offering its feeble aid, to rivet the fetters of a despot, on others, which had fallen, though our loss in wealth and had fallen, though our loss in wealth and prosperity is irretrievable, we need not fear stances, under which Mr. Jefferson took the that vengeance, which would be the dictate of reins of government. Let the excellent treaindividual feeling, in case of a wrong so maligty, which Mr. Jay made with England, be reOur government must be disgracedexamined. Let the flourishing state of our that cannot be avoided; and I know not what commerce, during the operation of that treaty, real friend to our country can feel other than be recollected. Let us remember, how wealth an indignant satisfaction at the event. But the then flowed into the country from every quarwhole world knows how bitterly we as a peoter. I cannot pretend to state the millions of ple have paid for our acquiescence in the dollars in property, which were annually add- wickedness of our rulers. Our standing, uned to our national capital. Great-Britain der such an administration as has involved us would cheerfully have renewed that treaty, and in our present predicament, is not of a characcultivated a friendly understanding with us to ter, to excite rage. Our government will The calamities she must now experience. this day. Why has it been otherwise? If we have to retrace their steps, as to the new prin- may chaster the corrupt morals, reform the are now at her mercy, as some of our lately ciples they have assumed, and we shall then lax principles, and discipline the sanguine. vapouring politicians affect to regret, whose probably be left w make our way again into temper of gar inhabitants. They may teach is the fault? Be it forever recollected, that the world as we can-with a monstrous debt her that the career of vice is seldom ultimateMr. Jefferson would not authorize Mr. King -monstrous taxes-scarcely any commercially successful, and that the sturdy, unostentato perpetuate Mr. Jay's treaty, nor to nego-marine, and our former consequence in supplytiate another. With a coldness, which fore- ing the wants of other nations, gone. boded his future policy, he at once began to estrange the two nations--first by reserve, then by sending a minister to treat, perhaps of all men in the United States the individual who had made himself the most obnoxious to that government, by his insidious and hostile conduct, while in France. When this man, however, ungracious as he must have been, effected a treaty, agreeable to his instructions, (for he was never censured as exceeding them) it was sent back, without being ever submitted to the Senate. Need I recapitulate the immense sums of money, with which our government furnished France, to aid her in her career of ambition and tyranny-the evasions which were practised to elude an accommodation, so perseveringly sought by Great-Britain-the insult attending Erskine's arrangement-the still grasser insult of dismissing Mr. Jackson, under a pretence impudently false? Need I give a history of every leading measure of administration, dictated either by Mr. Jefferson or Mr. Madison, to show that our being at present in a situation so deplorably different, from what it might have been, is wholly owing to the depravity of our democratick rulers, and to this alone? Nowe have been brought to a situation which, at Jast, will open the eyes of the multitude. Had heaven permitted the tyrant of Europe to have longer domineered over the liberties of mankind, it is evident, we had voluntarily enlisted ourselves as the most abject of his slaves; and " LOW SINKS NAPOLEON'S STAR!" THE recent intelligence from France has cor Such wonderful, rapid, and perplexing It can tious virtues deserve and command more. genuine regard, than all the delusive splendour of embroidered vice.-Rh. I. Amer. WE have observed several intimations in our papers from passengers lately returned from England and the continent, and from letter writers in England, that it is expected America will be included in the peace, which the allies will make in Paris. I cannot see the least grounds for such an expectation. Who is to make a peace for us there? Mr. Crawford was sent to BONAPARTE, who is now out of the question, and even he would never speak to him. Will our host of ambassadors, who are now scattered in Russia, Gottenburg and Holland hie to Paris, and humbly ask leave to assist in reestablishing the Bourbons? If Bonaparte were a party in the negotiation, we might have somebody to introduce our worthies to the Emperours, Kings, Princes and High Mightinesses, there assembled, for he but recently claimed Italy and the United States as his faithful allies. But alas, the fu-gitive Corsican is nobody; and our business is with Great-Britain alone. BONAPARTE THE present state of abject humiliation, to which the lately "supereminent" Bonaparte is reduced, excites considerable speculation, as to the course he will pursue. Many suppose that, rendered desperate by the reverses of fortune, he will expose himself to the utmost danger, court death in arms, and refuse to survive his fall. We may speculate, with others; and without pretending to prophetick views, we offer it as our opinion that the upstart Corsican, the mere child of fortune, great only by making himself the instrument of men's worst passions, will nat display that high sense of honour, which cannot be reconciled to disgrace. He may be accidentally killed-but we do not believe he will refuse a fair opportunity to live, on any terms, that the allies, and the people of France. may prescribe. GENERAL REGISTER. BOSTON, SATURDAY, MAY 21, 1814, EUROPEAN. Since our last, the publick Journals continue to teem with the most agreeable and interesting intelligence. The counter revolution in France advances with much greater rapidity than did the storm of anarchy, and by a far less sacrifice of human blood. We fondly hope that in a few months more the long distracted, bleeding France, will be reestablished in peace and repose. | When affairs are settled in Paris, the Em- | teries, retired. On the 14th inst. the latter perour of Russia is expected in London, and passed Burlington, towards Canada. the most splendid arrangements are making A fresh rumour is in circulation, that Ad for a grand Fete, to be celebrated on the in-miral Cochrane intends to attempt the de stallation of the Emperour as Knight of the struction of the 74, building at Portsmouth, N. H. He is said to have made formidable Garter. preparations for that purpose. Two frigates and two brigs, in frame, with ample military and other stores, were in rea- An alarm has likewise prevailed at Savandiness, and to be immediately sent out, to in-nah, owing to the appearance of a considerable crease the force on the Canada lakes. British force off St. Mary's. No ministers had been appointed, on the part of the British government, to meet ours at Gottenburgh, as late as the 7th of April. Lord Castlereagh was at Paris; but it was reported that ministers would be appointed by the privy council, as soon as the arrival of the American ministers at Gottenburgh should be announced. Proclamation of the Duke of Angouleme. FRENCHMEN -The day of your deliverance approaches! The nephew of your King, the husband of the daughter of Louis XVI. has arrived among you. It is near the cradle of Henry IV. that one of his lineal descendants has just unfurled, amidst the gallant French, No more tyrants! no more war! no more conscriptions! no more vexatious imposts! the ancient banner of the lilies, and announces At the latest dates, the allied sovereigns, to you the return of happiness and peace, unpersonally, or by representation, were in Par- der a reign, the protector of the laws and of is, negotiating for peace, not with the usurper | publick liberty ! of the throne of France, but with THE SENATE. The Corsican kept at a respectful distance, where, is not precisely stated, but without any prospect of retrieving his loss. It is said in a Frankfort paragraph, that after his gaining some advantages over Blucher and the Prince of Wirtemburgh, (which we have mentioned) he wrote to his father in law as follows-"The The Duke d'Angouleme has circulated from Bourdeaux his commission to act for Louis 18. We have copied his proclamation, and the speech of the mayor of Bordeaux, on the duke's entering that city. There is something in the spirit of these papers, which warms the humane breast...something that assures us Frenchmen will return with enthusiastick loyalty to the family of their ancient monarch-that they will hail the prospect of relief from the most cruel tyranny of tranquillity and peace, which now unexpectedly bursts upon them, with that fervour which so strongly marks their national character. May your calamities, at the voice of your Sovereign, of your Father, be effaced by hope, your errors by oblivion, your dissentions by that affecting union of which he will be the pledge. The promises which he has made to you, and which he solemnly renews this day, he is ardently desirous to fulfil, and to signalize by his love and by his deeds of beneficence, the fortunate moment which, in giving him back his subjects, restores him to his children. Vive le Roi. By his Highness Monseigneur the Duke of St. Jean de Luz, Feb. 20. Speech of the Mayor of Bordeaux, to his 1 LITERARY AND MISCELLANEOUS. YOR THE BOSTON SPECTATOR. LE REVEUR, No. III. DOCTRINES advanced by great men are not to be slightly disregarded, nor ought we to consider ourselves bound by any weight of character, to an implicit faith in what the best exercise of our own reason rejects, provi ded we are confident we comprehend the terms. The respect we owe to superior understanding may induce us, in such cases, to mistrust our own impressions, but no degree of authority can exclusively amount to that kind of evidence which convinces. The mind must see for itself, and see that an inference justly follows from the premises, or it does not, and cannot believe. From Solomon, to the moralist of yes terday, it has been customary to represent all sublunary enjoyment as "vanity and vexation of spirit." Human existence is depicted as a scene of unremitting disappointment, and though the almost universal disposition of mankind to protract life is a proof that we find it a real good, were we to accredit our philos. ophers, we should be incapable of any desire but to mingle with our kindred dust. The book of Ecclesiastes, I have ever con. sidered, as intended to illustrate the folly of an ungrateful peevishness of temper, no less than as a code of maxims which we are to adopt. Solomon was undoubtedly of a sanguine temperament of mind. He overrated. in anticipation, the enjoyments, which he ap pears in many instances to have been too solicitous to procure. It was the destiny of but Roy-one man to be placed in a terrestrial paradise, and he who expects unalloyed happiness must be disappointed. True philosophy, or what is the same thing conveyed by a more dignified term, the christian's view, lies between. The world has its evils-that all experience proves but existence is not a curse. Our conceptions of the attributes of Deity teach us that it could never be so intended. Our consciousness, when honestly consulted, is even stronger proof, than our speculations on the divine character. al Highness the Duc D'Angouleme. tunes. "What better assurance can we possess of our future happiness than the presence of a prince so celebrated for his affability, his prudence, and his firmness. Shew yourself, Sir, in the midst of the faithful subjects of our King, and give to them the example of your virtues. Receive the most decided marks of our love, our devotion and our profound re Lord Wellington was advancing in the direction of Thoulouse. A British Admiral has entered the Garonne. Insurrection is brisk inspect." La Vendee. Nantz is likewise said to have declared for the Bourbons. | DOMESTICK. On the 29th of April, the U. S. sloop of war, Peacock, of 18 gums, Capt. Warrington, captured the British brig of war Epervier of 18 guns, after an action of 42 minutes. The Peacock arrived safe at Savannah, on the 4th inst. with 118 prisoners, and 120,000 dollars in specie. | It may be that Doctor Johnson's Rasselas is a just picture of life, and that this ingenious and interesting fiction has a good moral tendency, but of this I could never find myself persuaded. Of all such writings, and they abound, the errour, I humbly conceive, lies in attributing to the very nature of our existence in this world, evils which originate altogether from the improper indulgence of some of our passions and affections. If we are foolish enough to set it down that a certain degree of wealth or fame is essential to our felicity, if we are defeated in the pursuit, and of course become miserable, shall we rail at life? Shall we murmur at the allotments of Providence, when all the evil of which we complain is of our own fabrication ? In the north the cause of the allies is at tended with no less prosperity. Count D'Artois, brother of Louis XVIII., says a Brussels article, was received at Nancey with the strongest proofs of affection and joy. The French garrison evacuated Brussels, March | 27th-Alost, the 28th-and Ghent on the On the appearance of Commodore Mc Don- Or if we attain our object, and discover that evening of the same day. The head quartersnough, in his new sloop of war, with several the pleasure of fruition comes far short of of the Prince Royal of Śweden were at Liege gallies, at the mouth of Otter creek river, the our anticipations, is our extravagance of hope on the 25th. British feet, which had been firing at the bat-a just ground of discontent? I should rather think it ought to be our great study to form a DUE ESTIMATE of the contingencies of life. We should then probably find the catalogue of essentials reduced to a small number, generally attainable, and sufficient to excite our gratitude, if we make the best use of them. Moralists may consider it judicious so to address and regulate our feelings, as to make us sigh for "another and a better world." The sacred writings inculcate this sentiment, by presenting us the prospect of unspeakable joys hereafter-not by undervaluing present good. This is certainly the best source of satisfaction, since we know ourselves mortal ; for were this world all we could wish, as to its enjoyments, the assurance of their speedy termination would become an evil, rising in proportion to their value. This is said to be a state of probation; it may be presumed so, as much as to the manner we receive what are really blessings, as to our fortitude and patience in sustaining adversity. The maxim of Pope is certainly not sufficiently comprehensive to embrace the animating prospects of the christian; but, with respect to the disposition, with which we ought to pass through life, I cannot but think with him, "To enjoy is to obey." THE WRITER, No. II. In my first number I gave some account of my birth and character; in the present I shall make the publick acquainted with my opinions and manner of thinking. My readers will then perceive whether what I said of myself in the beginning will apply to me or not, viz. that I am an odd sort of a fellow. That my opinions are odd, very odd indeed will readily be granted by all the fashionable, polite, and genteel part of this metropolis, when I tell them I am obstinate in maintaining that honesty is a greater moral virtue, than riches, and consequently that virtuous poverty ought in a christian country to receive more countenance and complacency, than splendid vice; that no man is honest who contracts debts by living so much above his income, as not to be able to pay them; that there is more merit in feeding by secret charity the poor, than in feasting ostentatiously the rich; that modesty is the prettiest ornament to a female face, and in the end will always have more admirers, of taste and sentiment, than forward impertior the haughty assuming airs of a fashionable beauty; that not only modesty but even learning is an accomplishment in a lady, and Cowper, Milton, and Cicero better authors to improve a female mind, than Tom Jones, Roderick Random, or the Mysteries of Udolpho. nence, I believe also, contrary to the belief of most of my gay neighbours, that there is more good instruction to be obtained at church, than in a play house, and that, in point of morals and the Improvement of religious affections, more is to be gained by attending divine service, than seeing the representation of any dramatick performance whatever, all the fine arguments have been adduced to the contrary notwithstanding. which These are a few of what, when I am dispcsed to be humourous, I call my moral eccentricities. I have also some physical, offes, for I always eat when I am hug and drink if I thirst, and never look at the town clock to know if I have an appetite, nor wait for the bells ringing to judge of a proper time to break my fasts. I have also some strange notions respecting the natural world, believing it full as rational that God should have created all worlds by the | be the object of an invariable attachment If the publick will bear with these oddities, and my readers encourage me to write, by even making themselves merry with my old fashion, and singular opinions, I shall continue to amuse or lecture, flatter or reproach them, as my several humours may happen to predomi nate. YAS EST ET AB HOSTE DOCERI. MILTON thought that "solitude is sometimes the best society," and Cicero, indulging in one of those conceits, which he was fond of displaying, declared himself to be " nunquam minus solus quam cum solus." But the gen erality of the world, it is presumed, will pre"Que la fer the candid confession of Balsai. solitude est certainement une belle chose, mais il y a plaisir d'avoir quelqu'un, à qui on puisse dire de tems en tems, que la solitude "Solitude is certainly est une belle chose." a fine thing; but there is a pleasure in having some one, whom one may tell, now and then, that solitude is a fine thing." GENIUS-RELIGION. in a great measure to lose his pre-eminence. Human nature is so unequal to the investigation of truth, that a mind of the highest powers, which ventures to confide in its own superiority, is quickly lost in a labyrinth of perplexity and error. IT ought to humble the pride of Genius to consider, that it is liable to fall into the greatFAR be it from me to intimate that the senest speculative absurdities. Genius, joined with extensive power, and a beneficent dispotiments I am about to extract are correct. But unjust censure not unfrequently has the sition can indeed scarcely fail to secure the effect of stimulating to higher degrees of ex- happiness, the esteem, and the affection of cellence. The best refutation the ladies can mankind. Rectitude of conduct in publick furnish, of the slanders which have been utter-life, depends much more upon a quick and ed against them, by some elegant but profli- almost intuitive discernment of propriety, than gate men, is the unblemished tenour of their upon long and complex trains of reasoning; deportment. The author of the following re- but, in the closet, the man of Genius appears marks pretended to be well acquainted with the sex, and to have formed his opinion from experience and observation. The impudence of such men grows out of that imprudent candour with which they are too often treated by the objects of their shallow contempt. Men of this turn of mind are easily known-instead Truth is to be attained, as far as it is attainof attempting to avert their slander, by capti-able by so weak and imperfect a being as man, vating them, a lady of sense will teach them by patient, laborious, and attentive considerarespect by reserve or dignified scorn. Lord tion; by divesting ourselves of passion and Lyttleton, the younger, boasted that he never prejudico, by commencing our inquiries with met with but one lady who made him feel doubt and diffidence, and by extending a candid ashamed of himself, though his career of dis- and equal regard to the arguments on every sipation was scarcely restricted by the com- side, and weighing them in the balance of mon restraints of decorum. Ladies, hear the strict and impartial justice. The man of language of such men ; let it touch your pride language of such men ; let it touch your pride Genius is frequently deficient in almost all and influence your conduct. these essential requisites for the discovery of moral truth. Full of ardour and enthusiasm, and clate with the consciousness of superiour talents, he thinks it superfluous to devote that portion of time and patience to the investigation of truth, which its nature indispensably requires. He forms his opinions with precip itation, and when once formed, his pride is engaged to vindicate and support them. As his feelings are strong, and the faculty of association vigorous and powerful, his first opinions, originally formed on very slight grounds, soon degenerate into inveterate prejudices; and in this state of mind he treats with contempt or indignation all arguments, but sucii as have a tendency to confirm him in errour; and his superiority of Genius only serves, by supplying him with endless fallacies, to plunge him deeper and deeper into the abysses of absurdity and extravagance. This is a "Nature is perfectly wise in all her dispen-point long ago determined by a judge, whose sations, and it is our best wisdom to conform knowledge of human nature I suppose no one to her apparent purposes. Had she intended will venture to call in question. woman to be the sole object of man's attention, she would have given her qualities, of power enough to fix his constant regard. But from this, she seems to have had views entirely different. She has given so much levity and vanity, so much fickleness and inconsistency, such a wandering head and such a trifling spirit, to the female character, that she cer tainly never meant so variable a creature to See Darwin and others. "Nature had undoubtedly very wise ends in rendering that beautiful creature so very imperfect, and so deficient in all but personal accomplishments. Had the charms of the female mind borne any proportion to those of the female form, that idol alone would have engross ed our attention, and the other beauties of creation would have passed unnoticed. But nature, willing to be admired through the variety of her works, has thrown into each, something that might dispose us to turn from it, and after a short attention, to seek for new objects. "Thus, in the vegetable creation, many flowers that are adorned with the finest and most glaring colours, are either totally destitute of perfume, or are in some measure disagrecable. We admire their beauty, and pass from them to be relieved by the fragrance of others. "None are, so surely caught when they are catch'd, I have always, however, thought 2 an of Genius, entangled in absurdity, an object of compassion, rather than of ridicule. To exult over an antagonist of this description, is to tri umph over the weakness of human nature. "On doit," says the Marquis de Mirabeau, very generously, "une indulgence presqu'illimitée aux grands hommes quand ils ont evidemment tort." It is a prevailing opinion, and I think it is an opinion founded on fact, that melancholy is a very frequent attendant on genius. How is this to be accounted for? Enthusiasm, or ardour of mind, is certainly a striking characteristick of genius: but this is a quality apparently incompatible with melancholy, which deprives the mind of every degree of force and vigour, and leaves it without any proper stimulus to action. The difficulty may perhaps be solved by supposing that enthusiasm is natural to genius, and melancholy only an accidental and adventitious quality. None are so liable to disappointments in the world as men of genius, and melancholy is the natural consequence of disappointment.-Their feelings, too refined for their own happiness, are wounded by neglect; sometimes, perhaps, by insult. Their taste for beauty and order, is shocked by the scenes of folly, vice, and misery, perpetually presented to their view; the common concerns of life appear to them flat, insipid, and uninteresting. They first grow weary of the world, and then of themselves. The best remedy for this disease of the mind is religion; I mean that religion which is founded on reason and on truth, and which inspires a firm belief in the existence of an infinitely powerful, wise, and beneficent Being; and a full persuasion, that the present system of things is, in all its parts, consistent with the natural and moral perfections of its divine author; and that the course of events is tending to a happy and glorious consummation. This religion, sublimed by faith, and invigorated by hope, exacts from us, first, the deepest reverence and gratitude to God, and next, unbounded love and benevolence to mankind. It informs us, that the great object of life ought to be the advancement of human happiness-A truly noble and animating principle of action in itself; but how much more so, when we have ground to believe, that no effort directed to this end shall be finally lost. No effort wholly lost, perhaps, with respect to others; and as to ourselves, we have a divine assurance, that even a cup of cold water, givon in the true spirit of Christian benevolence, shall not fail to meet with its reward. ANECDOTES. W. BELSHAM. SPENCER'S FAIRY QUEEN. WHEN Sir Philip Sidney had read a few Stanzas of Spencer's Fairy Queen, which was sent him by the author, he was so transported by the poem, that he turned to his steward, and ordered him to give the person who brought it, fifty pounds; but upon reading the next stanza he ordered the money to be doubled; and upon reading another stanza, he increased his bounty to two hundred pounds-saying to his steward" prithee be expeditious, or I shall give him my whole estate." "This house to let-Inquire next door." THUS read Bannister to Wilson, on the front of a dwelling, which had been apparently unoccupied for some years. "I'll make some inquiry about it," said Charles. "Will you be so kind as to inform me, sir, what is the annual rent of that empty house?"-"Fifty pounds, besides the taxes."-" Will you let any thing with it ?"" No, why do you ax ?" "Because if you let it alone, it will tumble down." POETRY. SELECTED. THE TULIP AND THE MYRTLE. "Twas on the border of a stream A gaily-painted Tulip stood, In streaks of fairest symmetry. And thus in empty fancy swells. "O lustre of unrivalled bloom! "Fair painting of a hand divine! "The hues of Heaven alone are mine! "Away, ye worthless, formless race! "Ye weeds that boast the name of flowers ! "No more my native bed disgrace, "Unmeet for tribes so mean as yours! “Shall the bright daughter of the sun, "Associate with the shrubs of earth? "Ye slaves, your sovereign's presence shun ! "Respect her beauties and her birth. "And thou, dull, sullen ever-green! "Shalt thou my shining sphere invade ? "My noon-day beauties beam unseen, "Obscured beneath thy dusky shade! "Deluded flower!" the Myrtle cries, "Shall we thy moment's bloom adore ? "The meanest shrub that you despise, "The meanest flower has merit more. "That daisy, in its simple bloom, "Shall last along the changing year; "Blush on the snow of Winter's gloom, "And bid the smiling Spring appear. "The violet, that, those banks beneath, "Hides from thy scorn its modest head, "Shall fill the air with fragrant breath, "When thou art in thy dusty bed. "Ev'n I, who boast no golden shade, “ Am of no shining tints possess'd, "When low thy lucid form is laid, "Shall bloom on many a lovely breast. "And he, whose kind and fostering care To thee, to me, our beings gave, "Shall near his breast my flowrets wear, "And walk regardless o'er thy grave. "Deluded flower! the friendly screen "That hides thee from the noon-tide ray, "And mocks thy passion to be seen, "Prolongs thy transitory day. "But kindly deeds with scorn repaid, "No more by virtue need be done; "I now withdraw my dusky shade, "And yield thee to thy darling Sun. The curling leaves the breast disclos'd; And ev'ry latent charm expos'd. But when the Sun was sliding low, And ev❜ning came, with dews so cold, The wanton beauty ceas'd to blow, And sought her bending leaves to fold. Shuns the embraces of a noon-tide breeze, Till the slow gardener's persevering toil Recals those fragrant charms again to please. So does pale sorrow prey upon the mind Insensible to comfort's genial smile ; Mocks resignation though by heaven design'd Of grief the war-worn bosom to beguile. But soon the voice of friendship cheers the gloom And long-lost reason reassumes her reign; The faded cheek regains its native bloom, "And happiness no longer pleads in vain. Thus Time all-powerful heals the wounded breast And lulls the sorrows of the soul to rest. A SHORT STORY. JACK DASH, in town a first rate beau, For near a month had never ventur'd out; ANON. 'Twas wise, for Jack was poor; and what bespoke it Was, that he had no money in his pocket ; And therefore was not quite prepar'd to meet A friend of his, who slily in the street, To tap him on the shoulder lurk'd about. Who much delighted in his company, So sent her servant Thomas to assure him him. The message hearing, thus replied young DashFriend Tom, then tell your mistress I will thank her, As my disorder's only-want of cash, To let the draught be-on her husband's banker. MATRIMONY—AN EXTRACT. Tox prais'd his friend, who chang'd his state, "Wedlock's the end of life" he cried; PRINTED AND PUBLISHED FOR JOHN PARK, BY MUNROE & FRANCIS, NO. 4 CORNHILL. Price three dollars per annum, half in advance. Subscribers may be supplied with the preceding numbers. |