Gass 'X% \\ \3 Book__ K5 L RULES S^-z. ENGLISH COMPOSITION, AND PARTICULARLY FOR THEMES: DESIGNED FOR THE USE OF SCHOOLS, AND IN AID OP SELF-INSTRUCTION. By JOHN RIPPINGHAM, PROFESSOR OF ELOQUENCE, AND LECTURER UPON ELOQUENCE AT THE SURRY INSTITUTION, &C. FIFTH EDITION. LONDON: PRINTED FOR. ONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, BROWN, AND GREEN, PATERNOSTER-ROW 5 AND W. GINGER, COLLEGE-STREET, WESTMINSTER. 1825. yx f y^ % ¥ ; TO THE VERY REVEREND WILLIAM VINCENT, D.D. dean of westminster, &c. Sir, They are motives far less unworthy than ostentation, which have induced me to pre- sent this volume to you. The solicitude you so ably evinced for the improvement of youth, will, I am persuaded, obtain your encourage- ment toward any work which is likely to acce- lerate this important object. Whether this book deserve such a character, it does not become me to determine : but the consciousness of having been influenced by the desire of facilitating an elegant and useful accomplishment, has given me confidence to offer this attempt to the public. If I have been so fortunate as to succeed in my wish of rendering service to literature, I B 11 persuade myself that I shall be favoured by your approbation ; and I may then pride my- self in the reflection of having given testi- mony, by this dedication, that I am, with every consideration of respect, Sir, Your most obedient, And most humble Servant, J. RrPPINGHAM. 12, Clifford- Street, June 26. 1811. ADVERTISEMENT TO THE THIRD EDITION, While this edition was in preparation for the press, the public were bereft of that great and good man, whose name is prefixed to the dedication of this book. The productions, even the casual productions, of so comprehen- sive and acute a mind as that of Dr. Vincent, are always interesting to the world : and I have therefore subjoined a letter which he wrote in acknowledgment of a copy of this work. " Dear Sir, — As one long employed in the " duty of education, I cannot be indifferent " to any treatise on that subject. I thank " you for your obliging notice of Westmin- " ster School, and the Dean of Westminster, b 2 " with the civility and without the adulation " of a dedication. "Your work must be of essential use to 11 teachers, or to those who are endeavouring " to teach themselves : as to boys, in general, " they will pay little attention to a treatise ; u they must be taught by oral instruction, and " that, as you justly say, by rule upon rule. " They are taught by nothing but the daily " labour of the master ; during which the pro- " gress is scarcely perceptible : and yet when "the age of comprehension arrives, the boy " feels that he has been taught, and is able " to put the rules in practice, " To speak of the progress of my own mind, " I can truly say, that without being con- " scious of its own powers, I was surprised " at the facility with which I composed my " first sermon. It is such an one that I can " preach it now, after fifty years' experience " in the art, without being ashamed of it : " and yet I had been as heedless and negli- " gent as other boys. V " Still, I perfectly agree with you, that a " theme is the best method of teaching them " to think, and to express themselves : it com- " prehends the parts of all composition, even " poetry and narration. In a sermon, or a £ speech in parliament three hours long, each " illustrative example is narrative ; and Pope's Esq. Clifford- Street" The solicitous assiduity with which this ac- complished scholar, discharged the duties of an instructor, has been acknowledged by the respect of the public in general ; and by the grateful veneration of his pupils in particular. b 3 VI But after a series of more than forty years, devoted to the laborious duties of a teacher ; it was by the unsolicited patronage of a public friinister, to whom Dr. Vincent was a personal stranger, that he was relieved from the neces- sity of further continuance in his toilsome avocations. " I was desirous," as Lord Sidmouth has since expressed himself, " of affording the w means of respectable competence to the « Dean, before age had deprived him of the " faculties for enjoyment : for I felt it to be a " public duty that the declining years of a " man, who had conferred so much honour *< upon one of our public schools, and who " had done so much good to our country, " should be distinguished by dignity in sta- " tion, and ease in circumstances \" INTRODUCTION. The art of arranging and expressing our ideas is of the utmost utility. Knowledge, however various, and genius, however bril- liant, avail but little, if their result cannot be communicated with clearness and facility. Yet observation shews that excellence in this par- ticular is most uncommon. It is by no means unusual to meet young men, respectable in classical acquirement, who are unable to illus- trate familiar topics when offered to their at- tention. The causes of this deficiency I believe are various; but they do not demand inquiry here. The defect has been felt and acknowledged, and therefore no probable means should be omitted for its removal. The art of English composition consists of jb 4 vm two distinct branches : one u grammar, which teaches the correct dependency of words : the other is a practical union of logic and rhetoric, which teaches order and elegance in the con- ception and arrangement of ideas. The former of these branches has been so ably treated by the diligence and ingenuity of Mr, Lindley Murray, that further improve- ment seems to be almost precluded : but hav- ing mentioned English grammar, I cannot omit the opportunity of endeavouring to cor- rect an opinion which is entertained by many persons, that it is a pursuit unnecessary to those who are acquainted with the regimen of Latin. It is true that almost every language is formed upon principles which are common to all others : but it does not follow, either that a knowledge of those principles wall teach the peculiarities by which the various dialects of mankind are contradistinguished, or that the Latin grammar can inculcate the particular features of the English. The opinion which these remarks are Intended to correct, seems to have arisen from the persuasion that our tongue has been derived from the Latin. If this were the fact, it would not sustain the inference which has been drawn — an infer- ence which is contradicted by the experience of every one who has studied the Persian and Arabic, or the Italian and Spanish languages. But the fact is otherwise. English has been formed, not of Latin altogether, or even i\\ the greater part Its origin and genius is Saxon ; and the structure of it is Saxon to this day — except that it has dropt much of the Saxon inflection, and become more simple. This happens to all languages by lapse of time, and the effort of the mind to abbreviate and facilitate expression. The difference between ancient and modern Greek consists princi- pally in the loss of inflection : an ancient Greek verb, with its participles, consists of eleven hundred terminations : a modern Greek verb has not more than an Italian one. b 5 X We are also indebted to the Greek, thd French, the Hebrew, and others, for a mul* titude of radical and adopted words, A lan- guage thus derived must have many peculia- rities ; some incorporated with the phrases it has imported, and others arising from such an heterogeneous combination. These peculia- rities cannot be appreciated by the knowledge of Latin only, or of any other language. It is the idiom, which in fact constitutes the greatest difficulty in the attainment of dif- ferent tongues. The idiom of our native lan-> guage is indeed acquired by habit. The boy who learns Latin, or the girl who learns French, obtains the theory of grammar, but custom renders familiar the practical part of the ver- nacular tongue: it becomes indeed so familiar, that to many, the study of it appears super- fluous. It appears to be more readily caught by the ear than taught by rule : a shrewd boy or a well-bred woman, is sometimes struck more forcibly by an impropriety in their own language, than a scholar. But it hardly Seems to result, from these observations, that k knowledge of the accurate dependency of words will be obtained, without a careful re- gard to the reason and circumstances, which constitute the difference between correct and ungrammatical diction, • A faculty acquired by use, conducted by habit, and tried by the ear, carries us on without the labour of reflection : we meet with no obstables in our progress, or we do not perceive them : we find ourselves able to proceed without rules, and we do not suspect that they may be of use. Hence, a gramma- tical study of our own language, until lately, formed no part of the ordinary course of in- struction. It is however a defect which no other advantage can supply. Much practice in the polite world, and a general acquaintance with the best authors, must undoubtedly be considered as excellent helps ; but even these will hardly be sufficient. A critical know- ledge of ancient languages will be found still less adequate to the purpose. Dr. Bentley, the greatest critic and most able grammarian b 6 Xll of the age in which he lived, was notoriously deficient in the knowledge of his native tongue : and he is not a solitary instance ; grammatical errors are plentifully scattered over the pages of many others of our eminent writers. Whoever, therefore, wishes to write and speak English with elegance and accuracy, must study the grammar of this language, as he would that of any other with which he desires to be acquainted. I hope this digression will be pardoned j but the subject of it appeared to me to be too important to be disregarded, when it could be introduced without any great impropriety. . The second part of the discipline necessary to acquire English composition, it is the object of this work to explain and illustrate. The word logic is formidable to young and uninformed minds, yet it must be the found- ation of such a treatise as this. No one can arrange his thoughts upon any subject without the use of reason ; and logic is nothing more than the art of reasoning* 17 Xlll Those who undertake to write upon any subject ought to be able to appreciate what- ever they mean to discuss— this is called per- ception. As soon as the subject is under- stood, an opinion is formed upon it, which is termed the judgment. The considerations which produce that judgment are designated arguments, and there is wanting only the method of aranging those arguments with perspicuity, to render complete the ability for mental discussion. But to render these operations of intellect usefrl or intelligible to others, some further requisites must be obtained, In mental in- vestigation, it is necessary to form a clear and accurate perception of the subject under re- gard : in written composition, that which has been thus perceived, must be correctly de- fined. Definition is indeed nothing more than a faithful statement of accurate percep- tion. It can however be produced, only by care; and sometimes not without patience. It must be limited to the subject upon which it is fornfied ; and must consist of those words which faithfully delineate the perception. By this latter restriction much is intended to be conveyed : for between relative ideas and words, there is an appropriate affinity. Pru* dence, caution, care, and circumspection may appear, to inconsiderate minds, as synonymous expressions : but so far from it, each of them, if correctly defined, would appear to be the name of a quality clearly distinct from the others. | After the habit of definition has been acquired, the structure and the analysis of propositions require the next attention. That which has been termed the judgment, is no- thing more than some comprehensive proposi- tion, of which the subject that has been de- fined constitutes the chief topic. This judg- ment must consist of a noun and verb : the noun being the subject that is under investi- gation ; and the verb denoting the action to which the subject is the chief party. The truth of this judgment is to be de- monstrated by intermediate considerations : XV and when these are methodically arranged, the theme is completed as to written as well as mental structure. But these are not sufficient for any one who is desirous of excelling in English composi- tion. Great effect arises from the choice of language, and the harmony in which words may be arranged. There is sometimes an affectation of treating a polished style with contempt, but it is indeed affectation. Instruc- tion is more successful when administered in a pleasing form — discussion is more interest- ing if clothed with elegance. The lofty mountain is an object of solemn contempla- tion ; but the flowers, with which it is adorned, add to the sublime the charms of beauty. In pursuance of this general outline, the present work is divided into three parts. * The first consists of the perception formed on each * In the later editions, two other parts have been added. — See the advertisements to the seeond and third editions. XVI proposed subject: the second includes the perception and judgment: and the third con- tains the perception, judgment, and argu- mentation, arranged in the form of correct themes. Considerable recourse has been had to the works of distinguished writers ; and the au- thor acknowledges aid from the labours of Addison, Johnson, Blair, Watts, and others. Selections from these have been introduced, as models of reasoning and composition far more likely to be useful than any which the weakness of an author's self-partiality could be induced to offer. Yet he has published some of his own effusions ; not only that he may approve himself somewhat competent in the art which he professes to teach, but also that he may, by his own composition, be the more conveniently enabled to illustrate the principles which he has laid down for the practice' of others. Great care has been taken to render this treatise suitable to the capacity of youthful in- xvu tellect ; and eligible for the important object which it proposes to attain : yet the author is sensible that this production may derive im- provement from the suggestions of others, and he will therefore gratefully attend to the ad- monitions of enlightened criticism. But after every exertion to familiarize th$ art of English composition, it would be vain to hope that youth will be taught by books only, however intelligibly they may be writ- ten. Works of this description must be useful to such persons as feel their own deficiency, and are desirous of obtaining the assistance which such publications profess to give. They will also be of use to teachers. Elementary books are employed in the various branches of literary education : and every one who knows any thing of the laborious avocations of an in- structor, is aware that although youth are taught by the oral repetition of rule upon rule, yet that the drudgery of teaching is greatly diminished by the aid of perspicuous treatises. XV111 Before this introduction be closed, perhaps it will not be unbecoming to offer some con- siderations on the education of youth. The classics, mathematics, and the use of the native language, are the chief studies in the preparation for enlightened manhood; and of these, the classics certainly claim distin- guished preference. For a long time after education became an object of general solici- tude, the latter two of these pursuits obtained little regard in systems of instruction. They are, however, gradually acquiring the import- ance which they merit ; and I hope and be- lieve, they will soon be admitted to that rank, which their utility seems to deserve. But as to the mode in which youth should be trained to knowledge — I must own, that regarding the value of appointed disci- pline, scholastic emulation, and of that in- struction w T hich is administered by men, whose ability and attainments have been tried and approved, I give unhesitating preference to the public schools. It cannot be disputed XIX that there are many eminent scholars and ex- cellent teachers in private seminaries. But I am pleased in observing, that notwithstanding the strictures which have been made on the public seminaries of learning ; yet the parti- ality and veneration which have been enter- tained toward them by illustrious rank, pa- rental solicitude, and sound discrimination, seem in no wise to be diminished. Of the few things which perhaps remain to be wished in the- economy of public schools, probably we should desire more particular re- gard to the cultivation of English literature. But even such an expectation is suspended by a momentary consideration. The unremitting assiduity which is required to form a good classic scholar, leaves but little time for other pursuits. An acquaint- ance with the works of antiquity, is the first requisite of a gentleman's education, and an indispensable qualification for the study of the learned professions. All other acquire- ments are subordinate to this ; and when this is once attained, other pursuits become fami< XX liar. It is therefore by no means exception- able that the first and chief care of national scholastic establishments should be directed to this great attainment. Let it not, however, be imagined that the art of English composi- tion is disregarded. The discipline of West- minster school — beneath whose sacred shade some of the brightest ornaments of Great Britain have been formed — requires the exer- tions of its students to be employed in English composition once in every week. But there is another and a far more power- ful recommendation of the regimen of West- minster school to be found in its solicitous in- culcation of religious worship. On every Sab- bath day, on every Saturday, and on every day appointed by the church to be kept holy, the Westminster scholars are required to at- tend divine service. Nor is this all — they are enjoined to exercise upon the Scriptures once in every week, and Grotius de Veritate Reli- gionis Christianas, is one of their appointed readings. These circumstances confer on public education the highest eulogium. XXI In these days, wherein systematic infidelity is so industriously insinuated, no Christian can withhold from public schools the tribute of cordial admiration. After the sincere opinion which the author has thus expressed of education in public schools, he entertains an earnest hope that his work will not be considered as an attempt to interfere with the economy of those res- pected establishments. He is rather inclined to encourage an humble expectation that this book will not be deemed unworthy of their service, nor inconsistent with their established regulations. * * I beg leave to say, that although I have selected Westminster school as the more peculiar object of my humble praise, it has been with the most remote inten- tion of inculcating a disparagement of the other similar establishments. But having been engaged in the extra tuition of some students in that school, I felt myself more competent to speak of that, than of other national aca- demies. XXli The introduction is now concluded; and the work goes into the world with the author's most ardent wishes that it may be acceptable to those who teach, and to those who study the art of English composition. ADVERTISEMENT TO THE SECOND EDITION. The notice which this little book has otn tained, gives me an assurance that the wishes I entertained for its success and utility have not been disappointed. I cannot better ex- press the grateful sentiments which this pub- lic patronage has excited, than by rendering to the present edition every improvement I can bestow. The book will be found considerably en- larged by additional examples illustrative of the rules it formerly contained. A list of sub- jects has also been added, for the exercise of students, in the first three parts of the work. But the chief peculiarity of this edition con- sists in the fourth and fifth parts of the work, the whole of which is an increase to the for- mer impression. XXIV The object of this portion of the volume, is to discipline the mind into the practice of dis- covering and producing its own resources. The rules contained in the former divisions, teach the art of discussing subjects by three operations, those of definition, judgment, and argumentation. According to this mode, the student has to define the subject proposed, to form an opinion on it, and to state the reasons upon which that opinion was obtained. But it will occur to many persons, that it is not so easy, as it may at first seem, for a young per- son to ascertain and express the considera- tions from w 7 hich his conclusion or judgment has proceeded. The'object, therefore, of the additional part, has been . to furnish rules which will probably remove the apparent dif- ficulty. I will not solicit indulgence to this attempt because those who are aware of the inconve- niences in framing such precepts as will ex- pand the youthful intellect, will make suffi- cient allowance. THEMES EXPLAINED AND ILLUSTRATED. A theme is only the miniature of a declamation, essay, oration, or sermon. In each of these species of compo- sition, a subject is proposed, an inference drawn, and arguments adduced to support and authorise that conclu- sion. If no more be indispensable in these extended writings, neither can any thing further be necessary to constitute a theme. The commencement in the art of literary composition, requires nothing more than a gentle exercise of reason, No one attempting this accomplishment, can hope to ar- rive at immediate perfection : the gradations of art are always laborious. The theory and idiom of the language must be first attained ; for who can express his ideas by words, the relative dependency of which he has not as- certained ? The habit of considering various subjects, and of arranging the thoughts which they suggest, is the next c 26 step : and the acquisition of a clear and elegant habit of expression is the last requisite for just and graceful com- position. The first of these qualifications may be obtained by dili- gent application to the rules of grammar : the second, by frequent exercise : and the last, by careful perusal of the best authors. These suggestions may seem of little value in the ini- tiation of youth. But to those of more mature years, who may feel the propriety of consulting this work, the observ- ations will not be useless. Instructors know, also, that books are seldom employed by youth but from necessity ; and all that the author of such a publication as this, can hope to do for young persons, is to point out to teachers some mode by which the improvement of the pupils may be facilitated. If, when a subject is proposed to a student, it were to be accompanied by the question to him a " What do you understand by the subject given to you ?" his answer would form the definition, or first part of the theme. If " temperance" were the proposition, the pupil's percep- tion of it might be, " the restraint of passion." That young persons may not be precipitated into the arrangement of their own confused ideas, the plan of this work requires that they should be familiarised in the prac- tice of defining whatever is offered to their attention. It is probable that such a habit may be of use to them, in many future concerns of life. Besides, scarcely any thing 27 can be more evident, than the absurdity of expecting a good essay upon a subject which the writer does not clearly understand. When the student is capable of making further progress, his own definition may be returned to him, with another question, " What opinion do you entertain upon the sub- ject ?" If it were " temperance," which it has been as- sumed he would define to be " the restraint of passion," his answer to the second question would perhaps be, " that it leads to happiness." This answer would, in technical language, be termed the judgment. If the pupil have been familiarised with the former question, he will have little difficulty with this one ; and may therefore, with less delay, be forwarded to the third part of the work. It is hardly necessary to observe, that the respective answers of the students should be made in writing : and that as they advance* the same questions which had been proposed to them in the first and second stages of their progress, should be continued in the third. The only remaining question to be given to the scholar will be put when his definition and opinion are returned to him; it is this: " What are the reasons which have induced you to form that opinion ?" To this question he may be imagined to answer, " that as uncontrolled pas- " sions lead us to wickedness and turbulence, so temper- " ance conducts us to worth and tranquillity : that even " in worldly affairs, it is found to be a guide to health and c 2 28 " riches for it forbids indulgence in enervating luxuries? " and inculcates ceconomy in all the departments of life. " That it has been so generally esteemed, as to rank as " a virtue in every system of morality ; and that reason " and observation bear testimony, that it is a quality " essential to good conduct and happiness." If the judgment he had formed of temperance were now to be placed at the end of this answer, and thus to appear as the result of the arguments or considerations from which it is presumed to have proceeded, there would be a perfect theme. In the present edition, however, I have not concluded here ; but have added, in the fourth part, some rules by which I hope the student may be enabled to discover what were the considerations which passed through his mind between the definition and judgment — but which his inexperience in the art of thinking had been unable to col- lect. Every one who has attended to the progress of youthful thought must have observed, how frequently a young mind will form a just conclusion, and yet be unable to explain the principle upon which it has pro- ceeded. A boy will confidently pronounce honour to be indispensable to a respectable character ; and his assertion will have arisen not from the mere authority of others, but from reflections which have passed through his own mind. Yet when required to support his opinion by argu- ment, he will be able to communicate scarcely a single idea. Now if he had been taught that on such occasions, he 29 should think of a man who is eminently endowed with this quality, and see in what respect he differs from other men ; or if he had been taught to think of a man who is void of this endowment, and to mark in what respect he also dif- fers from others, the boy would have no difficulty to ex- plain himself; he would state these distinctions, and scarcely any other argument would be wanting. Comparison and contrast are indeed the chief opera- tions of the mind in every species of investigation, and if gently inculcated into those who are commencing the art of arranging their thoughts, it does not seem extrava- gant to believe that they will produce the most useful effects. I have also introduced another exercise toward acceler- ating the progress of students in the art of composition : it is that of analyzing short essays, and selecting the defi- nitions, judgments, and arrangements. The utility of such a practice needs little illustration. But to make this part of the discipline perfectly intelligible and somewhat more easy, I have given examples of its practice. With respect to the embellishment of similes and au- thorities, they are not indispensable to any common spe- cies of composition. They are not always to be found without difficulty, and seldom without some portion of genius and information : when they are obtained, they re- quire to be introduced with considerable care. Is it ne- cessary to make a boy attempt all this ? If he ever should have a taste for good authors, and a genius for elegant c 3 30 writing, these things will come of themselves in due time. I subscribe to the well known opinion of Quintilian, that youthful fervour should be cherished, rather than repressed. The efforts of juvenile fancy hold out the promise of future talent ; they are proofs also of a boy's desire to do his best ; and such a desire should be encou- raged. But it does not follow that there is any prudence in teaching youth, that a simile is a necessary part of a com- position, which consists altogether only of a few lines. If the style of Mr. Addison be a just criterion, chastity is preferable to luxuriance. Rules for writing with elegance are numerous ; but few of them are reducible to practice. The careful reading of approved authors, and cautious attempts at imitation, afford, I believe, the best instructions. Dr. Blair on Rhetoric is a work which should be read by all persons who desire to understand the use of figures. Mr. Lindley Murray may also be safely consulted, not only on the mere grammatical dependency of words, but also on the means of attaining perspicuity and elegance in writing. The object -of this work is to point out the mode by which the art of arranging ideas may be easily obtained, That elegance in the practice of this art may be inculcated at the same time, the choicest examples have been se- lected for the imitation of students : and surely these must be equivalent to a host of rules. I have also introduced 31 some passages at the end of the work, which could not be used as models of themes. I had two objects in doing so ; one was, that students may have specimens of the style which celebrated writers have employed under such circumstances as a theme could not include ; the other was, that the volume may be used as a reading book, as well as for its professed purpose. After all that can be written on the subject of this treatise, a great deal must be left to the skill and discretion of teachers. And if this work shall be of use to instructors or students, the author will obtain the gratification of which he is de- sirous. c 4 32 PART THE FIRST. DEFINITIONS. #*# JL he teacher is again reminded, that he should ask the "pupil what he understands by the subject pro* posed to him : for instance, if " procrastination" be given to him, the definition under it will be an answer to the question. But for the better assistance of the students and in» structors, I will here add some instructions of Dr. Watts for obtaining a definition. Indeed the whole of that great and good man's treatise on logic and the improve- ment of the mind, should be given and explained to youth, as soon as the mind is capable of comprehending them. The trouble of the parent or teacher will be amply re- compensed, by the improvement of the young heart and understanding. Scarcely any works are more likely to make those who study them truly good and " wise even unto salvation." - " First, compare the thing to be defined with other things that are most like to itself, and see wherein its 33 essence or nature agrees with them ; and this is called the general nature or genus in a definition : so if you would define what wine is, first compare it with other things like itself, as cyder, perry, &c. and you will find it agrees essentially with them in this, that it is a sort of juice. " Secondly, consider the most remarkable and primary attribute, property, or idea wherein this thing differs from those other things that are most like it ; and that is its essential or specific difference : so wine differs from cyder and perry, and all other juices, in that it is pressed from the grape. This may be called its special nature, which distinguishes it from other juices. " Thirdly, join the general and special nature together, or (which is all one) the genus and the difference, and these make up a definition. So the juice of the grape, or juice pressed from grapes, is the definition of wine. " So if I would define what winter is, I consider first wherein it agrees with other things which are most like it, (viz.) summer, spring, autumn, and I find they are all seasons of the year ; therefore a season of the year is the genus. Then I observe wherein it differs from these, and that it is in the shortness of the days ; for it is this which does primarily distinguish it from all other seasons ; therefore this may be called its special nature, or its difference. Then, by joining these together I make a definition. Winter is that season of the year wherein the days are shortest. I confess, indeed, this is but a c 5 34 rude definition of it ; for to define it, as an accurate as- tronomer, I must limit the days, hours, and minutes. " After the same manner, if we would explain or define what the picture of a man is, we consider first the genus or general nature of it, which is a representation ; and herein it agrees with many other things, as a statue, a shadow, a print, a verbal description of a man, &c. TIi en we consider wherein it differs from these, and we find it differs from a verbal description in that it is a re- presentation to the eye, and not to the ear : it differs from a statue in that it is a representation upon a flat surface, and not in a solid figure : it differs from a sha- dow, in that it is an abiding representation, and not a fleeting one : it differs from a print or draught, because it represents the colours by paint as well as the shape of the object by delineation. Now so many or rather so few of these ideas put together, as are just sufficient to distinguish a picture from all other representations, make up its essential difference or its special nature ; and all these are included in its being painted on a plain sur- face. Then join this to the genus, which is a represent- ation ; and thus you have the complete definition of the picture of a man, (viz.) it is the representation of a man in paint upon a surface (or a plane)." It ought, however, to be understood and remembered, that there are many subjects which do not admit of de- finition. Among them are such as vary in their circum- stances, and those which are particular instances of any eneral quality or subject. The word " circumstance," 35 for instance, could not conveniently be denned ; because every real circumstance has its own peculiarities. It is true that in metaphysical investigation a definition would be found for every general, or common substantive ; but for the general purposes of literary composition, it would be found almost impracticable and certainly useless. The word garden may be denned, but no definition could be given of " Kew garden ;" because it is a particular ex- ample of garden in general, and the statement of its pecu- liarities wculd form, not a definition, but a description. It should be added that the definition will not always be found at the commencement of each example ; be- cause those who are accustomed to composition, can be- gin with an appropriate and pleasing introduction ; and it sometimes will be found in a different succession of words, and sometimes even with a slight alteration of phrase; but the definition will always be found in it in a distinguishable form. This mode, however, of interweaving the definition into the general composition, ought not to be attempted by early students. Their advancement in the art will be best consulted by keeping all the parts distinct. PROCRASTINATION. Definition, The delaying of that which we know cannot be finally escaped. FLATTERY. Def. False praise. INDUSTRY. Defi The instrument of improvement. c 6 36 TIME. Def. The succession of day and night. TEMPERANCE. Def The restraint of passion. RESENTMENT. Def The union of anger and revenge. PIETY. Def Reverence of God. ANGER. Def Pride heightened to passion. POETRY. Def An association of exalted and brilliant ideas, in lan- guage harmoniously arranged. PROVIDENCE. Def Supreme interposition for the relief of man. ENVY. Def Malice excited by the attempt of another to excel* VIRTUE. Def The foundation of honour and esteem. FRIENDSHIP. Def A general coincident feeling between two persons. THE VICE OF LYING. Def The offspring of folly, meanness, and wickedness. CLEANLINESS. Def A habit which may be defined to be the emblem of purity of mind. SLOTH. Def Habitual inactivity of mind and body. 37 RELIGIOUS INTOLERANCE. Def. A disposition amongst religious parties and sects, arising from an opinion of their own infallibility. CHARITY. Def The practical display of solicitude for others. YOUTH AND AGE. Def. Life in prospect ; and life in retrospect. PRAISE AND THANKSGIVING. Def. The discovery and acknowledgment of infinite per- fection, COMMON HONESTY. Def The habitual practice of moral virtue. MODESTY AND ASSURANCE. Def The reflection of an ingenuous mind, upon its own censurable conduct : and of saying and doing indiffe- rent things without emotion. CONTENTMENT. Def. That state of mind in which the agitations of anxiety and disappointment are no longer felt. COURAGE. Def. That state of mind which suffers no dismay amidst danger. HOPE. Def. The anticipation of good. DEATH. Def The dissolution of corporal existence. EARLY IMPROVEMENT. Def The acquirement of rational satisfaction in the be- ginning of life. PERSEVERANCE. Def. The resolution to persist in that which has been undertaken. CONSCIENCE. Def The delegate of an invisible ruler. LITERARY EDUCATION. Def. The endowment of the mind with the wisdom of preceding ages. THE VARIETY OF NATURE. Def. The offspring of order. NIGHT. Def The hours after sunset. GOOD DISPOSITIONS. Def. Justice, equity, truth, sincerity, candour, bene- ficence and mercy. GOD. Def A being every where present. GOOD HUMOUR. Def. A habit of being pleased. TRUTH. Def The union of appearance and reality. THE PERSIAN LANGUAGE. Def. A language, rich, melodious, and elegant : spoken for many ages by the greatest princes in the politest courts of Asia ; and in which a number of admirable works have been written by historians, philosophers and poets. GOOD PRINCIPLES IN EARLY LIFE. Def A full conviction in youth of the obligations of morality and religion. 39 The author begs to submit the following subjects which may be given to students, for practice, according to the rules contained in this work. He has also arranged them in such manner that pupils may proceed gradually through various forms of discussion, according to their respective experience and skill. SIMPLE SUBJECTS. Justice. Slander. Affectation. Pleasure. Adversity. Mercy. Loquacity. Gaming, Pride. Wealth. Wisdom. Religion. Compassion. Prudence. Luxury. Study. Avarice. Gratitude. Health. Experience. SIMPLE SUBJECTS AND THEIR CONTRASTS. Peace and War. • Want and Plenty. Ignorance and Learning. Happiness and Misery. Virtue and Vice. Parsimony and Prodigality. Hope and Fear. Reward and Punishment. Beauty and Deformity. Affection and Hatred. Arrogance and Humility. Order and Confusion. Carelessness and Caution. Contentment and Dissatisfaction. Emulation and Sloth. 40 According to a very common acceptation of themes, I should now introduce propositions for the discussion of students. Thus many of the publications on themes speak of no other subjects for this exercise than those of general and acknowledged positions, which the pupil is to amplify and illustrate. " Death is common to all mankind,'* is of this description. I have two objections to this sort of practice : first its difficulty ; and secondly the tendency it must have to give to young minds an incorrect habit of thinking. * The difficulty is indeed sufficiently apparent without much examination ; because the proposition is evidently a judgment or conclusion which has already been obtained, from considerations to which the student has been no party. The youthful mind when employed in the discussion of such a subject, must therefore reason backward, or as lo- gicians say, a posteriori, to discover the arguments upon which other minds have arrived at the proposition before him. It is true that such sentences are generally an asser- tion, which even the infant mind recognizes and knows to be indubitable. But this certainty creates a real diffi- culty : it seems absurd to youthful intellect to prove what no one has doubted, and the pupil therefore foregoes any exercise of reason ; but as he must write something, he puts down whatever comes into his head, that in any manner appears to be related to the subject. But besides these considerations, may it not reasonably be enquired, whe- ther the mind which has been accustomed to take propo- sitions for granted, will not be in danger of acquiring habits 41 of credulity, inactivity of thought, or precipitancy in judg- ment ? If we compare the probable effect of proceeding by connected argument from the consideration of simple subjects, to some clear result which that consideration has produced ; with the habit of accepting without hesit- ation the conclusion of others, and amplifying or illu% trating that conclusion; can there be a doubt which, practice is the more likely to be useful, and which may be the more reasonably expected to produce a correct mode of thinking ? Besides which, the true mode of discussing a proposi- tion is by first defining the subject of the proposition; and afterwards of shewing that, of the subject thus de- fined, the proposition truly states its quality or effect. In truth, a proposition is nothing mere than 2 jsdgJSSSt formed upon some subject ; the truth of which judgment can be demonstrated only by reasoning from the subject, to the judgment itself. ¥2 PART THE SECOND. DEFINITIONS AND JUDGMENTS. . *. *"* In this stage of the pupil's progress, the teacher will probably find it of advantage, to give the student the subjects in the order in which he received them in the foregoing part of the work, together with the defini- mG^:, IZt l± l£S Z±Zt epi^a he entertains of ^ch subject. Thus of " procrastination," which has been defined to be, " the delaying that which we know can- " not be finally escaped," the opinion or judgment is hereunder given in these words : " every man ought to be " awakened to the active prosecution of whatever he is " desirous to perform." This judgment is an answer to the question, which it is advised to propose to the pupil in this place. In order to assist the student in this part of his inves- tigation, it should be suggested that the judgment he has to give, should be some clear and comprehensive opinion of the subject under consideration ; the truth of which opinion he is enabled to demonstrate. 43 PROCRASTI NATION. Def. The delaying that which we know cannot be finally escaped. Judg. Every man ought to be awakened to the active prosecution of whatever he is desirous to perform. FLATTERY. Def. False praise. Judg. The proverbial admonition " beware of flattery," is applicable to every age and rank of life. industry. Def. The instrument of improvement. Judg. No affluence of fortune, or elevation of rank, ex- empts the possessor from the duties of application and industry. TIME. Def. The succession of day and night. Judg. Let him who seeks his own happiness reflect, that the day rolls on, and the " night comes, when no man " can work." temperance. Def. The restraint of passion. Judg. It leads to bliss. resentment. Def The union of anger and revenge. Judg. It is necessary to habituate ourselves to useful re- flections, till they mitigate the paroxysms of our anger at the time, and at length produce an alteration in the temper and disposition itself. 44 PIETY. Def. Reverence of God. Judg. It connects preparation for heaven, with an honor- able discharge of the duties of active life. ANGER. Def. Pride heightened to passion. Judg. A passionate man spends his time in outrage and acknowledgment, in injury and reparation. POETRY. Def. An association of exalted and brilliant ideas, in lan- guage harmoniously arranged. Judg. It must be esteemed one of the most fortunate endowments with which the human mind can be in- vested. PROVIDENCE. Def. Supreme interposition for the relief of man. Judg. At all times a benevolent God has been the friend and the protector of human life. ENVY. Def. Malice excited by the attempt of another to excel. Judg. To avoid depravity like this, it is not necessary that any one should aspire to heroism or sanctity ; but only that he should resolve not to quit the rank which nature assigns, and wish to maintain the dignity of a human being. VIRTUE. Def. The foundation of honour and esteem. 45 Judg. One virtuous disposition of soul, is preferable to the greatest natural accomplishments and abilities. FRIENDSHIP. Def. A general coincident feeling between two persons. Judg. It should be the care of every person to be faithful in a well-formed attachment, but never to be precipi- tate in selecting a friend. THE VICE OF LYING. Def. The offspring of folly, meanness, and wickedness. Judg. Truth is the greatest bond of society. CLEANLINESS. Def. A habit which may be defined to be the emblem of purity of mind. Judg. Pure and unsullied thoughts are usually suggested by objects beautiful and elegant. SLOTH. Def. Habitual inactivity of mind and body. Judg. If the faculties be not polished with using, they will become incrusted with the rust of indolence. RELIGIOUS INTOLERANCE. Def. A disposition among religious parties and sects, arising from an opinion of their own infallibility. Judg. Men ought not lightly to condemn each other. CHARITY. Def. The practical display of solicitude for others. Judg. It " opens in each heart a little heaven." v YOUTH AND AGE. Def. Life in prospect ; and life in retrospect. 46 Judg. The true medium, under which life is seen, is at the middle station. PRAISE AND THANKSGIVING. Def. The discovery and acknowledgment of infinite per- fection. Judg. We can repay the universal benefactor only by praise and thanksgiving. COMMON HONESTY. Def. The habitual practice of moral virtue. Judg. If it could be introduced into all the employments of life the golden age would be restored. MODESTY AND ASSURANCE. Def. Modesty is the reflection of an ingenuous mind, upon its own censurable conduct. Assurance is the faculty of saying and doing indifferent things without emotion. Judg. Modesty and assurance are both amiable qualities, and may very well meet in the same person. CONTENTMENT. Def. That state of mind in which the agitations of anxiety and disappointment are no longer felt. Judg. After we have overcome the imaginary obstacles to our repose of mind, we still find some fresh source of discontent. COURAGE. Def. That state of mind which suffers no dismay from danger. Judg, It may be employed either as a most useful, or as a most disgraceful qualification. 47 HOPE. Def. The anticipation of good. Judg. It carries us forward through life ; and guides us at last to a halcyon haven. DEATH. Def The dissolution of corporal existence. Judg, There is an indispensable necessity upon all man- kind to be prepared for it by virtuous and pious living. EARLY IMPROVEMENT. Def. The acquirement of rational satisfaction in the be- ginning of life. Judg. A soul without rational satisfaction, darkens and discolours every object. PERSEVERANCE. Def. The resolution to persist in any undertaking which has been commenced. Judg. It not only goes far to ensure success ; but also obtains honour for those, who although the least fortu- nate, have been the most diligent. CONSCIENCE. Def. The delegate of an invisible ruler. Judg. When an awakened conscience places before the sinner the just vengeance of the Almighty, the prospect is confounding. ^ THE ADVANTAGES ARISING FROM LITERARY EDU- CATION. Def. The endowment of the mind with the wisdom of preceding ages. 48 Judg. Poets, orators, historians, and philosophers, all the great masters of thinking and writing, become in- corporated with the mental energies of him, who has obtained by education the keys of knowledge. THE VARIETY OF NATURE. Def. The offspring of order. Judg. The three comprehensive divisions under which all the bodies which belong to this earth are commonly arranged, are animals, vegetables, and minerals. night. Def. The time after sun-set. Judg. God draws the curtains of darkness around us ; so He makes all things to be hushed and still, that his large family may sleep in peace. GOOD DISPOSITIONS. Def. Justice, equity, truth, sincerity, candour, benefi- cence, and mercy. Judg. It hath ever been, and it is still in the world, that instances are not wanting of constancy, of friendship, of fidelity, of gratitude, of compassion, of integrity. GOD. Def. A being every where present. Judg. If we walk with God in all his ways, as he walks with us in all ours, we shall find perpetual reasons to enable us to keep that rule, " Rejoice in the Lord always." GOOD HUMOUR. Def. A habit of being pleased.. 49 Judg. Good humour boasts no faculties which every one does not believe in his own power, and pleases prin- cipally by not offending. TRUTH. Def. The union of appearance and reality. Judg. When a man has once forfeited the reputation of his integrity, he is set fast; and nothing will then serve his turn, neither truth nor falsehood. THE PERSIAN LANGUAGE. Def. A language rich, melodious, and elegant: spoken for many ages by the greatest princes in the politest courts of Asia, and in which a number of admirable works have been written by historians, philosophers, and poets. Judg. It cannot fail of delighting those who love to view the great picture of the universe, or to, learn by what degrees the most obscure states have risen to glory, and the most flourishing kingdoms have sunk to decay. The philosopher will consider these w^orks it contains, as highly valuable, by which he may trace the human mind in all its appearances, from the rudest to the most cultivated state: and the man of taste will undoubtedly be pleased to unlock the stores of native genius, and to gather the flowers of unrestrained and luxuriant fancy. GOOD PRINCIPLES IN EARLY LIFE. Def, A full conviction in youth of the obligations of morality and religion. so Judg* He who has adopted them, will go on his way rejoicing ; and will experience the path of the just, to be M as the shining light, which shineth more and more unto the perfect day/' 51 PART THE THIRD. DEFINITIONS, JUDGMENTS, AND ARGUMENTS, ** # X he pupil having acquired the art of explaining of defining the subjects proposed to him ; and of forming and expressing his opinion or judgment of them ; he will now be asked, " what are the reasons which induced him to form that judgment ?" Those reasons, when written between the definition and the judgment, will complete the theme. In the following examples, the instructor will have an opportunity of showing that in all the instances which are adduced, these three constituents are to be found : but that the definition and judgment are frequently blended with the arguments to conceal the mechanical structure of the composition. The elegancies of thought and lan- guage, the teacher can more readily and clearly point out, than any rules can be expected to do. To discriminate the energy and the order of argumentation, and to suggest d 2 52 the peculiarities of style, must be done by oral tuition* The attempt to do so by specific rules, would only swell the book with precepts, which could not assist tutors, and would be useless to those, who, persevering to obtain ele- gance and facility of composition, devote their attention to good models of writing. ON PROCRASTINATION. The folly of allowing ourselves to delay tvhat we knotv cannot be finally escaped, is one of the general weaknesses which prevail to a greater or less degree in almost every mind. It is, indeed, natural to have particular regard to the time present, and to be most solicitous for that which is, by its nearness, enabled to make the strongest impres- sions. When, therefore, any sharp pain is to be suffered, or any formidable danger to be incurred, we can scarcely exempt ourselves wholly from the seducement of imagin- ation ; we readily believe that another day will bring some support or advantage which we now want ; and are easily persuaded, that the moment of necessity, which we desire never to arrive, is at a great distance from us. When evils cannot be avoided, it is wise to contract the interval of expectation ; to meet the mischiefs which will overtake us if we fly ; and suffer only their real malig- nity, without the conflicts of doubt, and anguish of an- ticipation. To act is far easier than to suffer ; yet we every day see the progress of life retarded by the mere repugnance U 53 to exertion, and find multitudes repining at the want of that which nothing but idleness hinders them from enjoy- ing. Laziness is commonly associated with timidity. Either fear originally prohibits endeavours, by infusing despair of success ; or the frequent failure of irresolute struggles, and the constant desire of avoiding labour, im- press by degrees false terrors on the mind. Among all who sacrifice future advantage to present inclination, scarcely any gain so little as those that suffer themselves to freeze in idleness. Others are corrupted by some enjoyment of more or less power to gratify the pas- sions ; but to neglect our duties, merely to avoid the la- bour of performing them (a labour which is always punc- tually rewarded) is surely to sink under weak temptations. Idleness never can secure tranquillity ; the call of reason and of conscience will pierce the closest pavilion of the sluggard ; and, though it may not have force to drive him from his down, will be loud enough to hinder him from sleep. Those moments which he cannot resolve to make useful by devoting them to the great business of his being, will still be usurped by powers that will not leave them to his disposal ; remorse and vexation will seize upon them, and forbid him to enjoy what he is so desirous to appropriate. The certainty that life cannot be long, ought to awaken every man to the active 'prosecution of whatever he is desi- rous to perform. It is true that death may intercept the swiftest career; but he who is cut off in the execution of d 3 54 an honest undertaking, has at least the honour of falling in his rank, and has fought the battle, though he missed the victory. Johnson. FLATTERY. Flattery \s false praise: and is either offered to those by whom it is altogether unmerited ; or is given to an extent beyond that which truth can authorise. In either case, reprehension is due to those by whom it is administered, and contempt to those by whom it is received. Interest is generally the motive of a flatterer, and weak- ness is the most charitable opinion which can be enter- tained of that mind, by whom the sycophant is encouraged or endured. In the former there is a wanton violation of truth which can hardly be practised without some incen- tive : in the latter there is a foolish self-partiality which is ready to accept the glitter of undeserved applause. The mischief of flattery falls on the individual by whom it is received ; who, like the unwary Indian, heedlessly reposes on the verdure beneath which the reptile lies concealed. It retards improvement, paralyzes emulation, and extinguishes every motive toward laudable exertion. To youth, therefore, it is particularly dangerous ; and the proverbial admonition " beware of flattery," although applicable to every age and rank of life, is more particu-* larly suitable to those who are entering on the scenes of the world, and should hope to gain the praise of the vir- tuous and wise only by good conduct and real excellence. Ri?pinghajvu 55 INDUSTRY. Industry is not only the instrument of improvement, but the foundation of pleasure; for nothing is so opposite to the true enjoyment of life, as the relaxed and feeble state of an indolent mind. He who is a stranger to industry may possess, but he cannot enjoy. It is labour only that gives a relish to plea- sure. It is the indispensable condition of our possessing a sound mind in a sound body. Idleness is so inconsistent with both, that it is hard to determine whether it be a greater foe to virtue, or to health and happiness. Inactive as it is in itself, its effects are fatally powerful. Though it appears a slow flowing stream, yet it undermines all that is stable and flourishing. It is like water, which first putrifies by stagnation, and then sends up noxious -vapours filling the atmosphere with death. No affluence of fortune, or elevation of rank, exempts the possessor from the duties of application and industry: for industry is the law of our being i it is the demand of na- ture, of reason, and of God. Flee therefore from idleness, as the certain parent both of guilt and ruin. And under idleness may be included not merely inaction, but all that circle of trifling and frivolous occupations, in which too many saunter away their youth. Youth requires amuse- ments : it would be vain, it would be cruel, to prohibit them. But though allowable as the relaxation, they are highly culpable as the business of the young : for they then become the gulph of time, and the poison of the mind : d 4* 56 they foment bad passions, they weaken the manly powers, and sink the native vigour of youth into contemptible effeminacy. Hugh Blair. time. The day and the night succeed each other ; the rotation of seasons diversifies the year ; the sun rises, attains the meridian, declines and sets ; and the moon every night changes its form. If the wheel of life, which rolls thus silently along, pass on through undistinguishable uniformity , we should never mark its approaches to the end of its course. If one hour were like another, if the passage of the sun did not show that the day is wasting, if the change of seasons did not impress upon us the flight of the year, if the parts of time were not variously coloured, we should never discern their departure or succession, but should live thoughtless of the past and careless of the future, — without will, and perhaps without power, to compute the periods of life, or to compare the time which is already lost with that which may probably remain. But the course of time is so visi- bly marked, that it is even observed by nations who have raised their minds very little above animal instinct : there are human beings whose language does not supply them with words by which they can number five ; but we know of none who have not names for day and night> for sum- mer and winter. Yet these admonitions of nature, however forcible* how- 57 ever importunate, are too often vain ; and many who mark with accuracy the lapse of time, appear to have little sensibility of the decline of life. Every man has something to do, which he procrastinates; every man has faults to conquer which he delays to combat. From this inatten- tion, so general and so mischievous, let it be every man's study to exempt himself. Let him who desires to see others happy, make haste to give while his gift can be en- joyed ; and let him who seeks his own happiness, reflect that while he forms his purpose the day rolls on, and the 4i night comes when no man can work J' Johnson, temperance* Temperance may be defined to be the restraint of pas- uon. That it is a quality essential to good conduct and happiness, reason and observation bear ample testimony. So highly indeed has it always been esteemed, that it ranks as a virtue in every system of morality. For as uncon- trolled passions lead us to wickedness and turbulence ; so temperance conducts us to worth and tranquillity. Even in worldly affairs it is found to be a guide to health and riches ; for it forbids indulgence in enervating luxuries, and inculcates economy in all the departments of life. Its best recommendation is to be found in its effects ; and no one who is convinced that temperance leads to bliss, can hesitate on adhering to it through life. Rippingham. D 5 SB RESENTMENT. Resentment may be distinguished into anger and revenge. Anger is the pain we suffer upon the receipt of an injury or affront, with the usual effects of that pain upon our- selves. Revenge is the inflicting of pain upon the person who has injured or offended us, further than the just ends of punishment or reparation require. Reflections proper for this purpose are the following : the possibility of mistaking the motives from which the con- duct that offends us proceeds ; how often our own offences have been the effect of inadvertence, when they were con- strued into indications of malice; the inducement which prompted our adversary to act as he did, and how power- fully the same inducement has at one time or other oper- ated upon ourselves ; that he is suffering perhaps under a contrition which he is ashamed or wants opportunity to confess ; and how ungenerous it is to triumph, by coldness or insult, over a spirit already humbled in secret ; that the returns of kindness are sweet, and that there is neither honour nor virtue, nor utility in resisting them. To this we should particularly advert ; for too many think themselves bound to keep alive their indignation, when they find it dying away of itself. We should remember, that others have their passions, their prejudices, their favourite aims, their fears, their ^cautions, their interests, their sudden impulses, and their varieties of apprehensions, as well as ourselves. We may 59 recollect what has sometimes passed in our minds, when we have been on the wrong side of a quarrel ; and imagine the same to be passing in our adversary's mind now : when we became sensible of our misbehaviour, what palliations we perceived in it, and expected others to perceive ; how we were affected by the kindness, and felt the superiority, of a generous reception and ready forgiveness ; how perse- cution revived our Spirit with our enmity, and seemed to justify that conduct in ourselves which we before blamed. Add to this the indecency of anger ; how it renders us, while it lasts, the scorn and sport of all about us : the in- conveniencies and irretrievable misconduct, into which our irascibility has sometimes betrayed us ; the friendship it has lost us ; and the sore repentance, which, on one ac- count or other, it always costs us, It is necessary, therefore, to habituate ourselves to these reflections, till they arise spontaneously in our minds when they are wanted, that is, instantly upon the receipt of an injury or affront; and with such force and colouring, as both to mitigate the paroxysms of our anger at the time> and at length to produce an alteration in the temper and disposition itself. Paley. piety. Reverence of God is the foundation of good morals, and a disposition particularly graceful and becoming in youth. To be void of it argues a cold heart, destitute of some of the best affections which belong to that age. Youth is the season of warm and generous emotions, The heart should d 6 60 ihen spontaneously rise in the admiration of what is great, glow with the love of what is fair and excellent, and melt at the discovery of tenderness and goodness. Where can any object be found so proper to kindle these affections, as the Father of the Universe and the Author of all felicity? Unmoved by veneration, can you contemplate that grandeur and majesty which his works every where display? Untouched by gratitude, can you view that pro- fusion of good, which, in this pleasing season of life, his beneficent hand pours around you? Happy in the love and affection of those with whom you are connected, look up to the Supreme Being as the inspirer of all the friendship that has ever been shown you by others ; himself your best and first friend: formerly the support of your infancy and the guide of your childhood ; now the guardian of your youth, and the hope of your coming years. View religious homage as a natural expression of gratitude to him for all his goodness. Consider it as the service of the God of your fathers; of him to whom your parents devoted you ; of him whom in former ages your ancestors honoured, and by whom they are now rewarded and blessed in heaven. Impress your mind with reverence for every thing that is sacred. Let no wantonness of youthful spirits, no com- pliance with the intemperate mirth of others, ever betray you into profane sallies. Beside the guilt which is thereby incurred, nothing gives a more odious appearance of petu- lance and presumption to youth, than the affectation of treating religion with levity. Instead of being an evidence 61 of superior understanding, it discovers a pert and shallow mind, which, vain of the first smatterings of knowledge, presumes to make light of what the rest of mankind revere. At the same time, you are not to imagine that, when ex- horted to be religious, you are called upon to become more formal and solemn in your manners than others of the same years, or to erect yourselves into supercilious reprovers of those around you. The spirit of true religion breathes gen- tleness and affability. It gives a native unaffected ease to the behaviour. It is social, kind, and cheerful ; far re- moved from that gloomy and illiberal superstition, which clouds the brow, sharpens the temper, dejects the spirit, and teaches men to fit themselves for another world by neglecting the concerns of this. It connects preparation for heaven tvilh an honourable discharge of the duties of active life. Of such religion discover, on every proper occasion, that you are not ashamed; but avoid making any unnecessary ostentation of it before the world. Blair. anger. Anger is the great disturber of human life : the chief enemy both of public happiness and private tranquillity. Pride is undoubtedly the origin of anger ; but pride, like every other passion, if it once break loose from reason, counteracts its own purposes. A passionate man, upon the review of his day, will have very few gratifications to offer 62 to his pride, when he has considered how his outrages were borne, and in what they are likely to end at last. These sudden bursts of rage generally break out upon small occasions ; for life, unhappy as it is, cannot supply great evils as frequently as the man of fire thinks fit to be enraged ; therefore reflection upon his violence must show him that he is mean enough to be driven from his post by every petty incident, that he is the mere slave of casualty, and that his reason and virtue are in the power of the wind. One motive there is of these loud extravagancies, which a man is careful to conceal from others, and does not al- ways discover to himself. He that finds his knowledge nar- row, and his arguments weak, is sometimes in hope of gaining that attention by his clamours which he cannot otherwise obtain, and is pleased with remembering, that at least he made himself heard, that he had the power to interrupt those whom he could not confute, and suspend the decision which he could not guide. But it does not appear that a man can by uproar and tumult alter any one's opinion of his understanding, or gain influence, except over those whom fortune or nature has made his dependents. He may affright his children or harass his servants, but the rest of the world will look on and laugh ; and he will at length perceive that he lives only to raise contempt and hatred, and that he has given up the felicity of being loved, without gaining the honour of being reverenced. 63 When a man has once suffered his mind to be thus viti- ated, he becomes one of the most hateful and unhappy of beings. He can give no security to himself that he shall not at the next interview alienate, by some sudden trans- port, his dearest friend; or break out, upon some slight contradiction, into such terms of rudeness as can never be perfectly forgotten. Whoever converses with him, lives with the suspicion and solicitude of a man who plays with a tame tiger, always under the necessity of watching the moment in which the capricious savage shall begin to growl. It is related by Prior, of the duke of Dorset, that his servants used to put themselves in his way when he was angry, because he was sure to recompense them for any indignities which he made them suffer. This is the round of a passionate man's life ; he contracts debts when he is furious, whicH his virtue, if he has any, obliges him to discharge at the return of reason. He spends his time in outrage and acknowledgment ; in injury and reparation. Nothing is more miserable or despicable than the old age of a passionate man ; his rage sinks, by decay of strength, into habitual peevishness ; the world falls off from around him, and he is left to prey upon his own heart in solitude and contempt. Johnson, poetry. Poetry is an effort of genius and art ; producing an association of exalted and brilliant ideas, ', in language har- moniously arranged. 64 The productions of poetical talent have always been re- garded with reverence and delight. It is in this region of literature that the human mind displays the extent and variety of its powers. It gives beauty and energy to pious, moral, and heroic sentiments. The works of Homer, Virgil, Milton, and still more, the effusions of the sacred writers, bear ample testimony of its powers. Poetry gene- rally improves with the progress of civilization; and in pro- portion to the refinement of manners, even subjects of less interest obtain new charms by the embellishments of taste- ful composition. But the admiration which is bestowed on the fascinations of this endowment, is increased by the consideration of its utility : for inasmuch as it engages at- tention to subjects deserving of the highest regard, it must be esteemed one of the most fortunate endowments with which the human mind can be invested. 4tlPPINGFAM. PROVIDENCE. Providence interposes for the relief of man, supplying his wants in a thousand extraordinary ways. What would have become of him in the earliest ages, had he been abandoned to his own reason, still unaided by experience? Where found he corn, which at this day constitutes a prin- cipal part of the food of so many nations ? Who taught him agriculture, an art so simple, that the most stupid of mankind is capable of learning it ; and yet so sublime, that the most intelligent of animals never can pretend to practise it ! There is scarcely an animal that supports its 65 life by vegetables, which has not daily experience of their re-production, and which does not employ, in quest of those that suit it, many more combinations than would have been necessary for re -sowing them. If Providence had abandoned man to himself, on pro- ceeding from the hand of the Creator, what would have become of him ? Who could have subjected to his au- thority so many animals which stood in no need of him y which surpassed him in cunning, in speed, in strength ; unless the hand which, notwithstanding his fall, destined him still to empire, had humbled their heads to obedience to his will ? The preservation, the enjoyments, and the empire of man demonstrate, that at all times a beneficent God has been the friend and protector qf human life. St. Pierre, envy. Envy is almost the only vice which is practicable at alt times, and in every place : the only passion which can. never lie quiet for want of irritation. Its effects, there- fore, are every where discoverable, and its attempts always to be dreaded. The frequency of envy makes it so familiar, that it escapes our notice ; nor do we often reflect upon its tur- pitude or malignity, till we happen to feel its influence. When he that has given no provocation to malice, but by attempting to excel in some useful art, finds himself v pur-* sued by multitudes, whom he never saw, with implaca-. bility of personal resentment,; when he perceives clamour 66 and malice let loose upon him as a public enemy, and in- cited by every stratagem of defamation ; when he bears the misfortunes of his family, or the follies of his youth, exposed to the world ; and every failure of conduct, or de- fect of nature, aggravated and ridiculed ; he then learns to abhor those artifices, at which he only laughed before; and discovers how much the happiness of life would be ad- vanced by the eradication of envy from the human heart. Envy is, indeed, a stubborn weed of the mind, and sel- dom yields to the culture of philosophy. There are, how- ever, considerations, which, if carefully implanted and diligently propagated, might in time overpower and re- press it ; since no one can nurse it for the sake of pleasure, as its effects are only shame, anguish, and perturbation. It is, above all other vices, inconsistent with the cha- racter of a social being, because it sacrifices truth and kindness to very weak temptations. He that plunders a wealthy neighbour gains as much as he takes away, and improves his own condition in the same proportion as he impairs another's : but he that blasts a flourishing re- putation must be content with a small dividend of addi- tional fame ; so small as can afford very little consolation, to balance the guilt with which it is obtained. It is no slight aggravation of the injuries which envy in- cites, that they are committed against those who have given no intentional provocation; and that the sufferer is marked out for ruin, not because he has failed in any duty, but because he has dared to do more than was required. 67 Almost every other crime is practised by the help of some quality which might have produced esteem or love, if it had been well employed : but envy is a more unmixed and genuine evil ; it pursues a hateful end by despicable means, and desires not so much its own happiness as an- other's misery. To avoid depravity like this, it is not ne- cessary that any one should aspire to heroism or sanctity ; but only that he should resolve not to quit the rank which nature assigns, and that he should wish to maintain the dig- nity of a human being. Johnson, virtue. Virtue is the foundation of honour and esteem, and the source of all beauty, order, and happiness, in nature. It is what confers value on all other endowments and quali- ties of a reasonable being ; to which they ought to be absolutely subservient ; and without which, the more eminent they are, the more hideous deformities and the greater curses they become. Many of the endowments and talents we now possess, and of which we are too apt to be proud, will cease en- tirely with the present state ; but virtue will be our orna- ment and dignity in every future state to which we may be removed. Beauty and wit will die, learning will va- nish away, and all the arts of life be soon forgotten ; but virtue will remain for ever. This unites us to the whole rational creation, and fits us for conversing with any order of superior natures, and for a place in any part of God's works. 68 Virtue procures us the love of all wise and good beings, and renders them our allies and friends. But what is of unspeakably greater consequence is, that it makes God our friend, assimilates and unites our mind to his, and en- gages his Almighty power in our defence. Superior beings of all ranks are bound by virtue no less than ourselves. It has the same authority in all worlds that it has in this. The further any being is advanced in excellence and perfection, the greater is his attachment to it. and the more he is under its influence. It is the law of the whole universe ; it stands first in the estimation of the Deity ; its origin is His nature ; and it is the very ob- ject that makes Him lovely. Such is the importance of virtue. Of how much conse- quence it is, therefore, to practise it ! There is no argu- ment or motive, that is at all fitted to influence a reasonable mind, which does not call us to this. One virtuous dispo- sition of soul is preferable to the greatest natural accom- plishments and abilities, and of more value than all the treasures of the world. Price. FRIENDSHIP. Friendship is a general coincident feeling between two persons. As man is a social being, it is no wonder he should be disposed to attach himself to that person, whose sentiments are most congenial with his own. Such attach- ment produces reciprocal kindness ; and kindness begets mutual friendship. 69 Writers on morality and philosophy abound with enco- miums on friendship : and historians as well as poets pre- sent the brighest examples of this amiable quality. The instances of David and Jonathan, of Damon and Pythias, and of Achilles and Patroclus, bear testimony of the ar- dent friendship which may exist between persons of the same sex ; and to what enthusiasm that attachment is sometimes carried. In the common concerns of life, every one knows how much he needs the aid and counsel of some one in whom he may confide ; and feels how much his sorrows are alleviated by the participation of a sincere friend. But all these considerations of incitement and approba- tion toward this amiable disposition, must be accompanied by those suggestions of prudence, which inculcate caution in the choice of confidants ; and point out the dangers of yielding implicit trust in those whose sincerity has not been ascertained. To the admonitions of prudence, history adds testimony of the many tragical events which have followed too easy confidence in pretended friendship. Be it therefore the care of every one to be faithful in a well- formed attachment ; but never to be precipitate in selecting a friend. Rippingham. THE VICE OF LYING. To warn us from lying we should do well to consider the folly, the meanness, and the wickedness of it. The folly of lying consists in its defeating its own pur- pose. A habit of lying is generally detected in the end; 70 arid after detection, the liar, instead of deceiving, will not even be believed when he happens to speak the truth. Nay, every single lie is attended with such a variety of Circumstances which lead to at detection, that it is often discovered. The use generally made of a lie is, to cover a fault; but as this end is seldom answered, we only aggra- vate what we wish to eonceal. In point even of prudence, an honest confession would serve us better* The meanness of lying arises from the cowardice which it implies. We dare not boldly and nobly speak the truth, but have recourse to low subterfuges, which always show a sordid and disingenuous mind. Hence it is, that in the fashionable world the Wdf d liar is always considered as a term of peculiar reproach. The wickedness of lying consists in its perverting one of the greatest blessings of God, the use of speech, in making that a mischief to mankind which w&s intended for a be- nefit. Truth is the greatest bond of society. If one man lies, why may not another ? And if there be no mutual trust, there is an end df all intercourse. An equivocation is nearly related to a lie. It is an in* tention to deceive under words of a double meaning, or words which, literally speaking, are true ; and is equally criminal with the downright breach of truth. A nod, or sign, may convey a lie as effectually as the most deceitful language. Under the head of lying may be mentioned a breach of jprdmise. Every engagement, though only of the lightest n kind, should be punctually observed ; and he who ddeg not think himself bound by such an obligation, has little pretension to the character of an honest man* Gilpin, cleanliness* Cleanliness may be defined to be the emblem of purity of mind, and may be recommended under the three follow- ing heads : as it is a mark of politeness ; as it produces affection ; and as it bears analogy td chastity of sentiment. First, it is a mark of politeness : for it is universally agreed upon, that no one unadorned with this virtue can go into company without giving manifest offence. The different nations of the world are as much distinguished by their cleanliness, as by their arts and sciences. The more they advance into civilization, the more they consult this part of politeness. Secondly, Cleanliness may be said to be the foster-mo- ther of affection. Beauty commonly produces love, but cleanliness preserves it. Age itself is not unamiable while it is preserved clean and unsullied : like a piece of metal constantly kept smooth and bright, we look on it with more pleasure than on a new vessel that is cankered with rust. I might further observe, that as cleanliness renders us Agreeable to others, it makes us easy to ourselves ; that it is an excellent preservative of health ; and that several vices, destructive both to mind and body, are inconsistent with the habit of it. In the third place, it bears a great analogy with ehastity 72 of sentiment, and naturally inspires refined feelings and passions. We find from experience, that through the pre- valence of custom the most vicious actions lose their hor- ror by being made familiar to us. On the contrary, those who live in the neighbourhood of good examples, fly from the first appearance of what is shocking ; and thus pure and unsullied thoughts are naturally suggested to the mind by those objects that perpetually encompass us, when they are beautiful and elegant in their kind. In the East, where the warmth of the climate makes cleanliness more immediately necessary than in colder countries, it is a part of religion : the Jewish law (as weH as the Mahometan, which in some things copies after it) is filled with bathing, purifications, and other rites of the like nature ; and we read several injunctions of this kind in the book of Deuteronomy. Addison, sloth. The whole structure of our nature, and the whole condi- tion of our being, prove that our Maker intended us not for a life of indolence, but of active exertion. All the organs of the body, and all the faculties of the mind, are instru- ments of action, and are to be employed in the vigorous pursuit of happiness. It is only by constant exercises that these powers can be preserved in a sound and healthful state. If the body be suffered to remain long inactive, it will lose its strength, and become a prey to disease ; at the same time the mental faculties will be gradually en- feebled, and the whole fabric of human happiness be under- 73 mined by fretfulness and spleen. It is, on the contrary, a matter of constant experience, that a regular course of bodily exercise is productive to health, exhilarates the spirits, and contributes to the easy and successful em- ployment of the intellectual powers. The frequent application of the mind to study, esta- blishes a habit of thinking, which renders it easy and plea- sant to engage in any kind of scientific or literary pursuit : whereas a mind which remains long unemployed loses its capacity and vigour, and sinks into languor and stupidity. As the earth, if it be industriously cultivated, will produce fruits in rich abundance ; but, if it be suffered to lie long untilled, will be over-run with weeds, which will be rank in proportion to the richness of the soil : so the human mind, if cultivated with great assiduity will yield a plen- tiful harvest of knowledge and wisdom; but if neglected, will soon be overspread with the weeds of error and folly ; and the poisonous weeds will spring up in the greatest abundance in those minds which are by nature capable of producing the most excellent fruits. To a mind thus corrupted by indolence the words of Solomon may be applied : u I went by the field of the slothful, and by the vineyard of the man void of under- standing, and lo ! it was all grown over with thorns, and nettles had covered the face thereof." The unquestion- able truth is, that man is made for action; and his faculties, like metallic instruments, if they be not polished with using, mil be consumed with the rust of indolence. Enfield. e 74 RELIGIOUS INTOLERANCE. All religious parties or sects are persuaded of their owit infallibility. Each cherishes the unhappy opinion, that, among the many religious professions, there is only one which possesses theological truths in all their purity ; each despises and abhors the rest, and accuses them of obsti- nacy, blindness, obduracy, and deceit. Each sect imagines itself to be in the right way, and all the others in error. Every man of a shallow mind is proud of his intolerance? and regards every thing that does not correspond with his tenets, as detestable and impure. It is too often the case that the enemies of a religion hate it, because they are not acquainted with it. They ascribe to their opponents prin- ciples which they abhor, and tenets which never entered into their imaginations. They propagate the most ridicu- lous calumnies against the professors of the obnoxious re- ligion. A Franconian catholic of high rank, in the true spirit of religious intolerance, gave this caution to his son when setting out on his travels : " My son,'' said the illus- trious bigot, " avoid the society of the Protestant Eccle- siastics, for they are all addicted to abominable crimes." In the eyes of the Turks all infidels are dogs, whose pre- sence alone is sufficient to pollute an orthodox Mussulman. For this reason no Christians were permitted to reside in a large portion of Arabia, because the cities of Mecca and Medina formed a part of it. Neither Jews nor Christians are allowed to be present in Egypt at the opening of the canals of the Nile, lest, by their impurity, they should prevent the overflowing of its waters. 75 The Mahomedans are unjust towards the Christians, and the Christians towards the Mahomedans. No Turk ever entertained the least doubt concerning the unity of the Godhead; and yet they have been accused of wor- shipping the stars, and in many Christian books they are termed pagans. Thus, mankind, more or less, shun and despise, ridicule and condemn, one another, because each professes the only saving religion. Thus the crusades swept away two millions of combatants : and they were undertaken in the true spirit of intolerance, for the extermination of infi- dels, and for a confirmation and extension of the true faith. Thus have princes been stimulated to convert the world into a hell, and in the name of a God of mercy to perse- cute and torment those whom they ought to have treated with love and compassion. Whoever imagines that ano- ther cannot possibly be a virtuous man who does not believe all that he believes ; whoever condemns all those whose way of thinking in religious matters does not cor- respond with his, will naturally be an enemy to th^e great- est part of his species. Men ought not thus lightly to condemn each other. — We shall be judged by a God of love ; he will judge us according to the faithfulness and sincerity with which we serve him. The hope of salvation is not grounded on a man's faith, but on his sincerity ; not on his opinions and knowledge, but on the worthiness, purity, and integrity of his heart and life. Zimmermann. e 2 CHARITY. Charity is the chief characteristic of a virtuous and libe- ral mind. It combines almost every good quality which can adorn the human heart, and excludes the vices and failings which are inseparable from an unkind disposition. The relief of want and wretchedness, although in itself meritorious, yet forms only a small part of this excellent attribute. Neither envy, pride, anger, nor falsehood, can exist in the same breast with charity : but forbearance, hu- mility, mildness, and truth, are amongst its necessary con- stituents. Every character which is admired for the prac- tice of those virtues which make individuals amiable and interesting, teaches the value and excellence of this trans- cendent quality. The good Samaritan is the subject of universal praise ; and the spontaneous good nature which he displays towards the victim of cruelty, is enhanced by contrast with the unfeeling indifference of the Pharisee and Levite. But the forgiving temper, the generous af- fection, the rigid fidelity, and patient sufferings of Joseph, exhibit charity in the extensive and affecting views which every good man is anxious to attain. Blessed and happy is he who is successful in the amia- ble ambition of inheriting that quality, which, to use the beautiful language of Prior, ct Opens in each heart a little heavn" He is like the meandering stream, tranquil in itself; and diffusing health and fertility whithersoever it flows. Rippingham* 11 YOUTH AND AGE. To young persons life commonly appears a shining and flowery spring, which yields a thousand present delights, and promises a summer richly laden with precious fruits. They have heard, indeed, that it sometimes happens that storms and tempests rise to darken the brightest sky; and they are told that the summer and autumn of mature life must be at length succeeded by the gloomy winter of age : but they think it wholly unnecessary to damp the ardour of their present pursuits, by turning their attention to .events apparently so remote - From these and other causes, young people enter upon life with the most sanguine expectations of finding in every -event an inexhaustible fund of delight, and of seeing all their schemes and enterprises crowned with success. They behold Fame standing ready to sound the praise of their talents and merit, and Fortune waiting to reward their industry. Thus delighted with themselves and their prospects, they contemplate human life as an enchanting scene, inviting to action, pregnant with the pleasure, and rich in hope ; and they wonder at the. peevishness and perverseness of those who can find in the world nothing ■but causes of vexation and complaint. Such is human life in prospect. Let us now, for a mo- ment, consider how it appears to those who view it in re- trospect. The gay illusions of youthful fancy are now all vanished. Through life they have met with many disappointments, E 3 78 perhaps with many heavy calamities* Plans which pro- mised great things have failed. Those in whom they con- fided have deserted them. With this appearance of the uncertainty and vanity of all earthly possessions, they are at length arrived at the period when youthful strength and beauty are exchanged for feebleness and deformity — when the senses are benumbed, and desire fails. The companions of their youth have dropped one after another into the grave : what wonder if at four-score they ask — Where is the world into which we were barn? What wonder if, with all their own experience of misfortune, and with their long observation of the ills of life, the world should appear to them a dreary wilderness ? If the former of these views of life be too gay, the latter is certainly too gloomy. The true medium is the aspect under tvhich life is seen at the middle station, in passing from youth to age. By the help of long experience and cool reflection, it is clearly ascertained that this world is neither a paradise of flowers nor a wilderness of thorns ; that though trouble and sorrow are the common lot of mortals, this sad account is, through the bounty of Divine Providence, commonly far overbalanced by enjoyments and gratifications of various kinds, animal, social, and in- tellectual. Enfield. PRAISE AND THANKSGIVING. The duty of praise and thanksgiving is a debt and law of our nature. We had such faculties bestowed on us by bur Creator, as made us capable of satisfying this debt, 79 and obeying this law ; and they never, therefore, are em- ployed more naturally than in this question. When God had finished that goodly frame of things which we call the world, and put together the several parts of it according to his infinite wisdom, there was still wanting a creature in these lower regions, that could apprehend the beauty, order, and exquisite contrivance of it ; that from content plating the gift, might be able to raise itself to the great Giver, and do honour to all His attributes. Every thing, indeed, that God made, did in some sense glorify its Author, inasmuch, as it carried upon it the plain mark and impression of the Deity, and was an effect wor- thy of that First Cause from which it flowed ; and thus might the heavens be said, at the first moment in which they stood forth, to " declare his glory, and the firma- ment to show his handywork." But this was an imperfect and defective glory ; the sign could be no signification here below, while there was no one to take notice of it. Man therefore was formed to supply this want ; endued with powers to find out and to acknowledge these unlimited perfections •• and then put into this temple of God, this lower world, as the priest of na- ture, to offer up the incense of thanks and praise for the mute and insensible part of the creation. This duty of thanksgiving takes the surer hold of us by that strong bent towards gratitude which the Author of our nature has implanted in it. There is not a more active principle than this in the mind of man ; and surely that £ 4 80 which deserves its utmost force is God, the great and universal Benefactor, from whom alone we receive what- ever we either have or are, and to tvhom we can repay nothing hut our praises and thankgiving. Attehbury. COMMON HONESTY. - It cannot surely be denied, that the quality which per- ; vades every part of human life, and tends immediately to render it secure, comfortable, and honourable, is itself one of the most honourable which can be possessed by a human creature; and such is that uncelebrated virtue, plain, -unassuming, moral honesty. Without it, society is a den of thieves, and men are to each other wolves and foxes. Every day's experience evinces the justness of that re- presentation in the Scriptures, in which it is said, that " the heart is deceitful above all things who can know it ?" In the most trifling intercourse, where neither pleasure nor profit are in view, the propensity to deceit appears in the little promises, professions, complaints, which are mutu- ally made, usually without any sincerity of regard, and often with real and inveterate aversion* But where interest is in view, the machinations made use of for the accom- plishment of mean and mercenary purposes, are often such as might characterise an infernal agent. Plausibility is, at the same time, worn as a cloak ; and he who has a de- sign on your purse, your life, or your country, will assume all the appearance of cordial friendship and unpolluted ho- nour. It is well known, that the graces, the agreeable qualw SI ties, as they are called, and the appearance of the most ami- able virtues, have been possessed in perfection by men who finished their lives with ignominy as victims of the law. Indeed, this common honesty, as it is named, is far less common than our pride is willing to suppose ; but if it could be introduced into all the employments of life, the golden age would be restored. Early and late, by night and by day, " in season and out of season,'' as the Scripture strongly expresses it, I would inculcate the just remark of the moral poet, that " An ho- nest man is the noblest work of God." Knox. MODESTY AND ASSURANCE. I know no two words that have been more abused by the different and wrong interpretations put upon them, than these two, Modesty and Assurance ; and shall therefore endeavour to restore them to their true meaning, to pre- vent the idea of modesty from being confounded with that of sheepishness, and to hinder impudence from passing for assurance. I define modesty to be the reflection of an ingenuous mind, when a man has committed an action for which he either censures himself, or fancies that he is exposed to the censure of others* For this reason, a man truly modest is as much so when he is alone as in company : and as sub- ject to a blush in his closet, as when the eyes of multitudes are upon him. I take assurance to be the faculty of a man's possessing himself, or of saying and doing indifferent things without e 5 82 any uneasiness or emotion in the mind. That which gene- rally gives a man assurance, is a moderate knowledge of the world; but above all, a mind fixed and determined in itself to do nothing against the rules of honour and decency. An open and assured behaviour is the natural conse- quence of such a resolution. A man thus armed, if his words or actions be at any time misrepresented, retires within himself, and from a consciousness of his own inte- grity, assumes force enough to despise the little censures of ignorance and malice. Every one ought to encourage in himself the modesty and assurance which I have here mentioned. A man without this assurance is liable to be made uneasy by the folly or ill nature of every one he converses with : a man without modesty, is lost to all sense of honour and virtue. From what has been said, it is plain that modesty and assitrance are both amiable qualities^ and may very xvell meet in the same person. When they are thus mixed and blended together, they compose what we endeavour to express when we say a modest assurance ; by which we understand the just medium between bashfulness and impudence. I shall conclude with observing, that as the same man riray be both modest and assured, so it is also possible for the same person to be both impudent and bashful. We have frequent instances of this strange mixture in people of depraved minds and mean education ; who, though they 83 are not able to meet a man's eyes, or pronounce a sentence without confusion, can voluntarily commit the greatest villanies, or the most indecent actions. Addison. CONTENTMENT. The object of all human exertions is contentment — thai tranquil state of mind in which the agitations of anxiety and disappointment are no longer felt. The life of man is generally a series of conflict and un- easiness, and there are but few intervals from the cradle to the grave, in which fears andmortiflcations'arenot to be found. It is therefore no wonder that contentment should be the halcyon haven of every pursuit. The history of the world, in presenting the struggles of competition, only displays the eagerness and resolution with which mankind have sought to overcome the obstacles to tranquillity. And although the philosophers of every age inculcate that this state of mind is within the reach of all, yet in every con- dition of existence we find it is, or is thought to be, a fleet- ing form never to be attained. Yet surely some useful sug- gestions may be made by comparison with the state of others. Why will not envy and ambition be satisfied with competence ? Why does the poor man repine when he perceives the still poorer than him? Why do objects disturb us to which we might be indifferent without injury or danger ? We make ourselves miserable by trifles, and though surrounded by all the ingredients to comfort, ex- claim in the like spirit of Haman, " yet all this availeth me nothing, so long as I see Mordecai the Jew at the King's gate." Could we but consider, that after we have e 6 84 overcome the imaginary obstacles to our repose of mind, we should still find some fresh source of discontent, pru- dence and reason would enjoin us to be content. We should then taste the pleasures which our circumstances, whatever they may be, can afford : and with hearts affected by piety and resignation, address ourselves, under every calamity, to the Author of existence, in those words equally sacred and suitable, " thy will he done." Rippingham* courage. Courage is that habit of mind which suffers no dismay amidst danger. This quality obtains general admiration ; not only be- cause it is the source of heroism, but also because it is the characteristic of those who guard the community from foreign hostility. Perhaps there is no other endowment which more immediately leads to honourable distinctioa than this. The names of conquerors stand first in the me- mory of mankind : their fame is at least coeval with that of their country. In England, we venerate the names of Milton and Shakspeare, of Newton and Locke ; but to the remains and memory of Nelson, veneration is lost in general enthusiastic devotion. But there are nevertheless some circumstances, to which, in considering this subject, a dispassionate mind cannot be insensible. The first is, that as courage is a natural en- dowment and cannot be acquired ; so no degradation should be attached to those who cannot boast that they possess it. It may also be observed, that though courage is 85 an useful quality, it is not of itself either virtuous or amia- ble : and though it may lead to glory, and contribute to national security; yet it may also be employed in the vilest occupations — in those disgraceful habits which reduce man to a condition of brutal ferocity. These reflections teach us, that the excellence of cou- rage is relative. That the want of it does not indicate a bad heart, or a weak understanding ; and that it may be employed either as a most useful, or a most disgraceful qualification. Rippingham. A FUTURE STATE. Our knowledge of a future world is very imperfect ; our ideas of it are faint and confused. Happy moments, indeed, there sometimes are in the lives of pious men, when, se- questered from worldly cares, and borne up on the wings of divine contemplation, they rise to a near and transport- ing view of immortal glory. But such efforts of the mind are rare, and cannot be long supported. When the spirit of meditation subsides, this lively sense of a future state decays ; and though the general belief of it remain, yet even good men, when they return to the ordinary business and cares of life, seem to rejoin the multitude, and to re- assume the same hopes, and fears, and interests, which influence the rest of the world. Under the care of the Almighty, our education is now going on, from a mortal to an immortal state. As much light is let in upon us as we can bear without injury. When the subjects become too splendid and dazzling for our sight, the curtain is drawn. S6 The great design of all the knowledge, and in particu- lar, of the religious knowledge which God has afforded us, is, to fit us for discharging the duties of life. If the dis- covery were more imperfect, it would excite no desire of immortality ; if it were more full and striking it would render us careless of life. Blair. hope. Hope, even though unsupported by probability, is the chief source of human happiness. In the days of adversity it sheds a benignant light to dissipate despondency : in prosperity it points to some unseen sphere, in which prosperity itself shines yet more brightly. There is a pleasure in anticipation, which often sur- passes that of possession : for it is unalloyed by the satiety and disappointments which often accompany the comple- tion of our wishes. In the affairs of life, perseverance is supported by the expectation of success. The cares of parental solicitude are beguiled by the prospect of the infant's future years. Even the wandering mendicant, when he beholds comforts which he cannot partake, feels some consolation in the thought, that he may yet be as blessed as others. But in those awful conditions when the world ceases to amuse or flatter ; when all sublunary bliss fades, even to expectation, Hope attends the couch of death, and points to " another and a better world." Like the breeze which wafts the gliding vessel, it carries us forward through life ; and guides us at last to a halcyon haven. Rippincham. 87 DEATH. The dissolution of corporal existence, is a subject of in- structive consideration. As it is an inevitable event, it claims the most serious contemplation; so that its ap- proach may be felt with resignation, and its sumnjons obeyed with cheerful hope. This attention is the more prudent, since it is univer- sally known, that the visitation of death is received with feelings widely different. When it is the close of a life which has been employed in virtue and benevolence, it is distinguished by tranquillity ; but when it is the termin- ation of a career of vice, it is embittered by the painful suggestions of remorse — by reflections of a mis-spent, unprofitable, and disgraceful existence. The death-bed of expiring worth is consecrated by the tears of filial piety, of conjugal affection, and friendship's solicitude. But such endearments seldom attend, and never can ameliorate the last moments of vice. The retrospect of life is blackened with guilt ; the prospect of futurity is shadowed with fears. Conscience is armed with terrors: and the appalled victim of self-iniquity yields the tribute of nature in the horrors of convulsive agony. Yet far more formidable is the consideration of death, if viewed as the commencement of a new state of existence, in which the tenor of mortal life is to be the criterion of future misery or happiness. Yet such is the mode in which Christianity requires that human dissolution should be regarded. 88 For this awful event it behoves every one to be ready : and since the hour in which it may come upon us is uncer- tain, there is an indispensable necessity upon all mankind to be prepared for it by virtuous and pious living. RlPPINGHAM. EARLY IMPROVEMENT. There is not a greater inlet to misery and vices of all kinds, than the not knowing how to pass our vacant hours. For what remains to be done, when the first part of the lives of those who are not brought up to any manual em- ployment, has slipt away without acquired relish for reading, or taste for other rational satisfactions ? — That they should pursue their pleasures ? — But, religion apart, common prudence will warn them to tie up the wheel as they begin to go down the hill of life. Shall they then apply themselves to their studies ? Alas ! the seed-time is already past : the enterprising and spirited ardour of youth being over, without having been applied to those valuable purposes for which it was given, all am- bition of excelling upon general and laudable schemes quite stagnates. If they have not some poor expedient to deceive the time, or, to speak more properly, to deceive themselves, the length of a day will seem tedious to those, who perhaps have the unreasonableness to complain of the shortness of life in general. s When the former part of our life has been nothing but vanity, the latter end of it can be nothing but vexation, In short, we must be miserable without some employment 89 ~to fix, or some amusement to dissipate our thoughts. And as we can neither command amusement in all places, nor relish it at all times, there is an absolute necessity for em- ployment. We may pursue this or that new pleasure : we may be fond for a while of a new acquisition ; but when the graces of novelty are worn off, and the briskness of our first desire is over, the transition is very quick and sudden from an eager fondness to a cool indifference. Hence there is a restless agitation in our minds, still craving something new, still unsatisfied with it when possessed : till melan- choly increases as we advance in years, like shadows lengthening toward the close of day. Hence it is, that men of this stamp are continually com- plaining that the times are altered for the worse : because the sprightliness of youth represented every thing in the most engaging light. When men are in high good-humour with themselves, they are apt to be so with all around them ; the face of nature brightens up, and the sun shines with a more agreeable lustre : but when old age has cut them off from the enjoyment of false pleasures, and ha- bitual vice has given them a distaste for the only true and lasting delights ; when a retrospect of their past lives pre- sents nothing to view but one wide tract of uncultivated ground ; a soul, distempered tvilk spleen, remorse, and in- sensibility of each rational satisfaction, darkens and disco- lours every object. The change is not in the times, but in them who have been forsaken by those gratifications which they would not forsake, 90 How much otherwise is it with those who have trea- sured up an inexhaustible fund of knowledge ! When a man has been laying out that time in the pursuit of some great and important truth, which others waste in a circle # of gay follies, he is conscious of having acted up to the dignity of his nature ; and from that consciousness there results a serene complacency which, though not so violent, is much preferable to the pleasures of animal life. He can travel on from strength to strength ; for in literature, as in war, each new conquest he gains impowers him to push his conquests still farther, and to enlarge the empire of reason. Thus he is ever in a progressive state, still mak- ing new acquirements, still animated with hopes of future discoveries. Seed. PERSEVERANCE. If the commencement of any undertaking be laudable, the resolution to persist in it must still be more meritori- ous. Little can be done without determination ; and cer- tainly no great acquirement can be made without patient and steady application. The stupendous works of art with which the world abounds, and the great resources which some men have accumulated in their minds, exhibit at once the efficacy of perseverance. Mountains have been levelled, and vast aqueducts have been made, by repeated strokes of the pick-axe and spade ; yet if the single operation of either instrument be compared with the effect which perse- verance has made them accomplish, a mixture of wonder and emulation must ensue. Such examples teach despair how much may be overcome by resolution ; and that even 91 in competitions, the weaker and less eligible may, like the tortoise, whose perseverance surpassed the swiftness of the hare, conquer the apparent advantages by which they may be opposed. There is another consideration to which no one should be insensible ; it is this, that perseverance not only goes Jar to insure success, but also obtains honour for those who, although the least fortunate, have been the most diligent. Rippingham. CONSCIENCE. Conscience is the delegate of an invisible ruler; both anticipating his sentence, and foreboding its execution. Hence arise the terrors which so often haunt guilt, and rise in proportion to its atrocity. In the history of all nations, the tyrant and the oppressor, the bloody and the flagitious, have been ever pointed out, as fearful, unquiet, and restless ; subject to alarms and apprehensions of an unaccountable kind. And surely, to live under such dis- quietude, from the dread of merited punishment, is al- ready to undergo one of the most severe punishments which human nature can suffer. When the world threatens us with any of the evils, we know the extent, and discern the limits of the danger. We see the quarter on which we are exposed to its attack. We measure our own strength with that of our adversary ; and can take precautions, either for making resistance, or for contriving escape. But when an awakened conscience places before the sinner the just vengeance of the Almighty, the prospect is confounding, be- cause the danger is boundless. It is a dark unknown which 92 threatens him. The arm that is stretched over him, he can neither see nor resist. On every side he dreads it ; and on every object which surrounds him, he looks with terror, because he is conscious that every object can be employed against him as an instrument of wrath. Blair. LITERARY EDUCATION. Of the advantages arising from literary education, com- mon observation affords ample proofs. The mind, natu- rally limited by its weakness, becomes endowed by litera- ture with the wisdom of preceding ages ; and thus emerges from its own little sphere, into the expansive regions of genius and science. But it is not in the mere conscious superiority which literary education confers, that its advantages consist : the addition which it makes to know- ledge and happiness ; the means which it provides for act- ing wisely with regard to the future, from the admonitions of the past; the consolation which it yields to adversity, and the recreation which it affords to virtuous prosperity, are amongst the blessings which arise from a literary edu- cation. Religion, philosophy, every great subject on which the reason of man is employed, and in which his inte- rests are involved, obtain illustration by this fortunate en- dowment. Poets, orators, historians, and philosophers — all the great masters of thinking and writing become incor- porated with the mental energies of him who has obtained by education the hey of knowledge. Happy in himself, he. 93 like the amiable and transcendent scholar * of our age and country, may diffuse instruction and delight to man- kind and be rewarded, like him, with the applause of the virtuous and the wise. Rippingham. THE VARIETY OF NATURE. The variety which appears in nature, is the offspring, not of confusion, but of order. Though the forms of in- dividual beings are finely diversified, so that it is perhaps impossible to find, in the whole compass of nature, two organised bodies perfectly alike ; yet amidst this bound- less variety we may observe perfect regularity. The re- gularity is of two kinds, that of gradation and that of arrangement. That of gradation chiefly appears in ani- mated nature, where beings possess different powers and faculties, through a long succession, each holding his proper place in the scale of excellence. That of arrange- ment prevails through the whole visible world; each indi- vidual possessing some qualities or characters, in common with some others, which enable the spectator to consider them as belonging to the same species or kind ; and each species partaking with some others of common appearances, by means of which they may be classed under some ge- neral description ; till at length we arrive at the three com- prehensive divisions under which all the bodies which belong to this earth are commonly arranged — animals, vegetables, and minerals. * Enfielix * Sir William Jones. 94 NIGHT. The sun has set; the night dews fall ; and the air, which was sultry and oppressive, becomes cool. The flowers of the garden, closing their coloured leaves, fold themselves up, and hang their heads on the slender stalk, waiting the return of day. The birds of the grove have ceased their warblings ; they sleep on the boughs of trees. There is no murmur of bees around the hive, or amongst the honeyed wood- bines ; they have finished their work, and now lie close in their waxen cells. The sheep rest in the fields upon their soft fleeces, and their loud bleating no longer resounds from the hills. There is no sound of the voices of the busy multitude, or of children at play, or the trampling of feet and of crowds hurrying to and fro. The smith's hammer is not heard upon the anvil ; nor the harsh saw of the carpenter. All men are stretched upon their quiet beds ; and the infant reposes in peace and security on the bosom of its mother. Darkness is spread over the skies, and darkness is upon the ground : every eye is shut, and every hand is still. Who takes care of all people when they are sunk in sleep ; when they cannot defend themselves, nor see if danger approaches ? There is an eye that never sleeps ; there is an eye that sees in the darkness of night as well as in the brightest sun-shine. When there is no light of the sun, nor of the moon ; when there is no lamp in the house, nor any star twinkling through the thick clouds ; that eye 95 sees everywhere, in all places, and watches continually over all the families of the earth. The eye that sleeps not is God's ; his hand is always stretched out over us. He made sleep to refresh us when we are weary : he made night that we might sleep in quiet. As the affectionate mother stills every little noise, that her infant be not disturbed ; as she draws the curtains around its bed, and shuts out the light from its tender eyes ; so God draws the curtains of darkness around us ; so he makes all things to be hushed and stilly that his large family may sleep in peace. When the darkness has passed away, and the beams of the morning sun strike through your eye-lids, begin the day with praising God, who has taken care of you through the night. Flowers, when you open again, spread your leaves and smell sweet to his praise ! Birds, when you awake, warble your thanks amongst the green boughs ! Let his 'praise be in your hearts when you lie down ; let his praise be on your lips when you awake. Barbauld. good disposition. Goodness is universally approved ; justice, equity, truth, sincerity, candour, beneficence, mercy, ever have passed, and ever will pass, for virtues. There is no man who does not desire that others would exercise them towards him ; even they who are deficient in the practice of them, yet pay them the decent respect ta think and to speak well of them. 96 There is no man who does not condemn fraud, malice, cruelty, treachery, ingratitude, injustice, especially when he is made to experience the ill effects of them. No man ever acted uprightly and honourably, who did not feel acalm serenity, a complacency and satisfaction; none ever pursued wicked courses without some degree of shame and regret, and self-condemnation, and some struggles of expiring virtue. None, except here and there a brute, ever received great favours and benefits, who had not, out of mere natural ingenuousness, a grateful sense of them ; and an intention to testify it, and to make somewhat of a return. No man, except hardened by a long course of villany, ever saw others in great pain and want, and sorrow, and distress, and found not a disposition to commiserate and assist them, though he could expect from them no other return than thanks. History abounds with examples of men who through na- tural inclination, through generosity and nobleness of mind, have done great services to their friends, to their country, to strangers, to foreigners, to mankind in general ; who, to accomplish these ends, have denied themselves many advantages and pleasures, have encountered many incon- veniencies, hardships, and dangers, and have even lost their lives, without a view to any worldly recompence except perhaps that they hoped and expected to be honoured,^ living or dead, by those whom they had obliged, and by judicious and worthy persons. And this surely cannot 97 greatly derogate from their virtuous deeds ; it only shows that, besides a natural sweetness of temper and greatness of soul, they had also some regard to reputation, and a de- sire to stand fair in the opinion of the public ; and to re- ceive what they justly deserved, the love and the esteem of their fellow-creatures. And why not ? since God himself requires our acknowledgments and our affections for his loving-kindness. Thus it hath ever been, and thus it is still, in the world ; instances are not wanting of constancy, of friendship, of fidelity, of gratitude, of compassion, of inte- grity, many of which escape the notice of the public ; and are perhaps only observed of God and good angels, being seldom transacted in high life and under splendid roofs and palaces. Jortin. god. Consider that God is every where present, and then you will study to be every where holy. God is everywhere present by his power. He rolls the orbs of heaven with his hand, he fixes the earth with his foot, he guides all the creatures with his eye, and refreshes them with his influence; and makes the powers of hell to shake with his terrors. There is not one hollowness in the bottom of the sea, but he shows himself to be the Lord of it, by sustaining there the creatures that come to dwell in it : and in the wilderness, the bittern and the stork, the lion and the elephant, live upon his provisions, and feel the force of his almightiness. Let every thing you see represent to your spirit the pre* 98 sence, the excellency, and the power of God, In the face of the sun you may see God's beauty ; in the fire you may feel his heat warming ; in the water his gentleness to re- fresh you : it is the dew of heaven that makes your field give you bread ; in all things it is the bounty of God that ministers to your necessities. This consideration of the Divine presence is apt to pro- duce joy and rejoicing in God: we delight in being of the same household with God ; he is with us in our natural ac- tions to preserve us, in our recreations to restrain us, in our public actions to applaud or approve us, in our private actions to observe us, in our sleep to guard us, in our watch ings to refresh us ; and if we walk with God in all his ways, as he walks with us in all ours, we shall jind per- petual reasons to enable us to keep that rule of % his, "Re- joice in the Lord always /" GOOD HUIVIOUR. Good-humour may be defined to be a habit of being pleased; a constant and perennial softness of manner, easiness of approach, and suavity of disposition ; like that which every man perceives in himself, when the first trans- ports of new felicity have subsided, and his thoughts are only kept in motion by a slow succession of soft impulses. Good-humour is a state between gaiety and unconcern ; the act or emanation of a mind at leisure to regard the gratification of another. It is imagined by many, that whenever they aspire to please, they are required to be merry, and to shew the glad- 18 99 ness of their souls by flights of pleasantry, and bursts of laughter. But though these men may be for a time heard with applause and admiration, they seldom delight us long. We enjoy them a little, and then retire to easiness and good-humour, as the eye gazes a while on eminences glit- tering with the sun, but soon turns aching away to verdure and flowers. Gaiety is to good-humour as animal perfumes to vege- table fragrance ; the one overpowers weak spirits, and the other recreates and revives them. Gaiety seldom fails to give some pain ; the hearers either strain their faculties to accompany its towerings, or are left behind in envy and despair. Good-humour boasts no faculties which every one does not believe in his owi potver, aud pleases principally by not offending, Johnson. TRUTH AND SINCERITY. Truth and sincerity have all the advantages of appear- ance and reality. If the show of any thing be good, lam sure sincerity is better : for why does any man dissemble, or seem to be that # which he is not, but because he thinks it good to have such a quality as he pretends to ? for to counterfeit and dissemble is to put on the appearance of some real excellency. Now the best way for a man to seem to be any thing, is really to be what he would seem to be. It is hard to personate and act a part long ; for where truth is not at the bottom ; nature will always be endeavour- f 2 100 ing to return, and will peep out and betray herself one time or other. Therefore, if any man think it convenient to seem good, let him be so indeed, and then his goodness will appear to every body's satisfaction ; so that upon all accounts, sincerity is true wisdom. Particularly as to the affairs of this world, integrity has many advantages over all the fine and artificial ways of dis- simulation and deceit ; it is much the plainer and easier, much the safer and more secure way of dealing; it has less of trouble and difficulty, of entanglement and perplexity, of danger and hazard in it ; it is the shortest and nearest way to our end, carrying us thither in a straight line, and will hold out and last longest. The arts of deceit and cunning continually grow weaker and less effectual to them that use them ; while integrity gains strength by use ; and the more and longer any man practises it, the greater service it does him, by confirming his reputation and encouraging others to repose the great- est truth and confidence in him ; which is an unspeakable advantage in the business and affairs of life. Truth is always consistent with itself, and needs nothing to help it out; it is always near at hand, sits upon our lips, and is ready to drop out before we are aware; a lie is trou- blesome, and sets a man's invention upon the rack, and one trick needs a great many more to make it good. It is like building upon a false foundation, which continually stands in need of props to shore it up, and proves at last more chargeable, than to have raised a substantial building at 101 first upon a true and solid foundation. Sincerity is firm and substantial ; there is nothing hollow or unsound in it; and, because it is plain and open it fears no discovery. Of this the crafty man is always in danger, and when he thinks he walks in the dark, all his pretences are so trans- parent, that he that runs may read them ; he is the last man that finds himself to be found out ; and while he takes it for granted that he makes fools of others, he renders himself ridiculous. Add to all this, sincerity is the most compendious wis- dom, and an excellent instrument for speedy dispatch of business ; by creating confidence in those we have to deal with, it saves the labour of many inquiries, and brings things to an issue in few words ; it is like travelling in a plain beaten road, which commonly brings a man sooner to his journey's end, than by-ways, in which men often lose themselves. In a word, whatever convenience may ba thought to be in falsehood and dissimulation, it is soon over ; but their inconvenience is perpetual, because they bring a man under an everlasting*' jealousy and suspicion, so that he is not believed when he speaks truth, or trusted perhaps when he means honestly. When a man has once forfeited the reputation of his integrity, he is set fast, and nothing will then serve his turn, neither truth nor false- hood. TlLLOTSOX. THE PERSIAN LANGUAGE. The Persian language is rich, melodious, and elegant. It has been spoken for many ages by the greatest princes * 3 102 in the politest courts of Asia; and a number of admirable works have been written in it by historians, philosophers, and poets, who found it capable of expressing with equal advantage the most beautiful and the most elevated senti- ments. Since the literature of Asia was so much neglected, and the causes of that neglect were so various, we could not have expected that any slight power would rouse the na- tions of Europe from their inattention to it ; and they would, perhaps, have persisted in despising it, if they had not been animated by the most powerful incentive that can influence the mind of man : interest was the magic wand which brought them all within one circle ; interest was the charm which gave the languages of the East a real and solid importance. By one of those revolutions, which no human prudence could have foreseen, the Persian language found its way into India ; that rich and celebrated empire, which, by the flourishing state of our commerce, has been the source of incredible wealth to the merchants of Europe. A variety of causes which need not be mentioned here, gave the English nation a most extensive power in that kingdom : our India Company began to take under their protection the princes of the country, by whose protection they gained their first settlement : a number of important affairs were to be transacted in peace and war between nations equally jealous of one another, who had not the com- mon instrument of conveying their sentiments; the servants of the company received letters which they could not read* 103 and were ambitious of gaining titles of which they could not comprehend the meaning ; it was found highly dan- gerous to employ the natives as interpreters, upon whose fidelity they could not depend; and it was at last dis- covered, that they must apply themselves to the study of the Persian language in which all the letters from the Indian princes were written. A few men of parts and taste, who resided in Bengal, have since amused them- selves with the literature of the East, and have spent their leisure in reading the poems and histories of Persia. The languages of Asia will now perhaps be studied with uncommon ardour. They are known to be useful, and will soon be found instructive and entertaining. The valuable manuscripts that enrich our public libraries will be, in a few years, elegantly printed : the manners and sentiments of the eastern nations will be perfectly known ; and the limits of our knowledge will be no less extended thto the bounds of our empire. A knowledge of this language, and of its companion, the Arabic, will be attended with a variety of advantages to those who acquire it; the Hebrew, Chaldaic, Syriac, and Ethiopian tongues, are dialects of the Arabic, and bear as near a resemblance to it as the Ionic to the Attic Greek; the jargon of Indostan, very improperly called the lan- guage of the Moors, contains so great a number of Persian words, that I was able with very little difficulty to read the fables of Pilpai which are translated into that idiom ; the Turkish contains ten Arabic or Persian words for one f 4< 104 originally Scythian, by which it has been so refined, that the modern kings of Persia were fond of speaking it in their courts : in short there is scarcely a country in Asia or Africa, from the source of the Nile to the wall of China, in which a man who understands Arabic, Persian, and Turkish may not travel with satisfaction, or transact the most important affairs with advantage and security. As to the literature of Asia, it will not, perhaps, be es- sentially useful to the greater part of mankind, who have neither leisure nor inclination to cultivate so extensive a branch of learning; but the civil and natural history of such mighty empires as India, Persia, Arabia, and Tar- tary, cannot fail of delighting those who love to view the great picture of the universe, or to learn by what degrees the most obscure states have risen to glory,' and the most flourishing kingdoms have sunk to decay ; the philosopher will consider those works as highly valuable, by which he may trace the human mind in all its various appearances, from the rudest to the most cultivated state ; and the man of taste will undoubtedly be pleased to unlock the stores of native genius, and to gather the flowers of unrestrained and luxuriant fancy. Sir William Jones. GOOD PRINCIPLES IN EARLY LIFE. To enable a young man to form a plan of conduct to which he may safely adhere through the whole course of life, two things are requisite : First, that he acquire a clear idea of the nature, and establish a full conviction of the 105 obligations of morality and religion ; secondly, that he study his own particular capacity, temper, relations, and condition in life. With these let every young person make his entrance into the world — with deliberate meditations on the scene which lies before him ; with serious reflections on the im- portance of human life ; with rational principles of morals and religion ; with a prudent and well-digested plan of life; and with determined resolution to adhere to that path which his reason and judgment have led him .to choose, as the path of safety and happiness. He will then pursue his journey through life in a steady course of manly virtue, unseduced by the allurements which may assault him on the right hand and on the left. In the midst of the applauses of the wise and good among his fellow-creatures, surrounded with the fruits of his early virtues, and triumphing in the consciousness of having made a wise, and happy choice, he will go on his way rejoicing, and will experience the path of the just to be " as the shining light which shineth more and more unto the perfect day." F 3 106 PART THE FOURTH. ARGUMENTS PRODUCED BY COMPARISON AND CONTRAST. After the student shall have acquired the habit of defin- ing and forming judgments upon subjects proposed to him, he may be at some little difficulty in ascertaining or analyz- ing the reasons from which his conclusions have been form- ed ; and which, although he is conscious of possessing, he is nevertheless unable to express. To assist such novi- ciates in the art, I have added this fourth part ; the object of which is to show the manner in which good writers fre- quently argue by exhibiting characters and objects, who are clearly endowed or free from the quality under consi- deration. This mode will give the pupil a habit of great value in all discussions, and will, I hope, without multiply- ing rules upon him, initiate him into the practice of look- ing into his own mind for thoughts, and give him facility n producing them for the contemplation of others. The examples need not be very numerous, as the atten- 107 tive mind will soon acquire the habit, to inculcate which is particularly the object, of this part of the work. It may not, however, be amiss to suggest to instructors, that after they have obtained from their pupils the definition and judgment upon any subject, particularly those connected with the human character, they will assist the student's view, by asking him " what is the difference between a person who has this quality and one who has not ?" the answer given in writing will exhibit the arguments which comparison can furnish. The considerations should in the first attempts be few, by which the truth of the judgment is to be demonstrated. And the student should ask himself, when writing each sentence, whether it do or do not conduce to prove the opinion he is supporting. It is easy to write a great deal ; but the difficulty is to write such things only as are suit- able to the place in which they appear, and applicable to the subject, upon which they are written. In truth the chief care of the student, and of the instructor, should be to exclude such thoughts and considerations as do not plainly lead from the definition to the judgment. TRUST IN GOD. The natural homage which such a creature as man owes to an infinitely wise and good Being, is a firm reliance on him for the blessings and conveniences of life ; and an ha- bitual trust in him, for deliverance out of all such dangers and difficulties as may befal us. f 6 108 The man who always lives in this disposition of mind, has not the same dark and melancholy views of human nature, as he who considers himself abstractedly from this relation to the Supreme Being. At the same time that he reflects upon his own weakness and imperfection, he com- forts himself with the contemplation of those divine attri- butes, which are employed for his safety and his welfare. He finds his want of foresight made up, by the omniscience of him who is his support. He is not sensible of his own want of strength, when he knows that his helper is almighty. In short, the person who has a firm trust in the Supreme Being, is powerful in his power, wise in his wisdom, happy by his happiness. He reaps the benefit of every divine attribute ; and loses his own insufficiency in the fulness of infinite perfection. To make our lives more easy to us, we are commanded to put our trust in him, who is thus able to relieve and succour us ; the Divine Goodness having made such a reliance a duty, notwithstanding we should have been miserable, had it been forbidden us. Among several motives which might be made use of to recommend this duty to us, I shall only take notice of those that follow. The first and strongest is, that we are promised, he will not fail those that put their trust in him. But without considering the supernatural blessing which accompanies this duty, we may observe, that it has a na- tural tendency to its own reward ; or in other words, that 109 this firm trust and confidence in the great Disposer of all things, contribute very much to the getting clear of any affliction, or to the bearing of it manfully. A person who believes he has his succour at hand, and that he acts in the sight of his friend, often exerts himself beyond his abilities; and does wonders that are not to be matched by one who is not animated with such a confidence of success. Trust in the assistance of an Almighty Being, naturally produces patience, hope, cheerfulness, and all other dis- positions of mind which alleviate those calamities that we are not able to remove. The practice of this virtue administers great comfort to the mind of man, in times of poverty and affliction ; but most of all, in the hour of death. When the soul is hover- ing in the last moments of its separation ; when it is just entering on another state of existence, to converse with scenes, and objects, and companions, that are altogether new; what can support her under such tremblings of thought, such fear, and anxiety, such apprehensions, but the casting all her cares on him, who first gave her being ; who has conducted her through one stage of it ; and who will be always present, to guide and comfort her in her progress through eternity ? Addison. THE USE OF OUR FACULTIES. Happy that man, who unembarrassed by vulgar cares, master of himself, his time, and fortune, spends his time in making himself wiser ; and his fortune, in making others 110 (and therefore himself) happier ; who, as the will and un- derstanding are the two ennobling faculties of the soul, thinks himself not complete till his understanding is beau- tified with the valuable furniture of knowledge, as well as his will enriched with every virtue ; who has furnished himself with all the advantages to enrich solitude and en- liven conversation ; who, when serious is not sullen ; and when cheerful, not indiscreetly gay ; whose ambition is not to be admired for a false glare of greatness, but to be beloved for the gentle and sober lustre of his wisdom and goodness. The greatest minister of state has not more business to do, in a public capacity, than he, and indeed every other man, may find in the retired and still scenes of life. Even in his private walks, every thing that is visible convinces him there is present a Being invisible. Aided by natural philosophy, he reads plain legible traces of the Divinity, in every thing he meets : he sees the Deity in every tree, as well as Moses did in the burning bush, though not in so glaring a manner ; and when he sees him, he adores him with the tribute of a grateful heart. Seed, candour. True candour is altogether different from that guarded inoffensive language, and that studied openness of beha- viour, which we so frequently meet with among men of the world. Smiling, very often, is the aspect, and smooth are the words, of those who inwardly are the most ready to think evil of others. That candour which is a Christian Ill virtue, consists, not in the fairness of speech, but in the fairness of heart. It may want the blandishment of exter- nal courtesy, but supplies its place with humane and ge- nerous liberality of sentiment. Its manners are unaffect- ing and its professions cordial. Exempt, on one hand, from the dark jealousy of a suspicious mind, it is no less removed, on the other, from that easy credulity which is imposed on by every specious pretence. It is perfectly consistent with extensive knowledge of the world, and with due attention to our own safety. In that various intercourse which we are obliged to carry on with persons of every different character, suspicion, to a certain degree, is a ne- cessary guard. It is only when it exceeds the bounds of prudent caution that it degenerates into vice. There is a proper mean between undistinguishing credulity and uni- versal jealousy, which a sound understanding discerns, and which the man of candour studies to preserve. He makes allowance for mixture of evil with good, which is to be found in every human character. He expects none to be faultless ; and he is unwilling to believe that there is any without some commendable qualities. In the midst of many defects, he can discover a virtue. Under the influence of personal resentment, he can be just to the merit of an enemy. He never lends an open ear to those defamatory reports and dark suggestions which, among the tribes of the censorious, circulate with so much ra- pidity, and meet with so ready acceptance. He is not hasty to judge ; and he requires full evidence before he 112 will condemn. As long as an action can be ascribed to different motives, he holds it as no mark of sagacity to impute it always to the worst. Where there is just ground for doubt, he keeps his judgment undecided ; and, during the period of suspense, leans to the most charitable con- struction which an action can bear. When he must con- demn, he condemns with regret; and without those aggra- vations which the severity of others adds to the crime. He listens calmly to the apology of the offender, and readily admits every extenuating circumstance which equity can suggest. How much soever he may blame the principles of any sect or party, he never confounds, under one general censure all who belong to that party or sect. He charges them not with such consequences of their tenets, as they refuse and disavow. From one wrong opinion, he does not infer the subversion of all sound principles ; nor from one bad action, conclude that all regard to conscience is over- thrown. When he " beholds the mote in his brother's eye,'* he remembers " the beam in his own." He commiserates human frailty ; and judges of others according to the prin- ciples, by which he 'would think it reasonable that they should judge of him. In a word, he views men and actions in the clear sunshine of charity and good-nature; and not in that dark and sullen shade which jealousy and party- spirit throw over all characters. Blair, modesty. Who art thou, O man, that presumest on thine own wis* dom ? or why dost thou vaunt thyself on thine own ac^ 113 quirements? The first step towards being wise, is to know that thou art ignorant ; and if thou wouldst not be esteemed foolish in the judgment of others, cast off the folly of being wise in thine own conceit. As a plain garment best adorneth a beautiful woman, so a decent behaviour is the greatest ornament of wisdom. The speech of a modest man giveth lustre to truth, and the diffidence of his words absorbeth his error. He relieth not on his own wisdom ; he weigheth the counsels of a friend, and receiveth the benefit thereof. He turneth away his ear from his own praise, and belieth it not : he is the last in discovering his own perfections. Yet as a veil addeth to beauty, so are his virtues set off by the shade which his modesty casteth upon them. But, behold the vain man, and observe the arrogant ; he clotheth himself in rich attire, he walketh in the public street, he casteth round his eyes, and courteth observation. He tosseth up his head and overlooketh the poor ; he treateth his inferiors with insolence, and his superiors in return look down on his pride and folly with laughter. He despiseth the judgment of others, he relieth on his own opinion and is confounded. He is puffed up with the vanity of his imagination ; his delight is to hear and to speak of himself all the day long. 114 He swalloweth with greediness his own praise, and the flatterer in return eateth him up, (Economy of Human Life, application. Since the days that are passed are gone for ever, and those that are to come, may not come to thee, it behoveth thee, O man, to employ the present time, without regret- ting the loss of that which is past, or too much depending on that which is to come. This instant is thine, the next is in the womb of futu- rity, and thou knowest not what it may bring forth. Whatsoever thou resolvest to do, do it quickly ; defer not till the evening what the morning may accomplish. Idleness is the parent of want and pain ; but the labour of virtue bringeth forth pleasure. The hand of diligence defeateth want ; prosperity and success are the industrious man's attendants. Who is he that hath acquired wealth, and hath risen to power, that hath clothed himself with honour, that is spoken of in the city with praise, and that standeth before the king in his council ? Even he that hath shut out Idleness from his house ; and hath said unto Sloth, Thou art mine enemy. He riseth up early, and lieth down late ; he exerciseth his mind with contemplation, and his body with action, and preserveth the health of both. The slothful man is a burden to himself, his hours hang heavy on his head : he loitereth about, and knoweth not what he would do. 115 His days pass away like the shadow of a cloud, and he leaveth behind him no mark for remembrance. His body is diseased for want of exercise ; he wisheth for action, but hath not power to move ; his mind is in darkness ; his thoughts are confused ; he longeth for knowledge, but hath no application. He would eat of the almond, but hateth the trouble of breaking its shell. His house is in disorder, his servants are wasteful and riotous, and he runneth on towards ruin : he seeth it with his eyes, he heareth it with his ears, he shaketh his head and wisheth, but hath no resolution; till ruin cometh upon him like a whirlwind, and shame and repentance descend with him to the grave. (Economy of Human Life, discretion. There are many more shining qualities in the mind of man, but there is none so useful as discretion. It is this, indeed, which gives a value to all the rest ; which sets them at work in their proper times and places ; and turns them to the advantage of the person who is possessed of them. Without it, learning is pedantry, and wit imper- tinence ; virtue itself looks like weakness ; the best parts only qualify a man to be more sprightly in errors, and active to his own prejudice. Discretion does not only make a man the master of his own parts, but of other men's. The discreet man finds out the talents of those he converses with ; and knows how- to apply them to proper uses. Accordingly, if we look into 116 particular communities and divisions of men, we may ob- serve, that it is the discreet man, not the witty, nor the learned, nor the brave, who guides the conversation, and gives measures to society. A man with great talents, but void of discretion, is like Polyphemus in the fable, strong and blind ; endued with an irresistible force, which, for want of sight, is of no use to him. Though a man have all other perfections, yet if he want discretion, he will be of no great consequence in the world ; on the contrary, if he have this single talent in perfection, and but a common share of others, he may do what he pleases in his particular station of life. At the same time that I think discretion the most useful talent a man can be master of, I look upon cunning to be the accomplishment of little, mean, ungenerous minds. Discretion points out the noblest ends to us ; and pursues the most proper and laudable methods of obtaining them : cunning has only private selfish aims ; and sticks at no- thing which may make them succeed. Discretion has large and extended views ; and, like a well-formed eye, commands a whole horizon : cunning is a kind of short- sightedness, that discovers the minutest objects which are near at hand, but is not able to discern things at a distance. Discretion, the more it is discovered, gives a greater authority to the person who possesses it : cunning, when once it is detected, loses its force, and makes a man incapable of bringing about even those events which he might have done, had he passed only for a plain man. 117 Discretion is the perfection of reason ; and a guide to us in all the duties of life : cunning is a kind of instinct, that only looks out after our immediate interest and welfare. Discretion is only found in men of strong sense and good understandings : cunning is often to be met with in brutes themselves, and in persons who are but the fewest removes from them. In short, cunning is only the mimic of discretion ; and it may pass upon weak men, in the same manner as vivacity is often mistaken for wit, and gravity for wisdom*. Addison. CHRISTIANITY. The religion of Christ not only arms us with fortitude against the approach of evil ; but, supposing evils to fall upon us with their heaviest pressure, it lightens the load by many consolations to which others are strangers. While bad men trace, in the calamities with which they are visited, the hand of an offended sovereign, Christians are taught to view them as the well-intended chastisements of a merciful Father. They hear amidst them, that stilt voice which a good conscience brings to their ear: " Fear not, for I am with thee ; be not dismayed, for I am thy God." They apply to themselves the comfortable pro- mises with which the gospel abounds. They discover in these the happ} r issue decreed to their troubles ; and wait with patience till Providence shall have accomplished its $reat and good designs. In the mean time, Devotion opens to them its blessed and holy sanctuary in which the wounded heart is healed, and the weary mind is at rest ; 118 where the cares of the world are forgotten, where its tu- mults are hushed, and its miseries disappear; where greater objects open to our view than any which the world pre- sents ; where a more serene sky shines, and a sweeter and calmer light beams on the afflicted heart. In those mo- ments of devotion, a pious man, pouring out his wants and sorrows to an Almighty Supporter, feels that he is not left solitary and forsaken in a vale of woe. God is with him ; Christ and the Holy Spirit are with him ; and though he should be bereaved of every friend on earth, he can look up in heaven to a Friend that will never desert him. Blair, suspicion. As a suspicious spirit is the source of many crimes and calamities in the world, so it is the spring of certain misery to the person who indulges it. His friends will be few : and small will be his comfort in those whom he possesses. Believing others to be his enemies, he will of course make them such. Let his caution be ever so great, the asperity of his thoughts will often break out in his behaviour; and in return for suspecting and hating, he will incur suspicion and hatred. Besides the external evils which he draws upon himself, arising from alienated friendship, broken confidence, and open enmity, the suspicious temper itself is one of the worst evils which any man can suffer. If, " in all fear there is a torment," how miserable must be his state, who, by living in perpetual jealousy, lives in perpe- tual dread ! Looking upon himself to be surrounded with spies, enemies, and designing men, he is a stranger to re- 119 liance and trust. He knows not to whom to open himself. He dresses his countenance in forced smiles, while his heart throbs within from apprehensions of secret treachery. Hence fretfulness and ill-humour, disgust at the world, and all the painful sensations of an irritated and imbit- tered mind. The suspicious man, having his imagination filled with all the shocking forms of human falsehood, deceit, and treachery, resembles the traveller in the wilderness, who discerns no objects around him but such as are either dreary or terrible; caverns that open, serpents that hiss, and beasts of prey that howl. Blair. FORTITUDE. Perils, and misfortunes, and want, and pain, and injury? are more or less the certain lot of every man that cometh into the world. Itbehoveth thee, therefore, O child of calamity! early to fortify thy mind with courage and patience, that thou ^mayest support, with a becoming resolution, thy allotted portion of human evil. As the camel beareth labour, and heat, and hunger, and thirst, through deserts of sand, and fainteth not ; so the fortitude of man shall sustain him through all perils. A man of a noble spirit disdaineth the malice of for- tune ; his greatness of soul is not to be cast down, He hath not suffered his happiness to depend on her smiles, and therefore with her frowns he shall not be dis- mayed. 120 As a rock on the sea-shore, he standeth firm, and the dashing of the waves disturbeth him not. He raiseth his head like a tower on a hill, and the ar- rows of fortune drop at his feet. In the instant of danger the courage of his heart sus- taineth him ; and the steadiness of his mind beareth him out. He meeteth the evils of life as a man that goeth forth into battle, and returneth with victory in his hand. Under the pressure of misfortunes, his calmness alle- viates their weight, and his constancy shall surmount them. But the dastardly spirit of a timorous man betrayeth him to shame. As a reed is shaken with a breath of air, so the shadow of evil maketh him tremble. In the hour of danger he is embarrassed and con- founded ; in the day of misfortune he sinketh, and des- pair overwhelmeth his soul. GEconomy of Human Life, forgiveness. The most plain and natural sentiments of equity concur with divine authority, to enforce the duty of forgiveness : for of all the passions which invade the human breast, *evenge is the most direful. When allowed to reign with mil dominion, it is more than sufficient to poison the few pleasures which remain to man in his present state. How much Soever a person may suffer from injustice, he is al- 121 ways in hazard of suffering more from the prosecution of revenge. The violence of an enemy cannot inflict what is equal to the torment he creates to himself, by means of the fierce and desperate passions which he allows to rage in his soul. Those evil spirits who inhabit the regions of misery, are represented as delighting in revenge and cruelty. But all that is great and good in the universe, is on the side of clemency and mercy. The Almighty Ruler of the world, though for ages offended by the unrighteous- ness, and insulted by the impiety of men, is " long suf- fering and slow to anger." His Son, when he appeared in our nature, exhibited, both in his life and his death, the most illustrious example of forgiveness which the world ever beheld. If we look into the history of man- kind, we shall find that, in every age, they who have been respected as worthy, or admired as great, have been distinguished for this virtue. Revenge dwells in little minds. A noble and magnanimous spirit is always su- perior to it. This spirit suffers not from the injuries of men those severe shocks which others feel. Collected within itself, it stands unmoved by their impotent as- saults ; and with generous pity, rather than with anger, looks down on their unworthy conduct. — It has been truly said, that the greatest man on earth can no sooner commit an injury, than a good man can make himself greater by forgiving it. Blair. G 122 PART THE FIFTH. JL he student is'now presented with a few short Essays, by eminent writers, to be analyzed according to the ar- rangement exhibited in the first three parts of this work. In each of the following compositions, there are a defini- tion, judgment, and arguments, which the pupil will select and write separately. He- should also carefully examine the connection by which all the parts are holden together, and may, by degrees, endeavour to transpose the order of the reasoning. He will thus discover either the imper- fections of the form in which they now appear, or he will observe the strength they possess from a judicious mode of disposition. THE SEASONS. Among the great blessings and wonders of the creation, may be classed the regularities of times and seasons. Im- mediately after the flood, the sacred promise was made to 123 man, that seed-time and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, should continue to the very end of all things. Accordingly, in obedience to that promise, the rotation is constantly presenting us with some useful and agreeable alteration : and all the pleasing novelty of life rises from these natural changes : nor are we less in- debted to them for many of its solid comforts. It has been frequently the task of the moralist and poet, to mark in polished periods, the particular charms and conveniences of every change ; and, indeed, such discriminate ob- servations upon natural variety, cannot be undelightful ; since the blessing which every month brings along with it, is a fresh instance of the wisdom and bounty of that Providence, which regulates the glories of the year. We glow as we contemplate ; we feel a propensity to adore, whilst we enjoy. In the time of seed-sowing, it is the season of confidence ; the grain which the husbandman trusts to the bosom of the earth, shall, haply, yield its seven-fold rewards. Spring presents us with a scene of lively expectation. That which was before sown, begins now to discover signs of successful vegetation. The labourer observes the change, and anticipates the harvest; he watches the progress of nature, and smiles at her in- fluence : while the man of contemplation walks forth with the evening, amidst the fragrance of flowers, and pro- mises of plenty ; nor returns to his cottage till darkness closes the scene upon his eye. Then cometh the harvest, when the large wish is satisfied, and the granaries of g 2 124 nature are loaded with the means of life, even to a luxury of abundance. The powers of language are unequal to the description of this happy season. It is the carnival of nature : sun and shade, coolness and quietude, cheer- fulness and melody, love and gratitude, unite to render every scene of summer delightful. — The division of light and darkness is one of the kindest efforts of Omnipotent wisdom. Day and night yield us contrary blessings ; and, at the same time, assist each other, by giving fresh lustre to the delights of both. Amidst the glare of day, and bustle of life, how could we sleep ? Amidst the gloom of darkness, how could we labour ? How wise, how benignant, then, is the proper division ! The hours of light are adapted to activity ; and those of darkness, to rest. Ere the day is passed, exercise and nature prepare us for the pillow ; and by the time that the morning returns, we are again able to meet it with a smile. Thus, every season has a charm peculiar to itself; and every moment affords some interesting innovation. THE STUDY OF THE HOLY SCRIPTURES. The great laws of morality are written in our hearts, and may be discovered by reason ; but our reason is of slow growth, and very unequally dispensed to different persons, liable to error, and confined within very narrow limits in all. If, therefore, God have vouchsafed to grant a particular revelation of his will, it becomes us to receive his precepts with the deepest reverence; to love and prize 18 125 them above all things ; and to study them constantly, with an earnest desire to conform our thoughts, words, and actions to them. As you advance in years and understanding, you will be able to examine for yourself the evidences of the Christian religion, and be convinced, on rational grounds, of its di- vine authority. At present such inquiries would demand more study, and greater powers of reasoning, than your age admits. It is your part, therefore, till you are capable of understanding the proofs, to believe your parents and teachers, that the holy Scriptures contain a true history of facts, a true recital of the laws given by God to Moses, and of the precepts of our blessed Lord and Saviour, delivered from his own mouth to his disciples, and re- peated and enlarged upon in the edifying epistles of his apostles. This sacred volume must be the rule of your life. In it you will find all truths necessary to be believed ; and plain and easy directions for the practice of every duty. Your Bible must be your chief study and delight. YOUTH. Youth is the season to form religious habits ; the earliest principles are generally the most lasting ; and those of a religious cast are seldom wholly lost. Though the tempt- ations of the world may now and then draw the well- principled youth aside ; yet, his principles being continu- ally at war with his practice, there is hope, that in the g 3 126 end the better part may overcome the worse, and bring on a reformation : whereas he who has suffered habits of vice to get possession of his youth, has little chance of being brought back to a sense of religion. Some calamity must rouse him. He must be awakened by a storm, or sleep for ever. How much better it is, then, to make that easy to us which we know is best! and to form those habits now, which hereafter we shall wish we had formed ! Youth is introductory to manhood, to which it is, pro- perly speaking, a state of preparation. During this season we must qualify ourselves for the parts we are to act hereafter. In manhood we bear the fruit which has in youth been planted. If we have sauntered away our youth we must expect to be ignorant men. If indolence and inattention have taken an early possession of us, they will probably increase as we advance in life, and make us a burden to ourselves, and useless to society. If, again, we suffer ourselves to be misled by vicious in- clinations, they will daily get new strength, and end in dissolute lives. But if we cultivate our minds in youth, and attain ha- bits of attention and industry, of virtue and sobriety, we shall find ourselves well prepared to act our future parts in life ; and, what above all things ought to be our care, by gaining this command over ourselves, we shall be more able, as we get forward in the world, to resist every new temptation as soon as it appears. Gilpin. 127 FILIAL AFFECTION. We may venture to assert, that if a man has any well- wishers, any benefactors on earth to whom he is bound by indissoluble ties of gratitude, his parents are the persons. Indeed one is willing to think, that many of those young people whose behaviour is so blameable, are not sensible of the uneasiness it occasions, nor at all aware how much anguish is endured oh their account. They run heedlessly forward in the broad and open path, and have no thought but of the pleasure they are pursuing. Yet stop, young man, we beg, a little, to look towards thy poor parents. Think it not too much to bestow a moment's reflection upon those who never forgot thee. Recollect what they have done for thee. Remember all — all indeed thou canst not ; alas ! ill had been thy lot, had not their care of thee begun before thou couldst remember, or know any thing. Now so proud, self-willed, inexorable, thou couldst then only ask by wailing, and move them with thy tears. And they were moved : their heart was touched with thy distress ; they relieved and watched thy wants, before thou knewest thine own necessities or their kindness : they clothed thee ; thou knewest not that thou wast naked : thou askedst not for bread ; but they fed thee. And ever since, in short, (for the particulars are too many to be re- counted, and too many surely to be all utterly forgotten,) g 4 128 it has been the very principal endeavour, employment, and study of their lives, to do service to thee. And remember, for this too is of moment, it is all out of pure, unfeigned affection* Other friends mostly expect their civilities to be repaid, and their kind offices returned with interest : but parents have no thoughts like these. They seek not thine, but thee. Their regard is real, and hearty, and undesigning. They have no reflex views upon themselves, no oblique glances towards their own interest. If by all their endeavours they can obtain their child's welfare, they arrive at the full accomplishment of their wishes. They have no higher object of their ambition. Be thou but happy, and they are so. And now tell me : is not something to be done, I do not now say for thyself, but for them ? If it be too much to desire of thee to be good, and wise, and vir- tuous, and happy, for thy own sake ; yet be happy for theirs. Think that a sober, upright, and, let me add, a religious life, besides the blessings it will bring upon thy own head, will be a fountain of unfailing comfort to thy declining parents, and make the heart of the aged sing for joy. What shall we say ? Which of these is happier ; the son that maketh a glad father, or the father blessed with such a son ? Fortunate young man ! who hast a heart open so early to virtuous delights : and canst find thy own happiness, in returning thy father's blessings upon his own head. 129 And happy father I whose years have been prolonged, not (as it often happens) to see his comforts fall from him one after another, and to become at once old and destitute ; but to taste a new pleasure, not to be found among the pleasures of youth, reserved for his age; to reap the har- vest of all his cares and labour, in the duty, affection, and felicity, of his dear child. His very look bespeaks the inward satisfaction of his heart. The infirmities of age sit light on him. He feels not the troubles of life : he smiles at the approach of death ; sees himself still living aad honoured in the memory and the person of his son, his other dearer self; and passes down to the receptacle of all the living, in the fulness of content and joy. Ogden. the harmony of nature. Throughout the universe there is a wonderful propor- tioning of one thing to another. The size of animals, of man especially, when considered with respect to other animals, or to the plants which grow around him, is such as a regard to his conveniency would have pointed out. A giant or a pigmy could not have milked goats, reaped corn, or mowed grass: a giant could not have rode a horse, trained a vine, or shorn a sheep, with the same bodily ease as we do, if at all. A pigmy would have been lost among rushes or carried off by birds of prey. It may be observed, likewise, that, the model and the materials of the human body being what they are, a much greater bulk would have broken down by its own weight. g 5 130 The persons of men who much exceed the ordinary sta- ture betray this tendency. How close is the suitableness of the earth and sea to their several inhabitants, and of these inhabitants, to the places of their appointed residence ! Take the earth as it is ; and consider the correspond- ency of the powers of its inhabitants, with the properties and condition of the soil which they tread. Take the inhabitants as they are ; and consider the circumstances which the earth yields for their use. They can open its surface; and its surface supplies all which they want- Such is the length of their faculties, and such the con* stitution of the globe, that this is sufficient for all their occasions. When we pass from the earth to the sea, from land to water, we pass through a great change ; but an adequate change accompanies us of animal forms and functions, of animal capacities and wants. The earth in its nature is very different from the sea, and the sea from the earth; but one accords with its inhabitants as exactly as the other: and the correspondency instituted by Divine Wisdom pervades and harmonizes the whole. Paley. ADVERSITY. In every age, adversity has been respected as the school of virtue. There the world is unmasked : there the voice of conscience is heard : and the claims of futurity are felt. There, if any where, we are taught humility : the 131 tear of penitence begins to flow ; the soul is attuned to sympathy : fortitude and self-command are called forth : resignation bows submissive to the decree of Providence ; while faith and hope lift our views and desires to heaven. From the vale of sorrow, how changed, how refined, do we return to the active and pleasurable scenes of life ! As the verdure and fragrance succeeding to a summer's shower ; so pure and serene, so rich in virtue, so flourish- ing in every generous sentiment and endearing quality, is the mind which affliction has impregnated with the seed of celestial happiness ! Cease then, O man, to arraign the wisdom and goodness of thy Maker : and rather learn to follow the example of his Providence, by extracting from the most bitter plants their concealed virtues. With a heart full of grateful ado- ration, look up to him, both when he pours upon thee the bright beams of joy, and when, with the same benevolent design, he raises the cloud of sorrow. Houghton. DIFFIDENCE OF OUR ABILITIES, A MARK OF WISDOM. As an absolute perfection of understanding is impossi- ble, he makes the nearest approaches to it, who has the sense to discern, and the humility to acknowledge, its im- perfections. Modesty always sits gracefully upon youth : it covers a multitude of faults, and doubles the lustre of every virtue which it seems to hide : the perfections of men being like those flowers which appear more beautiful, when their leaves are a little contracted and folded up, g 6 132 than when they are full blown, and display themselves, without any reserve, to the view. We are some of us very fond of knowledge, and apt to value ourselves upon any proficiency in the sciences. One science, however, there is, worth more than all the rest, and that is the science of living well ; which shall remain, when " tongues shall cease," and " knowledge shall va- nish away." As to new notions, and new doctrines, of which this age is very fruitful, the time will come, when w r e shall have no pleasure in them : nay, the time shall come, when they shall be exploded, and would have been forgotten, if they had not been preserved in those excel- lent books which contain a confutation of them ; like in- sects preserved for ages in amber, which otherwise would soon have returned to the common mass of things. But a firm belief of Christianity, and a practice suitable to it, will support and invigorate the mind to the last ; and most of all, at last, at that important hour, which must decide our hopes and apprehensions : and the wisdom, which, like our Saviour, cometh from above, will, through his merits, bring us thither. All our other studies and pursuits, how- ever different, ought to be subservient to, and centre in, this grand point, the pursuit of eternal happiness, by being good in ourselves, and useful to the world. Seed. THE DISTRIBUTION OF OUR TIME. The portion of time which God has allotted us, is in- tended partly for the concerns of this world, partly for 133 those of the next. Let each of these occupy, fn the dis- tribution of our time, that space which properly belongs to it. Let not the hours of hospitality and pleasure interfere with the discharge of our necessary affairs ; and let not what we call necessary affairs, encroach upon the time which is due to devotion. To every thing there is a sea- son, and a time for every purpose under the heaven. If we delay till to-morrow what ought to be done to-day, we overcharge to-morrow with a burden which belongs not to it. We load the wheels of time, and prevent them from carrying us along smoothly. He who every morning plans the transactions of the day, and follows out that plan, carries on a thread which will guide him through the la- byrinth of the most busy life. The orderly arrangement of his time is like a ray of light, which darts itself through all his affairs. But where no plan is laid, where the dis- posal of time is surrendered merely to the chance of in- cidents, all things lie huddled together in one chaos, which admits neither of distribution nor review. Blair, human life. Human life is as the journey of a day. We rise in the morning of youth, full of vigour and full of expectation ; we set forward with spirit and hope, with gaiety and with diligence, and travel on awhile in the direct road of piety towards the mansion of rest. In a short time, we remit our fervour, and endeavour to find some mitigation of our duty, and some more easy means of obtaining the same 134 end. We then relax our vigour, and resolve no longer to be terrified with crimes at a distance : but rely upon our own constancy, and venture to approach what we resolve never to touch. We thus enter the bowers of ease, and repose on the shades of security. Here the heart softens, and vigilance subsides ; we are then willing to enquire whe- ther another advance cannot be made, and whether we may not, at least, turn our eyes upon the gardens of plea- sure. We approach them with scruple and hesitation ; we enter them, but enter timorous and trembling ; and always hope to pass through them without losing the road of vir- tue, which, for a while we keep in our sight, and to which we propose to return. But temptation succeeds tempta- tion, and one compliance prepares us for another ; we in time lose the happiness of innocence, and solace our dis- quiet with sensual gratifications. By degrees, we let fall the remembrance of our original intention, and quit the only adequate object of rational desire. We entangle ourselves in business, immerge ourselves in luxury, and rove through the labyrinth of inconstancy ; till the dark- ness of old age begins to invade us, and disease and anxiety obstruct our way. We then look back upon our lives with horror, with sorrow, with repentance ; and wish, but too often vainly wish, that we had not forsaken the ways of virtue. Happy are they, my son, who shall learn from thy example not to despair; but shall remember, that though the day is past, and their strength is wasted,, there yet remains one effort to be made : that reformation 135 is never helpless, nor sincere endeavours ever unassisted : that the wanderer may at length return after all his errors ; and that he who implores strength and courage from above, shall find danger and difficulty give way before him. Dr. Johnson. 136 APPENDIX. J. here are several specimens of composition, which, from their nature, cannot be reduced to the structure of a theme. Narratives, descriptions, and familiar letters, are of this character. There are also many choice specimens of writing, which, although of a class that generally ad- mits such an arrangement, yet have the distinct parts so ngeniously interwoven as to render the separation of them from each other very difficult. That students and tutors may have an opportunity of examining such instances of composition, this Appendix is made. I know it has been said that narrative is the easiest mode of writing. I am not anxious to conceal that my opinion is directly otherwise ; and as I have never seen any practical rule for commencing a narrative, I am the more inclined to continue my opinion. In subjects for dis- 137 cussion there is always a distinct point upon which the mind is immediately fixed ; and clear and practical pre- cepts, if precepts were necessary, w r ould direct the under- standing to that point. But in the beginning of a narrative it is extremely difficult to determine at which of the cir- cumstances that form the account the interest and perspi- cuity of the relation commences. I think, however, it is a very good practice for young persons to take the out- line of a story, and put it into their own language ; and they should afterwards compare their composition with the same story as told by an approved writer. It is unneces- sary to name suitable subjects. The discretion of teachers can best determine the examples which are adapted to the capacities of their scholars. MAN. Man, considered in himself, is a very helpless and a very wretched being. He is subject every moment to the greatest calamities and misfortunes. He is beset with dangers on all sides, and may become unhappy by num- berless casualties, which he could not foresee, nor have prevented, had he foreseen them. It is our comfort, while we are obnoxious to so many accidents, that we are under the care of one who directs contingencies, and has in his hands the management of every thing that is capable of annoying or offending us ; who knows the assistance we stand in need of, and is al- ways ready to bestow it on those who ask it of him. 138 The natural homage, which such a creature bears to so infinitely wise and good a Being, is a firm reliance on him for the blessings and conveniences of life, and an habitual trust in him for deliverance out of all such dangers and difficulties as may befall us. Addison. ACCOUNT OF THE EXECUTION OF KING CHARLES THE FIRST. The street before Whitehall was the place destined for the execution ; for it was intended, by choosing that very place, in sight of his own palace, to display more evidently the triumph of popular justice over royal majesty. When the king came upon the scaffold, he found it so surrounded with soldiers, that he could not expect to be heard by any of the people : he addressed, therefore, his discourse to the few persons who were about him; particularly Colonel Tomlin- son, to whose care he had lately been committed, and upon whom, as upon many others, his amiable deportment had wrought an entire conversion. He justified his own inno- cence in the late fatal wars, and observed that he had not taken arms till after the parliament had enlisted forces; nor had he any other object in his warlike operations than to preserve that authority entire, which his predecessors had transmitted to him. He threw not, however, the blame upon the parliament ; but was more inclined to think that ill instruments had interposed, and raised in them fears and jealousies with regard to his intentions. Though inno- cent towards his people, he acknowledged the equity of 139 his execution in the eyes of his Maker ; and observed that an unjust sentence, which he had suffered to take effect, was now punished by an unjust sentence on himself. He forgave all his enemies, even the chief instruments of his death ; but exhorted them and the whole nation to return to the ways of peace, by paying obedience to their lawful sovereign his son and successor. — At one blow was his head severed from his body. A man in a vizor performed the office of executioner : another, in a like disguise, held up to the spectators the head streaming with blood, and cried aloud, This is the head of a traitor. It is impossible to describe the grief, indignation, and astonishment, which took place, not only among the spec- tators, who were overwhelmed with a flood of sorrow, but throughout the whole nation, as soon as the report of this fatal execution was conveyed to them. Never monarch, in the full triumph of success and victory, was more dear to his people, than his misfortunes and magnanimity, his patience and piety, had rendered this unhappy prince. In proportion to their former delusions, which had animated them against him, was the violence of their return to duty and affection ; while each reproached himself, either with active disloyalty towards him, or with too indolent defence of his oppressed cause. On weaker minds, the effect of these complicated passions was prodigious. Women are said to have cast forth the untimely fruit of their womb ; others fell into convulsions, or sunk into such a melancholy as attended them to their grave : nay, some, unmindful of 140 themselves, as though they could not, or would not, sur- vive their beloved prince, it is reported, suddenly fell down dead. The very pulpits were bedewed with uri- suborned tears ; those pulpits which had formerly thun- dered out the most violent imprecations and anathemas against him. And all men united in their detestation of those hypocritical parricides, who, by sanctified pre- tences, had so long disguised their treasons, and in this last act of iniquity had thrown an indelible stain upon the nation. , Hume. pity. As blossoms and flowers are strewed upon earth by the hand of spring, as the kindness of summer pro- duceth in perfection the bounties of harvest; so the smiles of pity shed blessings on the children of mis- fortune. He who pitieth another recommendeth himself; but he who is without compassion deserveth it not. The butcher relenteth not at the bleating of the lamb ; neither is the heart of the cruel moved with distress. But the tears of the compassionate are sweeter than dew-drops falling from roses on the bosom of the spring. Shut not thine ear therefore against the cries of the poor ; neither harden thine heart against the calamities of the innocent. When the fatherless call upon thee, when the widow's 141 heart is sunk, and she imploreth thy assistance with tears of sorrow ; O pity her affliction, and extend thy hand to those who have none to help them. When thou seest the naked wanderer of the street, shivering with cold, and destitute of habitation ; let bounty open thine heart, let the wings of charity shelter him from death, that thine own soul may live. Whilst the poor man groaneth on the bed of sickness, whilst the unfortunate languish in the horrors of a dun- geon, or the hoary head of age lifts up a feeble eye to thee for pity ; O how canst thou riot in superfluous en- joyments, regardless of their wants, unfeeling of their woes ? Economy of Human Life. GENERAL RULES FOR THE ATTAINMENT OF KNOWLEDGE. Deeply impress your mind with the vast importance of a sound judgment, and the rich and inestimable advan- tage of right reasoning. Review the instances of your own misconduct in life, and observe how many follies and sorrows you had escaped, if from your early years you had taken due pains to judge aright concerning persons, times, and things. This will awaken you to the work of improving your reasoning powers, and of seizing every opportunity and advantage for this end. Read the accounts of those vast treasures of knowledge which some of the dead have possessed, and some of the living do possess, and be astonished at the almost incredible 142 advances that have been made in science. Acquaint your- self with some persons of great learning, that, by com- paring yourself with them, you may acquire a just opinion of your own attainments, and be animated with a generous and laudable emulation to equal or exceed them. But re- member, if upon a few superficial acquirements you value and exalt yourself, as though you were already learned, you are thereby erecting an impassable barrier against all improvement. Presume not too much upon a bright genius, a ready wit, and good parts ; for these, without labour and study, will never make a man of knowledge and wisdom. Per- sons of a gay and vigorous fancy have often fallen into this mistake. They have been acknowledged to shine in an assembly, and sparkle in a discourse upon common topics, and thence have resolved to abandon reading and study : but when they had lost the vivacity of animal nature and youth, they became stupid and sottish, even to contempt and ridicule. It is meditation, and studious thought, that gives good sense even to the best genius. Exercise your reason and judgment upon all you read ; for, if your learning be a mere accumulation of what others have written, without a due penetration into the meaning, and a judicious choice and determination of your own sen- timents, your head has little better title to true knowledge than the shelves of your library. Do not hover always on the surfaces of things, or take up suddenly with mere appearances, for this will fill the 143 mind with errors and prejudices, and give it an ill habit of thinking : but penetrate into the depth of matters as far as your time and circumstances will allow. Once a day, especially in the early years of life and study, examine what new ideas you have gained, and what advances you have made in any part of knowledge, and let no day, if possible, pass away without some in- tellectual gain. It was a sacred rule among the Pytha- goreans, that they should every evening run thrice over the actions and affairs of the day, and examine what their conduct had been, what they had done, and what they had neglected : assured that, by this method, they would make a rapid progress in the path of knowledge and virtue. Watts. account or the admirable crichton.* Virtue, says Virgil, is better accepted when it comes in a pleasing form. The person of Crichton was eminently beautiful ; but his beauty was consistent with such activity and strength, that in fencing he would spring at one bound the length of twenty feet upon his antagonist ; and he used the sword in either hand with such force and dexterity, that scarce any one had courage to engage him. Having studied at St. Andrew's, in Scotland, he went to Paris in his twenty-first year, and affixed on the gate of the college of Navarre a kind of challenge to the learned * This youthful prodigy, according to the best authorities, lived from about 1560 to 1582. 144 of that university, to dispute with them on a certain day : offering to his opponents the choice of ten languages, and of all the faculties and sciences. On the day ap- pointed, three thousand auditors assembled, when four doctors of the church and fifty ministers appeared against him : and one of his antagonists confesses that the doctors were defeated ; that he gave proofs of knowledge beyond the reach of man, and that a hundred years passed without food or sleep would not be sufficient for the attainment of his learning. After a disputation of nine hours, he was presented by the president and professors with a diamond and a purse of gold, and dismissed with repeated acclam- ations. From Paris he went to Rome, where he made the same challenge, and had, in the presence of the 'pope and cardinals, the same success. He then visited Padua, where he engaged in another public disputation, begin- ning his performance with an extempore poem in praise of the city and the assembly present, and concluding with an oration equally unpremeditated in commendation of ignorance. These acquisitions of learning, however stupendous, were not gained by the omission of any accomplishment in which it becomes a gentleman to excel. He practised, in great perfection, the arts of drawing and painting ; he was an eminent performer in both vocal and instrumental music ; he danced with uncommon gracefulness ; and on the day after his deputations Paris, exhibited his skill in 145 horsemanship before the court of France, where, at a pub- lic match of tilting, he bore away the ring upon his lance fifteen times together. He excelled likewise in domestic games of less dignity and reputation ; and in the interval between his challenge and disputation at Paris, he spent so much of his time at cards, dice, and tennis, that a lampoon was fixed upon the gate of the Sorbonne, di- recting those who would see this monster of erudition to look for him at the tavern. So extensive was his acquaintance with life and man- ners, that in an Italian comedy composed by himself a and exhibited before the court of Mantua, he is said to have personated fifteen different characters. His me- mory was so retentive, that, hearing an oration of an hour, he would repeat it exactly, and in the recital follow the speaker through all the variety of tone and gesticulation. Nor was his skill in arms less than in learning, or his courage inferior to his skill. There was a prize-fighter at Mantua, who had defeated the most celebrated masters in many parts of Europe ; and in Mantua had killed three who had appeared against him. Crichton, looking on his sanguinary success with indignation, offered to stake fif- teen hundred pistoles, and mount the stage against him. The duke of Mantua with some reluctance consented; and on the day fixed the combatants appeared. The prize- fighter advanced with great violence and fierceness, while Crichton contented himself calmly to ward his passes, and H 146 suffered him to waste his vigour by his own fury. Crichton then pressed upon him with such force and agility, that he thrust him thrice through the body, and saw him expire. He then divided the prize he had won among the widows whose husbands had been killed. The duke of Mantua having received such proofs of his various merit, made him tutor to his son Vicencio di Gonzaga, a prince of loose manners and a turbulent disposition. But his honour was of short duration ; for, as he was one night, in the time of Carnival, rambling about the streets with his guitar in his hand, he was at- tacked by six men masked, and opposed them with such vigour and address, that he dispersed them, and disarmed their leader, who, throwing off his mask, discovered him- self to be the prince his pupil. Crichton falling on his knees, presented his own sword to the prince, who seized it, and instigated, as some say, by jealousy, according to others only by drunken fury, thrust him through the heart. The court of Mantua testified their esteem for the memory of Crichton by a public mourning, and the palaces of Italy were adorned with pictures, representing him on horseback, with a lance in one hand, and a book in the other. Adventurer. THE GROTTO OF ANTIPAR03. Of all the subterraneous caverns now known, the grotto of Antiparos, an inconsiderable island in the Archipelago, is the most remarkable, as well for its extent as for the 147 beauty of its sparry incrustations. This celebrated cavern was first explored by one Magni, an Italian traveller, in the seventeenth century. " Having been informed," says he, " by the natives of Paros, that in the little island of Antiparos, which lies about two miles from the former, a gigantic statue was to be seen at the mouth of a cavern, the French consul and myself resolved to pay it a visit. ^ After we had landed on the island, and walked about four miles through the midst of beautiful plains and sloping woodlands, we at length came to a little hill, on the side of which yawned a horrible cavern, that by its gloom struck us with terror, and almost repressed curio- sity. Recovering the first surprise, however, we entered boldly ; and had not proceeded above twenty paces, when the supposed statue of the giant presented itself to our view. We quickly perceived, that what the ignorant natives had been terrified at as a giant, was nothing more than a sparry concretion formed by the water dropping from the roof of the cave, and by degrees hardening into a figure which their fears had transformed into a monster. " Incited by this extraordinary appearance, we were induced to proceed still further into this subterranean abode. As we proceeded, new wonders offered them- selves : the spars, formed into trees and shrubs, presented a kind of petrified grove ; some white, some green, and all receding in due perspective. They struck us with h 2 148 the more amazement, as we knew them to be mere pro- ductions of Nature, who, hitherto, in solitude, had in her playful moments dressed the scene as if for her own amusement. " We had yet seen but a few of the wonders of the place, and were introduced only into the portico of this amazing temple. In one corner of this half-illuminated recess, there appeared an opening about three feet wide, which seemed to lead to a place totally dark, and which one of the native:, assured us contained nothing more than a reservoir of water. Upon this information we made an experiment by throwing down some stones, which rum- bling along the side of the descent for some time, the sound seemed at last quashed in a bed of water. " In order, however, to be more certain, we sent in a Levantine mariner, who, on the promise of a good reward, ventured with a flambeau in his hand into this narrow aperture. After continuing within it for about a quarter of an hour, he returned, bearing in his hand some beautiful pieces of white spar, which art could neither equal nor imitate. Upon being informed by him that the place was full of those beautiful incrustations, I ventured in with him about fifty paces, anxiously and cautiously descending by a steep and dangerous way. Finding, however, that we came to a precipice, which led into a spacious amphitheatre, if I may so call it, still deeper than any other part, we returned ; and being pro- vided with a ladder, torch, and other things to expedite 149 the descent, our whole company, one by one, ventured into the same opening ; and descending one after another, we at last saw ourselves all together, in the most mag- nificent part of the cavern. " Our candles being now all lighted up, and the whole place completely illuminated, never could the eye be pre- sented with a more glittering or a more magnificent scene. The whole roof hung with solid icicles, transpa- rent as glass, yet as hard as marble. The eye could scarcely reach the lofty and noble ceiling ; the sides were regularly formed of spars, and the whole presented the idea of a superb theatre, illuminated by an immense profusion of lights. The floor consisted of solid marble, and in several places magnificent columns, thrones, altars, and other objects, appeared as if nature had designed to mock the curious productions of art. Our voices, upon speaking or singing, were redoubled to an astonishing loudness; and upon the firing of a gun the noise and reverberations were almost deafening. " In the midst of this grand amphitheatre rose a con- cretion, about fifteen feet high, that in some measure resembled an altar ; and we caused mass to be celebrated there. The beautiful columns that shot up round the altar appeared like candlesticks ; and many other na- tural objects represented the customary ornaments of this rite. " Below even this spacious grotto there seemed another cavern, down which I ventured with my former mariner, h 3 150 and descended about fifty paces by means of a rope. I at last arrived at a small spot of level ground, where the bottom appeared different from that of the amphitheatre, being composed of some clay, yielding to the pressure, and into which I thrust a stick to the depth of six feet. In this, however, as above, numbers of the most beautiful crystals were formed ; one of which particularly re- sembled a table. " Upon our egress from this amazing cavern, we per- ceived a Greek inscription upon a rock at the mouth, but so obliterated by time that we could not read it dis- tinctly. It seemed to import, that one Antipater had come hither ; but whether he penetrated into the depths of the cavern he does not think fit to inform us." This account of so beautiful and striking a scene, may serve to give us some idea of the subterraneous wonders of nature. Goldsmith. different methods of improving in knowlege. There are five eminent means, or methods, whereby the mind is improved in knowledge ; and these are, Ob- servation, Reading, Instruction by Lectures, Convers- ation, and Meditation : the last of which is in a more peculiar manner called Study. Observation is the notice that we take of all occur- rences in human life, whether they be sensible or intellec- tual : whether relating to persons or things, to ourselves or to others. It is this that furnishes us even from our 151 infancy with a rich variety of ideas, propositions, words, and phrases. It is by this we know that fire will burn, that the sun gives light, that a horse eats grass, that an acorn produces an oak, that man is a being capable of reasoning and discourse, that our bodies die and are carried to the grave, and that one generation succeeds another. All those things which we see, which we hear or feel, which we perceive by sense or consciousness, or which we know in a direct manner with scarcely any exercise of our re- flecting faculties or our reasoning powers, may be in- cluded under the general name of observation. Reading is that method whereby we acquaint ourselves with what other men have published to the world in their compositions. The arts oi reading and writing are of infinite advantage ; for by them we are made partakers of the sentiments, observations, reasonings, and improve- ments, of all the learned world, in the most remote nations and in former ages, almost from the beginning of mankind. Public or private lectures are such verbal instructions as are given by a teacher, while the learners attend in si- lence. We learn in this manner religion from the pulpit ; philosophy or theology from the professor's chair ; and mathematics, by a teacher showing us various theorems and problems ; that is, speculations or practices, by de- monstration and operation, with all the instruments of art necessary to those operations. h 4- 152 Conversation is another method of improving our minds, wherein by mutual discourse and enquiry, we learn the sentiments of others, as well as communicate our senti- ments to others in the same manner. Sometimes, indeed, the advantage is only on one side ; as when a teacher and a learner meet and discourse together ; but frequently the profit is mutual. Under the head of conversation we rank disputations of various kinds. Meditation, or study, includes those exercises of the mind, whereby we render all the former methods useful for our increase in true knowledge and wisdom. It is by meditation we confirm our remembrance of things, of our own experience, and of the observations we make. It is by meditation that we draw various inferences, and esta- blish in our minds general principles of knowledge. It is by meditation that we fix in our memory whatever we learn, and form our own judgment of the truth or false- hood, the strength or weakness, of what others speak or write. It is meditation, or study, that draws out long chains of argument, and searches and finds deep and dif- ficult truths, which before lay concealed in darkness. Each of these five methods has its peculiar advantages, by which it materially assists the others ; and its peculiar defects, which need to be supplied by the assistance of the rest. Watts. RULES FOR IMPROVING THE MIND. Let the enlargement of your knowledge be one constant 153 view and design in life : since there is no time or place, no transaction, occurrence, or engagement, which excludes us from this method of improving the mind. When we are in the house or in the city, wherever we turn our eyes we see the works of men ; when w T e are in the country we behold more of the w T orks of God. The skies, the ground above and beneath us, and the animal and vegetable world round about us, may entertain our observation with ten thousand varieties. From observation of the day and the night, the hours and the flying minutes, learn a wise improvement of time, and be watchful to seize every opportunity to increase in knowledge. From the vices and follies of others, observe what is hateful in them ; consider how such a practice looks in another person, and remember, that it looks as ill or worse in yourself. From their virtues learn something worthy of your imitation. From your natural powers, sensation, judgment, me- mory, hands, feet, &c. make this inference ; that they were not given you for nothing, but for some useful employment, for the good of your fellow-creatures, your own best interest, and final happiness. Thus, from every appearance in nature, and from every occurrence of life, you may derive natural, moral, and re- ligious observations to entertain your minds, as well as rules of conduct in the affairs relating to this life, and that which is to come. H 5 154 Let the circumstances or situations of life be what they will, a man should never neglect the improvement that is to be derived from observation. Let him travel into the East or West Indies, and fulfil the duties of the military or mercantile life there ; let him rove through the earth or the seas for his own humour as a traveller, or pursue his diversions in what part of the world he pleases as a gentleman; let prosperous or adverse for- tune call him to the most distant parts of the globe ; still let him carry on his knowledge, and the improve- ment of his faculties by wise observations. By these means he may render himself some way useful to man- kind. But in making your observations on persons, take care of indulging that busy curiosity, which is ever inquiring into private and domestic affairs with an endless itch Of learning the secret histories of families. Such curiosity begets suspicions and jealousies, and furnishes matter for the evil passions of the mind, and the impertinences of discourse. Be not also too hasty to erect general theories from a few particular observations, appearances, or experiments. This is what the logicians call a false induction. A hasty determination of some universal principles without a due survey of all the particular cases which may be in- cluded in them, is the way to lay a trap for our own un- derstandings in their investigation of any subject, and we shall often be taken captives by mistake and falsehood. Watts. 155 ADVANTAGES OF PUBLIC WORSHIP. Independently of the peculiar object of public religious assemblies, many collateral advantages are derived from them which the liberal thinker will by no means despise. The recurrence of appointed days of rest and leisure, which, but for this purpose, would never have been ap- pointed, divides the weary months of labour and servi- tude with a separating line of a brighter colour. The church is a centre of union for neighbours, friends, and townsmen ; and it is a reasonable and a pleasing ground of preference in our attachments, that we have " walked to the house of God in company." Even the common greetings that pass between those who meet there, are hallowed by the occasion of the meeting, and the spirit of civic urbanity is mingled with a still sweeter infusion of Christian courtesy. By the recurrence of this inter- course, feuds and animosities are composed, which inter- rupted the harmony of friends and acquaintance ; and those who avoided to meet, because they could not for- give, are led to forgive, being obliged to meet. Its effect in humanizing the lower orders of society, and fashioning their manners to the order and decorum of civil life, is apparent to every reflecting mind. The poor who have not formed a habit of attending here, remain from week to week in their sordid cells, or issue thence to places of li- centiousness more sordid ; while those who assemble with the other inhabitants of the place, are brought into the frequent view of their superiors; their persons are known, h 6 156 their appearance is noted ; the inquiring eye of benevo- lence pursues them to their humble cottages, and they are not unfrequently led home from social worship to the so- cial meal. If the rich and poor were but thus brought together regularly and universally, that single circum- stance would be found sufficient to remove the squalidness of misery, and the bitterness of want ; and poverty would exist only as a sober shade in the picture of life, on which the benevolent eye might rest with a degree of compla- cency when fatigued with the more gaudy colouring of luxury and show. Barbauld. CAUTIONS AGAINST ILL CONDUCT IN COMPANY. Carry with you into company all the gaiety and spirits, but as little of the giddiness of youth as you can. The former will charm ; but the latter will often, though inno- cently, implacably offend. Inform yourself of the characters and situations of the company, before you give way to what your imagination may prompt you to say. There are in all companies more wrong heads than right ones, and many more who deserve, than who like censure. Should you, therefore, loudly expatiate in praise of a good quality which some one in the company notoriously wants, or declaim against any ill one with which others are notoriously infected, your reflections, however general and unapplied, will be thought personal, and levelled at those people. Cautiously avoid talking of the domestic affairs either 9 157 of yourself or of other people. Yours are nothing to them but tedious gossip ; theirs are nothing to you. Remember that the wit, humour, and jests, of most mixed companies are local. They may thrive very well in that particular soil, but will very seldom bear trans- planting. Every company is differently circumstanced, and has its particular cant and jargon : which may give occasion to wit and mirth within that circle, but would seem flat and insipid in any other, and therefore will not bear repeating. Take great care never to repeat in one company what you hear in another. Things seemingly indifferent may by circulation have much graver consequences than you would imagine. Besides there is a general tacit trust in convers- ation, by which a man is obliged not to report any thing out of it, though he is not immediately enjoined secrecy. Not to perceive the little weaknesses, and the idle but innocent affectations of the company, may be allowable as a sort of polite duty. The company will be pleased with you if you do this, and most probably will not be re- formed by you if you do not. Chesterfield. THE HISTORY OF OMAR. Omar, the son of Hassan, had passed seventy -five years in honour and prosperity. The favour of three successive califfs had filled his house with gold and silver ; and whenever he appeared, the benedictions of the people proclaimed his passage. 158 Terrestrial happiness is of short continuance. The brightness of the flame is wasting its fuel ; the fragrant flower is passing away in its own odours. The vigour of Omar began to fail, the curls of beauty fell from his head, strength departed from his hands, and agility from his feet. He gave back to the califf the keys of trust and the seals of secrecy ; and sought no other pleasure for the re- mains of life than the converse of the wise, and the grati- tude of the good. The powers of his mind were yet unimpaired. His chamber was filled by visitants, eager to catch the dic- tates of experience, and officious to pay the tribute of admiration. Caled, the son of the viceroy of Egypt, entered every day early, and retired late. He was beau- tiful and eloquent ; Omar admired his wit, and loved his docility. Tell me, said Caled, thou to whose voice nations have listened, and whose wisdom is known to the extremities of Asia, tell me how I may resemble Omar the prudent. The arts by which you have gained power and preserved it, are to you no longer necessary or use- ful ; impart to me the secret of your conduct, and teach me the plan upon which your wisdom has built your fortune. Young man, said Omar, it is of little use to form plans of life. When I took my first survey of the world in my twentieth year, having considered the va- rious conditions of mankind, in the hour of solitude I said thus to myself, leaning against a cedar which spread 10 159 its branches over my head : seventy years are allowed to man ; I have yet fifty remaining : ten years I will allot to the attainment of knowledge, and ten I will pass in foreign countries : I shall be learned, and therefore shall be honoured; every city will shout at my arrival, and every student will solicit my friendship. Twenty years thus passed will store my mind with images which I shall be busy the rest of my life in combining and comparing* I shall revel in inexhaustible accumulations of intellectual riches ; I shall find new pleasures for every moment, and shall never more be weary of myself. I will, however, not deviate too far from the beaten track of life, but will try what can be found in female delicacy. I will marry a wife beautiful as the Houries, and wise as Zobeide ; with her I will live twenty years within the suburbs of Bag- dat, in every pleasure that wealth can purchase, and fancy can invent. I will then retire to a rural dwelling, pass my last days in obscurity and contemplation, and lie silently down on the bed of death. Through my life it shall be my settled resolution, that I will never depend upon the smile of princes : that I will never stand exposed to the artifices of courts ; I will never pant for public honours, nor disturb my quiet with affairs of state. Such was my scheme of life, which I impressed indelibly upon my memory. The first part of my ensuing time was to be spent in search of knowledge : and I know not how I was diverted from my design. I had no visible impediments with- 160 out, nor any ungovernable passions within. I regarded knowledge as the highest honour and the most engaging pleasure; yet day stole upon day, and month glided after month, till I found that seven years of the first ten had vanished and left nothing behind them. I now postponed my purpose of travelling ; for why should I go abroad while so much remained to be learned at home ? I immured myself for four years, and studied the laws of the empire. The fame of my skill reached the judges ; I was found able to speak upon doubtful questions, and was commanded to stand at the foot-stool of the califf. I was heard with attention, I was consulted with confidence, and the love of praise fastened on my heart. I still wished to see distant countries, listened with rapture to the relations of travellers, and resolved some time to ask my dismission, that I might feast my soul with novelty ; but my presence was always necessary, and the stream of business hurried me along. Sometimes I was afraid lest I should be charged with ingratitude ; but I still proposed to travel, and therefore would not confine myself by marriage. In my fiftieth year I began to suspect that the time of travelling was past, and thought it best to lay hold on the felicity yet in my power, and indulge myself in do- mestic pleasures. But at fifty no man easily finds a wo- man beautiful as the Houries, and wise as Zobeide. I inquired and rejected, consulted and deliberated, till the 161 sixty-second year made me ashamed of gazing upon girls. I had now nothing left but retirement, and for retirement I never found a time, till disease forced me from public employment. Such was my scheme, and such has been its conse* quences. With an insatiable thirst for knowledge, I trifled away the years of improvement ; with a restless desire of seeing different countries, I have always resided in the same city ; with the highest expectation of connubial felicity, I have lived unmarried ; and with unalterable re- solutions of contemplative retirement, I am going to die within the walls of Bagdat. Johnson. CHARACTER OF ALFRED, KING OF ENGLAND. The merit of this prince, both in private and public life, may with advantage be set in opposition to that of any monarch, or citizen, which the annals of any age or any nation can present to us. He seems indeed to be the complete model of that perfect character, which, under the denomination of a sage or wise man, the philosophers have been fond of delineating rather as a fiction of their imagination, than in hopes of ever seeing it reduced to practice; so happily were all his virtues tempered together, so justly were they blended, and so powerfully did each prevent the other from exceeding its proper bounds. He knew how to conciliate the most enterprising spirit with the coolest moderation ; the most obstinate perse- verance, with the easiest flexibility; themostsevere justice 162 with the greatest lenity ; the greatest vigour in command, with the greatest affability of deportment ; the highest capacity and inclination for science, with the most shining talents for action. His civil and his military virtues are almost equally the objects of our admiration, excepting only, that the former, being more rare among princes, as well as more useful, seem chiefly to challenge our applause. Nature also, as if desirous that so bright a production of her skill should be set in the fairest light, had bestowed on him all bodily accomplishments ; vigour of limbs, dignity of shape and air, and a pleasant, engaging, and open countenance. For- tune alone, by throwing him into a barbarous age, deprived him of historians worthy to transmit his fame to posterity. Alfred died in the year 897, aged 52. HumEc DESCRIPTION OF THE VALLEY OF ABYSSINIA. The place which the wisdom or policy of antiquity had destined for the residence of the Abyssinian princes, was a spacious valley in the kingdom of Ambara, sur- rounded on every side by mountains, of which the sum- mits overhang the middle part. The only passage by which it could be entered was a cavern that passed under a rock, of which it had long been disputed whether it was the work of nature or of human industry. The out- let of the cavern was concealed by a thick wood, and the mouth which opened into the valley was closed with gates of iron, forged by the artificers of ancient days, so 163 massy that no man without the help of engines could open or shut them. From the mountains on every side, rivulets descended that filled all the valley with verdure and fertility, and formed a lake in the middle, inhabited by fish of every species, and frequented by every fowl whom nature has taught to dip the wing in water. The lake discharged its s superfluities by a stream which entered a dark cleft of the mountain on the northern side, and fell with dreadful noise from precipice to precipice till it was heard no more. The sides of the mountains were covered with trees ; the banks of the brooks were diversified with flowers ; every blast shook spices from the rocks, and every month dropped fruits upon the ground. All animals that bite the grass, or browse the shrub, whether tame or wild, wandered in this extensive circuit, secured from beasts of prey by the mountains which confined them. On one part were flocks and herds feeding in the pastures, on another, all the beasts of chase frisking in the lawns ; the sprightly kid was bounding on the rocks, the subtle monkey frolicking in the trees, and the solemn elephant reposing in the shade. All the diversions of the world were brought together, the blessings of nature were col- lected, and its evils extracted and excluded. Johnson. 164 CHARACTER OF GROTIUS. If we fairly estimate both the endowments and the vir- tues of Grotius, we may justly consider him as one of the most memorable men who have done honour to modern times. He combined the discharge of the most important duties of active and public life, with the attainment of that exact and various learning which is generally the portion only of the recluse student. He was distinguished as an advocate and magistrate, and he composed the most valu- able work on the law of his own country : he was almost equally celebrated as an historian, a scholar, a poet, and a divine: a disinterested statesman, a philosophical lawyer; a patriot, who united moderation with firmness, and a theologian, who was taught candour by his learning. Unmerited exile did not damp his patriotism ; the bit- terness of controversy did not extinguish his charity. The sagacity of his numerous and fierce adversaries could not discover a blot on his character ; and in the midst of all the hard trials and galling provocations of a turbulent political life, he never once deserted his friends when they were unfortunate, nor insulted his enemies when they were weak. Sir James Mackintosh. HAMAN; OR, THE MISERY OF PRIDE. Ahasuerus, who is supposed to be the prince known among the Greek historians by the name of Artaxerxes, had advanced to the chief dignity in his kingdom, Haman, 165 an Amalekite, who inherited all the ancient enmity of his race to the Jewish nation. He appears, from what is recorded of him, to have been a very wicked minister. Raised to greatness without merit, he employed his power solely for the gratification of his passions. As the ho- nours which he possessed were next to royal, his pride was every day fed with that servile homage, which is pe- culiar to Asiatic courts ; and all the servants of the king prostrated themselves before him. In the midst of this general adulation, one person only stooped not to Haman. This was Mordecai the Jew ; who, knowing this Amale- kite to be an enemy to the people of God; and, with virtuous indignation, despising that insolence x>f pros- perity with which he saw him lifted up, " bowed not, nor did him reverence." On this appearance of disrespect from Mordecai, Haman " was full of wrath: but he thought scorn to lay hands on Mordecai alone." Per- sonal revenge was not sufficient to satisfy him. So vio- lent and black were his passions, that he resolved to exterminate the whole nation to which Mordecai belonged. Abusing, for his cruel purpose, the favour of his cre- dulous sovereign, he obtained a decree to be sent forth, that, against a certain day, all the Jews throughout the Persian dominions should be put to the sword. Mean- while, confident of success, and blind to approaching ruin, he continued exulting in his prosperity. Invited by Ahasuerus to a royal banquet, which Esther the queen had prepared, " he went forth that day joyful, and with 166 a glad heart." But behold how slight an incident was sufficient to poison his joy ! As he went forth, he saw Mbrdecai in the king's gate ; and observed, that he still refused to do him homage : " he stood not up, nor was moved for him," although he well knew the formidable designs which Haman was preparing to execute. One private man, who despised his greatness, and disdained submission, while a whole kingdom trembled before him ; one spirit, which the utmost stretch of his power could neither subdue nor humble, blasted his triumphs. His whole soul was shaken with a storm of passion. Wrath, pride, and desire of revenge, rose into fury. With diffi- culty, he restrained himself in public ; but as soon as he came to his own house, he was forced to disclose, the agony of his mind. He gathered together his friends and family, with Zeresh his wife. " He told them of the glory of his riches, and the multitude of his children, and of all the things wherein the king had promoted him ; and how he had advanced him above the princes and ser- vants of the king." He said, moreover, " Yea, Esther the queen suffered no man to come in with the king to the banquet that she had prepared, but myself; and to- morrow also am I invited to her with the king." After all this preamble, what is the conclusion? — " Yet all this availeth me nothing, so long as I see Mordecai the Jew sitting at the king's gate.'* The sequel of Haman's history I shall not now pursue. It might afford matter for much instruction by the conspi- 167 cuous justice of God in his fall and punishment. But con- templating only the singular situation in which the expres- sions just quoted present him, and the violent agitation of his mind which they display, the following reflections naturally arise : how miserable is vice, when one guilty passion creates so much torment ! how unavailing is pros- perity, when, in the height of it, a single disappointment can destroy the relish of all its pleasures ! how weak is human nature, which, in the absence of real, is thus prone to form to itself imaginary woes ! Blair. TRIAL AND EXECUTION OF THE EARL OF STRAFFORD. The earl of Strafford defended himself against the accu- sations of the house of commons, with all the presence of mind, judgment, and sagacity, that could be expected from innocence and ability. His children were placed beside him, as he was thus defending his life, and the cause of his royal master. After he had, in a long and eloquent speech, delivered without premeditation, confuted all the accusations of his enemies, he thus drew to a conclusion: " But, my lords, I have troubled you too long; longer than I should have done, but for the sake of these dear pledges, which a saint in heaven has left me." — Upon this he paused ; dropt a tear ; looked upon his children ; and proceeded — " What I forfeit for myself is a trifle: that my indiscretions should reach my posterity, wounds me to the heart. Pardon my infirmity — Something I should have added, but I am not able ; and therefore I let it pass. And 168 now, my lords, for myself. I have long been taught, that the afflictions of this life are overpaid by that eternal weight of glory which awaits the innocent. And so, my lords, even so, with the utmost tranquillity, I submit my- self to your judgment, whether that judgment be life or death : not my will, but thine, O God, be done !" His eloquence and innocence induced those judges to pity, who were the most zealous to condemn him. The king himself went to the house of lords, and spoke for some time in his defence ; but the spirit of vengeance, which had been chained for eleven years, was now roused ; and no- thing but his blood could give the people satisfaction. He was condemned by both houses of parliament ; and nothing remained but for the king to give his consent to the bill of attainder. But in the present commotion, the consent of the king would very easily be dispensed with ; and immi- nent danger might attend his refusal. Charles, however, who loved Strafford tenderly, hesitated, and seemed re- luctant ; trying every expedient to put off so dreadful an office, as that of signing the warrant for his execution. While he continued in this agitation of mind, and state of suspense, his doubts were at last silenced by an act of great magnanimity in the condemned lord. He received a letter from that unfortunate nobleman, desiring that his life might be made a sacrifice, to obtain reconciliation between the king and his people ; adding, that he was prepared to die ; and that to a willing mind there could be no injury. This instance of noble generosity was but ill repaid by his mas- 169 ter, who complied with his request. He consented to sign the fatal bill by commission : and Strafford was beheaded on Tower-hill ; behaving with all that composed dignity of resolution, which was expected from his character. Goldsmith. character of james i. king of england. No prince, so little enterprising and so inoffensive, was ever so much exposed to the opposite extremes of calumny and flattery? of satire and panegyric. And the factions which began in his time, being still continued, have caused his character to be as much disputed to this day, as is commonly that of princes who are our contemporaries. Many virtues, however, it must be owned, he was pos- sessed of; but not one of them pure, or free from the contagion of the neighbouring vices. His generosity bordered on profusion, his learning on pedantry, bis pa- cific disposition on pusillanimity, his wisdom on cunning, his friendship on light fancy and boyish fondness. While he imagined that he was only maintaining his own autho- rity, he may perhaps be suspected in some of his actions, and still more of his pretensions, to have encroached on the liberties of his people. While he endeavoured, by an exact neutrality, to acquire the good will of all his neigh- bours, he was able to preserve fully the esteem and re- gard of none. His capacity was considerable, but fitter to discourse on general maxims than to conduct any in- tricate business. 170 His intentions were just, but more adapted to the con- duct of private life, than to the government of kingdoms. Awkward in his person, and ungainly in his manners, he was ill qualified to command respect : partial and undis- cerning in his affections, he was little fitted to acquire general love. Of a feeble temper, more than of a frugal judgment ; exposed to our ridicule from his vanity, but exempt from our hatred by his freedom from pride and arrogance. And, upon the whole, it may be pronounced of his character, that all his qualities were sullied with weakness, and embellished by humanity. Political courage he was certainly devoid of; and thence chiefly is derived the strong prejudice, which prevails against his personal bravery ; an inference, however, which must be owned, from general experience, to be extremely fallacious. Hume. the close of life. When we contemplate the close of life ; the termination of man's designs and hopes ; the silence that now reigns among those who, a little while ago, were so busy, or so gay: who can avoid being touched with sensations at once awful and tender? What heart but then warms with the glow of humanity ? In whose eye does not the tear gather, on revolving the fate of passing and short-lived man? Behold the poor man, who lays down at last the burden of his wearisome life. No more shall he groan under the Joad of poverty and toil. No more shall he hear the inso- 17 171 lent calls of the master, from whom he received his scanty wages. No more shall he be raised from needful slumber on his bed of straw, nor be hurried away from his homely meal, to undergo the repeated labours of the day. While his humble grave is preparing, and a few poor and de- cayed neighbours are carrying him thither, it is good for us to think, that this man too was our brother ; that for him the aged and destitute wife, and the needy children, now weep ; that neglected as he was by the world, he possessed, perhaps, both a sound understanding, and a worthy heart ; and is now carried by angels to rest in Abraham's bosom. — At no great distance from him, the grave is opened to receive the rich and proud man. For, as it is said with emphasis in the parable, " the rich man also died, and was buried." He also died. His riches prevented not his sharing the same fate with the poor man ; perhaps, through luxury, they accelerated his doom. Then, indeed, " the mourners go about the streets ;" and while, in all the pomp and magnificence of woe, his funeral is preparing, his heirs, impatient to examine his will, are looking on one another with jealous eyes, and already be- ginning to dispute about the division of his substance. — One day, we see carried along, the coffin of the smiling infant ; the flower just nipped as it began to blossom in the parent's view : and the next day we behold the young man or young woman of blooming form and promising hopes, laid in an untimely grave. While the funeral is attended by a numerous unconcerned company, who are i 2 172 discoursing with one another about the news of the day, or the ordinary affairs of life, let our thoughts rather follow to the house of mourning, and represent to them- selves what is passing there. There we shall see a dis- consolate family, sitting in silent grief, thinking of the sad breach that is made in their little society ; and with tears in their eyes looking to the chamber that is now left vacant, and to every memorial that presents itself of their departed friend. By such attention to the woes of others, the selfish hardness of our hearts will be gradually softened, and melted down into humanity. THE PLANETARY AND TERRESTRIAL WORLDS COMPARATIVELY CONSIDERED. To us who dwell on its surface, the earth is by far the most extensive orb that our eyes can any where behold : it is also clothed with verdure, distinguished by trees, and adorned with a variety of beautiful decorations; whereas, to a spectator placed on one of the planets, it wears an uni- form aspect; looks all luminous ; and no larger than a spot. To beings who dwell at still greater distances, it entirely disappears. That which we call alternately the morning and the evening star (as in one part of the orbit she rides foremost in the procession of night, in the other ushers in and anticipates the dawn), is a planetary world. This planet, and the four others that so wonderfully vary their mystic dance, are in themselves dark bodies, and shine only by reflection; have fields, and seas, and skfes of their 173 own ; are furnished with all accommodations for animal subsistence, and are supposed to be the abodes of intel- lectual life ; all which, together with our earthly habita- tion, are dependent on that grand dispenser of Divine munificence, the sun ; receive their light from the distri- bution of his rays, and derive their comfort from his be- nign agency. The sun, which seems to perform its daily stages through the sky, is in this respect fixed and immoveable: it is the great axle of heaven, about which the globe we inhabit, and other more spacious orbs, wheel their stated courses. The sun, though seemingly smaller than the dial it illumi- nates, is abundantly larger than this whole earth, on which so many lofty mountains rise, and such vast oceans roll. A line extending from side to side, through the centre of that resplendent orb, would measure more than eight hun- dred thousand miles : a girdle formed to go round its cir- cumference, would require a length of millions. Were its solid contents to be estimated, the account would over- whelm our understanding, and be almost beyond the power of language to express. Are we startled at these reports of philosophy 1 Are we ready to cry out in a transport of surprise, " How mighty is the Being who kindled so prodi- gious a fire ; and keeps alive, from age to age, so enormous a mass of flame !" Let us attend our philosophical guides, and we shall be brought acquainted with speculations more enlarged and more inflaming. This sun, with all its attendant planets, is but a very 174 little part of the grand machine of the universe: every star, though in appearance no bigger than the diamond that glit- ters upon a lady's ring, is really a vast globe like the sun in size and in glory ; no less spacious, no less luminous, than the radiant source of day. So that every star is not barely a world, but the centre of a magnificent system ; has a retinue of worlds, irradiated by its beams, and re- volving round its attractive influence, all which are lost to our sight in immeasurable wilds of ether. That the stars appear like so many diminutive and scarcely distinguish- able points, is owing to their immense and inconceivable distance. Immense and inconceivable indeed it is, since a ball, shot from the loaded cannon, and flying with una- bated rapidity, must travel at this impetuous rate, almost seven hundred thousand years, before it could reach the nearest of these twinkling luminaries. While, beholding this vast expanse, I learn my own extreme meanness, I would also discover the abject little- ness of all terrestrial things. What is the earth with all her ostentatious scenes, compared with this astonishingly grand furniture of the skies ? What, but a dim speck, hardly perceivable in the map of the universe ? It is ob- served by a very judicious writer, that if the sun himself which enlightens this part of the creation, were extin- guished, and all the host of planetary worlds which move about him, were annihilated, they would not be missed by an eye that can take in the whole compass of nature, any more than a grain of sand upon the sea shore. The bulk 175 of which they consist, and the space which they occupy, are so exceedingly little in comparison of the whole, that their loss would scarcely leave a blank in the immensity of God's works. If then, not our globe only, but this whole system, be so very diminutive, what is a kingdom or a country? What are a few lordships, or the so much admired patrimonies of those who are styled wealthy ? When I measure them with my own little pittance, they swell into proud and bloated dimensions : but when I take the universe for my standard, how scanty is their size ! how contemptible their figure ! They shrink into pompous nothings. Addison. THE END, Loxdov : Printed by A. & R. Spottiswoode, New- Street-Square. i$oo&0 for ftt&ool*, PUBLISHED BY W.SIMPKIN AND R. MARSHALL, STATIONERS' HALL COURT, LUD GATE-STREET, LONDON. * # * A new School Catalogue, containing ALL the Books now in use, may be had on application, on which the most liberal allowance is made to Schools and professional persons. Uatin antr t&vu%. THE ETON LATIN GRAMMAR, with the addition of many useful Notes and Observations; and also of the accents and quantity ; to- gether with an entirely New Version of all the Latin Rules and Ex- amples. By T. W. C. EDWARDS, M.A. 5th Edit. 2s. 6d. bound. This Grammar is accented throughout. The notes are entirely original, very copious, and most lucid : the construing is ultngtther new^ and not only more literal^ but clearer and more intelligible than in any other edition of the Eton Grammar ever yet published. ELEMENTS OF LATIN HEXAMETERS AND PENTA- METERS. By the late Rev. ROBERT BLAND. Seventh Edition, corrected throughout, 3s. bound. A KEY to the above has been prepared at the pressing request of several Teachers and private Students, which may be had on application to the Publishers. 5s. Boards. SYNTACTICAL EXAMINATION; or Questions and Ex- amples adapted to the Syntax of the Latin Grammar. 2nd Edit. 2s. bd. The LATIN READER: from the 5th German Edition. By FREDERIC JACOBS, Professor of Ancient Literature, at Gotha ; Editor of the Greek Anthology, the Greek Reader, &c. &c. 3s. bound. The LATIN READER, Second Part; from the Fourth Ger- man Edition By Professor JACOBS. With explanatory Notes, by T. W.C.EDWARDS, M.A. 3s. 6d. bound. These works of Professor Jacobs abound both with instruction and entertain- ment, are full of interest, and have passed through several editions in many parts of the continent of Europe and States of America. LATIN DELECTUS; or, First Lessons in Construing, adapted throughout to the Rules of Syntax of the Eton Latin Grammar, Rule by Ruie, with a Directrix, a Clavis Verborum, and Clavis of Proper Names. 3d Edit. By T. W. C. EDWARDS, M.A. 2s. 6rf. Bd. In this work all the accents and quantities are marked, precisely as in Ed- wards' Eton Latin Grammar. The Examples are always pointedly to the Rule, extremely appropriate, agreeably diversified, and without any ad- mixture of extraneous matter. 2 Books for Schools, published by A KEY to EDWARDS' LATIN DELECTUS, for the Use of Persons studying without a Master, may be had by private Application. 4s. boards. An INTRODUCTION to LATIN CONSTRUING; or, easy and progressive Lessons for Reading ; to be used by the Pupil as soon as the first Declension has been committed to memory, adapted to the most popular Grammars, but more particularly to that used in the Col- lege at Eton ; and designed to illustrate the Inflection of the declinable Parts of Speech, the Rules for Gender, the Preterperfect Tense, and of Syntax ; having the quantity of those Syllables marked on which the pronunciation depends, and accompanied with Questions. The third Edition. By the Rev. J. BOSWORTH, M. A. &c. &c. 2s. 6d. bound. This little work is intended to teach practically the use of the Latin Gram- mar and Dictionary ; and while every care has been taken to remove ob- stacles, this Introduction is intended to call gradually forth the latent ener- gies of the mi ad, by leaving sufficient cause for the pupil's own exertion. LATIN CONSTRUING ; or easy and progressive Lessons from Classical Authors ; with Rules for translating Latin into English, designed to teach the Analysis of simple and compound Sentences, and the method of construing Phaedrus and Nepos, as well as the higher Classics, without the help of an English Translation; intended for the use of junior classes in schools, and of those who have not the advantage of regular instruction, for whom the quantity of those syllables, on which the pronunciation depends, is marked. To which is added, a full account of the Roman Calendar, and some remarks on Roman Customs, with Rules for reducing the English to the Roman time, and the Roman to the English. By the Rev. J. BOSWORTH, M. A. &c. &c. Vicar of Little Horwood, Buckinghamshire, and Author of an Introduction to Latin Construing, the Elements of Anglo-Saxon Grammar, &c. The second Edition. 2s, 6d. bound. It is the object of this book to point out to those who have a competent knowledge of Grammar, a general method of construing Latin without the debilitating aid of English translations. After attending to the rules, illustrated as they are by copious examples from the easiest and best Roman classics, the pupil will have no difficulty in taking up any Latin author, and construing it with judgment and precision. SENTENTm SELECTS; or, Select Latin Sentences for Progressive Lessons in Latin Construing : being a Sequel to Edwards's Latin Delectus, and a convenient CJass-Book for the middle Forms of Schools. ByT. W.C.EDWARDS, M. A. 2s. 6d. bound. In this work the quantity of the penult of every word of more than two syllables is marked throughout, without exception, to regulate the pronun- ciation; — but the quantity of the other syllables, and the accents of the words, are not marked. A KEY to the above. 4s. Boards. LATIN VERSIFICATION SIMPLIFIED. By JOHN CAREY, LL.D. 2s, bound. The Key, 2s. 6d. bound. " Latin Versification simplified by J. Carey, LL.D. contains a graduated series of Exercises, and is well calculated for soon rendering the young Lati- nist a proficient in the rules of Prosody. There are two volumes ; one consists »f examples, with the words placed in prosaic order; and the other forms the Key, with the verses in regular scansion."— Gentleman'' s Magazine, Oct. 1825. MATHURINI CORDERII COLLOQUIA SELECTA ; or, Select Colloquies of Mathurin Cordier : better adapted to the capacities of Youth, and fitter for beginners in the Latin Tongue, than any edition of his Colloquies, or any other book yet published. The nineteenth Edi- tion, revised and corrected. By S. LOGGAN, A. M. 2s. bound. W. Simpkin and R. Marshall. 3 P. VIRGILII MARONJS BUCOLICA; containing an Ordo and Interlineal Translation accompanying the Text ; a Treatise on Latin Versification ; and references to a Scanning Table, exhibiting, on musical principles, every variety of Hexameter Verse. With an ex- planatory Index. Intended as an introduction to the reading of the Latin Poets. By P. A. NUTTALL, LL.D. Editor of Stirling's Juvenal interlineally translated. 3s. 6d. Bound. The ETON LATIN GRAMMAR, or Introduction to the Latin Tongue : with explanatory Notes, collected from various Grammarians. By WILLIAM MA VOR, LL.D. Thirteenth Edition. 2s. 6d. bound. A LATIN GRAMMAR; which from its peculiar adaptation to the faculties chiefly employed in the acquisition of Language, is ren- dered more simple and concise than any Latin Grammar hitherto pub- lished. By an experienced Teacher. 2s. 6d. bound. EXEMPLA GR^CA MINORA; or, First Series of Ex- amples to be turned from English into Greek : forming easy and pro- gressive exercises, illustrative of the Rules of Syntax of the Eton Greek Grammar, Rule by Rule : to which is added, in English and Greek, a Vocabulary, or Lexicon of all the Words. By T. W. C. EDWARDS, M.A. 2s. 6d. bound. A SKETCH of the GREEK ACCIDENCE, arranged in a manner convenient for Transcription ; by means of which learners may be assisted in committing to memory. The second Edition. By JOHN HODGKIN. 2s. 6d. sewed; 3s. bound. 4t We recommend to the notice of such of our readers as are concerned in the education of youth, the labours of Mr. Hodgkin, which we consider as peculiarly calculated to facilitate the adoption of that plan for the improve- ment of the memory, which is recommended by Quintilian, and which was fol- lowed with so much success by Professor Porson." — Classical Journal, No. XIX. The ETON GREEK GRAMMAR, as used at the College of Eton; with the quantity of the doubtful penultimate Vowels, on which the pronunciation depends, both in Latin and Greek, and numerous ex- planatory Notes in English, incorporating the most important improve- ments of the Port Royal, Matthias, Jones, Valpy, and others ; with the justly-esteemed and well-established Eton Plan : for the use of Schools and private Learners. From the Manuscript of a late member of the tJniversity of Cambridge, by his brother, the Rev. J. BOSWORTH, M. A. F. A. S. and Author of Latin Construing, &c. 5s. bound. GREEK DELECTUS; or, First Lessons in Greek Con- struing: adapted to the Rules of Syntax of the Eton Greek Grammar; with Notes on some peculiar Passages, and a Lexicon Verborum. By T. W. C. EDWARDS, M.A. 3s. 6d. bound. This small volume forms one of the easiest and best Introductions to Greek Construing- in this or in any other country. It consists of two Parts, whereof the First is made up of most appropriate Examples to illustrate the Rules of Greek Syntax; the Second is a Miscellany of Moral Sentences and Brief Histories, taken from the works of the very best Greek Orators, Philosophers, Historians, and Poets. The whole is well digested, and cannot fail of being most acceptable, and at the same time most useful, to Instructors as well as Scholars. A KEY to the above. 4s. 6rf. Boards. A KEY to the GREEK TESTAMENT ; being a selection of Chapters philologically explained ; for the use of young men designed for the Ministry. By CHARLES HOOK, Author of a Synopsis of La- tln Gramma^ and Steps to Latin Verses. 3s, Gd. boards. 4 Books for Schools, published by A KEY to the CLASSICAL PRONUNCIATIONofGREEK, LATIN, and SCRIPTURE PROPER NAMES; in which the Words are accented, and divided into Syllables, exactly as they ought to be pronounced, according to Rules drawn from Analogy and the best Usage. To which are added, terminational Vocabularies of Hebrew, Greek, and Latin Proper Names. By JOHN WALKER, Author of the Elements of Elocution, &c. &c. Eighth Edition. 4s. boards. NOVUM TESTA MENTUM DOMINI NOSTRl JESU CHRISTI. Interprete THEODORO BEZA. ?*. 6d. bound. INDEX ACCURATUS et COPIOSUS VERBORUM, Fonnularumque Omnium in Euripidis Trag. integris et deperditarum Fragmentis necnon Epistolis occurrentium, curavit C. D. BECKIUS. 8vo. 1/. Is. boards. The THEATRE of ihe GREEKS ; or, the History, Litera- ture, and Criticisms of the Grecian Drama. Second Edition, lbs. boards. An ABRIDGMENT of AINSWORTH'S LATIN DIC- TIONARY, designed for the Use of Schools. By THOMAS MORKLL, D.D. The Thirteenth Edition, materially improved. By JOHN CAREY, LL.D. 15s. bound. The BUCOLICS of VIRGIL, after the Text of HEYNE, with the Scanning, Synthetical Ordo, a very Literal and a more Free Translation, Copious Notes in English, Mode of Parsing and Declining, a Lexicon, and an Index. By T. W. C. ED WARDS, M. A. Imperial 8vo. [is. Boards. By the same Author, 1. PORSONS FOUR PLAYS of EURIPIDES, namely, the Medea, Phccnissae, Hecuba, and Orestes, literally translated into English Prose ; with the Original Greek, the Metres or Scanning, an Ordo Verborum, and a variety of Useful Notes. Demy Svo. 11. 12s. Bds. (5^f~ These four Plays may be had separately. 8s. each, sewed. 2. The PROMETHEUS CHAINED of ^SCHYLUS, after the Text of BLOMFIELD, literally translated into English Prose; with the Metres or Scanning, Ordo Verborum, and Notes. 8s. sewed. 3. The ANTIGONE of SOPHOCLES, after the Text of BRUNCK, but with some little variation, literally translated into English Prose ; with the Metres or Scanning, Ordo, and Notes. 8s. sewed. 4. The ALCESTIS of EURIPIDES, after the Text of MONK, literally translated into English Prose; with the Metres Or Scanning, Ordo, and Notes. 8s. sewed. 5. The PHILOCTETES of SOPHOCLES, literally translated from the Text of BRUNCK : diligently compared with that of Erfurdt and other Editors. In the same page with the Translation are given the Original Greek, the Metres, the Ordo, and the English Accentuation. "With Notes, for the use of Students. 8s. sewed. 6. An INDEX VERBORUM to the MEDEA of EURI- PIDES as edited by PORSON : — intended as an Accompaniment to Edwards' Edition of Porson's Medea of Euripides. Is. sewed. W. Simpkin and R. Marshall* 5 dFvcnci) anil HUli&n. The LOGOGRAPHIC EMBLEMATICAL FRENCH SPELLING BOOK; or, French Pronunciation made easy: being a method by which any Child four or five years old, and of ever so slow an apprehension, although perfectly unacquainted with his Letters, will in a few months be enabled to read French fluently, and pronounce it as if he were a Parisian born. To which are added, besides instructions to enable any person to put this method in practice, a Systematic Appendix y justifying its principles, as likewise various reading pieces, of the com- position of the Author, highly interesting, at least for their novelty. By P. V. LENOIR, Professor of the French Language, Elocution, and Belles Lettres, and author of " Les Fastes Britanniques," &c. Is. 6d. sewed. The CHILD'S FRENCH FRIEND; being Grammar, Exercises, and Vocabulary for the Use of Children from four to eight years of age. By M. A. ALLISON, Author of Questions on the Grammar of the French Language, &c. 2s. half-bound. By the same Author , LA PETITE FRANCAISE ; or, Vocabulary, Exercises, and Easy Reading Lessons ; intended as a Companion to the Child's French Friend. 2s. half bound. A GRAMMAR of the FRENCH LANGUAGE, with practical Exercises. By the late N. WANOSTROCHT, LL. D. To which is added, a comprehensive Table of Contents, and an alphabetical ar- rangement of irregular Verbs, with references to the places where they are conjugated. The Seventeenth Edition, revised and corrected by A. L. Josse. 4s. Qd. bound. SEQUEL to the RECUEIL CHOISI ; or, Nouveau Choix de Faits Historiques et d' Anecdotes Instructives, propres a orner la Memoire de la Jeunesse, avec la Signification des Idiotismes en Anglois. Par N. WANOSTROCHT. 4s. bound. HISTOIRE de 1' EMPIRE de RUSS1E sous Pierre le Grand, par Voltaire ; avec la Signification des Idiotismes en Anglois. Par N. WANOSTROCHT 5s. bound. A PRACTICAL GRAMMAR of the FRENCH LAN- GUAGE, illustrated by copious Examples and Exercises, selected from the most approved French Writers ; designed for the Use of Schools and Private Students. By J. Rowbotham, Master of the Classical, Mathe- matical, and Commercial Academy, Walworth. 5s. Boards, or 5s. 6d. Bound. " In addition to the usual trodden paths of Grammar, Mr. R. has ventured into a labyrinth which tew philologists have as yet had either boldness or in- telligence enough to explore; — we allude to his minute explanations of the tenses, the subjunctive mood, and past participles. The examples and illus- trations have been selected with a view to combine amusement with instruc- tion ; for which purpose, the choicest observations of the most approved French writers have been selected." — Monthly Magazine, June 1826. HISTOIRE de CHARLES XII. Roi de Suede. Par M. VOLTAIRE. Nouvelle Edition stereotype, soigneusement revue et corrigee sur les meilleures impressions. Par M. Catty, Premier Maitre de langue Franchise a PAcademie Royale et Miiitaire de Woolwich. 4*. bound. 6 Books for Schools , published by ELIZABETH, ou les EXILES de SIBERIE. Par MME. COTT1N. Onzieme edition, avec des Notes explicatives, Historiques, et Geographiques. Par It. JU1GJNE. 3s. bound. A GENERAL TABLE of the FRENCH VERBS, regular and irregular, by which {he formation of any Tense or Person required may be immediately found. By R. JUIGNE, M. A. of the University of Paris. Coloured, 3s. LE NOUVE\U TESTAMENT de notre Seigneur JESUS CHRIST. Imprime sur 1'Edition de Paris, de l'Annee 1805. Edition stereotype, revue et corrigee avec soin d'apres le texte Grec. 4s. bound. LIVRE DES ENFANS, ou Syllabaire Francois ; auquel on a ajoute des Definitions abregees des choses dont les Enfans doivent etre instruits, servant d'lntroduction au Recueil. Par SARAH WANOSTROCHT. Huitieme Edition. 2s. bound. A GENERAL TABLE of the ITALIAN VERBS, regular and irregular, by which the formation of any Tense or Person required may be immediately found. Executed by R. ZOTTI, after the French plan laid down by R. Juigne, in his table of French Verbs. A new Edition, corrected and improved by C. BRUNO. Coloured, 3s. 6d. A NEW POCKET DICTIONARY of the ITALIAN and FRENCH LANGUAGES, abridged from Alberti's; enriched with the Technical Terms of the Arts and Sciences, and the Conjugations of Regular and Irregular Verbs : for the Use both of Italians and French, and of Schools. By JOSEPH M A RTINELLI. A new Edition, corrected and revised by M. Santagnello, Author of a Dictionary of " The Pecu.iarities of the Italian Language," the " Italian Reader," 44 Exercises," &c. &c. 2 vols. 10s. sewed. GRAMMA IRE IT ALT EN NE ; being a complete Italian Gram- mar, with Exercises and Dialogues. Third Edition. By C. BRUNO. 7s. boards. KEY to the same. 2s. boards. By the same Author, 1. A GENERAL SELECTION of POETRY, consisting of Fables, Odes, Sonnets, &c. progressively increasing in difficulty. Se- cond Edition, 6s. boards. 2. A GENERAL SELECTION of PROSE, consisting of Ex- tracts from the best Writers, calculated to assist the Student in acquir- ing a pure Colloquial and Epistolary Style. Third Edition. 6s. boards. 3. ITALIAN PRONUNCIATION, exemplified in English, with copious Extracts of Italian Prose as Exercises. 5s. boards. These works of C.Bruno are uniformly printed, and present a complete and eas;y course of study for the acquirement of the Italian language. The EASIEST and QUICKEST METHOD of acquiring- a correct FRENCH and ITALIAN PRONUNCIATION ever pub- lished: calculated to assist both Teacher and Pupil, and particularly re- commended to Schoolmasters and Governesses: being more clear, concise, and plain, than any book on the subject extant, and adapted to the meanest capacity. The second Edition. By J. WILCKE, Professor of Languages, &c. 2s. bound. W. Simpkin and R. Marshall. ■ 7 ©eosraptjp, Uraaung, &c. &c. A CONCTSE VIEW of ANCIENT GEOGRAPHY; with Biographical, Chronological, and Historical Notes; and seven neat illus- trative Maps: designed as an easy introduction to the Rev. Dr. Butler's Sketch of Ancient Geography ; with the Names of Persons and Piaces carefully accented, to direct the Pronunciation. By W. BOND, 4s. 6d. sewed. u It is an unassuming, but very useful little work, containing a clear and comprehensive summary of ancient and modern Geography. We say modern, as the modern names are always given with the ancient. The accentuation of the words will secure a right pronunciation. The plan of the Index is new and ingenious, for it has the ad vantage of referring, at the same time, to the situation of ihe places on the map, and their description in the book." — Gen- tle man's Magazine. A KEY to KElTH's TREATISE on the GLOBES: con- taining near one thousand Solutions, worked out to the nicest accuracy, and in so explicit a manner as to enable the student to gain a complete and scientific knowledge of both Globes, without any instruction from a master. Second Edition. By C. VINES, Mathematician and Nautical Astronomer. 4s. boards. The GEOGRAPHY of the GLOBE, containing a Descrip- tion of its several Divisions of Land and Water. To which are added, Problems on the Terrestrial and Celestial Globes, and a Series of Ques- tions for Examination. By JOHN OLLHNG BUTLER, Teacher of Writing, Arithmetic, and Geography. The Second Edition. 4s. 6d. bound * ( Mr. Butler's design has been beyond mere topographical description, to give biographical sketches of eminent persons who have figured in various countries — notices of historical events — and brief statistical accounts, in- tended to afford the scholar some ideas of the different products, surface, and character of the globe. These are interesting additions to a pupil's geo- graphical studies, which we must not omit to siy are greatly facilitated by the author's regular an I gradual progress from one cardinal point to another, describing the divisions of a country from tiast to West, or from North to South. The recent changes in the distribution <>f Continental Provinces have been carefully markei ; there are some useful problems ami questions subjoin- ed; and, upon the whole, we do not hesitate to pronounce Mr. B.'» Geography an accurate and useful bo >k."— Monthly Review, Sept. IS-20. M We can recommend this as an excellent school-book." — Eclectic Review , May 18>6. " The systematic arrangement of the several divisions of the countries, the valuable notes, and the general mass of information contained in this work, enable us to recommend it to those who are entrusted with the education of the young."— Gentleman's Magazine, June 1S26. QUESTIONS in ROMAN HISTORY, with Geographical Illustrations and Maps; to which are prefixed, Sketches of the Man- ners, Customs, and Institutions of the Romans. By JOHN OLDING BUTLER. 5s. 6d. bound. ** We can safely recommend these 'Questions' as an almost essential ap- pendage to the School Library."— Gentle man'' a Mag. Oct. 1S2?. " This is a very useiul work, not me< ely to those for whom its elementary principles are more immediately designed, but as a work of reference, to aid the memory of such as have neglected the study of Ancient History and Geo- graphy. There is no doubt but Mr. Butler has laid the public under obliga- tions to hivn for his works directed to the promotion of Kducation, of which the present, for those qualities mire immediately neces-ary in similar un- dertakings, is by no means the least creditable to him."— New Monthly Mag. Nov. 1,1827. 8 Boohs for Schools, published hy CAMERA, or AIIT of DRAWING in WATER COLOURS; with Instructions for Sketching from Nature, comprising the whole pro- cess of Water-coloured Drawing, familiarly exemplified in Drawing, Shadowing, and Tinting a complete Landscape, in all its progressive stages; and directions for compounding and using Colours, Sepia, Indian Ink, Bister, &c. By J. HASSEL. 5s. boards. " If the pages of this little volume are perused with attention, and the rules which it contains carefully adopted, the ingenious pupil will find that he can make considerable improvement without the aid of any other master. To assist the learner, a Landscape is presented on three distinct sheeis; the first is an outline, the second is shaded, and the third is coloured. These views will be found of essential service; they illustrate the description, and are illustrated by it."— Imperial Magazine, No. 70. Cfngltelj Grammar, Composition, &c. &c The NEW SPEAKER ; or, Selections from the most es- teemed Authors, in Prose and Verse. By ESTHER HEWLETT. The Second Edition, 4s. bound. This work includes valuable extracts from the works of Cowper, Hurdis y Foster. H. More. Scott, Taylor, &c. &c. In its pages instruction and enter- tainment will be found so combined as to render it at once acceptable and profitable to those for whose use it is immediately designed. An ABRIDGMENT of the HOLY SCRIPTURES. By the Rev. Mr. SELLON. 2s. half-bound. An ABRIDGMENT of GOLDSMITH'S HISTORY of ENGLAND, from the Invasion of Julius Caesar to the Death of George II. and continued to the close of the Year 1828. 3s. 6d. bound. The NEW ENGLISH SPELLING-BOOK ; containing every English Radical Word in Modern Use; with all such Variations as are necessary to teach Youth to spell every Word in the English Language correctly. The Ninth Edition, corrected and improved. By J. B. PIKE, D.D. Is. 6d. bound. An INTRODUCTION to ENGLISH COMPOSITION and ELOCUTION; in four parts; viz. 1. iESOP modernised and moralised, in a Series of Instructive Tales, calculated both as Reading-Lessons, and as Subjects for Narration: 2. SKELETONS of those Tales, with leading Questions and Hints, to guide and assist the juvenile Writer in re-com- posing them: 3. POETIC READING MADE EASY, by means of Metrical Notes to each Line: 4. An APPENDIX cf select Prose. By JOHN CAREY, LL. D. Author of " Latin Prosody made Easy,"— " Practical English Prosody and Versification," &c. &c. 4s. bound. This volume presents to the reader the most simple, easy, and rational in- troduction to English Composition, that has ever yet appeared. GRAMMATICAL INSTITUTES; or, an Easy Introduction to Dr. Lowth's English Grammar. By JOHN ASH/LL. D. Anew Edition. Is. bound. ENFIELD'S SPEAKER; or, Miscellaneous Pieces selected from the best English Writers, and disposed under proper Heads, with a view to facilitate the improvement of ifouth in Reading and Speaking;. Genuine Edition. 12mo. 3s. 6d. bound. W. Simphin and R. Marshall. 9 A NEW GRAMMAR of the ENGLISH LANGUAGE; in- cluding the fundamental principles of Etymology, Syntax, and Pro- sody: in which it is attempted, by a new arrangement of the Verb, to remove the perplexity and confusion hitherto fouud in several Tenses of the Potential Alood, and the Future of the Indicative : with Notes and Illustrations, critical and explanatory. By T. O. CHURCHILL, Translator of Herder's %t Philosophy of History," and BossutV History of Mathematics." 12mo. 5s. bound. "The Grammar of Lowth seems especially to have served this author for a model; but be lias made many just corrections in it, and many valuable ad- ditions to it, and lias enlarged that compendious introduction to the English Language, into a comprehensive treatise, illustrated by numerous critical notes. Murray and Croinhie hnve been consulted ; as have Sheridan's Or- thoepy and Walker's Rhyming Dictionary ; and the result is a copious body of information concerning the ana o^ies and anomalies, the peculiarities and niceties, of our tongue, more adapted, perhaps, for the proficient than the be- ginner, but truly instructive, an. I perpetually elegant. On the whole, this work frequently deserves consultation and will tend to a critical acquisition of our language.*'— Monthly Review, May 1821. "It might have been suppose I that a subject so universally studied as Grammar, would, long ago, have reached all the perfection it could possibly attain; Mr. Churchill ha», however, prov d the contrary, by the many very essential and important improvements, critical, theoretical, and practical, which he has adopted. Taking Lowth for his basis, he has raised a super- structure, correct in its principles and permanent in its materials ; infact, he has not only extended the objects of English Grammar, but has exemplified its principles and facilitated its study."— Literary Car onicLe, July IS2J. The COMPLETE CORRESPONDENT; consisti n