820.58
M98i
1831
An you
Burley
8205
1831
[Stereotype Edition.]
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INTRODUCTION
TO
THE ENGLISH READER:
OR,
A SELECTION OF PIECES,
IN PROSE AND POETRY,
CALCULATED TO IMPROVE
THE YOUNGER CLASSES OF LEARNERS IN READING;
AND TO IMBUE
" THEIR MINDS WITH THE LOVE OF VIRTUE.
TO WHICH ARE ADDED,
RULES AND OBSERVATIONS
FOR ASSISTING CHILDREN TO READ WITH
PROPRIETY.
FROM THE LAST ENGLISH EDITION.
BY LINDLEY MURRAY,
AUTHOR OF IN ENGLISH GRAMMAR, &c. &c.
New-York:
PUBLISHED BY COLLINS AND CO.
W. E. DEAN, PRINTER.
1831.
Gevas lib.
9-10-30
PREFACE.
"THE English Reader" and "The Sequel" to that per-
formance, having met with a favourable reception from the
public, the compiler has been induced to prepare a small
volume, on a similar plan, for the use of children who have
made but little progress in reading. It has been his aim to
form a compilation, which would properly conduct the
young learner from the Spelling-book to the "English
Reader:" and in prosecuting this design, he has been par-
ticularly careful to select such pieces as are adapted to the
understanding, and pleasing to the taste, of children.
A work calculated for different classes of young readers,
should contain pieces suited, in point of language and mat-
ter, to their various ages and capacities. The compiler, in
conformity with this idea, has endeavoured to arrange the
materials of each chapter so as to form an easy gradation
which may be adapted to the different progress of the learn-
ers. Judicious teachers will know how to apply this ar-
rangement to the years and abilities of their pupils.
Care has been taken to render the language of all the
pieces correct and perspicuous; that the young learner may
improve in style as well as in reading, and insensibly ac-
quire a taste for accurate composition. To imbue the ten-
der mind with the love of virtue and goodness, is an espe-
cial object of the present work: and with this view, the
pieces have been scrupulously selected; and, where neces-
sary, purified from every word and sentiment that could
offend the most delicate mind.
As a work tending to season the minds of children with
piety and virtue, and to improve them in reading, language,
and sentiment, the compiler hopes it will prove a suitable
Introduction to the "English Reader," and other publica-
iv
Preface.
tions of that nature and also a proper book for those
schools, in which, from their circumscribed plan of educa-
tion, larger works of the kind cannot be admitted.
Advertisement to the Second English Edition.
THE compiler has added to this edition more than twenty
pages of matter, which he hopes will be found useful and
interesting. He has also given to many of the pieces a
new arrangement, calculated to render every part of the
work more intelligible and pleasing to young minds.
RULES AND OBSERVATIONS
FOR ASSISTING CHILDREN TO READ WITH PROPRIETY.
*
THE compiler of this work having, in the preface to his
"English Reader," explained at large the principles of elo-
cution, nothing on this head seems to be necessary, in the
present publication, but to give a few plain and simple
rules, adapted to the younger classes of learners; and to
Inake some observations, calculated to rectify the errors
which they are most apt to commit. These rules may be
comprehended under the following heads. They are com-
prised in few words, and a little separated from the obser
vations, that those teachers who wish their pupils to com-
mit them to memory, may more readily distinguish them
from the parts which require only an attentive perusal.
I. All the simple sounds should be pronounced with ful-
ness, distinctness, and energy; particularly the vowels, on
the proper utterance of which, the force and beauty of pro-
nunciation greatly depend.
The simple sounds, especially those signified by the let-
ters l, r, s, th, and sh, are often very imperfectly pronounced
by young persons. Band p are apt to be confounded: so
are d and t, s and z, f and v. The letters v and w are often
sounded the one for the other: thus, wine is pronounced
vine; and vinegar, winegar. The diphthong ow, is, in some
words, vulgarly sounded like er: as foller, meller, winder;
instead of follow, mellow, window. When several conso-
nants, proper to be sounded, occur in the beginning or at
the end of words, it is a very common error to omit one of
them in pronunciation: as in the words asps, casks, guests,
oreadth, fifth, twelfth, strength, hearths. Not sounding the
letter h, when it is proper to sound this letter, is a great
fault in pronunciation, and very difficult wholly to cor
rect.
When children have acquired any improper habits with
respect to simple sounds the best mode of correction is to
VI
Rules, &c.
make them frequently repeat words and sentences, in which
those sounds occur. When the simple sounds are tho-
roughly understood and acquired, the various combinations
of them into syllables and words will be easily effected.
II. In order to give spirit and propriety to pronunciation,
due attention must be paid to accent, emphasis, and ca-
dence.
When we distinguish a syllable by a greater stress of the
voice, it is called accent. When we hus distinguish any
word in a sentence, it is called emphasis. It is difficult to
give precise rules for placing the accent: but the best gene-
ral direction, is, to consult the most approved pronouncing
dictionaries, and to imitate the practice of the most correct
speakers.
There are, in every sentence, some word or words, on
which the sense of the rest depends; and these must always
be distinguished by a fuller and stronger sound of voice,
whether they are found in the beginning, the middle, or at
the end of the sentence. It is highly improper to lay an
emphasis on words of little importance. Words put in oppo-
sition to each other, are always emphatical: as, "Here I am
miserable; but there I shall be happy." "Children,” says
Beattie," are not often taught to read with proper empha-
sis. When books are put before them which they do not
understand, it is impossible they should apply it properly.
Let them, therefore, read nothing but what is level to their
capacity. Let them read deliberately, and with attention
to every word. Let them be set right, not only when
they misapply the emphasis, but also cautioned against the
opposite extremes of too forcible and too feeble an applica-
tion of it: for, by the former of these faults, they become
affected in their utterance; and by the latter, insipid."
That children may be enabled to apply the emphasis with
judgment, they should carefully study the subject, and as-
certain the meaning of every difficult word and sentence
previously to their being called to read to the teacher.
As emphasis consists in raising the voice, cadence signi
fies the falling of it. Towards the close of a sentence, the
cadence takes place, unless the concluding words be em-
phatical. It should always be easy and gradual, not ab-
rupt; and should never be expressed in a feeble and lan
Rules, &c.
vü
guid manner. Even the falling of the voice may be ma
naged with spirit and variety.
III. As the art of reading greatly depends on the proper
management of the breath, it should be used with economy.
The voice ought to be relieved at every stop; slightly at
a comma, more leisurely at a semicolon, or a colon, and
completely at a period.
A due attention to this rule, will prevent a broken, faint,
and languid voice, which is the usual fault of ignorant and
vulgar readers. It will enable the reader to preserve the
command of his voice; to pronounce the longest sentence
with as much ease as the shortest; and to acquire that
freedom and energy with which a person of judgment na-
turally expresses his perceptions, emotions, and passions, in
common discourse.
The comma marks the shortest pause; the semicolon,
a pause double that of the comma; the colon, double that
of the semicolon; and the period, double that of the colon.
A dash following a stop, shows that the pause is to be great.
er than if the stop were alone; and when used by itself, re-
quires a pause of such length as the sense alone can deter-
mine. A paragraph requires a pause double that which is
proper at a period.
The points of interrogation and exclamation, are uncer-
tain as to their time. The pause which they demand is
equal to a semicolon, a colon, or a period, as the sense may
require. They should be attended with an elevation of the
voice. The parenthesis, unless accompanied with a stop,
requires but a small pause. It generally marks a mode
rate depression of the voice.
IV. Let the tone of the voice, in reading, be the same as
t would be in speaking on the same subject.
To render this rule proper and effectual, children should
be taught to speak slowly, distinctly, and with due atten
tion to the sentiments they express. The mode of speak
ing is then only to be imitated by the reader, when it is
just and natural.
V. Endeavour to vary and modulate the voice, accor
ding to the nature of the subject whether it be in a so
viii
Rules, &c.
lemn, a serious, a familiar, a gay, a humorous, or an iro
nical strain.
It would be highly improper to read an interesting nar-
rative, with an air of negligence; to express warm emo-
tions of the heart, with cold indifference; and to pronounce
a passage of Scripture, on a sublime and important subject
with the familiar tone of common conversation. On the
other hand, it would be absurd to read a letter on trivial
subjects, in a mournful strain; or a production of gaiet
and humour, with grave formality.
VI. In reading verse, the same general directions must
be observed, as have been given for reading prose.
Narrative, didactic, descriptive, and pathetic pieces, have
the same peculiar tone and manner, in poetry as in prose.
A singing note, and making the lines jingle by laying too
great stress on the rhyming words, should be particularly
avoided. A very small pause ought to be made at the end
of a line, unless the sense, or some of the usual marks of
pause, require a considerable one. The great rule for read-
ing verse, as well as prose, is to read slowly, distinctly, and
in a natural tone of voice.
We shall now caution young readers against some fault.
which many are apt to commit. In doing this, it will una-
voidably happen, that a few of the preceding observations
will, in some respects, be repeated: but this confirmation
of the rules will, it is presumed, be no disadvantage to the
learners. A display of the various errors in reading, inci-
dent to children, may make a greater impression, than di
rections which are positive, and point only to the proprie-
ty of pronunciation.
1. Avoid too loud, or too low a voice.
An overstrained voice is very inconvenient to the reader,
as well as disgusting to the hearer. It exhausts the read
er's spirits;
and prevents the proper management and mo-
dulation of his voice, according to the sense of his subject;
and it naturally leads into a tone. Too low a voice is not
so inconvenient to the speaker, as the other extreme: but
Rules, &c.
ix
it is very disagreeable to the hearer. It is always offensive
to an audience, to observe any thing in the reader or speak-
er, that marks indolence or inattention. When the voice
is naturally too loud, or too low, young persons should cor-
rect it in their ordinary conversation: by this means they
will learn to avoid both the extremes, in reading. They
should begin the sentence with an even, moderate voice
which will enable them to rise or fall as the subject re
quires.
2. Avoid a thick, confused, cluttering voice.
It is very disagreeable to hear a person mumble, clip, or
swallow his words; leaving out some syllables in the long
words, and scarcely ever pronouncing some of the short
ones; but hurrying on without any care to give his words
their full sound, or his hearers the full sense of them. This
fault is not easily cured. The best means of mending it, is,
to endeavour, both in conversation and reading, to pro-
nounce every word in a deliberate, clear, and distinct
manner.
3. Be careful to read neither too quickly nor too slowly.
A precipitant reader leaves no room for pauses; fatigues
himself; and lowers the dignity of his subject. His hear-
ers lose much of what is delivered, and must always be
dissatisfied with a reader who hurries and tires them.
Children are very apt to read too fast, and to take a plea-
sure in it, thinking that they who pronounce the words with
the greatest rapidity, are the best scholars.-The heavy,
dronish, sleepy reader, and who often makes pauses where
there should be none, is also very disagreeable. If he hems
and yawns between the periods, he is still more so.
4. Study to avoid an irregular mode of pronunciation.
It is a great fault in reading, to raise and fall the voice
by fits and starts; to elevate and depress it unseasonably
without regard to sense or stops; or always to begin a sen-
tence with a high voice, and conclude it with a low one;
or, on the contrary, to begin with a low voice, and con-
clude with a high one. To avoid these errors, the sen-
tence should not be begun in too high, or too low a key;
regard should be had to the nature of the points, and the
Rules, &c.
length of the periods: and the reader's mind should be at-
tentive to the subject, sense, and spirit of his author.
5. With the utmost care avoid a flat, dull, uniform voice,
without emphasis or cadence, or a proper regard to the
sense of what is reading.
This is a practice to which children who do not love
learning, and who are tired with their lessons, are very
prone. When this mode of reading becomes habitual, it is
painful to the hearer, and very difficult to be remedied.
The best means of cure are those prescribed for the pre-
ceding error: for if the mind be attentive to the sentiments
delivered, the voice will be adapted to their nature and im
portance.
6. Reading with an improper tone, is a great and com-
mon fault of learners, and must be carefully avoided.
No habit is more easy to be contracted than this, or hard-
er to be overcome. This unnatural tone in reading, iз al-
ways disgusting to persons of sense and delicacy. Some
have a squeaking tone. Persons whose voices are shrill
and weak, or overstrained, are apt to fall into this tone.-
Some have a singing or canting note: others assume a high,
swelling tone. These lay too much stress on every sen-
tence, and violate every rule of decent pronunciation. Some
affect an awful and striking tone, attended with solemn
grimace; as if they wished to move the reader with every
word, whether the weight of the subject supports them or
not. Some have a set, uniform tone of voice, which
has already been noticed. Others have a strange, whimsical,
whining tone, peculiar to themselves, and not easy to be
described. They are continually laying the emphasis on
words which do not require or deserve it.
To avoid all kinds of unnatural and disagreeable tones,
we should read with the same ease and freedom that would
mark our private conversation, on the same subject. We
do not hear persons converse in a tone: if we did, we should
laugh at them. "Do not," says Dr. Watts, "affect to
change that natural and easy sound with which you speak,
for a strange, new, awkward tone, as some do when they
begin to read. We should almost be persuaded that the
Rules, &c.
XI.
speaker and the reader were two different persons, if our
eyes did not tell us the contrary."
99
We shall close these rules and observations, by a re-
mark of considerable importance to young persons who are
desirous of learning to read well. Few rules on the sub-
ject are intelligible to children, unless illustrated by the
voice of a competent instructer. They should, therefore,
pay great attention to the manner in which their teacher,
and other persons of approved skill, perform the business
of reading. They should observe their mode of pronounc-
ing the words, placing the emphasis, making the pauses,
managing the voice, and adapting it to the various subjects
they read; and, in all these respects, endeavour to imitate
them as nearly as possible.
CONTENTS.
PART 1.
PIECES IN PROSE.
CHAPTER 1.
Page
Select Sentences and Paragraphs,
17
CHAPTER II.
Narrative Pieces.
Sect. 1. The pious sons,
2. Filial sensibility,
3. Cruelty to insects condemned,
4. Selfish sorrow reproved,
5. We are often deceived by appearances,
6. The two bees,
7. Ingenuity and industry rewarded,
8. The secret of being always satisfied,
9. Beneficence its own reward,
10. The compassionate Judge,
11. The generous negro,
12. The Indian Chief,
13. Noble behaviour of Scipio,
14. Virtue in humble life,
15. The female choice,
16. The noble basket-maker,
CHAPTER III.
Didactic Pieces.
Sect. 1. Tenderness to mothers,
24
25
26
27
ib.
28
29
31
32
33
34
35
37
39
·
41
43
45
culpable,
7. Speculation and practice,
2. Respect and affection due from pupils to their tutors, 46
3. On filial piety,
4. Love between brothers and sisters,
5. Benevolence,
6. Ingratitude to our Supreme Benefactor, is highly
47
ib.
48
49
ib.
CHAPTER IV.
Descriptive Pieces.
Sect. 1. The eagle,
50
2. The humming-bird,
* B
52
XIV
Contents.
Page
55
Sect. 3. The horse,
4. The Ouran-Outang,
5. The four seasons,
6. Divine Providence,
7. Health,
8. Charity,
9. Gratitude,
10. Mortality,
11. Immortality,
12. Heaven,
CHAPTER V.
Dialogues.
57
GO
61
63
ib.
64
ib.
65
66
Sect 1. Canute and his courtiers-Flattery reproved,
2. The two robbers.-We often condemn in others
what we practise ourselves,
-
-
·
68
-
69
3. A family conversation-On the slavery of the negroes, 71
4. The father redeemed from slavery by his son,
5. The tutor and his pupils.-Eyes and no eyes; or,
the art of seeing,
CHAPTER VI.
Promiscuous Pieces.
·
Sect. 1. We destroy pleasure by pursuing it toc eagerly,
2. On sisterly unity and love,
3. The Supreme Ruler of the world,
·
74
76
4. Abraham and Lot; a fine example of wisdom and
condescension,
5. A persecuting spirit reproved,
6. The folly of pride,
7. The whistle,
·
8. A generous mind does not repine at the advantages
others enjoy,,
·
9. Insolent deportment towards inferiors reproved,
10. Arachne and Melissa,
11. Socrates and Leander.-Disrespect to parents, is
in no case allowable,
-
12. Socrates and Demetrius.-Brethren should dwell
together in harmony,
13. On good breeding,
14. The ungrateful guest,
-
-
*** **** * *
15. The hospitable negro woman,
16. Catharina, empress of Russia,
17. The same subject continued,
and the poor,
18. Virtue and happiness equally attainable by the rich
19. The character of Christ,
100
102
·
10.1
106
108
109
Contents.
XT
PART II.
PIECES IN POETRY.
CHAPTER 1.
Page
111
Select Sentences and Paragraphs,
CHAPTER II.
Narrative Pieces.
·
Sect. 1. The looking-glass; or, ill-humour corrected,
2. The Butterfly and the Snail; or, elevation renders
little minds proud and insolent,
3. The Brother and Sister; or, mental excellence su-
perior to personal beauty,
·
-
115
116
117
4. The Lamb and the Pig; or, nature and education, 118
5. The Bee and the Ant; or, the advantages of ap..
plication and diligence in early years,
6. The Doves,
7. The Goldfinches,
8. The pet Lamb,
9. The Farmer, the Spaniel, and the Cat,
0. The Wheat and the Weeds,
11. Economy the source of charity,
CHAPTER III.
Didactic Pieces.
Sect. 1. To some children listening to a lark,
2. The advantages of early religion,
3. Peace and love recommended,
4. To a young woman, with a watch,
5. Verses accompanying a nosegay,
6. Duties of the morning,
7. The mind to be cultivated,
8. Dependence on Providence,
CHAPTER IV.
Descriptive Pieces.
Sect. 1. The pleasures of retirement,
2. The Sluggard,
·
3. Creation and Province,
4. A morning in Spring,
5. Heavenly wisdom,
119
121
122
123
·
125
126
127
129
130
131
ib.
132
133
134
135
136
137
ib.
138
-
139
xvi
Contents.
Sect. 6. The Man of Ross,
7. Resignation,
8. Character of Christ,
CHAPTER V.
Promiscuous Pieces.
Sect. 1. Gratitude to the Supreme Being,
2. Acknowledgment of Divine favours,
3. The excellence of the Bible,
4. On Industry,
5. On early rising,
6. The drowning fly,
7. To a Redbreast,
8. To a child five years old,
9. The Rose,
10. The Ant,
11. A morning hymn,
12. An evening hymn,
13. The winter's day,
14. Compassion and forgiveness,
15. The ignorance of man,
16. The happy choice,
17. The fall of the leaf,
18. Trust in the goodness of God,
Page
- 140
•
ib.
142
143
ib.
·
144
145
ib.
• 146
ib.
117
7.
148
149
ih.
150
ib.
·
151
152
ib
153
19. The Christian race,
20. The dying Christian to his soul,
154
ib.
21. Epitaph on a poor and virtuous man,
22. Love to enemies,
23. The dangers and snares of life,
24. The Divine Being knows and sees every thing,
25. All nature attests the great Creator,
155
·
ib.
156
·
157
158
26. Praise due to God for his wonderful works,
159
27. The happy end,
160
28. A kind and gentle temper of great importance to
the happiness of life,
161
29. Simplicity,
·
102
30. Care and Generosity,
163
31 The Slave,
164
32. The Swallows,
165
INTRODUCTION
TO THE ENGLISH READER
-
PART I.
PIECES IN PROSE.
CHAPTER I.
SELECT SENTENCES AND PARAGRAPHS.
SECTION I.
To be good is to be happy.
Vice, soon or late, brings misery.
We were not made for ourselves only.
A good person has a tender concern for the happiness of
others.
Modesty is one of the chief ornaments of youth.
Deceit discovers a little mind.
Cultivate the love of truth.
No confidence can be placed in those who are in the
habit of lying.
Neglect no opportunity of doing good.
Idleness is the parent of vice and misery.
Cleanliness promotes health of body and delicacy of mind.
The real wants of nature are soon satisfied.
A contented mind is an inestimable treasure
Deliberate before you promise.
Boast not of the favours you bestow.
Merit the approbation of the wise and good.
It is a great blessing to have pious and virtuous parents.
The most secret acts of goodness are seen and approved
by the Almighty.
SECTION II.
OUR reputation, virtue, and happiness, greatly depend on
the choice of our companions.
13
Part 1.
Introduction, &c.
Good or bad habits, formed in youth, generally go with
us through life.
We should be kind to all persons, even to those who are
unkind to us.
When we acknowledge our misconduct, and are sorry
for it, generous and good persons will pity and forgive us.
Our best friends are those who tell us of our faults, and
teach us how to correct them.
If tales were not listened to, there would be no tale-
bearers.
To take sincere pleasure in the blessings and excellences
of others, is a sure mark of a good heart.
We can never treat a fellow-creature ill, without offend-
ing the gracious Creator and Father of all.
A kind word, nay, even a kind look, often affords com
fort to the afflicted.
Every desire of the heart, every secret thought, is known
to him who made us.
SECTION III.
HE that cares only for himself, has but few pleasures;
and those few are of the lowest order.
We may escape the censure of others, when we do wrong
privately; but we cannot avoid the reproaches of our own
mind.
Partiality to self often hides from us our own faults; we
see very clearly the same faults in others.
Never sport with pain and distress in any of your amuse-
ments; nor treat even the meanest insect with wanton
cruelty.
Vicious pursuits may yield a few scattered pleasures,
but piety and virtue will make our whole life happy.
Fancy paints pleasures at a distance, with beautiful co-
lours; but possession often takes away their beauty.
We should accustom ourselves to bear small injuries pa-
tiently; we shall then be better able to support greas
ones.
When provoked by the follies of others, think of your
own imperfections; be patient and humble.
Without frugality none can be rich; and with it very
Cew would be poor.
The good or bad disposition of children, often shows it
Chap. 1.
19
Setect Sentences, &c
self, in their behaviour to servants and inferiors; it is seen
even in their treatment of dumb animals.
They who ridicule the wise and good, are dangerous
companions; they bring virtue itself into contempt.
We cannot be good as God is good, to all persons every
where, but we can rejoice that every where there is a
God to do them good.
SECTION IV.
When blessed with health and prosperity, cultivate a
humble and compassionate disposition: think of the dis-
tresses of human life; of the solitary cottage, the dying
parent, and the weeping orphan.
Avoid all harshness in behaviour: treat every one with
that courtesy which springs from a mild and gentle heart.
Be slow in forming intimate connexions; they may bring
dishonour and misery.
Almost all our desires are apt to wander into an impro-
per course: to direct them properly requires care; but
that care will render us safe and happy through life.
The days that are past are gone for ever; those that
are to come, may not come to us; the present time only is
ours : let us therefore improve it as much as possible.
They who are moderate in their expectations, meet with
few disappointments: the eager and presumptuous are
continually disappointed.
no
Whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing well:
but it is impossible to do any thing well without attention.
Let us not expect too much pleasure in this life :
situation in life is exempt from trouble. The best persons
are, no doubt, the happiest; but they too have their trials
and afflictions.
SECTION V.
How greatly do the kind offices of a dutiful and affec-
tionate child, gladden the heart of a parent, especially
when sinking under age or infirmities.
What better proof can we give of wisdom and goodness,
than to be content with the station in which Providence
has placed us?
An honest man, (as Pope expresses himself,) is the no-
blest work of God.
20
Part 1
Introduction, &c.
How pleasant it is, when we lie down at night, to reflect
that we are at peace with all persons! that we have care-
fully performed the duties of the day! that the Almighty
beholds and loves us!
How readily should we forgive those who offend us, if
we consider how much our heavenly Father has forgiven
us!
Who would exchange the humble peace which virtue
gives, for all the honours and pleasures of a vain world?
Pride (to use the emphatical words of a sacred writer)
was not made for man.
T
How can we spend our time foolishly, when we know
that we must give an account hereafter, of our thoughts,
words, and actions?
How glorious an object is the sun! but how much more
glorious is that great and good Being, who made it for our
use!
Behold, now rien and beautiful are the works of nature!
What a bountiful provision is made for our wants and plea-
sures!-Surely, the author of so many blessings is worthy
of our love and gratitude!
SECTION VI.
CYRUS, when young, being asked what was the first thing
which he learned, answered; "To speak the truth."
Epaminondas, the celebrated Theban general, was re-
markable for his love of truth. He never told a lie, even
in jest.
All our moral duties are contained in these few words;
"Do as you would be done by."
The following was a favourite sentiment of the wise and
good Socrates: "We should eat and drink, in order to live ;
instead of living, as many do, to eat and drink."
Artaxerxes Mnemon, king of Persia, being, upon an ex-
traordi ary occasion, reduced to eat barley-bread and dried
figs, ard to drink water; "What pleasure," said he, “have
I lost till now, by my delicacies and excess."
When Cato drew near the close of life, he made this
most benevolent declaration to his friends: "The greatest
comfort of my old age, is, the pleasing remembrance of the
friendly offices I have done to others. To see them easy
and happy by my means, makes me truly "."
Chap. 1.
21
Select Sentences, &c.
Mark Antony, when under adverse circumstances, made
this interesting exclamation; "I have lost all except what
I have given away
יין
The Emperor Marcus Aurelius, a pious and good man,
expressed the benevolence of his heart, in these words:
"I cannot relish a happiness which no one partakes of but
myself."
Edward the VI. of England, being, when very young,
required by his uncle, to sign a warrant for the execution
of a poor woman, on account of her religious principles,
said, with tears in his eyes: "I almost wish I had never
learned to write."
SECTION VII.
PITY the sorrows and sufferings of the poor.
Disdain
not to enter their wretched abodes; nor to listen to their
moving lamentations.
Gratitude is a delightful emotion. The grateful heart
at once performs its duty, and endears itself to others.
If we ought to be grateful for services received from our
friends, how should our hearts glow with thankfulness to
Him, who has given us being, and all the blessings we en-
joy!
Young people too often set out in life, with too much
confidence in themselves. Alas! how little do they know
the dangers which await them!
To repine at the improvements of others, and wish to
deprive them of the praise they have deserved, is an en-
vious and odious disposition.
We ought not to be proud or vain of the advantages we
possess; but humbly endeavour to use them for the bene-
fit of our fellow creatures, and the glory of that great Be-
ing from whom we have received them.
If we consider how much the comfort, or the uneasiness
of all around us, depends on the state of our own temper,
we should surely endeavour to render it sweet and accom-
modating.
When we feel our inability to resist evil, and to do good,
what a comfort it is, to know that our heavenly Father will,
if we humbly apply to him, hear our prayers, and gra-
ciously assist us!
When young persons are afflicted with illness, how great-
22
Puri 1.
Introduction, &c.
ly do they endear themselves to all about them, by being
tractable, considerate, gentle, and grateful! but how pain-
ful it is, to see them peevish, self-willed, and unihankful!
How much do the former qualities lessen the affliction; and
the latter increase it!
A family where the great Father of the universe is duly
everenced; where parents are honoured and obeyed;
where brothers and sisters dwell together in love and har
mony; where peace and order reign; where there is no
law but the law of kindness and wisdom; is surely a most
delightful and interesting spectacle!
SECTION VIII.
GOD is the kindest and best of beings. He is our Fa
ther. He approves us when we do well: he pities us when
we err: and he desires to make us happy for ever. How
greatly should we love so good and kind a Father! and
how careful should we be to serve and please him!
Never insult the unfortunate, especially when they in-
plore relief or assistance. If you cannot grant their re
quests, refuse them mildly and tenderly. If you feel com-
passion for them, (and what good heart can behold distress
without feeling compassion?) be not ashamed to express it.
Listen to the affectionate counsels of your parents; trea-
sure up their precepts; respect their riper judgment; and
enjoy, with gratitude and delight, the advantages resulting
from their society. Bind to your bosom, by the most en-
dearing ties, your brothers and sisters; cherish them as
your best companions, through the variegated journey of
life; and suffer no jealousies and contentions to interrupt
the harmony, which should ever reign amongst you.
They who are accustomed to view their companions in
the most favourable light, are like persons who dwell
amidst those beautiful scenes of nature, on which the eye
rests with pleasure. Suspicious persons resemble the tra
veller in the wilderness, who sees no objects around him
but what are either dreary or terrible.
SECTION IX.
AN amiable youth lamented, in terms of sincere grier
the death of a most affectionate parent. His companion
endeavoured to console hinn by the reflection, that he had
Chap. 1
23
Select Sentences, &c.
always behaved to the deceased, with duty, tenderness, and
respect. "So I thought," replied the youth, "whilst my
parent was living: but now I recollect, with pain and sor
row, many instances of disobedience and neglect, for which,
alas! it is too late to make atonement."
Sir Isaac Newton possessed a remarkably mild and even
temper. This great man, on a particular occasion, was
called out of his study to an adjoining apartment. A little
dog, named Diamond, the constant but incurious attendant
of his master's researches, happened to be left among the
papers; and threw down a lighted candle, which consurned
the almost finished labours of some years. Sir Isaac soon
returned, and had the mortification to behold his irrepara-
ble loss. But, with his usual self-possession, he only ex-
claimed ;
"Oh Diamond! Diamond! thou little knowest
the mischief thou hast done."
·
Queen Caroline having observed that her daughter, the
pincess had made one of the ladies about her stand
a long time, whilst she was talking to her on some trifling
subject, was resolved to give her a suitable reprimand
When the princess came in the evening, as usual, to read
to her, and was drawing a chair to sit down, the queen
said; "No, my dear, you must not sit at present; for I in-
tend to make you stand this evening, as long as you suffer-
ed lady
to remain in the same position."
The benevolent John Howard, having settled his ac-
counts at the close of a particular year, and found a balance
in his favour, proposed to his wife to make use of it in a
journey to London, or in any other amusement she chose.
"What a pretty cottage for a poor family it would build !"
was her answer. This charitable hint met his cordial ap-
probation, and the money was laid out accordingly.
Horace, a celebrated Roman poet, relates, that a coun-
tryman, who wanted to pass a river, stood loitering on the
banks of it, in the foolish expectation, that a current so ra-
pid would soon discharge its waters. But the stream still
flowed, increased, perhaps, by fresh torrents from the moun-
tains: and it must for ever flow, because the sources
from which it is derived, are inexhaustible Thus, the idle
and irresolute youth trifles over his books, or wastes in play
the precious moments; deferring the task of improve-
ment, which at first is easy to be accomplished, but which
24
Introduction, Spe
will become more and more difficult, the longer it is
glected.
CHAPTER II.
NARRATIVE PIECES.
SECTION I.
The pious sons.
1. IN one of those terrible eruptions of mount Etna,
which have often happened, the danger to the inhabitants
of the adjacent country, was uncommonly great.
2. To avoid immediate destruction from the flamies, and
the melted lava which ran down the sides of the moun-
tain, the people were obliged to retire to a considerable
distance.
3. Amidst the hurry and confusion of such a scene, (eve
ry one flying and carrying away whatever he deemed most
precious,) two brothers, the one named Anapias, and the
other Amphinomus, in the height of their solicitude for the
preservation of their wealth and goods, suddenly recollect-
ed that their father and mother, both very old, were unable
to save themselves by flight.
4. Filial tenderness triumphed over every other consi-
deration. "Where," cried the generous youths, "shall we
find a more precious treasure, than they are who gave us
being, and who have cherished and protected us, through
life?" Having said this, the one took up his father on his
shoulders, and the other his mother, and happily made their
way through the surrounding smoke and flames.
5. All who were witnesses of this dutiful and affection-
ate conduct, were struck with the highest admiration: and
they and their posterity, ever after, called the path which
these good young men took in their retreat, "The Field
of the Pious."
Chup. 2
2
Narrative Pieces.
SECTION II.
Filial sensibility.
1. A STRONG instance of affectionate and dutiful attach
ment to parents, has been related in the preceding section.
The following display of filial tenderness, is scarcely less
nteresting and extraordinary.
2. A young gentleman in one of the academics at Paris,
was remarked for eating nothing but soup and dry bread,
and drinking only water. The governor of the institution,
attributing this singularity to excess of devotion, reproved
nis pupil, and endeavoured to persuade him to alter his re-
solution.
3. Finding, however, that his remonstrances were inef-
fectual, he sent for him again, and observed to him, that
such conduct was highly unbecoming, and that it was his
duty to conform to the rules of the academy.
4. He then endeavoured to learn the reason of his pupil's
conduct; but as the youth could not be prevailed upon to
impart the secret, the governor at last threatened to send
him back to his family.
5. This menace produced an immediate explanation
'Sir," said the young man," in my father's house I eat
nothing but black bread, and of that very little here I
have good soup, and excellent white bread; and though I
might, if I chose it, fare luxuriously, I cannot persuade my-
self to take any thing else, when I reflect on the situation
in which I have left my father and mother." -
"Your
6. The governor was greatly moved by this instance of
filial sensibility, and could not refrain from tears.
father," said he, has been in the army; has he no pen-
sion ?" "No," replied the youth: " he has long been soli-
citing one; but for want of money, has been obliged to
give up the pursuit: and rather than contract any debts at
Versailles, he has chosen a life of wretchedness in the
country."
7. "Well," returned the governor, " if the fact is as you
have represented it, I promise to procure for your father a
pension of five hundred livres a year. And since your
friends are in so reduced circumstances, take these three
louis d'ors for your pocket expenses. I will undertake to
26
Part 1
Introduction, &c.
remit
your father the first half year of his pension, in ad-
vance."
8. "Ah, Sir!" replied the youth, "as you have the
goodness to propose remitting a sum of money to my fa-
her, I entreat you to add to it these three louis d'ors. As
I have here every thing I can wish for, I do not need them:
but they would be of great use to my father, in the main-
enance of his other children."
SECTION III.
Cruelty to insects condemned.
1. A CERTAIN youth indulged himself in the cruel enter-
ment of torturing and killing flies. He tore off their
wings and legs, and then watched with pleasure their fee-
ole efforts to escape from him.
2. Sometimes he collected a number of them together,
and crushed them at once to death; glorying, like many a
celebrated hero, in the devastation he committed.
3. His tutor remonstrated with him, in vain, on this bar-
Darous conduct. He could not persuade him to believe
that flies are capable of pain, and have a right, no less than
ourselves, to life, liberty, and enjoyment.
4. The signs of agony, which, when tormented, they ex
press, by the quick and various contortions of their bodies,
he neither understood nor regarded.
5. The tutor had a microscope; and he desired his pu-
pil, one day, to exam ne a most beautiful and surprising ani-
mal. "Mark,” said he, "how it is studded from head to
tail with black and silver, and its body all over beset with
the most curious bristles! The head contains the most
lively eyes, encircled with silver hairs; and the trunk con-
sists of two parts, which fold over each other. The whole
body is ornamented with plumes and decorations, which
surpass all the luxuries of dress, in the courts of the great-
est princes."
6. Pleased and astonished with what he saw, the youth
was impatient to know the name and properties of this
wonderful animal. It was withdrawn from the magnifier;
and when offered to his naked eye, provea to be a poor fly,
which had been the victim of his wanton cruelty.
PERCIVAL
Chap. 2.
27
Narrative Pieces.
SECTION IV
Selfish sorrow reproved.
1. ONE day, during the summer vacation, Alexis had
prepared himself to set out, with a party of his companions,
upon a little journey of pleasure. But the sky lowered,
the clouds gathered, and he remained for some time in
anxious suspense about his expedition; which at last was
prevented by heavy and continued rain.
2. The disappointment overpowered his fortitude; he
burst into tears; lamented the untimely change of wea-
ther; and sullenly refused all consolation.
3. In the evening, the clouds were dispersed; the sun
shone with unusual brightness; and the face of nature
seemed to be renewed in vernal beauty.
4. Euphronius conducted Alexis into the fields. The
storm of passion in his breast was now stilled; and the se-
renity of the air, the music of the feathered songsters, the
verdure of the meadows, and the sweet perfumes which
breathed around, regaled every sense, and filled his mind
with delightful emotions.
5. Do not you remark," said Euphronius, " the delight-
ful change which has suddenly taken place in the whole
creation? Recollect the appearance of the scene before
us yesterday. The ground was then parched with a long
drought; the flowers hid their drooping heads; no fragrant
odours were perceived; and vegetation seemed to cease.
To what cause must we impute the revival of nature ?”
6. "To the rain which fell this morning," replied Alexis,
with a modest confusion. He was struck with the selfish-
ness and folly of his conduct; and his own bitter reflections
anticipated the reproofs of Euphronius.
SECTION V.
We are often deceived by appearances.
PERCIVAL
1. A YOUTп, who lived in the country, and who had not
acquired, either by reading or conversation, any knowledge
of the animals which inhabit foreign regions, came to Man-
chester, to see an exhibition of wild beasts.
2. The size and figure of the elephant struck him with
28
Part I
Introduction, &c.
awe; and he viewed the rhinoceros with astonishment.
But his attention was soon withdrawn from these animals,
and directed to another, of the most elegant and beautiful
form.
3. He stood contemplating, with silent admiration, the
glossy smoothness of his hair; the blackness and regularity
of the streaks with which he was marked; the symmetry
of his limbs; and, above all, the placid sweetness of his
countenance.
4. "What is the name of this lovely animal," said he to
the keeper," which you have placed near one of the ug-
liest beasts in your collection; as if you meant to contrast,
beauty with deformity ?"
5. "Beware, young man,” replied the intelligent keeper,
"of being so easily captivated with external appearance
The animal which you admire is called a tiger; and not-
withstanding the meekness of his looks, he is fierce and sa
vage beyond description. I can neither terrify him by cor
rection, nor tame him by indulgence. But the other beast
which you despise, is in the highest degree docile, affec-
tionate, and useful.
6. "For the benefit of man he traverses the sandy de-
serts of Arabia, where drink and pasture are seldom to be
found; and will continue six or seven days without suste-
nance, yet still patient of labour. His hair is manufactured
into clothing; his flesh is deemed wholesome nourishment;
and the milk of the female is much valued by the Arabs.
7. "The camel, therefore, for such is the name given to
this animal, is more worthy of your admiration than the ti-
ger; notwithstanding the inelegance of his make, and the
two bunches upon his back. For mere external beauty is
of little estimation; and deformity, when associated with
amiable dispositions and useful qualities, does not preclude
our respect and approbation."
SECTION VI.
The two bees.
PERCIVAL
1. Ox a fine morning in summer, two bees set forward
in quest of honey, the one wise and temperate, the other
careless and extravagant. They soon arrived at a garden
Chap. 2.
29
Narrative Pieces.
enriched with aromatic herbs, the most fragrant flowers,
and the most delicious fruits.
2. They regaled themselves with the various dainties
that were spread before them: the one loaded his thighs,
at intervals, with provisions for the hive against the distant
winter; the other revelled in sweets, without regard to any
thing but his present gratification.
S. At length they found a wide-mouthed phial, that hung
beneath the bough of a peach-tree, filled with honey ready
tempered, and exposed to their taste in the most alluring
manner. The thoughtless epicure, in spite of his friend's
remonstrances, plunged headlong into the vessel, resolving
to indulge himself in all the pleasures of sensuality.
4. His philosophic companion, on the other hand, sipped
a little, with caution; but being suspicious of danger, flew
off to fruits and flowers; where, by the moderation of his
meals, he improved his relish for the true enjoyment of
them.
5. In the evening, however, he called upon his friend, to
inquire whether he would return to the hive: but he found
him surfeited in sweets, which he was as unable to leave,
as to enjoy.
6. Clogged in his wings, enfeebled in his feet, and his
whole frame totally enervated, he was but just able to bid
his friend adieu; and to lament, with his latest breath,—
that though a taste of pleasure may quicken the relish of
life an unrestrained indulgence leads to inevitable destruc-
tion.
SECTION VII.
Ingenuity and industry rewarded.
DODSLEY.
1. A RICH husbandman had two sons, the one exactly a
year older than the other. The very day the second was
born, he set, in the entrance of his orchard, two young ap-
ple-trees of equal size; which he cultivated with the same
care, and which grew so equally, that no person could per-
ceive the least difference between them.
2. When his children were capable of handling garden-
tools, he took thein, one fine morning in spring, to se these
two trees, which he had planted for them, and called after
their names: and when they had sufficiently admired their
30
Part 1
Introduction, &c.
growth, and the number of blossoms that covered them,
he said: "My dear children, I give you these trees: you
see they are in good condition.
3. They will thrive as much by your care, as they will
decline by your negligence; and their fruit will reward
you in proportion to your labour."
4. The youngest, named Edmund, was industrious and
attentive. He busied himself in clearing his tree of in-
sects that would hurt it; and he propped up its stem, to
prevent its taking a wrong bent.
5. He loosened the earth about it, that the warmth of
the sun, and the moisture of the dews, might che..sh the
roots. His mother had not tended him more carefully in
his infancy, than he tended his young apple-tree.
6. His brother, Moses, did not imitate his example. He
spent a great deal of time on a mount that was near, throw
Ing stones at the passengers in the road. He went among
all the little dirty country boys in the neighbourhood, to box
with them; so that he was often seen with broken shins
and black eyes, from the kicks and blows he received in his
quarrels.
7. In short, he neglected his tree so far, that he ne
ver thought of it, till, one day in autumn, he, by chance,
saw Edmund's tree so full of apples streaked with purple
and gold, that had it not been for the props which support-
ed its branches, the weight of its fruit must have bent it to
the ground.
8. Struck with the sight of so fine a tree, he hastened to
his own, hoping to find as large a crop upon it: but, to his
great surprise, he saw scarcely any thing, except branches
covered with moss, and a few yellow withered leaves.
9. Full of passion and jealousy, he ran to his father, and
said; "Father, what sort of a tree is that which you have
given me? It is as dry as a broomstick; and I shall not
have ten apples on it. My brother you have used better:
bid him at least share his apples with me."
10. "Share with you!" said his father; " so the indus
trious must lose his labour, to feed the idle! Be satisfied
with your lot: it is the effect of your negligence: and do
not think to accuse me of injustice, when you see your bro-
ther's rich crop. Your tree was as fruitful, and in as good
Chap. 2.
31
Narrative Pieces.
•
order as his: it bore as many blossoms, and grew in the same
soil, only it was not fostered with the same care.
11. Edmund has kept his tree clear of hurtful insects;
but you have suffered them to eat up yours in its blossoms.
As I do not choose to let any thing which God has given
me, and for which I hold myself accountable to him, go to
ruin, I shall take this tree from you, and call it no more by
your name.
12. "It must pass through your brother's hands, before
it can recover itself; and from this moment, both it and the
truit it may bear, are his property. You may, if you will,
go into my nursery, and look for another; and rear it, to
make amends for your fault: but if you neglect it, that too
shall be given to your brother, for assisting me in my la-
bour."
13. Moses felt the justice of his father's sentence, and
the wisdom of his design. He therefore went that moment
into the nursery, and chose one of the most thriving apple-
trees he could find. Edmund assisted him with his advice
in rearing it; and Moses embraced every occasion of pay-
ing attention to it.
14. He was now never out of humour with his comrades,
and still less with himself; for he applied cheerfully to
work: and, in autumn, he had the pleasure of seeing his
tree fully answer his hopes. Thus he had the double ad-
vantage, of enriching himself with a splendid crop of fruit;
and, at the same time, of subduing the vicious habits he
had contracted. His father was so well pleased with this
change, that, the following year, he divided the produce of
a small orchard between him and his brother.
SECTION VIII.
The secret of being always satisfied.
BERQUIN.
1. A CERTAIN Italian bishop, was remarkable for his hap
py and contented disposition. He met with much opposi-
tion, and encountered many difficulties in his journey
through life: but it was observed, that he never repined at
his condition, or betrayed the least degree of impatience.
2. An intimate friend of his, who highly admired the
virtue which he thought it impossible to imitate, one day
asked the prelate, if he could communicate the secret c
Introduction, &c.
Part 1.
being always satisfied. Yes," replied the good old man,
I can teach you my secret, and with great facility.
It consists in nothing more, than in making a right use of
my eyes."
3. His friend begged him to explain himself.
"Most
willingly," returned the bishop "În whatever state I am,
(first of all look up to heaven; and reflect, that my prin-
cipal business here is to get to that blessed abode. I then
look down upon the earth, and call to mind that, when I
am dead, I shall occupy but a small space in it.
4. "I then look abroad into the world, and observe what
multitudes there are, who, in every respect, are less fortu-
nate than myself. Thus I learn where true happiness is
placed; where all our cares must end; and how very
little reason I have to repine, or to complain."
SECTION IX.
Beneficence its own reward.
1. PIGALLE, the celebrated artist, was a man of great hu
manity. Intending, on a particular occasion, to make a
journey from Lyons to Paris, he laid by twelve louis d'ors
to defray his expenses. But a little before the time pro-
posed for his setting out, he observed a man walking with
strong marks of deep-felt sorrow, in his countenance, and
deportment.
2. Pigalle, impelled by the feelings of a benevolent heart,
accosted him, and inquired, with much tenderness, whether
it was in his power to afford him any relief. The stranger,
impressed with the manner of this friendly address, did not
hesitate to lay open his distressed situation.
3. "For want of ten louis d'ors," said he, "I must be
dragged this evening to a dungeon; and be separated from
a tender wife and a numerous family." "Do you want no
more ?" exclaimed the humane artist. "Come along with
me; I have twelve louis d'ors in my trunk; and they are
all at your service."
4. The next day a friend of Pigalle's met him; and in-
quired whether it was true, that he had, as was publicly
reported, very opportunely relieved a poor man and his fa-
mily, from the greatest distress. "Ah, my friend!" said
Pigalle, "what a delicious supper did I make last night,
Chap. 2.]
33
Narrative Pieces.
upon bread and cheese, with a family whose tears of grati-
tude marked the goodness of their hearts; and who bless-
ed me at every mouthful they eat!"
SECTION X..
The Compassionate Judge.
1. THE celebrated Charles Anthony Domat, was pro
moted to the office of a judge of a Provincial court, in the
south of France, in which he presided, with public ap
plause, for twenty-four years. One day a poor widow
brought a complaint before him, against the baron de
Nairac, her landlord, for turning her out of possession of a
farm which was her whole dependence.
2. Domat heard the cause; and finding by the clearest
evidence, that the woman had ignorantly broken a cove
nant in the lease, which empowered the landlord to take
possession of the farm, he recommended mercy to the baron
towards a poor honest tenant, who had not willingly trans-
gressed, or done him any material injury. But Nairac
being inexorable, the judge was obliged to pronounce a
sentence of expulsion from the farm, and to order payment
of the damages mentioned in the lease, together with the
costs of the suit.
3. In delivering this sentence, Domat wiped his eyes,
from which tears of compassion flowed plentifully. When
the order of seizure, both of her person and effects, was de-
creed, the poor woman exclaimed: "O just and righteous
God! be thou a father to the widow and her helpless or-
phans!" and immediately she fainted away
4. The compassionate judge assisted in raising the dis-
tressed woman; and after inquiring into her character, the
number of her children, and other circumstances, generous-
ly presented her with a hundred louis d'ors, the amount of
her damages and costs, which he prevailed with the baron
to accept as a full recompense; and the widow was re-
stored to her farm.
"
5. Deeply affected with the generosity of her benefactor,
she said to him: 66 O, my
lord! when will you demand pay-
ment, that I may lay up for that purpose "I will ask
it," replied Domat, "when my conscience shall tell me I
have done an improper act.”
84
Part 1.
Introduction, &c.
SECTION XI.
The generous negro:
1. JOSEPH RACHEL, a respectable negro, resided in the
island of Barbadoes. He was a trader, and dealt chiefly in
the retail way.
In his business, he conducted himself so
fairly and complaisantly, that, in a town filled with little
peddling shops, his doors were thronged with customers
I have often dealt with him, and always found him remark-
ably honest and obliging.
2. If any one knew not where to obtain an article, Jo-
seph would endeavour to procure it, without making any
advantage for himself. In short, his character was so fair,
his manners so generous, that the best people showed
him a regard, which they often deny to men of their
own colour, because they are not blessed with the like
goodness of heart.
3. In 1756 a fire happened, which burned down great
part of the town, and ruined many of the inhabitants. Jo-
seph lived in a quarter that escaped the destruction; and
expressed his thankfulness, by softening the distresses of
his neighbours. Among those who had lost their property
by this heavy misfortune, was a man to whose family, Jo-
seph, in the early part of his life, owed some obligations.
4. This man, by too great hospitality, an excess very
common in the West Indies, had involved himself in ditti-
culties, before the fire happened; and his estate lying in
houses, that event entirely ruined him. Amidst the cries of
misery and want, which excited Joseph's compassion, this
man's unfortunate situation claimed particular notice. The
generous, the open temper of the sufferer, the obligations
that Joseph owed to his family, were special and powerful
motives for acting towards him the part of a friend.
5. Joseph had his bond for sixty pounds sterling. "Un-
fortunate man!" said he, "this debt shall never come
against thee. I sincerely wish thou couldst settle all thy
other affairs as easily! But how am I sure that I shall keep
in this mind? May not the love of gain, especially when,
by length of time, thy misfortune shall become familiar to
me, return with too strong a current, and bear down my
Sellow feeling before it? But for this I have a remedy.
Chap. 2.
35
Narrative Pieces.
Never shalt thou apply for the assistance of any friend
against my avarice.'
6. He arose, ordered a large account that the man had
with him, to be drawn out and in a whim that might
have called up a smile on the face of charity, filled his pipe,
sat down again, twisted the bond, and lighted his pipe with
it. While the account was drawing out, he continued
smoking, in a state of mind that-a-monarch might envy
When it was finished, he went in search of his friend, with
the discharged account, and the mutilated bond, in his
hand.
7. On meeting him, he presented the papers to him with
this address: "Sir, I am sensibly affected with your mis-
fortunes; the obligations I have received from your family,
give me a relation to every branch of it. I know that your
inability to pay what you owe, gives you more uneasiness
than the loss of your own substance. That you may not be
anxious on my account in particular, accept of this dis-
charge, and the remains of your bond. I am overpaid in
the satisfaction that I feel from having done my duty. I
beg you to consider this only as a token of the happiness
you will confer upon me, whenever you put it in my power
to do you a good office."
SECTION XII.
The Indian chief.
BAMSAY
1. DURING the war in America, a company of Indians at-
tacked a small body of British troops, and defeated them.
As the Indians had greatly the advantage in swiftness of
foot, and were eager in the pursuit, very few of the British
escaped: and those who fell into their hands, were treated
with a cruelty, of which there are not many examples,
even in that country.
2. Two of the Indians came up to a young officer, and
attacked him with great fury. As they were armed with
battle-axes, he had no hope of escape. But, just at this
crisis, another Indian came up, who was advanced in years
and was armed with a bow and arrows.
3. The old man instantly drew his bow; but, after hav-
ing taken his aim at the officer, he suddenly dropped the
point of his arrow and interposed between him and his
"
36
Part 1
Introduction, &c.
pursuers, who were about to cut him in pieces. They re-
tired with respect. The old man then took the officer by
the hand, soothed him into confidence by caresse; and,
having conducted him to his hut, treated him with a kind-
ness which did honour to his professions.
4. He made him less a slave than a companion; taught
him the language of the country; and instructed him in
the rude arts that are practised by the inhabitants. They
lived together in the most perfect harmony: and the young
officer, in the treatment, he met with, found nothing to re-
gret, but that sometimes the old man fixed his eyes upon
him, and, having regarded him for some minutes with a
steady and silent attention, burst into tears.
5. In the mean time, the spring returned, and the In-
dians again took the field. The old man, who was still vi-
gorous, and able to bear the fatigues of war, set out with
them, and was accompanied by his prisoner. They march-
ed above two hundred leagues across the forest, and came
at length to a plain, where the British forces were encamp-
ed. The old man showed his prisoner the tents at a dis-
tance: " There," says he, “ are thy countrymen. There
is the enemy who wait to give us battle. Remember that
I have saved thy life, that I have taught thee to conduct a
canoe, to arm thyself with a bow and arrows, and to sur-
prise the beaver in the forest.
6. What wast thou when I first took thee to my hut?
Thy hands were those of an infant. They could neither
procure Thee sustenance nor safety. Thy soul was in utter.
darkness. Thou wast ignorant of every thing. Chou
owest all things to me. Wilt thou then go over to thy na-
tion, and take up the hatchet against us?" The officer re
plied, "that he would rather lose his own life, than take
away that of his deliverer."
7. The Indian, bending down his head, and covering his
face with both his hands, stood some time silent. Then look-
ing earnestly at his prisoner, he said, in a voice that was at
once softened by tenderness and grief; " Hast thou a father?”
"My father," said the young man, "was alive when I left
my country."
"Alas!" said the Indian, "how wretched
must he be!" He paused a moment, and then added,
"Dost thou know that I have been a father?-I am a fa-
ther no more.-I saw my son fall in battle.-He fought a
Chap. 2.
ི
Narrative Pieces.
31
my side. I saw him expire.-He was covered with wounds,
when he fell dead at my feet."
8. He pronounced these words with the utmost vehe-
mence. His body shook with a universal tremor.
He was
almost stifled with sighs, which he would not suffer to es-
cape him. There was a keen restlessness in his eye; but
no tears flowed to his relief. At length he became calm
by degrees: and, turning towards the east, where the sun
had just risen; "Dost thou see," said he to the young offi-
cer," the beauty of that sky, which sparkles with prevail
ing day and hast thou pleasure in the sight?" "Yes,"
replied the young officer, "I have pleasure in the beauty
of so fine a sky." "I have none !" said the Indian, and his
tears then found their way.
9. A few minutes after, he showed the young man a
magnolia in full bloom. "Dost thou see that beautiful
tree?" said he, "and dost thou look upon it with plea-
sure ?"
"Yes," replied the officer, "I look with pleasure
upon that beautiful tree."- "I have no longer any pleasure
in looking upon it!" said the Indian hastily: and immedi-
ately added; " Go, return to thy father, that he may still
have pleasure, when he sees the sun rise in the morning,
and the trees blossom in the spring!"
SECTION XIII.
Noble behaviour of Scipio.
1. SCIPIO the younger, at twenty-four years of age, was
appointed by the Roman republic to the command of the
army against the Spaniards. Soon after the conquest of
Carthagena, the capital of the empire, his integrity and
virtue were put to the following exemplary and ever-me-
morable trial, related by historians, ancient and modern,
with universal applause.
2. Being retired into his camp, some of his officers
brought him a young virgin of such exquisite beauty, that
she drew upon her the eyes and admiration of every body
The young conqueror started from his seat with confusion
and surprise; and seemed to be robbed of that presence of
mind and self-possession, so necessary in a general, and for
which Scipio was very remarkable. In a few moments,
having recovered himself, he inquired of the beautiful cap
38
Part 1
Introduction, &c.
tive, in the most civil and polite manner, concerning her
country, birth, and connexions; and finding that she was
betrothed to a Celtiberian prince, named Allucius, he or-
dered both him and the captive's parents to be sent for.
3. When the Spanish prince appeared in his presence,
Scipio took him aside; and to remove the anxiety he might
feel on account of the young lady, addressed him in these
words: "You and I are young, which admits of my speak-
ing to you with freedom. They who brought me your fu-
ture spouse, assured me at the same time, that you loved
her with extreme tenderness; and her beauty and merit
left me no room to doubt it. Upon which, I reflected,
that if I were in your situation, I should hope to meet with
favour: I therefore think myself happy in the present con-
juncture to do you a service.
4. "Though the fortune of war has made me your mas
ter, I desire to be your friend. Here is your wife: take
her, and may you be happy! You may rest assured, that
she has been amongst us, as she would have been in the
house of her father and mother. Far be it from Scipio to
purchase any pleasure at the expense of virtue, honour, and
the happiness of an honest man! No; I have kept her for
you, in order to make you a present worthy of you and of me.
The only gratitude I require of you, for this inestimable
gift, is, that you will be a friend to the Roman people."
5. Allucius's heart was too full to make him any an-
swer; but, throwing himself at the general's feet, he wept
aloud: the captive lady fell down in the same posture, and
remained so, till the aged father, overwhelmed with trans-
ports of joy, burst into the following words: "O excellent
Scipio! Heaven has given thee more than human virtue.
O glorious leader! O wondrous youth! what pleasure can
equal that which must now fill thy heart, on hearing the
prayers of this grateful virgin, for thy health and prospe-
rity ?"
6. Such was Scipio; a soldier, a youth, a heathen! nor
was his virtue unrewarded. Allucius, charmed with such
magnanimity, liberality, and politeness, returned to his own
country, and published, on all occasions, the praises of his
generous and humane victor; crying out, " that there was
come into Spain a young hero, who conquered all things.
Chap. 2.
39
Narrative Pieces.
less by the force of his arms, than by the charms of his vir-
tue, and the greatness of his beneficence."
SECTION XIV.
Virtue in humble life.
DODD.
1. In the preceding section, we have seen an illustrious
nstance of virtue in a person of exalted rank. This section
exhibits an equally striking example of uprightness in hum-
ble life. Virtue and goodness are confined to no station:
and wherever they are discovered, they command respect.
After
2. Perrin, the amiable subject of this narrative, lost both
his parents before he could articulate their names, and was
obliged to a charity-school for his education. At the age
of fifteen he was hired by a farmer to be a shepherd, in a
neighbourhood where Lucetta kept her father's sheep.
They often met, and were fond of being together.
an acquaintance of five years, in which they had many op-
portunities of becoming thoroughly known to each other,
Perrin proposed to Lucetta to ask her father's consent to
their marriage: she blushed, and did not refuse her appro-
bation.
3. As she had an errand to the town next day, the op-
portunity of her absence was chosen for making the propo-
sal. • "You wish to marry my daughter," said the old man :
"have you a house to cover her, or money to maintain her?
Lucetta's fortune is not enough for both. It will not do,
Perrin; it will not do." "But," replied Perrin, "I have
hands to work: I have laid up twenty crowns of my wages,
which will defray the expense of the wedding: I will work
harder, and lay up more." "Well," said the old man,
"6 you are young, and may wait a little: get rich and my
daughter is at your service." Perrin waited for Lucetta's
return in the evening,
4. "Has my father given you a refusal ?" cried Lucetta.
"Ah, Lucetta,” replied Perrin," how unhappy am I for be-
ing poor! But I have not lost all hopes: my circumstances
may change for the better." As they were never tired of con-
versing together, the night approached, and it became dark.
Perrin, making a false step, fell on the ground. He found
a bag, which was heavy. Drawing towards a light in the
neighbourhood, he discovered that it was filled with gold.
40
Part 1
Introduction, &c.
"I thank heaven," cries Perrin, in a transport of joy, "for
being favourable to our wishes. This will satisfy your fa
ther, and make us happy." In their way to her father's
nouse, a thought struck Perrin.
"This money is not
ours, it belongs to some stranger; and perhaps this mo-
ment he is lamenting the loss of it; let us go to the vica
for advice: he has always been kind to me."
5. Perrin put the bag into the vicar's hand, saying, “ that
at first he looked on it as a providential present, to remove
the only obstacle to their marriage; but that he now doubt-
ed whether he could lawfully retain it." The vicar eyed
the young couple with attention: he admired their honesty,
which appeared even to surpass their affection. "Perrin,"
said he," cherish these sentiments: Heaven will bless you.
We will endeavour to find out the owner: he will reward
thy honesty: I will add what I can spare. You shall have
Lucetta."
6. The bag was advertised in the newspapers, and cried
in the neighbouring parishes. Some time having elapsed,
and the money not having been demanded, the vicar car
ried it to Perrin. "These twelve thousand livres bear at
present no profit: you may reap the interest at least. Lay
them out in such a manner, as to ensure the sum itself to
the owner, if he should ever appear." A farm was pur-
chased, and the consent of Lucetta's father to the marriage
was obtained. Perrin was employed in husbandry, and Lu
cetta in family affairs. They lived in perfect cordiality.
and two children endeared them still more to each other.
7. Perrin one evening, returning homeward from his
work, saw a chaise overturned with two gentlemen in it.
He ran to their assistance, and offered them every accom-
modation his small house could afford. "This spot," cried
one of the gentlemen, "is very fatal to me.
Ten years
ago, I lost here twelve thousand livres." Perrin listened
with attention. "What search made you for them ?" said
he. "It was not in my power," replied the stranger, "to
make any search. I was hurrying to Port l'Orient to em-
bark for the Indies, as the vessel was ready to sail.”
8. Next morning, Perrin showed to his guests his house,
his garden, his cattle, and mentioned the produce of his
fields. "All these are your property," said he, addressing
the gentleman who had lost the bag: "the money fell into
Chap. 2.
41
Narrative Pieces.
my hands; I purchased this farm with it; the farm is
yours. The vicar has an instrument which secures your
property, though I had died without seeing you."
9. The stranger read the instrument with emotion: he
looked on Perrin, Lucetta, and the children.
"Where am
I," cried he," and what do I hear! What virtue in peo-
ple of so low a condition! Have you any other land but
this farm ?" "No," replied Perrin; "but you will have
occasion for a tenant, and I hope you will allow me to re-
main here." "Your honesty deserves a better recom-
pense," answered the stranger. "My success in trade
has been great, and I have forgotten my loss.
You are
well entitled to this little fortune: keep it as your own.
What man in the world could have acted more nobly than
you have done ?”
10. Perrin and Lucetta shed tears of affection and joy.
"My dear children," said Perrin, "kiss the hand of your
benefactor.-Lucetta, this farm now belongs to us, and we
can enjoy it without any anxiety or remorse." Thus was
honesty rewarded. Let those who desire the reward prac-
ise the virtue.
SECTION XV.
The female choice.
DODD.
1. A YOUNG girl, having fatigued herself one hot day,
with running about the garden, sat down in a pleasant ar-
bour, where she presently fell asleep. During her slum-
ber, two female figures presented themselves before her
One was loosely habited in a thin robe of pink, with light
green trimmings. Her sash of silver gauze flowed to the
ground. Her fair hair fell in ringlets down her neck; and
her head-dress consisted of artificial flowers interwoven
with feathers. She held in one hand a ball-ticket, and in
the other a fancy-dress all covered with spangles and knots
of gay riband.
2. She advanced smiling to the girl, and with a familiar
air thus addressed her.
"My dearest Melissa, I am a kind genius who have
watched you from your birth, and have joyfully beheld all
your beauties expand, till at length they have rendered you
a companion worthy of me. See what I have brough
+2
Part 1
Introduction, &c.
you. This dress, and this ticket, will give you free access
to all the ravishing delights of my palace. With me you
will pass your days in a perpetual round of ever-varying
amusements.
3. Like the gay butterfly, you will have no other busi-
ness than to flutter from flower to flower, and spread your
charms before admiring spectators. No restraints, no toils,
no dull tasks, are to be found within my happy domains.
All is pleasure, life, and good humour. Come then, my
dear! Let me put you on this dress, which will make you
quite enchanting; and away, away, with me!"
Melissa felt a strong inclination to comply with the
call of this inviting nymph; but first she thought it would
be prudent at least to ask her name.
66
My name," said she, " is DISSIPATION."
4. The other female then advanced.
She was clothed
in a close habit of brown stuff, simply relieved with white.
She wore her smooth hair under a plain cap. Her whole
person was perfectly neat and clean. Her look was serious,
but satisfied; and her air was staid and composed. She
held in one hand a distaff; on the opposite arın hung a
work-basket; and the girdle round her waist was garnished
with scissors, knitting-needles, reels, and other implements
of female labour. A bunch of keys hung at her side. She
thus accosted the sleeping girl.
5. "Melissa, I am the genius who have ever been the
friend and companion of your mother; and I now offer
you my protection. I have no allurements to tempt you
with, like those of my gay rival. Instead of spending all
your time in amusements, if you enter yourself of my train,
you must rise early, and pass the long day in a variety of
employments, some of them difficult, some laborious, and
all requiring exertion of body or of mind. You must dress
plainly; live mostly at home; and aim at being useful ra-
ther than shiring.
6. "But in return, I will insure you content, even spi-
rits, self-approbation, and the esteem of all who thoroughly
know you. If these offers appear to your young mind less in-
viting than those of my rival, be assured, however, that they
are more real. She has promised much more than she
can ever make good. Perpetual pleasures are no more in
the power of Dissipation, than of Vice and Folly, to bestow
Chap. 2.
43
Narrative Pieces
Her delights quickly pall, and are inevitably succeeded by
languor and disgust. She appears to you under a disguise,
and what you see is not her real face.
7. "For myself, I shall never seem to you less amiable
than I now do; but, on the contrary, you will like me better
and better. If I look grave to you now, you will see me
cheerful at my work; and when work is over, I can enjoy
every innocent amusement. But I have said enough. It
is time for you to choose whom you will follow, and upon
that choice all your happiness depends. If you would
know my name, it is HOUSEWIFERY."
8. Melissa heard her with more attention than delight;
and though overawed by her manner, she could not help
turning again to take another look at the first speaker. She
beheld her still offering her presents with so bewitching an
air, that she felt it scarcely possible to resist; when, by a
lucky accident, the mask with which Dissipation's face was
so artfully covered, fell off. As soon as Melissa beheld, instead
of the smiling features of youth and cheerfulness, a counte-
nance wan and ghastly with sickness, and soured by fretful-
ness, she turned away with horror, and gave her hand unre.
luctantly to her sober and sincere companion.
SECTION XVI.
The noble basket-maker.
BARBAULD.
1. THE Germans of rank and fortune, were formerly re-
markable for the custom of having their sons instructed in
some mechanical business, by which they might be habitu-
ated to a spirit of industry; secured from the miseries of
idleness; and qualified, in case of necessity, to support
themselves and their families. A striking proof of the uti-
lity of this custom, occurs in the following narrative.
2. A young German nobleman of great merit and ta-
lents, paid his addresses to an accomplished young lady of
the Palatinate; and applied to her father for his consent to
marry her. The old nobleman, amongst other observa-
tions, asked him, "how he expected to maintain his
daughter." The young man, surprised at such a question,
observed, "that his possessions were known to be ample,
and as secure as the honours of his family."
3. "All this is very true," replied the father: "but you
44
Part 1
Introduction, &c.
well know, that our country has suffered much from wars
and devastation; and that new events of this nature may
sweep away all your estate, and render you destitute. To
keep you no longer in suspense, (continued the father, with
great politeness and affection,) I have seriously resolved ne-
ver to marry my daughter to any person, who, whatever.
may be his honours or property, does not possess some me-
chanical art, by which he may be able to support her in
case of unforeseen events."
4. The young nobleman, deeply affected with his de-
termination, was silent for a few minutes; when, recover-
ing himself, he declared, "that he believed his happiness
so much depended on the proposed union, that no difficulty
or submissions, consistent with his honour, should prevent
him from endeavouring to accomplish it." He begged
to know whether he might be allowed six months to ac-
quire the knowledge of some manual art. The father,
pleased with the young man's resolution, and affection for
his daughter, consented to the proposal; and pledged his
honour that the marriage should take place, if, at the ex-
piration of the time limited, he should succeed in his under-
taking.
5. Animated by the tenderest regard, and by a high sense
of the happiness he hoped to enjoy, he went immediately
into Flanders, engaged himself to a white twig basket-ma
ker, and applied every power of ingenuity and industry to
become skilled in the business. He soon obtained a com-
plete knowledge of the art; and, before the expiration ot
the time proposed, returned, and brought with him, as spe-
cimens of his skill, several baskets adapted to fruit, flowers,
and needle-work.
6. These were presented to the young lady; and uni-
versally admired for the delicacy and perfection of the
workmanship. Nothing now remained to prevent the ac-
complishment of the noble youth's wishes: and the mar-
riage was solemnized to the satisfaction of all parties.
7. The young couple lived several years in affluence,
and seemed, by their virtues and moderation, to have se-
cured the favours of fortune. But the ravages of war, at
length, extended themselves to the Palatinate. Both the
families were driven from their country, and their estates
forfeited. And now opens a most interesting scene.
Chap. 3.
45
Didactic Pieces.
8. The young nobleman commenced his trade of bas-
ket-making; and by his superior skill in the art, soon com-
manded extensive business. For many years, he liberally
supported not only his own family, but also that of the
good oid nobleman, his father in law: and enjoyed the high
satisfaction of contributing, by his own industry, to the hap-
piness of connexions doubly endeared to him by their mis-
fortunes: and who otherwise would have sunk into the
miseries of neglect and indigence, sharpened by the remem
brance of better days.
1447
CHAPTER III.
DIDACTIC PIECES.
son.
SECTION
Tenderness to motners.
1. MARK that parent hen, said a father to his beloved
With what anxious care does she call together her
offspring, and cover them with her expanded wings! The
kite is hovering in the air, and, disappointed of his prey,
may perhaps dart upon the hen herself, and bear her off in
his talons.
2. Does not this sight suggest to you the tenderness and
affection of your mother! Her watchful care protected
you in the helpless period of infancy, when she nourished
you with her milk, taught your limbs to move, and your
tongue to lisp its unformed accents. In your childhood,
she mourned over your little griefs; rejoiced in your inno-
cent delights; administered to you the healing balm in sick-
ness; and instilled into your mind the love of truth, of
virtue, and of wisdom. Oh! cherish every sentiment of
respect for such a mother. She merits your warmest gra
titude, esteom, and veneration.
PERCIVAL
Introduction, &c
Part 1
SECTION II.
Respect and affection due from pupils to their tutors.
1. QUINCTILIAN says, that he has included almost all
the duty of scholars in this one piece of advice which he
gives them to love those who instruct them, as they love
the sciences which they study; and to look upon them as
fathers from whom they derive not the life of the body,
but that instruction which is in a manner the life of the
soul.
2. This sentiment of affection and respect disposes them
to apply diligently during the time of their studies; and
preserves in their minds, during the remainder of life, a
tender gratitude towards their instructers. It seems to in-
clude a great part of what is to be expected from them.
3. Docility, which consists in readily receiving instruc
tions, and reducing them to practice, is properly the virtue
of scholars, as that of masters is to teach well. As it is not
sufficient for a labourer to sow the seed, unless the earth,
after having opened its bosom to receive it, warms and
moistens it; so the whole fruit of instruction depends upon
a good correspondence between masters and scholars.
4. Gratitude towards those who have faithfully laboured.
in our education, is an essential virtue, and the mark of a
good heart. "Of those who have been carefully instruct-
ed, who is there," says Cicero, "that is not delighted with
the sight, and even the remembrance of his preceptors, and
the very place where he was educated ?" Seneca exhorts
young men to preserve always a great respect for their
masters, to whose care they are indebted for the amend-
ment of their faults, and for having imbibed sentiments of
honour and probity.
5. Their exactness and severity sometimes displease, at
an age when we are not in a condition to judge of the ob-
ligations we owe them; but when years have ripened our
understanding and judgment, we discern that admonitions,
reprimands, and a severe exactness in restraining the passions
of an imprudent and inconsiderate age, far from justifying
dislike, demand our esteem and love. Marcus Aurelius,
one of the wisest and most illustrious emperors that Rome
ever had, thanked Heaven for two things especially ;-for
Chap.
47
Didactic Pieces.
having had excellent tutors himself; and for having found
the like blessing for his children.
SECTION III.
On filial piety.
ROLIIN.
1. FROM the creatures of God let man learn wisdom, and
apply to himself the instruction they give. Go to the de-
sert, my son: observe the young stork of the wilderness;
let him speak to thy heart. He bears on his wings his aged
sire: he lodges him in safety, and supplies him with food.
2. The piety of a child is sweeter than the incense of
Persia offered to the sun; yea, more delicious than odours
wafted from a field of Arabian spices, by the western
gales.
3. Be grateful to thy father, for he gave thee lite; and
to thy mother, for she sustained thee. Hear the words of
their mouth, for they are spoken for thy good; give ear to
their admonition, for it proceeds from love.
4. Thy father has watched for thy welfare, he has toiled
for thy ease: do honour, therefore, to his age, and let not
his
gray hairs be treated with irreverence. Forget not thy
helpless infancy, nor the frowardness of thy youth; and bear
with the infirmities of thy aged parents: assist and support
them in the decline of life. So shall their hoary heads go
down to the grave in peace: and thy own children, in re-
verence of thy example hall repay thy piety with filial
love.
ECONOMY OF HUMAN LIFE.
SECTION IV.
Love between brothers and sisters.
1. You are the children of one father, provided for by his
care; and the breast of one mother gave you suck. Let the
bonds of affection, therefore, unite thee with thy brothers
and sisters, that peace and happiness may dwell in thy fa-
ther's house.
2. And when you are separated in the world, remember
the relation that binds you to love and unity; and prefer
not a stranger before thy own blood. If thy brother is in
adversity, assist him; if thy sister is in trouble, forsake her
not. So shall the fortunes of thy father contribute to the
48
Part 1.
Introduction, &c.
support of his whole race; and his care be continued to you
all, in your love to each other. ECONOMY OF HUMAN LIFE.
SECTION V.
Benevolence.
1. WHEN thou considerest thy wants, when thou behold
est thy imperfections, acknowledge his goodness, O son of
humanity! who honoured thee with reason; endued thee
with speech; and placed thee in society, to receive and con-
fer reciprocal helps and mutual obligations.
2. Thy food, thy clothing, thy convenience of habita-
ion; thy protection from the injuries, thy enjoyment of
the comforts and the pleasures of life; all these thou owest
to the assistance of others, and couldst not enjoy but in the
bands of society. It is thy duty, therefore, to be a friend
to mankind, as it is thy interest that man should be friend-
ly to thee.
3. Rejoice in the happiness and prosperity of thy neigh-
Dour. Open not thy ear to slander: the faults and failings
of men give pain to a benevolent heart Desire to do
good, and search out occasions for it; in removing the op-
pression of another, the virtuous mind relieves itself.
4. Shut not thine ear against the 'cries of the poor; nor
harden thy heart against the calamities of the innocent.
When the fatherless call upon thee, when the widow's
heart is sunk, and she implores thy assistance with tears of
sorrow; pity their 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 thy heart; let the wings of
charity shelter him from death, that thy own soul may
Live.
5. Whilst the poor man groans 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; how canst thou riot in superfluous enjoy
ments, régardless of their wants, unfeeling of their wocs 1
ECONOMY OF HUMAN LII E
Chụp 2
49
Didactic Pieces.
SECTION VI.
Ingratitude to our Supreme Benefactor, is highly culpable.
1. ARTABANES was distinguished with peculiar favour by
a wise, powerful, and good prince. A magnificent palace,
surrounded with a delightful garden, was provided for his
residence. He partook of all the luxuries of his sovereign's
ble, was invested with extensive authority, and admitted
to the honour of a free intercourse with his gracious mas-
ter. But Artabanes was insensible of the advantages which
he enjoyed; his heart glowed not with gratitude and re-
spect; he avoided the society of his benefactor, and abused
his bounty.
2. "I detest such a character," said Alexis, with gene-
rous indignation!" It is your own picture which I have
drawn," replied Euphronius. "The great Potentate of
heaven and earth has placed you in a world, which displays
the highest beauty, order and magnificence; and which
abounds with every means of convenience, enjoyment, and
happiness. He has furnished you with such powers of bo-
dy and mind, as give you dominion over the fishes of the
sea, the fowls of the air, and the beasts of the field. He
has invited you to hold communion with him, and to exalt
your own nature, by the love and imitation of his divine
perfections.
3. "Yet have your eyes wandered, with brutal gaze, over
the fair creation, unconscious of the mighty hand from
which it sprung. You have rioted in the profusion of na-
ture, without suitable emotions of gratitude to the sovereign.
Dispenser of all good and you have too often slighted the
glorious converse, and forgotten the presence of that omni-
potent Being, who fills all space, and exists through all eter-
nity."
SECTION VII.
Speculation and practice.
PERCIVAL.
1. A CERTAIN astronomer was contemplating the moon
through his telescope, and tracing the extent of her seas,
the height of her mountains, and the number of habitable
territories which she contains. "Let him spy what he
50
Part 1
Introduction, &c.
pleases," said a clown to his companions; "he is not near-
er to the moon than we are."
2. Shall the same observation be made of you, Alexis?
Do you surpass others in learning, and yet in goodness re-
main upon a level with the uninstructed vulgar? Have
you so long gazed at the temple of virtue, without advanc-
ing one step towards it? Are you smitten with moral
beauty, yet regardless of its attainment? Are you a philo-
sopher in theory, but a novice in practice? The partiali-
ty of a father inclines me to hope, that the reverse is true.
I flatter myself, that by having learned to think, you will
be qualified to act; and that the rectitude of your conduct
will be adequate to your improvements in knowledge.
3. May that wisdom which is justified in her works, be
your guide through life! And may you enjoy all the felici-
ty which flows from a cultivated understanding, pious and
well-regulated affections, and extensive benevolence! In
these consists that sovereign good, which ancient sages so
much extol; which reason recommends, religion authorises,
and God approves.
PERCIVAL
1040.
CHAPTER IV
DESCRIPTIVE PIECES.
SECTION I.
The eagle.
1. THE Golden Eagle is the largest and the noblest, of
all those birds that have received the name of Eagle. It
weighs above twelve pounds. Its length is three feet; the
extent of its wings, seven feet four inches; the bill is three
inches long, and of a deep blue; and the eye of a hazel co-
lour. In general, these birds are found in mountains and
thinly inhabited countries; and breed among the loftiest
cliffs. They choose those places which are remotest from
man, upon whose possessions they but seldom make their
depredations, being contented rather to follow the wild
Chụp. 4.
51
Descriptive Pieces.
game in the forest, than to risk their safety to satisfy their
hunger.
2. This fierce animal may be considered among birds, as
the lion among quadrupeds; and, in many respects, they
have a strong similitude to each other. They are both
possessed of force, and an empire over their fellows of the
forest. Equally magnanimous, they disdain small plunder;
and only pursue animals worthy the conquest. It is not
till after having been long provoked, by the cries of the
rook or the magpie, that this generous bird thinks fit to pu-
nish them with death.
3 The eagle also disdains to share the plunder of an-
other bird; and will take up with no other prey than that
which he has acquired by his own pursuits. How hungry
soever he may be, he stoops not to carrion; and when sa-
tiated, never returns to the same carcass, but leaves it for
other animals, more rapacious and less delicate than him-
self. Solitary, like the lion, he keeps the desert to himself
alone; it is as extraordinary to see two pair of eagles in the
same mountain, as two lions in the same forest.
4. They keep separate, to find a more ample supply; and
consider the quantity of their game as the best proof of
their dominion. Nor does the similitude of these animals
stop here: they have both sparkling eyes, and nearly of the
same colour; their claws are of the same form, their breath
equally strong, and their cry equally loud and terrifying.
Bred both for war, they are enemies of all society; alike
fierce, proud, and incapable of being easily tamed.
5. Of all the feathered tribe, the eagle flies the highest;
and from thence the ancients have given him the title of
the bird of heaven. He possesses also the sharpest sight;
but his sense of smelling, though acute, is inferior to that
of a vulture. He never pursues, but when his object is in
view; and having seized his prey, he stoops from his height,
as if to examine its weight, always laying it on the ground
before he carries it off. He finds no difficulty in taking up
geese and cranes. He also carries away hares, lambs, and
kids; and often destroys fawns and calves, to drink their
blood; and bears a part of their flesh to his retreat.
6. Infants themselves, when left unattended, have been
destroyed by these rapacious creatures. An instance is re-
corded in Scotland, of two children having been carried off
52
Part I.
Introduction, &c.
by eagles; but fortunately they received no hurt by the
way; and, the eagles being pursued, the children were
found unhurt in the nests, and restored to the affrighted
parents.
7. The eagle is thus at all times a formidable neigh-
bour: but peculiarly so when bringing up its young. It is
then that the male and female exert all their force and in
dustry to supply their offspring. Smith, in his history of
Kerry, relates, that a poor man in that country got a com-
fortable subsistence for his family, during a summer of fa-
mine, out of an eagle's nest, by robbing the eaglets of food,
which was plentifully supplied by the old ones.
8. He protracted their assiduity beyond the usual time,
by clipping the wings, and retarding the flight of the young;
and very probably also, as I have known myself, by so ty-
ing them, as to increase their cries, which are always found
to increase the parent's despatch to procure them provi-
sion. It was fortunate, however, that the old eagles did
not surprise the countryman thus employed, as their re
sentment might have been dangerous.
9. It requires great patience and much art to tame an
eagle; and even though taken young, and subdued by long
assiduity, yet it is a dangerous domestic, and often turns its
force against its master. When brought into the field for
the purposes of fowling, the falconer is never sure of its at-
tachment: its innate pride, and love of liberty, still prompt
it to regain its native solitudes. Sometimes, however, ea-
gles are brought to have an attachment to their feeder;
they are then highly serviceable, and liberally provide for
his pleasures and support.
10. When the falconer lets them go from his hand, they
play about and hover round him till their game presents,
which they see at an immense distance, and pursue with
certain destruction.
11. It is said that the eagle can live many weeks without
food;
and that the period of its life exceeds a hundred
years.
GOLDSMITH
SECTION-II.
The humming-bird.
1. Of all the birds that flutter in the garden, or paint
Chap. 4.
53
Descriptive Pieces.
the landscape, the humming-bird is the most delightful to
look upon, and the most inoffensive. Of this charming lit-
tle animal, there are six or seven varieties, from the size of
a small wren, down to that of an humble-bee. A European
would not readily suppose that there existed any birds so
very small, and yet so completely furnished with a bill, fea-
thers, wings, and intestines, exactly resembling those of
the largest kind.
2. Birds not so big as the end of one's little finger, would
probably be supposed mere creatures of imagination, were
they not seen in infinite numbers, and as frequent as butter-
flies in a summer's day, sporting in the fields of America,
from flower to flower, and extracting sweets with their
little bills.
3. The smallest humming-bird is about the size of a ha-
zel-nut. The feathers on its wings and tail are black; but
those on its body, and under its wings, are of a greenish
brown, with a fine red cast or gloss, which no silk or vel-
vet can imitate. It has a small crest on its head, green at
the bottom, and as it were gilded at the top; and which
sparkles in the sun like a little star in the middle of its fore-
head. The bill is black, straight, slender, and of the length
of a small pin.
4. It is inconceivable how much these birds add to the
high finishing and beauty of a rich luxurious western land-
scape. As soon as the sun is risen, the humming-birds, of
different kinds, are seen fluttering about the flowers, with-
out ever lighting upon them. Their wings are in so rapid
motion, that it is impossible to discern their colours, except
by their glittering.
5. They are never still, but continually in motion, visit-
ing flower after flower, and extracting its honey as if with
a kiss. For this purpose they are furnished with a forky
Longue, that enters the cup of the flower, and extracts its
nectared tribute. Upon this alone they subsist.
The ra-
pid motion of their wings occasions a humming sound, from
whence they have their name; for whatever divides the air
swiftly, must produce a murmur.
6. The nests of these birds are also very curious. They
are suspended in the air, at the point of the twigs of an
orange, a pomegranate, or a citron tree; sometimes even in
houses, if a small and convenient twig is found for the pur
Introduction, &c.
in
pose. The female is the architect, while the male goes
quest of materials; such as cotton, fine moss, and the fibres
of vegetables. Of these materials, a nest is composed,
about the size of a hen's egg cut in two; it is admirably
contrived, and warmly lined with cotton.
7. There are never more than two eggs found in a nest,
these are about the size of small peas, and as white as snow,
with here and there a yellow speck. The male and the
female sit upon the nest by turns; but the female takes to
herself the greatest share. She seldom quits the nest, ex-
cept a few minutes in the morning and evening, when the
dew is upon the flowers, and their honey in perfection.
8. During the short interval, the male takes her place.
The time of incubation continues twelve days; at the end
of which the young ones appear much about the size of a
blue-bottle fly. They are at first bare; by degrees they
are covered with down; and, at last, feathers succeed, but
less beautiful at first than those of the old ones.
9. Father Labat, in his account of the mission to Ameri-
ca, says, "that his companion found the nest of a hum-
ming-bird, in a shed near the dwelling-house; and took it
in, at a time when the young ones were about fifteen or
twenty days old. He placed them in a cage at his cham-
ber window, to be amused by their sportive flutterings:
but he was much surprised to see the old ones, which came
and fed their brood regularly every hour in the day. By
this means they themselves grew so tame, that they seldom
quitted the chamber; and, without any constraint, came to
live with their young ones.
10. "All four frequently perched upon their master's
hand, chirping as if they had been at liberty abroad. He
fed them with a very fine clear paste, made of wine, bis
cuit, and sugar. They thrust their tongues into this paste,
till they were satisfied, and then fluttered and chirped
about the room. I never beheld any thing more agreea
ble," continues he, "than this lovely little family, which
had possession of my companion's chamber, and flew in
and out just as they thought proper; but were ever atten
tive to the voice of their master, when he called them.
11. "In this manner they lived with him above six
months: but at a time when he expected to see a new co-
lony formed, he unfortunately forgot to tie up 'heir cage to
Chap. 1
55
Descriptive Pieces.
the ceiling at night, to preserye them from the rats, and he
found in the morning, to his great mortification, that they
were all devoured."
GOLDSMITH
SECTION III.
The horse.
1. Or all quadrupeds, the horse appears to be the most
Ieautiful. His fine size, the glossy smoothness of his
skin, the graceful ease of his motions, and the exact sym-
metry of his shape, entitle him to this distinction.
2. To have an idea of this noble animal in his native
simplicity, we are not to look for him in the pastures, or
the stables, to which he has been consigned by man; but
in those wild and extensive plains, where he was original-
ly produced, where he ranges without control, and riots in
all the variety of luxurious nature. In this state of happy
independence, he disdains the assistance of man, which
tends only to his servitude.
3. In those boundless tracts, whether of Africa or New
Spain, where he runs at liberty, he seems no way incom-
moded with the inconveniences to which he is subject in
Europe. The continual verdure of the fields supplies his
wants; and the climate that never knows a winter suits
his constitution, which naturally seems adapted to heat.
4. In those countries, the horses are often seen feeding
in droves of five or six hundred. As they do not carry on
war against any other race of animals, they are satisfied to
remain entirely upon the defensive. They have always
one among their number that stands as centinel, to give
notice of any approaching danger; and this office they take
by turns.
5. If a man approaches them while they are feeding by
day, their centinel walks up boldly towards him, as if to
examine his strength, or to intimidate him from proceed.
ing; but as the man approaches within pistol-shot, the cen-
tinel then thinks it high time to alarm his fellows. This
he does by a loud kind of snorting; upon which they all
take the signal, and fly off with the speed of the wind;
their faithful centinel bringing up the rear.
6. But of all countries in the world, where the horse
runs wild, Arabia produces the most beautiful breed, the
56
Part 1.
Introduction, &c.
most generous, swift, and persevering. They are found,
though not in great numbers, in the deserts of that coun-
try; and the natives use every stratagem to take them.
7. The usual manner in which the Arabians try the
swiftness of these animals, is by hunting the ostrich. The
horse is the only animal whose speed is comparable to that
of this creature, which is found in the sandy plains, that
abound in those countries. The instant the ostrich per-
ceives itself aimed at, it makes to the mountains, while the
horseman pursues with all the swiftness possible, and en-
deavours to cut off its retreat. The chase then continues
along the plain, while the ostrich makes use of both legs
and wings to assist its motion.
8. A horse of the first speed is able to outrun it: so that
the
poor animal is then obliged to have recourse to art to
elude the hunter, by frequently turning. At length, finding
all escape hopeless, it hides its head wherever it can,
and tamely suffers itself to be taken. If the horse, in a
trial of this kind, shows great speed, and is not readily ti-
red, his character is fixed, and he is held in high estima
tion.
9. The horses of the Arabians form the principal riches
of many of their tribes, who use them both in the chase,
and in their expeditions for plunder. They never carry
heavy burdens, and are seldom employed on long journeys.
They are so tractable and familiar, that they will run from
the fields to the call of their masters. The Arab, his wife,
and children, often lie in the same tent with the mare and
foal; which, instead of injuring them, suffer the children to
rest on their bodies and necks, and seem afraid even to
move lest they should hurt them.
10. They never beat or correct their horses, but treat
them with kindness, and even affection. The following
anecdote of the compassion and attachment shown by a
poor Arabian to one of these animals, will be interesting
to every reader.-The whole property of this Arab consist-
ed of a very fine beautiful mare. This animal the French
consul at Said offered to purchase, with an intention to
send her to the king, Louis the Fourteenth.
11. The Arab, pressed by want, hesitated a long time,
but at length consented, on condition of receiving a very
considerable sum of money, which he named. The con
Chap. 4.
57
Descriptive Pieces.
sul wrote to France for permission to close the bargain;
and having obtained it, sent the information to the Arab.
The man, so poor as to possess only a few rags to cover
his body, arrived with his magnificent courser. He dis
mounted, but appeared to be greatly agitated by contend
ing emotions.
12. Looking first at the gold, and then at his mare. he
heaved a deep sigh, and exclaimed; "To whom is it, I
am going to surrender thee? To Europeans! who will
tie thee close; who will beat thee; who will render thee
miserable! Return with me, my beauty, my jewel, and
rejoice the hearts of my children!" As he pronounced
the last words, he sprung upon her back; and, in a few
moments, was out of sight.
SECTION IV.
The Ouran-Outang.
1. THE ape called the Ouran-Outang, approaches in ex-
ternal appearance nearer to the human form, than any other
brute; and from this circumstance, it has sometimes ob-
tained the appellation of "Man of the Woods." This ani-
mal is of different sizes, from three to seven feet. In ge-
neral, its stature is less than that of a man; but its strength
and agility are much greater.
2. Travellers who have seen various kinds of these ani-
mals, in their native solitudes, give surprising relations of
their force, their swiftness, their address, and their feroci
ty. They are found in many parts of Africa, in the East-
Indies, in Madagascar, and Borneo. In the last of these
places, the people of quality course them as we do the stag;
and this sort of hunting is one of the favourite amusements
of the king himself.
3. The skin of the Ouran-Outang is hairy, his eyes are
sunk in his head, his countenance is stern, and all his linea-
ments, though resembling those of man, are harsh and
blackened by the sun. He sleeps under trees, and build
a hut to protect himself against the sun and the rains
When the negroes have left a fire in the woods, he comes
near, and warms himself by the blaze. He has not, how-
ever, sense and skill sufficient to keep the flame alive by
feeding it with fuel.
58
Part 1
Introduction, &c.
4. These animals often go together in companies; and
if they happen to meet one of the human species, remote
from succour, they seldom show him favour. Sometimes,
however, they spare those who fall into their hands. A
negro boy was carried off by one of them, and lived with
them upwards of a year.
5. On his escape and return home, he described many of
them as being larger than men ; and he said that they never
attempted to injure him. They frequently attack the ele
phant: they beat him with clubs, and oblige him to leave
that part of the forest which they claim as their own.—
When one of these animals dies, the rest cover the body
with leaves and branches.
6. The manners of the Ouran-Outang, when in confine-
ment, are gentle, and, for the most part, harmless, perfect-
ly devoid of that disgusting ferocity so conspicuous in some
of the larger baboons and monkeys. It is mild and docile,
and may be taught to perform with dexterity a variety of
entertaining actions. Vosmaer's account of one of these
animals, which was brought into Holland in the year 1776,
and lodged in the menagerie of the prince of Orange, is so
exceedingly curious, that we shall present the reader with
an extract from it.
7. "This animal showed no symptoms of fierceness and
malignity. It was fond of being in company, and appear-
ed to be very sensible of the kindness of those who had
the care of it. Often when they retired, it would throw
itself on the ground, as if in despair, uttering lamentable
cries, and tearing in pieces the linen within its reach. Its
keeper having been accustomed to sit near it on the ground,
it frequently took the hay off its bed, and laid it by its side,
and seemed by all its actions to invite him to be seated
nearer.
8. "Its usual manner of walking was on all-fours, but it
could also walk on its two hind-feet only. It ate almost.
every thing that was given to it; but its chief food was
bread, roots, and all sorts of fruit, especially strawberries.
When presented with strawberries on a plate, it was ex
tremely pleasant to see the animal take them up one by
one, with a fork, and put them into its mouth, holding at
the same time the plate in the other hand.
9. "Its common drink was water; but it also very wil-
Chap. 4.
59
Descriptive Pieces.
lingly drank all sorts, of wine, and particularly Malaga.
After drinking, it wiped its lips; and after eating, if pre-
sented with a toothpick, it would use it in a proper man-
ner. On shipboard, it ran freely about the vessel, played
with the sailors, and went, like them, into the kitchen for
its mess. At the approach of night, it lay down to sleep,
and prepared its bed, by shaking well the hay on which it
slept, and putting it in proper order. It would then care-
fully draw up the coverlet. This animal lived only. seven
months after it had been brought into Holland."
10. The Ouran-Outang, described by Buffon, exhibited
a still greater degree of sagacity. It walked upon two legs,
even when it carried burdens. Its air was melancholy,
and its deportment grave. Unlike the baboon and the
monkey, whose motions are violent and appetites capri-
cious, whose fondness for mischief is remarkable, and whose
obedience proceeds only from fear, this animal was slow
in its motions, and a look was sufficient to keep it in awe
11. I have seen it, says Buffon, give its hand to show the
company to the door: I have seen it sit at table, unfold its
napkin, wipe its lips, make use of the spoon and the fork to
carry victuals to its mouth; pour out its drink into a glass,
and touch glasses when invited; take a cup and saucer, lay
them on the table, put in sugar, pour out its tea, leave it
to cool, and then drink it.
12. All this it would do without any other instigation
than the signs or commands of its master, and often of its
own accord. It was gentle and inoffensive: it even ap-
proached strangers with respect; and came rather to re-
ceive caresses than to offer injuries. It was particularly
fond of comfits, which every body was ready to give it;
but as it had a defluxion upon the breast, so much sugar
contributed to increase the disorder, and to shorten its life.
It continued at Paris but one summer, and died in London.
13. We are told by Pyrard, that the Ouran-Outangs are
found at Sierra Leona; where they are strong and well
formed, and so industrious, that, when properly trained and
fed, they work like servants; that, when ordered, they
pound any substances in a mortar; and that they are fre
quently sent to fetch water, in small pitchers, from the
rivers. After filling the pitchers, they carry them on their
heads to the door of the dwelling; but if they are not soon
60
Part 1
Introduction, &c.
taken off, the animals suffer them to fali to the ground
When they perceive the pitcher to be overturned and bro
ken, they utter loud lamentations.
14. The form and organs of this animal bear so near a
resemblance to those of men, that we are surprised to find
them productive of so few advantages. The tongue, and
all the organs of the voice, are similar, and yet the animal
s dumb; the brain is formed in the same manner as that
of man, and yet the creature wants reason; an evident
proof, as Buffon finely observes, that no arrangement of
matter will give mind; and that the body, how nicely
soever formed, is formed to very limited ends, when there
is not infused a soul to direct its operations.
SECTION V.
The four seasons.
1. WHO is this beautiful virgin that approaches, clothed
in a robe of light green? She has a garland of flowers on
her head, and flowers spring up wherever she sets her foot.
The snow which covered the fields, and the ice which was
in the rivers, melt away when she breathes upon them.
2. The young lambs frisk about her, and the birds warble
in their little throats to welcome her coming; and when
they see her, they begin to choose their mates, and to build
their nests. Youths and maidens, have you seen this beau-
tiful virgin? If you have, tell me who is she, and what is
her name.
1. WHO is this that comes from the south, thinly clad in
a light transparent garment? Her breath is hot and sultry;
she seeks the refreshment of the cool shade; she secks the
clear streams, the crystal brooks, to bathe her languid.
limbs. The brooks and rivulets fly from her, and are dried
up at her approach. She cools her parched lips with ber
ries, and the grateful acid of fruits; the seedy melon, the
sharp apple, and the red pulp of the juicy cherry, which
are poured out plentifully around her.
2. The tanned haymakers welcome her coming; and the
sheepshearer, who clips the fleeces of his flock with his
sounding shears. When she comes, let me lie under the
thick shade of a spreading beech tree ;-let me walk with
Chap. 4.
61
Descriptive Pieces
her in the early morning, when the dew is yet upon the
grass ;-let me wander with her in the soft twilight, when
the shepherd shuts his fold, and the star of evening appears.
Who is she that comes from the south? Youths, and
maidens, tell me, if you know, who is she, and what is her
name.
1. WHO is he that comes with sober pace, stealing upon
us unawares? His garments are red with the blood of the
grape, and his temples are bound with a sheaf of ripe wheat.
His hair is thin and begins to fall, and the auburn is mixed
with mournful gray. He shakes the brown nuts from the
tree.
2. He winds the horn, and calls the hunters to their
sport. The gun sounds. The trembling partridge and the
beautiful pheasant flutter, bleeding in the air, and fall dead
at the sportsman's feet. Who is he that is crowned with
the wheat-sheaf? Youths and maidens, tell me, if you
know, who is he, and what is his name.
1. Who is he that comes from the north, clothed in furs
and warin wool? He wraps his cloak close about him. His
head is bald; his beard is made of sharp icicles. He loves
the blazing fire, high piled upon the hearth. He binds
skates to his feet, and skims over the frozen lakes. His
breath is piercing and cold, and no little flower dares to
peep above the surface of the ground, when he is by.
2. Whatever he touches turns to ice. If he were to
strike you with his cold hand, you would be quite stiff
and dead, like a piece of marble. Youths and maidens, do
you see him? He is coming fast upon us, and soon he will
be here. Tell me, if you know, who is he, and what is his
name.
SECTION VI.
Divine Providence.
BARBAULD.
1. THE glorious sun is set in the west; the night-dews
fall; and the air which was sultry, becomes cool. The
flowers fold up their coloured leaves: they fold themselves
up, and hang their heads on the slender stalk. The chick
ens are gathered under the wing of the hen, and are at reg
62
Part 1.
Introduction, &c.
the hen herself is at rest also. The little birds have ceased
their warbling; they are asleep on the boughs, each one
with his head behind his wing. There is no murmur of
bees around the hive, or amongst the honeyed woodbines;
they have done their work, and they lie close in their waxen
cells.
2. The sheep rest upon their soft fleeces, and their loud
bleating is no more heard amongst the hills. There is no
sound of a number of voices, or of children at play, or the
trampling of busy feet, and of people 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 on their
quiet beds and the child sleeps upon the breast of its mo-
ther. Darkness is spread over the skies, and darkness is
upon the ground: every eye is shut, and every hand is still.
3. Who takes care of all people, when they are sunk in
sleep: when they cannot defend themselves, nor see if dan-
ger approaches? There is an eye that never sleeps; there
is an eye that sees in dark night, as well as in the bright
sunshine. When there is no light of the sun, nor of the
moon; when there is no lamp in the house, nor any little
star twinkling through the thick clouds; that eye sees eve
ry where, 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.
4. As the mother moves about the house with her fin
ger on her lips, and 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 still, that his large family may sleep in peace.
5. Labourers spent with toil, and young children, and
every little humming insect, sleep quietly, for God watches
over you. You may sleep, for he never sleeps: you may
close your eyes in safety, for his eye is always open to pro-
tect you.
6. When the darkness is 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
Chap. 4.
63
Descriptive Pieces.
leaves, and smell sweet to his praise! Birds, when you
awake, warble your thanks amongst the green boughs!
sing to him before you sing to your mates!-Let his praise
be in our hearts, when we lie down; let his praise be on
our lips, when we awake.
SECTION VII.
Health.
BARBAULD.
1. WHO is she that with graceful steps, and with a lively
air, trips over yonder plain?
The rose blushes on her cheeks; the sweetness of the
morning breathes from her lips; joy, tempered with inno-
cence and modesty, sparkles in her eyes; and the cheerful-
ness of her heart appears in all her movements. Her name
is Health: she is the daughter of Exercise and Temperance.
Their sons inhabit the mountains and the plain. They are
brave, active, and lively, and partake of all the beauties and
virtues of their sister.
2. Vigour strings their nerves, strength dwells in their
bones, and labour is their delight all the day long. The
employments of their father excite their appetites; and the
repasts of their mother refresh them. To combat the_pas-
sions is their delight; to conquer evil habits, their glory.
Their pleasures are moderate, and therefore they endure:
their repose is short, but sound and undisturbed. Their
blood is pure; their minds are serene; and the physician
does not find the way to their habitations.
ECONOMY OF HUMAN LIFE.
SECTION VIII.
Charity.
1. HAPPY is the man who has sown in his breast the seeds
of charity and love! From the fountain of his heart rise
rivers of goodness; and the streams overflow for the bene-
fit of mankind. He assists the poor in their trouble; he
rejoices in promoting the welfare of all men. He does not
harshly censure his neighbour; he believes not the tales of
envy and malevolence, nor repeats their slanders.
2. He forgives the injuries of men; he wipes them from
his remembrance: revenge and malice have no place in his
64
Part 1
Introduction, &c.
heart. For evil he returns not evil: he hates not even his
enemies; but requites their injustice with friendly admoni-
tion. The griefs and anxieties of men excite his compas-
sion he endeavours to alleviate the weight of their misfor-
tunes; and the pleasure of success rewards his labour.
:
3. He calms the fury, he heals the quarrels of angry men:
and prevents the mischiefs of strife and animosity. He pro-
motes in his neighbourhood peace and good will; and his
name is repeated with praise and benedictions.
ECONOMY OF HUMAN LIFE.
SECTION IX.
Gratitude.
1. As the branches of a tree return their sap to the root,
from whence it arose; as a river pours its streams to the
sea, whence its spring was supplied; so the heart of a
grateful man delights in returning a benefit received. He
acknowledges his obligation with cheerfulness; he looks on
his benefactor with love and esteem. And if to return a
favour be not in his power, he cherishes the remembrance
of it through life.
2. The hand of the generous man is like the clouds of
heaven, which drop upon the earth, fruits, herbage, and
flowers but the heart of the ungrateful is like a desert of
sand, which swallows with greediness the showers that fall,
buries them in its boson, and produces nothing.
3. The grateful mind envies not its benefactor, nor
strives to conceal the benefit he has conferred. Though to
oblige is better than to be obliged; though the act of ge-
nerosity commands admiration; yet the humility of grati-
tude touches the heart, and is amiable in the sight both of
God and man.
ECONOMY OF HUMAN LIFE.
SECTION X.
Mortality.
1. CHILD of mortality, whence comest thou? why is thy
countenance sad, and why are thy eyes red with weeping?-
I have seen the rose in its beauty; it spread its leaves to the
morning sun. I returned: it was dying upon its stalk; the
grace of the form of it was gone; its loveliness was vanish
4.
65
Descriptive Pieces.
ed away; its leaves were scattered on the ground, and no
one gathered them again.
2. A stately tree grew on the plain; its branches were
covered with verdure; its boughs spread wide, and made a
goodly shadow; the trunk was like a strong pillar; the
roots were like crooked fangs. I returned: the verdure
was nipt by the east wind; the branches were lopt away
by the axe; the worm had made its way into the trunk,
and the heart thereof was decayed; it mouldered away,
and fell to the ground.
3. I have seen the insects sporting in the sunshine, and
darting along the streams; their wings glittered with gold
and purple; their bodies shone like the green emerald; they
were more numerous than I could count; their motions
were quicker than my eye could glance. I returned: they
were brushed into the pool; they were perishing with the
evening breeze; the swallow had devoured them; the pike
had seized them; there were none found of so great a mul-
titude.
4. I have seen man in the pride of his strength; his
cheeks glowed with beauty; his limbs were full of activi-
ty; he leaped; he walked; he ran; he rejoiced in that he
was more excellent than those. I returned: he lay stiff
and cold on the bare ground; his feet could no longer move,
nor his hands stretch themselves out; his life was departed
from him; and the breath out of his nostrils. Therefore
do I weep because DEATH is in the world; the spoiler is
among the works of God; all that is made must be destroy-
all that is born must die : let me alone, for I will weep
ed;
yet longer.
SECTION X1.
Immortality.
BARBAULD.
1. I HAVE seen the flower withering on the stalk, and no
bright leaves spread on the ground. I looked again :-it
sprung forth afresh; its stem was crowned with new buds,
and its sweetness filled the air.
2. I have seen the sun set in the west, and the shades of
night shut in the wide horizon: there was no colour, nor
shape, nor beauty, nor music; gloom and darkness brood-
ed around.-I looked; the sun broke forth again upon the
66
Introduction, &c.
east, and gilded the mountain tops; the lark rose to meet
him from her low nest, and the shades of darkness fled
away.
3. I have seen the insect, being come to its full size,
languish, and refuse to eat: it spun itself a tomb, and was
shrouded in the silken cone: it lay without feet, or shape.
or power to move. I looked again: it had burst its tomb
it was full of life, and sailed on coloured wings through the
soft air; it rejoiced in its new being.
4. Thus shall it be with thee, O man! and so shall thy
life be renewed. Beauty shall spring up out of ashes, and
life out of the dust. A little while shalt thou lie in the
ground, as the seed lies in the bosom of the earth: but thou
shalt be raised again; and thou shalt never die any more.
5. Who is he that comes, to burst open the prison doors
of the tomb; to bid the dead awake; and to gather his re
deemed from the four winds of heaven? He descends on a
fiery cloud; the sound of a trumpet goes before him; thou
sands of angels are on his right hand.-It is Jesus, the Son
of God; the saviour of men; the friend of the good. He
comes in the glory of his Father; he has received power
from on high.
6. Mourn not, therefore, child of immortality! for the
spoiler, the cruel spoiler, that laid waste the works of God,
is subdued. Jesus has conquered death:-child of im-
mortality! mourn no longer.
SECTION XII.
Heaven
BARBAULD.
10
1. THE rose is sweet, but it is surrounded with thorns
he lily of the valley is fragrant, but it springs up amongst
the brambles. The spring is pleasant, but it is soon past.
the summer is bright, but the winter destroys its beauty
The rainbow is very glorious, but it soon vanishes away
life is good, but it is quickly swallowed up in death.
2. There is a land, where the roses are without thorns:
where the flowers are not mixed with brambles. In that
land, there is eternal spring, and light without any cloud.
The tree of life grows in the midst thereof; rivers of plea-
sure are there, and flowers, that never fade. Myriads of
Chap. 4.
67
Dialogues.
happy spirits are there, and surround the throne of God
with a perpetual hymn.
3. The angels with their golden harps sing praises con-
tinually, and the cherubim fly on wings of fire! This
country is heaven: it is the country of those that are good;
and nothing that is wicked must inhabit there. The toad
must not spit its venom amongst turtle-doves; nor the
poisonous henbane grow amongst sweet flowers. Neither
must any one that does ill, enter into that good land.
4. This earth is pleasant, for it is God's earth; and it is
filled with many delightful things. But that country is far
better: there we shall not grieve any more, nor be sick
any more, nor do wrong any more; there the cold of win-
ter shall not wither us, nor the heats of summer scorch us.
In that country there are no wars nor quarrels, but all
dearly love one another.
5. When our parents and friends die, and are laid in the
cold ground, we see them here no more; but there we
shall embrace them again, and live with them, and be se-
parated no more. There we shall meet all good men,
whom we read of in holy books. There we shall see Abra-
ham, the called of God, the father of the faithful; and
Moses, after his long wanderings in the Arabian desert,
and Elijah, the prophet of God; and Daniel, who escaped
the lions' den; and there the son of Jesse, the shepherd
king, the sweet singer of Israel. They loved God on
earth; they praised him on earth; but in that country they
will praise him better, and love him more.
6. There we shall see Jesus, who is gone before us to
that happy place; and there we shall behold the glory of
the high God. We cannot see him here, but we will love
him here. We must be now on earth, but we will often
think on heaven. That happy land is our home; we are to
be here but for a little while, and there for ever, even for
eternal ages,
BARE TLD
Introduction, &c.
Part 1
CHAPTER V.
DIALOGUES.
SECTION I.
CANUTE AND HIS COURTIERS.
Flattery reproved.
Canute. IS it true, my friends, as you have often told
me, that I am the greatest of monarchs ?
Offa. It is true, my liege; you are the most powerful of
all kings.
Oswald. We are all your slaves; we kiss the dust of
your feet.
Offa. Not only we, but even the elements, are your
slaves. The land obeys you from shore to shore; and the
sea obeys you.
Canute. Does the sea, with its loud boisterous waves,
obey me? Will that terrible element be still at my bidding?
Offa. Yes, the sea is yours; it was made to bear your
ships upon its bosom, and to pour the treasures of the world
at your royal feet. It is boisterous to your enemies, but it
knows you to be its sovereign.
Canute. Is not the tide coming up?
Oswald. Yes, my liege; you may perceive the swell
already.
Canute. Bring me a chair then; set it here upon the
sands.
Offa. Where the tide is coming up, my gracious lord?
Canute. Yes, set it just here.
Oswald. (Aside.) I wonder what he is going to do!
Offa. (Aside.) Surely he is not so silly as to believe us.
Canute. O mighty Ocean! thou art my subject; my
courtiers tell me so; and it is thy duty to obey me. Thus,
then, I stretch my sceptre over thee, and command thee to
retire. Roll back thy swelling waves, nor let them pre-
sume to wet the feet of me, thy royal master.
Oswald. (Aside.) I believe the sea will pay very little
regard to his royal commands.
ད
1
Chap. 5
69
Dialogues.
Offa. See how fast the tide rises!
Oswald. The next wave will come up to the chair. It
is folly to stay; we shall be covered with salt water.
Canute. Well, does the sea obey my commands? If it
be my subject, it is a very rebellious subject. See, how it
wells, and dashes the angry foam and salt spray over my
acred person! Vile sycophants! did you think I was the
upe of your base lies? that I believed your abject flatter-
es ? Know, there is but one Being whom the sea will
obey. He is sovereign of heaven and earth, King of kings.
and Lord of lords. It is only he who can say to the ocean,
“Thus far shalt thou go, but no farther, and here shall thy
proud waves be stayed." A king is but a man; and a man
is but a worm. Shall a worm assume the power of the
great God, and think the elements will obey him? May
kings learn to be humble from my example, and courtiers
learn truth from your disgrace!
SECTION II.
THE TWO ROBBERS.
DR. AIKIN
We often condemn in others what we practise ourselves.
ALEXANDER the Great in his tent. A man with a fierce coun-
tenance, chained and fettered, brought before him.
Alexander. WHAT, art thou the Thracian robber, of
whose exploits I have heard so much?
Robber. I am a Thracian, and a soldier.
Alexander. A soldier!-a thief, a plunderer, an assassin !
the pest of the country! I could honour thy courage, but I
must detest and punish thy crimes.
Robber. What have I done of which you can complain?
Alexander. Hast thou not set at defiance my authority;
violated the public peace, and passed thy life in injuring the
ersons and properties of thy fellow subjects?
Robber. Alexander! I am your captive-I must hear
what you please to say, and endure what you please to in-
flict. But my soul is unconquered; and if I reply at all to
your reproaches, I will reply like a free man.
Alexander. Speak freely. Far be it from me to take the
advantage of my power. to silence those with whom I deigr
to converse!
70
Part 1.
Introduction, &c.
Robber. I must then answer your question by another.
How have you passed your life?
Alexander. Like a hero. Ask Fame, and she will tell
you. Among the brave, I have been the bravest among
sovereigns, the noblest among conquerors, the mightiest.
Robber. And does not Fame speak of me, too? Was
there ever a bolder captain of a more valiant band? Was
there ever-but I scorn to boast. You yourself know that
I have not been easily subdued.
Alexander. Still, what are you but a robber—a base,
dishonest robber?
Robber. And what is a conqueror? Have not you, too,
gone about the earth like an evil genius, blasting the fair
fruits of peace and industry;. plundering, ravaging, killing,
without law, without justice, merely to gratify an insatiable
lust for dominion? All that I have done to a single district
with a hundred followers, you have done to whole nations
with a hundred thousand. If I have stripped individuals,
you have ruined kings and princes. If I have burned a few
hamlets, you have desolated the most flourishing kingdoms
and cities of the earth. What is then the difference, but
that as you were born a king, and I a private man, you have
been able to become a mightier robber than I?
Alexander. But if I have taken like a king, I have given
like a king. If I have subverted empires, I have founded
greater I have cherished arts, commerce, and philosophy.
Robber. I, too, have freely given to the poor, what I
took from the rich. I have established order and discipline
among the most ferocious of mankind; and have stretched
out my protecting arm over the oppressed. I know, in-
deed, little of the philosophy you talk of; but I believe
neither you nor I shall ever atone to the world, for the mis-
chiefs we have done it.
him
Alexander. Leave me-Take off his chains, and use
well.-Are we then so much alike ?-Alexander to a rob-
ber?--Let me reflect.
DR. AIKIN
Chap. 5.
71
Dialogues.
SECTION III.
A FAMILY CONVERSATION.
On the slavery of the negroes.
Augusta. My dear papa, you once informed me, that in
the West-Indies, all laborious operations were performed
by negro slaves. Are those islands inhabited by negroes?
I thought these people were natives of Africa.
Father. You are right, my dear; they are, indeed, na-
tives of Africa; but they have been snatched, by the hand
of violence, from their country, friends, and connexions. I
am ashamed to confess, that many ships are annually sent
from different parts of England, to the coast of Guinea, to
procure slaves from that unhappy country, for the use of
our West-India islands, where they are sold to the planters
of sugar-plantations; and afterwards employed in the hard-
est and most servile occupations; and pass the rest of their
lives in slavery and wretchedness.
Sophia. How much my heart feels for them! How ago-
nizing must it be, to be separated from one's near relations;
parents perhaps divided from their children for ever; hus-
bands from their wives; brothers and sisters obliged to bid
each other a final farewell!-But why do the kings of the
African states suffer their subjects to be so cruelly treated?
Mother. Many causes have operated to induce the Afri-
can princes to become assistants in this infamous traffic:
and instead of being the defenders of their harmless people,
they have frequently betrayed them to their most cruel
enemies. The Europeans have corrupted these ignorant
rulers, by presents of rum, and other spirituous liquors, of
which they are immoderately fond. They have fomented.
jealousies, and excited wars, amongst them, merely for the
sake of obtaining the prisoners of war for slaves. Frequently
they use no ceremony, but go on shore in the night, set fire
to a neighbouring village, and seize upon all the unhappy
victims, who run out to escape the flames.
Cecilia. What hardened hearts do the captains of those
ships possess! They must have become extremely cruel,
before they would undertake such an employment
'Mother There is reason to believe that most of them,
Introduction, &c.
Part 1
by the habits of such a life, are become deaf to the voice
of pity: we must, however, compassionate the situation of
those, whose parents have early bred them to this profession
before they were of an age to choose a different employ-
ment. But to resume the subject of the negroes. What
I have related is only the beginning of their sorrows.
When they are put on board the ships, they are crowded
together in the hold, where many of them die for want of
air and room. There have been frequent instances of their
throwing themselves into the sea, when they could find an
opportunity, and seeking in death a refuge from their cala-
mity. As soon as they arrive in the West-Indies, they are
carried to a public market, where they are sold to the best
bidder, like horses at our fairs. Their future lot depends
much upon the disposition of the master, into whose hands
they happen to fall; for among the overseers of sugar-
plantations, there are some men of feeling and humanity:
but too generally the treatment of the poor negroes is very
severe. Accustomed to an easy, indolent life, in the luxu-
rious and plentiful country of Africa, they find great hard-
ship from the transition to a life of severe labour, without
any mixture of indulgence to soften it. Deprived of the
hope of amending their condition by any course of conduct
they can pursue, they frequently abandon themselves to de-
spair; and die, in what is called the seasoning; which is,
becoming inured by length of time to their situation. They
who have less sensibility and stronger constitutions, survive
their complicated misery but a few years: for it is general-
ly acknowledged, that they seldom attain the full period of
human life.
Augusta. Humanity shudders at your account! but I
have heard a gentleman, who had lived many years abroad,
say, that negroes were not much superior to the brutes:
and that they were so stupid and stubborn, that nothing
but stripes and severity could have any influence over
them.
Father. That gentleman was most probably interested
m misleading those with whom he conversed. People, who
reason in that manner, do not consider the disadvantages
which the poor negroes suffer, from want of cultivation.
Leading an ignorant, savage life in their own country, they
can have acquured no previous information: and when they
Chap 5.
73
Dialogues.
fall into the hands of their cruel oppressors, a life of labori
ous servitude, which scarcely affords them sufficient time for
sleep, deprives them of every opportunity of improving their
minds. There is no reason to suppose that they differ from
us in any thing but colour; which distinction arises from
the intense heat of their climate. There have been in-
stances of a few, whose situation has been favourable to
improvement, who have shown strong powers of mind
Those masters, who neglect the religious and moral in
struction of their slaves, add a heavy load of guilt to that
already incurred, by their share in this unjust and inhuman
traffic.
Charles. My indignation rises at this recital. Why does
not the British parliament exert its powers to avenge the
wrongs of these oppressed Africans? What can prevent
an act being passed to forbid Englishmen from buying and
selling slaves!
Father. Many persons of great talents and virtue, have
made several fruitless attempts to obtain an act for the aboli-
tion of this trade. Men interested in its continuance have hi-
therto frustrated these generous designs; but we may rely
upon the goodness of that Divine Providence, who cares for
all creatures, that the day will come when their rights will
be considered: and there is great reason to hope, from the
light already cast upon the subject, that the rising genera-
tion will prefer justice and mercy, to interest and policy;
and will free themselves from the odium we at present suf-
fer, of treating our fellow-creatures in a manner unworthy
of them, and of ourselves.
Mother. Henry, repeat that beautiful apostrophe to a
negro woman, which you learned the other day out of Bar-
bauld's Hymns.
Henry. "Negro woman, who sittest pining in captivity,
and weepest over thy sick child, though no one sees thee,
God sees thee; though no one pities thee, God pities thee.
Raise thy voice, forlorn and abandoned one; call upon him
from amidst thy bonds, for assuredly he will hear thee."
Cecilia. I think no riches could tempt me to have any
share in the slave-trade. I could never enjoy peace of
mind, whilst I thought I contributed to the woes of my
fellow-creatures.
Mother. But, Cecilia, to put your compassion to the
74
Part 1.
Introduction, &c.
proof; are you willing to debar yourself of the numerous
indulgences you enjoy, from the fruit of their labour?
Cecilia. I would forego any indulgence to alleviate their
sufferings.
The rest of the children together. We are all of the same
mind.
Mother. I admire the sensibility of your uncorrupted
nearts, my dear children. It is the voice of nature and vir-
tue. Listen to it on all occasions, and bring it home to
your bosoms, and your daily practice. The same principle
of benevolence, which excites your just indignation at the
oppression of the negroes, will lead you to be gentle to-
wards your inferiors, kind and obliging to your equals, and
in a particular manner condescending and considerate to-
wards your domestics; requiring no more of them, than
you would be willing to perform in their situation; in-
structing them when you have opportunity; sympathizing
in their afflictions, and promoting their best interests to the
utmost of your power.*
SECTION IV.
The father redeemed from slavery by his son.
A YOUNG man, named Robert, was sitting alone in his
poat in the harbour of Marseilles. A stranger stepped in.
and took his seat near him, but quickly rose again; observ-
ing, that since the master was not present, he would take
another boat. "This, sir, is mine," said Robert: "would
you sail without the harbour?"-" I meant only to move
about in the basin, and enjoy the coolness of this fine eve-
ning. But I cannot believe you are a sailor."—" Nor am
I yet on Sundays and holydays, I act the bargerman,
with a view to make up a sum."" What! covetous at
your age! your looks had almost prepossessed me in your
favour."" Alas! sir, did you know my situation, you
would not blame me."- "Well; perhaps I am mistaken.
*It will, doubtless, be gratifying to the young reader, to be
informed, that since this Dialogue was written, the Slave Trade
has been happily abolished by the British Parliament. This
memorable, though late triumph of justice and humanity, was
effected in the year 1807.
Chap. 5.
Dialogues.
Let us take our little cruise of pleasure; and acquaint me
with your history."
The stranger having resumed his seat, the dialogue, af-
ter a short pause, proceeded thus. "I perceive, young
man, you are sad. What grieves you thus ?"-" My far
ther, sir, groans in fetters, and I cannot ransom him. He
earned a livelihood by petty brokerage; but in an evil
hour, embarked for Smyrna, to superintend in person the
delivery of a cargo, in which he had a concern.
The ves-
sel was captured by a Barbary corsair; and my father was
conducted to Tetuan, where he is now a slave. They re-
fused to release him for less than two thousand crowns, a
sum which far exceeds our scanty means. However, we
do our best. My mother and sisters work day and night.
I ply hard at my stated occupation of a journeyman jew
eller; and, as you perceive, make the most I can of sun-
days and holydays. I had resolved to put myself in my fa-
ther's stead; but my mother, apprized of my design, and
dreading the double privation of a husband and an only
son, requested the Levant captains to refuse me a pas
sage."-"Pray do you ever hear from your father? Ur
der what name does he pass? or what is his master's ad
dress ?"" His master is overseer of the royal gardens at
Fez; and my father's name is Robert at Tetuan, as at Mar-
seilles."" Robert, overseer of the royal gardens ?"-
"Yes, sir."—"I am touched with your misfortunes; but
venture to predict their termination."
Night drew on apace. The stranger, upon landing, thrust
into young Robert's hand a purse containing eight double
louis d'ors, with ten crowns in silver, and instantly disap-
peared
Six weeks passed after this adventure; and each return-
ng sun bore witness to the unremitting exertions of the
good family. As they sat one day at their unsavoury meal
of bread and dried almonds, old Robert entered the apart-
ment, in a garb little suited to a fugitive prisoner; tender
ly embraced his wife and children, and thanked them, with
tears of gratitude, for the fifty louis they had caused to be
remitted to him on his sailing from Tetuan, for his free
passage, and a comfortable supply of wearing apparel. His
astonished relatives eyed one another in silence. At length
the mother, suspecting that her son had secretly concerted
76
Part 1.
Introduction, &c.
the whole plan, recounted the various instances of his zeal
and affection. "Six thousand livres," continued she," is
the sum we wanted; and we had already procured some-
what more than the half, owing chiefly to his industry.
Some friends, no doubt, have assisted him upon an emergen-
cy like the present." A gloomy suggestion crossed the fa-
ther's mind. Turning suddenly to his son, and eyeing him
with the sternness of distraction, "Unfortunate boy," ex
claimed he," what have you done? How can I be indebt-
ed to you for my freedom, and not regret it? How could
you effect my ransom without your mother's knowledge,
unless at the expense of virtue? I tremble at the thought
of filial affection having betrayed you into guilt. Tell the
truth at once, whatever may be the consequence."-" Calm
your apprehensions, my dearest father," cried the son, em-
bracing him. "No, I am not unworthy of such a parent,
though fortune has denied me the satisfaction of proving
the full strength of my attachment. I am not your deli-
verer: but I know who is. Recollect, mother, the unknown
gentleman, who gave me the purse. He was particular in his
inquiries. Should I pass my life in the pursuit, I must en-
deavour to meet with him, and invite him to contemplate
the fruits of his beneficence." He then related to his fa
ther all that passed in the pleasure-boat, and removed eve-
ry distressing suspicion..
Restored to the bosom of his family, the father again
partook of their joys, prospered in his dealings, and saw his
children comfortably established. Some time afterwards,
on a Sunday morning, as the son was walking on the quay,
he discovered his benefactor, clasped his knees, and en-
treated him as his guardian angel, as the preserver of a fa-
ther and a family, to share the happiness he had been the
means of producing. The stranger again disappeared in
the crowd-but, reader, this stranger was Montesquieu.
MUIRHEAD'S TRAVELS
SECTION. V.
THE TUTOR AND HIS PUPILS.
Eyes and no eyes; or, the art of seeing.
WELL, Robert, where have you been walking this after-
Chap. 5.
77
Dialogues.
#
noon? (said a Tutor to one of his pupils at the close of a
holyda
Rober I have been to Broom-heath, and so round by
the windmill upon Camp-mount, and home through the
meadows by the river side
Tutor. Well, that is a pleasant round.
Robert. I thought it very dull, sir; I scarcely met with
a single person. I would much rather have gone along the
turnpike-road.
Tutor. Why, if seeing men and horses is your object,
you would, indeed, be better entertained on the high-road.
But did you see William ?
Robert. We set out together, but he lagged behind in
the lane, so I walked on and left him.
Tutor. That was a pity. He would have been compa-
ny for you.
Robert. O, he is so tedious, always stopping to look at
this thing and that! I would rather walk alone. I dare
y he is not got home yet.
Tutor. Here he comes. Well, William, where have
Du been?
William. O, the pleasantest walk!
I went all over
Broom-heath, and so up to the mill at the top of the hill,
and then down among the green meadows by the side of
the river.
Tutor. Why, that is just the round Robert has been
taking, and he complains of its dulness, and prefers the
high-road.
William. I wonder at that. I am sure I hardly took a
step that did not delight me; and I have brought hone my
handkerchief full of curiosities.
Tutor. Suppose, then, you give us an account of what
amused you so much. I fancy it will be as new to Robert
as to me.
William. I will do it readily. The lane leading to the
heath, you know, is close and sandy, so I did not mind it
much, but made the best of my way. However, I spied a
curious thing enough in the hedge. It was an old crab-
tree, out of which grew a great bunch of something green,
quite different from the tree itself. Here is a branch of it.
Tutor. Ah! this is mistletoe, a plant of great fame for
the use made of it by the Druids of old, in their religious
78
Part 1
Introduction, &c.
rites and incantations. It bears a very slimy white berry,
of which birdlime may be made, whence the Latin nanie
viscus. It is one of those plants which do not grow in the
ground by a root of their own, but fix themselves upon
other plants; whence they have been humorously styled
parasitical, as being hangers-on, or dependents. It was
the mistletoe of the oak that the Druids particularly
honoured.
William. A little further on I saw a green woodpecker
fly to a tree, and run up the trunk like a cat.
Tutor. That was to seek for insects in the bark, on
which they live. They bore holes with their strong bills
for that purpose, and do much damage to the trees by it.
William. What beautiful birds they are!
Tutor. Yes; they have been called, from their colour
and size, the English parrot.
William. When I got upon the open heath, how charm
ing it was! The air seemed so fresh, and the prospect on
every side so free and unbounded! Then it was all co-
vered with gay flowers, many of which I had never observ.
ed before. There were at least three kinds of heath, (I have
got them in my handkerchief here,) and gorse, and broom,
and bell-flower, and many others of all colours, of which Í
will beg you presently to tell me the names.
Tutor. That I will, readily.
William. I saw, too, several birds that were new to me.
There was a pretty grayish one, of the size of a lark, that
was hopping about some great stones; and when he flew,
he showed a great deal of white above his tail.
Tutor. That was a wheat-ear. They are reckoned very
delicious birds to eat, and frequent the open downs in Sus-
sex, and some other counties, in great numbers.
William. There was a flock of lapwings upon a marshy
part of the heath, that amused me much. As I came near
them, some of them kept flying round and round just over
my head, and crying pewit so distinctly, one might almost
fancy they spoke. I thought I should have caught one of
them, for he flew as if one of his wings was broken, and
often tumbled close to the ground; but as I came near, he
always contrived to get away.
Tutor. Ha, ha! you were finely taken in, then! This
was all an artifice of the bird's to entice you away from its
Chap. 5.
79
Dialogues.
nest for they build upon the bare ground, and their nest
would easily be observed, did not they draw off the attention
of intruders, by their loud cries and counterfeit lameness.
William. I wish I had known that, for he led me a long
chase, often over shoes in water. However, it was the
cause of my falling in with an old man and a boy, who were
cutting and piling up turf for fuel; and I had a good deal
of talk with them, about the manner of preparing the turf,
and the price it sells at. They gave me, too, a creature I
never saw before-a young viper, which they had just kill-
ed, together with its dam. I have seen several common
snakes, but this is thicker in proportion, and of a darker
colour than they are.
·
Tutor. True. Vipers frequent those turfy, boggy
grounds pretty much, and I have known several turf-cut-
ters bitten by them.
William. They are very venomous, are they not?
Tutor. Enough so to make their wounds painful and
dangerous, though they seldom prove fatal.
William. Well-I then took my course up to the wind-
mill on the mount. I climbed up the steps of the mill in
order to get a better view of the country round. What an
extensive prospect! I counted fifteen church steeples;
and I saw several gentlemen's houses peeping out from the
midst of green woods and plantations; and I could trace
the windings of the river all along the low grounds, till it
was lost behind a ridge of hills. But I'll tell you what I
mean to do, if you will give me leave.
Tutor. What is that?
William. I will go again, and take with me Carey's
county map, by which I shall probably be able to make out
most of the places.
Tutor. You shall have it, and I will
take my pocket spying-glass.
go with you, and
Well-a thought
William. I shall be very glad of that.
struck me, that as the hill is called Camp-mount, there
might probably be some remains of ditches and mounds,
with which I have read that camps were surrounded. And
I really believe I discovered something of that sort running
round one side of the mount.
Tutor. Very likely you might. I know antiquaries have
described such remains as existing there, which some sup.
80
Part 1
Introduction, &c.
pose to be Roman, others Danish. We will examine them
further when we go.
William. From the hill I went straight down to the
meadows below, and walked on the side of a brook that
runs into the river. It was all bordered with reeds, and
flags, and tall flowering plants, quite different from those
I had seen on the heath. As I was getting down the bank
to reach one of them, I heard something plunge into the
water near me. It was a large water-rat, and I saw it swim
over to the other side, and go into its hole. There were a
great many large dragon flies all about the stream. I caught
one of the finest, and have got him here in a leaf. But
how I longed to catch a bird that I saw hovering over the
water, and every now and then darting down into it! It
was all over a mixture of the most beautiful green and
blue, with some orange colour It was somewhat less than
a thrush, and had a large head and bill, and a short tail.
Tutor. I can tell you what that bird was-a kingfisher,
the celebrated halcyon of the ancients, about which so ma-
ny tales are told. It lives on fish, which it catches in the
manner you saw.
It builds in holes in the banks; and is
a shy, retired bird, never to be seen far from the stream
where it inhabits.
William. I must try to get another sight of him, for 1
never saw a bird that pleased me so much. Well, I fol-
lowed this little brook till it entered the river, and then
took the path that runs along the bank. On the opposite
side, I observed several little birds running along the shore,
and making a piping noise. They were brown and white,
and about as big as a snipe.
Tutor. I suppose they were sand-pipers, one of the nu-
merous family of birds that get their living by wading among
the shallows, and picking up worms and insects.
William. There were a great many swallows, too,
sporting upon the surface of the water, that entertained me
with their motions. Sometimes they dashed into the
stream; sometimes they pursued one another so quickly
that the eye could scarcely follow them. In one place,
where a high steep sand-bank rose directly above the river,
I observed many of them go in and out of holes, with which
the bank was bored full.
Tutor. Those were sand-martins, the smallest of our
Chap. 5.
81
Dialogues
four species of swallows. They are of a mouse-colour
above, and white beneath. They make their nests, and
bring up their young in these holes, which run a great
depth, and by their situation are secure from all plunderers.
William. A little further I saw a man in a boat, who
was catching eels in an odd way. He had a long pole
with broad iron prongs at the end, just like Neptune's tri
dent, only there were five instead of three. This he
pushed straight down into the mud, in the deepest parts
of the river, and fetched up the eels sticking between the
prongs.
Tutor.
of eels.
I have seen this method. It is called, spearing
William. While I was looking at him, a heron came
flying over my head, with his large flagging wings. He
alighted at the next turn of the river, and I crept softly be-
hind the bank to watch his motions. He had waded into
the water as far as his long legs would carry him, and was
standing with his neck drawn in, looking intently on the
stream. Presently he darted his long bill as quick as
lightning into the water, and drew out a fish, which he
swallowed. I saw him catch another in the same manner.
He then took alarm at some noise I made, and flew away
slowly to a wood at some distance, where he settled.
Tutor. Probably his nest was there, for herons build
upon the loftiest tree they can find, and sometimes in so-
ciety together, like rooks. Formerly, when these birds
were valued for the amusement of hawking, many gentle-
men had their heronries and a few are still remaining.
William. I think they are the largest wild birds we
have.
Tutor. They are of a great length and spread of wing,
but their bodies are comparatively small.
William. I then turned homewards across the meadows,
where I stopped awhile to look at a large flock of starlings,
which kept flying about at no great distance. I could not
tell at first what to make of them; for they rose altogether
from the ground as thick as a swarm of bees, and formed
themselves into a kind of black cloud hovering over the
field. After taking a short round they settled again, and
presently rose again in the same manner. I dare say there
were hundreds of them.
82
Part 1.
Introduction, &c.
Tutor. Perhaps so; for in the fenny countries, their
flocks are so numerous, as to break down whole acres of
reeds, by settling on them. This disposition of starlings to
fly in close swarms, was remarked even by Homer, who
compares the foe flying from one of his heroes, to a cloud
of starlings retiring dismayed at the approach of the hawk.
William. After I had left the meadows, I crossed the
cornfields in the way to our house, and passed close by a
deep marl pit. Looking into it, I saw, on one of the sides,
a cluster of what I took to be shells; and upon going down,
I picked up a clod of marl, which was quite full of them;
but how sea shells could get there, I cannot imagine.
Tutor. I do not wonder at your surprise, since many
philosophers have been much perplexed to account for the
same appearance. It is not uncommon to find great quanti-
ties of shells and relics of marine animals, even in the
bowels of high mountains, very remote from the sea.
William. I got to the high field next to our house just
as the sun was setting, and I stood looking at it till it was
quite lost. What a glorious sight! The clouds were tinged
with purple and crimson, and yellow of all shades and hues,
and the clear sky varied from blue to a fine green at the
horizon. But how large the sun appears just as it sets! I
think it seems twice as big as when it is over head.
Tutor. It does so; and you may probably have observed
the same apparent enlargement of the moon at its rising.
William. I have; but pray what is the reason of this?
Tutor. It is an optical deception, depending upon prin-
ciples which I cannot well explain to you, till you know
more of that branch of science. But what a number of
new ideas this afternoon's walk has afforded you? I do not
wonder that you found it amusing; it has been very in-
structive too. Did you see nothing of all these sights,
Robert?
Robert. I saw some of them, but I did not take particu-
lar notice of them.
Tutor. Why not?
Robert. I do not know. I did not care about them; and
I made the best of my way home.
Tutor. That would have been right, if you had been
sent on a message; but as you only walked for amusement, it
would have been wiser to have sought out as many sources
Chap. 6.
83
Promiscuous Pieces.
of it as possible. But so it is-one man walks through the
world with his eyes open, and another with them shut;
and upon this difference depends all the superiority of
knowledge the one acquires above the other. I have
known sailors who had been in all the quarters of the world,
and could tell you nothing but the signs of the tippling-
houses they frequented in different ports, and the price and
quality of the liquor. On the other hand, a Franklin could
not cross the channel without making some observations
useful to mankind. While many a vacant, thoughtless
youth is whirled throughout Europe, without gaining a
single idea worth crossing a street for, the observing eye
and inquiring mind, find matter of improvement and de-
light, in every ramble in town and country. Do you then
William, continue to make use of your eyes; and you Ro
bert learn that eyes were given you to use.
DR. AIKIN
CHAPTER VI.
PROMISCUOUS PIECES.
SECTION I.
We destroy pleasure by pursuing it too eagerly.
1. A BOY smitten with the colours of a butterfly, pur-
sued it from flower to flower with indefatigable pains.
First he aimed to surprise it among the leaves of a rose;
then to cover it with his hat, as it was feeding on a daisy
At one time, he hoped to secure it, as it revelled on a sprig
of myrtle; and at another, grew sure of his prize, per-
ceiving it to loiter on a bed of violets. But the fickle fly
still eluded his attempts.
2. At last, observing it half buried in the cup of a tulip,
he rushed forward, and snatching it with violence, crushed
it to pieces. Thus, by his eagerness to enjoy, he lost the
object of his pursuit.-From this instance, young persons
may learn, that pleasure is but a painted butterfly; which,
if temperately pursued, may serve to amuse; but which,
84
Part 1.
Introduction, &c
when embraced with too much ardour, will perish in the
grasp..
SECTION II.
On sisterly unity and love.
LORD KAMES.
1. "OBSERVE those two hounds, that are coupled toge
ther," said Euphronius to Lucy and Emilia, who were look.
ing through the window. "How they torment each other,
by a disagreement in their pursuits! One is for moving
slowly, and the other vainly urges onward. The larger
dog now sees some object that tempts him or this side;
and mark how he drags his companion along, who is exert-
ing all his efforts, to pursue a different rout! Thus they
will continue all day at variance, pulling each other in op-
posite directions, when they might, by kind and mutual
compliances, pass on easily, merrily, and happily..
2. Lucy and Emilia concurred in censuring the folly and
ill-nature of these dogs; and Euphronius expressed a ten-
der wish, that he might never see any thing similar in their
behaviour to each other. "Nature," said he, " has linked
you together, by the near equality of age; by your com-
mon relation to the most indulgent parents; by the endear
ing ties of sisterhood; and by all those generous sympathies.
which have been fostered in your bosoms, from the earli-
est infancy.
3. "Let these silken cords of mutual love continue to
unite you, in the same pursuits. Suffer no allurements to
draw you different ways; no contradictory passions to dis-
tract your friendship; nor any selfish views, or sordid jea-
lousies, to render those bonds uneasy and oppressive, which
are now your ornament, your strength, and your happi-
ness."
SECTION III.
The Supreme Ruler of the world.
PERCIVAL-
1. MANY kingdoms, and countries full of people, and
islands, and large continents, and different climes, make up
this whole world: God governs it. The people swarm
upon the face of it like ants upon a hillock. Some are
black with the hot sun; some cover themselves with furs
Chap 6.
85
Promiscuous Pieces.
against the sharp cold; some drink of the fruit of the vine;
some the pleasant milk of the cocoa-nut; and others quench
their thirst with the running stream.
2. All are God's family; he knows every one of them,
as a shepherd knows his flock. They pray to him in differ-
ent languages, but he understands them all; he hears them
all; he takes care of all: none are so great that he cannot
ounish them; none are so mean, that he will not protect
ihem.
3. Negro woman, who sittest pining in captivity, and
weepest over thy sick child; though no one sees thee, God
sees thee; though no one pities thee, God pities thee.
Raise thy voice, forlorn and abandoned one; call upon him
roni amidst thy bonds; for assuredly he will hear thee.-
Monarch, that rulest over a hundred states; whose frown
is terrible as death, and whose armies cover the land, boast
not thyself as though there were none above thee. God is
above thee; his powerful arm is always over thee; and if
thou doest ill, assuredly he will punish thee.
4. Nations of the earth, fear the Lord; families of men,
call upon the name of your God. Is there any one whom
God hath not made? let him not worship him. Is
there any one whom he hath not blessed? let him not
praise him.
SECTION IV.
BARBAULD.
Abraham and Lot: a fine example of wisdom and condescension.
1. DOMESTIC altercations began to perplex families in the
very childhood of time; the blood even of a brother was
shed, at an early period. But with how much tenderness
and good sense does Abraham prevent the disagreement
which had nearly arisen, as is but too frequently the case,
from the quarrels of servants! He said unto Lot," I pray
thee let there be no strife betwixt me and thee, nor between
my herdmen and thine." And why? For the tenderest
reason that can be: "because we are brethren."
2. The very image of the patriarch in the attitude of en-
treaty, the fraternal tear just starting from his eye, is this
moment before me: and thus, methinks, I catch instruc-
tion from the lip of the venerable man, as he addresses
Lot. "Away, my dear brother, away with strife: we were
H
86
Part 1
Introduction, &c.
born to be the servants of God, and the companions of each
other as we sprang from the same parents, so we natu-
rally partake of the same affections. We are brethren,
sons of the same father: we are friends; for surely kin-
dredship should be the most exalted friendship. Let us not
then disagree, because our herdmen have disagreed; since
that were to encourage every idle pique and senseless ani-
mosity.
3. "Great, indeed, has been our success since our mi-
gration into this fair country: we have much substance,
and much cattle. But what! shall brothers quarrel, be-
cause it has pleased Heaven to prosper them?. This would
be ingratitude, impiety! But if, notwithstanding these
persuasives, thy spirit is still troubled, let us separate: ra-
ther than contend with a brother, I would, hard as it is,
even part with him for a time.
4. "Perhaps the occasion of dispute, (which I have al-
ready forgotten,) will soon be no more remembered by
thee. Is not the whole land before thee? Take then my
blessing and my embrace, and separate thyself trom me.
To thee is submitted the advantage of choice: if thou wilt
take the left hand, then, that I may not appear
to thwart
thee unbrotherly, I will take the right; or, if thou art more
inclined to the country which lies upon the right, then will
I go to the left. Be it as thou wilt, and whithersoever thou
goest, happy mayest thou be !"
5. Lot listened to his brother, and departed. He cast
his eyes on the well-watered plains of Jordan. When he
separated, it appears to have been with the hope of increas-
ing his wealth: whilst Abraham, actuated by the kindest
motives, often, no doubt, pressed his brother's hand; and
often bade him adieu; and even followed him to repeat his
farewell wishes, ere he could suffer him to depart.
SECTION V.
A persecuting spirit reproved.
1. ARAM was sitting at the door of his tent, under the
shade of his fig-tree, when it came to pass that a man,
stricken with years, bearing a staff in his hand, journeyed
that way. And it was noon-day. And Aram said unto the
stranger; "Pass not by I pray thee, but come in. and wash
Chap. 6.
87
Promiscuous Pieces.
thy feet, and tarry here until the evening; for thou art
stricken with years, and the heat overcometh thee."
2. And the stranger left his staff at the door, and en-
tered into the tent of Aram. And he rested himself. And
Aram set before him bread, and cakes of fine meal, baked
upon the hearth. And Aram blessed the bread, calling upon
the name of the Lord. But the stranger did eat, and re-
fused to pray unto the Most High; saying, "Thy Lord is
not the God of my fathers; why therefore should I present
my vows unto him ?”
3. And Aram's wrath was kindled; and he called his
servants, and they beat the stranger, and drove him into
the wilderness. Now in the evening, Aram lifted up his
voice unto the Lord, and prayed unto him. And the Lord
said, “Aram, where is the stranger that sojourned this day
with thee ?" And Aram answered and said, " Behold, Ŏ
Lord! he eat of thy bread, and would not offer unto thee
his prayers and thanksgivings. Therefore did I chastise
him, and drive him from before me into the wilderness."
4. And the Lord said unto Aram; " Who hath made
thee a judge between me and him? Have not I borne
with thine iniquities, and winked at thy backslidings; and
shalt thou be severe with thy brother, to mark his errors,
and to punish his perverseness? Arise and follow the
stranger; and carry with thee oil and wine, and anoint his
bruises, and speak kindly unto him. For I, the Lord thy
God, am a jealous God, and judgment belongeth only unto
Vain is thine oblation of thanksgiving, without a low-
me.
ly heart.
1
5. "As a bulrush thou mayest bow down thine head, and
lift up thy voice like a trumpet; but thou obeyest not the
ordinance of thy God, if thy worship be for strife and de-
hate. Behold the sacrifice that I have chosen: is it not to
undo the heavy burdens; to let the oppressed go free; and
to break every yoke? to deal thy bread to the hungry; and
to bring the poor, that are cast out, to thy house?" And
Aram trembled before the presence of God. And he arose,
and put on sackcloth and ashes; and went out into the wil
derness. to do as the Lord had commanded him.
PERCIVAL
88
Part
Introduction &c.
SECTION VI
The folly of pride.
1. If there be any thing which makes human nature ap
pear ridiculous to beings of superior faculties, it must be
pride. They know so well the vanity of those imaginary
perfections that swell the heart of man, and of those little
supernumerary advantages of birth, fortune, or title, which
one man enjoys above another, that it must certainly very
much astonish, if it does not very much divert them, when
they see a mortal puffed up, and valuing himself above his
neighbours, on any of these accounts, at the same time that
he is liable to all the common calamities of the species.
2. To set this thought in its true light, we shall fancy, if
you please, that yonder molehill is inhabited by reasonable
creatures; and that every pismire (his shape and way of
life only excepted) is endowed with human passions. How
should we smile to hear one give an account of the pedi-
grees, distinctions, and titles, that reign among them!
3. Observe how the whole swarm divide, and make way
for the pismire that passes along! You must understand
he is an eminet of quality, and has better blood in his veins
than any pismire in the molehill. Do not you see how sen-
sible he is of it, how slowly he marches forward, how the
whole rabble of ants keep their distance?
4. Here you may observe one placed upon a little emi-
nence, and looking down on a long row of labourers. He is the
richest insect on this side the hillock: he has a walk of half
a yard in length, and a quarter of an inch in breadth; he
keeps a hundred menial servants, and has at least fifteen
barley-corns in his granary. He is now chiding and en-
slaving the cmmet that stands before him; one who, for all
that we can discover, is as good an emmet as himself.
5. But here comes an insect of rank! Do not you per
ceive the little white straw that he carries in his mouth?
That straw, you must understand, he would not part with
for the longest tract about the molehill: you cannot con-
ceive what he has undergone to purchase it! See how the
ants of all qualities and conditions swarm about him!
Should this straw drop out of his mouth, you would see all
this numerous circle of attendants follow the next that took
Chap. 6.
89
Promiscuous Pieces.
it up; and leave the discarded insect, or run over his back
to come to his successor.
6. If now you have a mind to see the ladies of the mole-
hill, observe first the pismire that listens to the emmet on
her left-hand, at the same time that she seems to turn away
her head from him. He tells this poor insect that she is a
superior being; that her eyes are brighter than the sun;
that life and death are at her disposal. She believes him,
and gives herself a thousand little airs upon it.
7. Mark the vanity of the pismire on her right-hand.
She can scarcely crawl with age; but you must know she
values herself upon her birth; and, if you mind, spurns at
every one that comes within her reach. The little nimble
coquette that is running by the side of her, is a wit. She
has broken many a pismire's heart. Do but observe what a
drove of admirers are running after her.
8. We shall here finish this imaginary scene. But first
of all, to draw the parallel closer, we shall suppose, if you
please, that death comes down upon the molehill, in the
shape of a cock-sparrow; and picks up, without distinction,
the pismire of quality and his flatterers, the pismire of sub-
stance and his day-labourers, the white straw officer and
his sycophants, with all the ladies of rank, the wits, and the
beauties of the molehill.
9. May we not imagine, that beings of superior natures
and perfections, regard all the instances of pride and vanity
among our own species, in the same kind of view, when
they take a survey of those who inhabit this earth; or, (in
the language of an ingenious French poet,) of those pismires
that people this heap of dirt, which human vanity has
divided into climates and regions ?
SECTION VII.
The Whistle.
ADDISON.
1. WHEN I was a child about seven years of age, my
friends, on a holyday, filled my pocket with halfpence. I
went directly towards a shop where toys were sold for
children; and being charmed with the sound of a whistle
that I met by the way, in the hands of another boy, I vo-
luntarily offered him all my money for it.
2. I then came home, and went whistling over the
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Part 1.
Introduction, &c.
house, much pleased with my whistle, but disturbing all the
family. My brothers, and sisters, and cousins, understand-
ing the bargain I had made, told me I had given four times
as much for it as it was worth. This put me in mind what
good things I might have bought with the rest of the mo-
ney and they laughed at me so much for my folly, that I
cried with vexation.
3. My reflections on the subject gave me more chagrin,
than the whistle gave me pleasure. This little event, how-
ever, was afterwards of use to me, the impression continu-
ing on my mind: so that often, when I was tempted to buy
some unnecessary thing, I said to myself, Do not give too
much for the whistle; and so I saved my money.
4. As I grew up, came into the world, and observed the
actions of men, I thought I met with many, very many,
who gave too much for the whistle.
5. When I saw any one too ambitious of court-favour,
sacrificing his time in attendance on levees, his repose, his
liberty, his virtue, and perhaps his friends, to attain it, I said
to myself, This man gives too much for his whistle.
6. When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly
employing himself in political bustles, neglecting his own
affairs, and ruining them by that neglect; He pays indeed.
said I, too much for his whistle.
7. If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of com-
fortable living, all the pleasure of doing good to others, all
the esteem of his fellow-citizens, and the joys of benevo-
lent friendship, for the sake of accumulating wealth; Poor
man, said I, you indeed pay too much for your whistle.
8. When I met a man of pleasure, sacrificing every
laudable improvement of mind, or of fortune, to mere sen-
sual gratifications; Mistaken man! said I, you are providing
pain for yourself, instead of pleasure; you give too much for
your whistle.
9. If I saw one fond of fine clothes, fine furniture, fine
equipage, all above his fortune, for which he contracted
debts, and ended his career in prison; Alas! said I, he has
paid dear, very dear for his whistle.
10. In short, I conceived that great part of the miseries
of mankind, are brought upon them by the false estimate
they make of the value of things, and by their giving too
much for their whistles.
DR. FRANKLIN.
Chap. 6
91
Promiscuous Pieces.
SECTION VIII.
A generous mind does not repine at the advantages others
enjoy.
1. EVER charming, ever new,
When will the landscape tire the view:
The fountain's fall, the river's flow,
The woody valleys warm and low;
The windy summit, wild and high,
Roughly rushing on the sky;
The pleasant seat, the ruin'd tow'r,
The naked rock, the shady bow'r;
The town and village, dome and farm,
Each gives each a double charm.
DYER.
Alexis was repeating these lines to Euphronius, who was
reclining upon a seat in one of his fields, enjoying the real
beauties of nature which the poet describes.
2. The evening was serene, and the landscape appeared
in all the gay attire of light and shade. "A man of lively
imagination," said Euphronius, "has a property in every
thing which he sees: and you may now conceive yourself to
be the proprietor of the vast expanse around us; and exult
in the happiness of myriads of living creatures, that inhabit
the woods, the lawns, and the mountains, which present
themselves to our view." The house, garden, and plea-
sure grounds of Eugenio, formed a part of the prospect:
and Alexis expressed a jocular wish, that he had more than
an imaginary property in those possessions.
3. "Banish the ungenerous desire," said Euphronius,
"for if you indulge such emotions as these, your heart will
soon become a prey to envy and discontent. Enjoy, with
gratitude, the blessings which you have received from the
liberal hand of Providence; increase them if you can, with
honour and credit, by a diligent attention to the business
for which you are designed; and though your own cup may
not be filled, rejoice that your neighbour's overflows with
plenty Honour the abilities, and emulate the virtues, of
Eugenio but repine not that he is wiser, richer, or more
powerful, than yourself.
4. His fortune is expended in acts of humanity, generosity,
and hospitality. His superior talents are applied to the in-
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;
struction of his children; to the assistance of his friends
to the encouragement of agriculture, and of every useful
art; and to support the cause of liberty and the rights of
mankind. And his power is exerted to punish the guilty, to
protect the innocent, to reward the good, and to distribute
justice, with an equal hand, to all. I feel the affection of a
brother for Eugenio: and esteem myself singularly happy
in his friendship."
SECTION IX.
PERCIVAL.
Insolent deportment towards inferiors reproved.
1. SACCHARISSA was about fifteen years of age. Nature
had given her a high spirit, and education had fostered it
into pride and haughtiness. This temper was displayed in
every little competition, which she had with her compan-
ions. She could not brook the least opposition from those
whom she regarded as her inferiors; and if they did not
instantly submit to her inclination, she assumed all her airs
of dignity, and treated them with the most supercilious
contempt. She domineered over her father's servants;
always commanding their good offices with the voice of au-
thority, and disdaining the gentle language of request.
2. Euphronius was one day walking with her, when the
gardener brought her a nosegay, which she had ordered him
to collect. "Blockhead !" she cried, as he delivered it to
her;
"what strange flowers you have chosen; and how
awkwardly you have put them together!" Blame not the
man with so much harshness," said Euphronius," because
his taste is different from yours! he meant to please you,
and his good intention merits your thanks, and not your
censure." "Thanks!" replied Saccharissa, scornfully, "He
is paid for his services, and it is his duty to perform them."
3. "And if he does perform them, he acquits himself of
his duty," returned Euphronius. "The obligation is ful-
filled on his side; and you have no more right to upbraid
him for executing your orders according to his best ability,
than he has to claim, from your father, more wages than
were convenanted to be given him."
"But he is a poor
dependent," said Saccharissa," and earns a livelihood by his
daily labour."
4. "That livelihood," answered Euphronius," is the
Chap. 6.
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Promiscuous Pieces.
price of his labour; and if he receive nothing farther from
your hands, the account is balanced between you.
But a
generous person compassionates the lot of those, who are
obliged to toil for his benefit or gratification. He lightens
their burdens; treats them with kindness and affection;
studies to promote their interest and happiness; and, as
much as possible, conceals from them their servitude, and
his superiority.
5. "On the distinctions of rank and fortune, he does not
set too high a value: and though the circumstances of life
require, that there should be hewers of wood, and drawers
of water, yet he forgets rot that mankind are by nature
equal; all being the offspring of God, the subjects of his
moral government, and joint heirs of immortality. A con-
duct directed by such principles, gives a master claims,
which no money can purchase, no labour can repay. His
affection can only be compensated by love; his kindness,
by gratitude; and his cordiality, by the service of the
heart."
SECTION X.
PERCIVAL.
Arachne and Melissa; or, the happiness of cultivating a good
temper.
1. A GOOD temper is one of the principal ingredients of
happiness. This, it will be said, is the work of nature, and
must be born with us: and so in a good measure, it is; yet
it may be acquired by art, and improved by culture. Ai-
most every object that attracts our notice, has a bright and
a dark side.
2. He that habituates himself to look at the displeasing
side, will sour his disposition, and consequently impair his
happiness; while he who behoids it on the bright side, in-
sensibly meliorates his temper; and, by this means, in-
proves his own happiness, and the happiness of all about
him.
3. Arachne and Melissa are two friends. They are alike
in birth, fortune, education, and accomplishments. They
were originally alike in temper too; but by different ma-
nagement, are grown the reverse of each other. Arachne
has accustomed herself to look only on the dark side of
every object.
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4. If a new literary work makes its appearance, with a
thousand beauties, and but one or two blemishes, she slight-
ly skims over the passages that should give her pleasure,
and dwells upon those only that fill her with dislike. If
you
show her an excellent portrait, she looks at some part
of the drapery, that has been neglected, or to a hand or fin-
ger which has been left unfinished.
5. Her garden is a very beautiful one, and kept with great
neatness and elegance; but if you take a walk with her
into it, she talks to you of nothing but blights and storms, of
snails and caterpillars, and how impossible it is to keep it
from the litter of falling leaves, and worm-casts.
6. If you sit down in one of her temples, to enjoy a de-
lightful prospect, she observes to you, that there is too much
wood, or too little water; that the day is too sunny, or too
gloomy; that it is sultry, or windy: and finishes with a long
harangue upon the wretchedness of our climate.
7. When you return with her to the company, in hopes
of a little cheerful conversation, she casts a gloom over all,
by giving you the history of her own bad health, or of some
melancholy accident that has befallen one of her children.
Thus she insensibly sinks her own spirits, and the spirits of
all around her; and at last discovers, she knows not why,
that her friends are grave.
8. Melissa is the reverse of all this. By habituating her-
self to look on the bright side of objects, she preserves a
perpetual cheerfulness in herself, which, by a kind of happy
contagion, shé communicates to all about her. If any mis-
fortune has befallen her, she considers that it might have
been worse, and is thankful to Providence for an escape.
9. She rejoices in solitude, as it gives her an opportunity
of knowing herself; and in society, because she communi-
cates the happiness she enjoys. She opposes every man's
virtues to his failings, and can find out something to che
rish and applaud, in the very worst of her acquaintance.
10. She opens every book with a desire to be entertain
ed or instructed; and therefore seldom misses what she
looks for.-Walk with her, though it be but on a heath or
a common, and she will discover numberless beauties, un-
observed before, in the hills, the dales, the brooms, brakes,
and variegated flowers of weeds and poppies. She enjoys
Chap. 6.
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Promiscuous Pieces.
every change of weather, and of season, as bringing with
it some advantages of health or convenience.
11. In conversation, you never hear her repeating her
own grievances, or those of her neighbours, or (what is
worst of all) their faults and imperfections. If any thing
of the latter kind is mentioned in her hearing, she has the
address to turn it into entertainment, by changing the most
odious railing into a pleasant raillery.
12. Thus Melissa, like the bee, gathers honey from every
weed; while Arachne, like the spider, sucks poison from the
fairest flowers. The consequence is, that of two tempers,
once very nearly allied, the one is for ever sour and dissa-
tisfied, the other always pleased and cheerful: the one
spreads a universal gloom; the other a continual sunshine
SECTION XI.
SOCRATES AND LEANDER.
Disrespect to parents, is in no case allowable.
WORLD.
1. LEANDER, the eldest son of Socrates, fell into a violent
passion with his mother. Socrates was witness to this
shameful misbehaviour, and attempted the correction of it,
in the following gentle and rațional manner.
2. "Come hither, son," said he; "have you never heard
of men, who are called ungrateful?" "Yes, frequently,"
answered the youth. "And what is ingratitude ?" de-
manded Socrates. "It is to receive a kindness," said Le-
ander, "without making a proper return, when there is a
favourable opportunity."
3. "Ingratitude is therefore a species of injustice," said
Socrates. "I should think so," answered Leander. "If
then," pursued Socrates, " ingratitude be injustice, does it
not follow, that the degree of it must be proportionate to
the magnitude of the favours which have been received?"
Leander admitted the inference; and Socrates thus pursued
his interrogations.
4. "Can there subsist higher obligations than those
which children owe to their parents; from whom life is de-
rived and supported, and by whose good offices it is render-
ed honourable, useful, and happy ?" "I acknowledge the
truth of what you say,” replied Leander; " but who could
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Part 1.
Introduction, &c.
suffer, without resentment, the ill humours of such a mo-
ther as I have?” "What strange thing has she done to
you?" said Socrates.
5. "She has a tongue," replied Leander, " that no mor-
tal can bear." "How much more," said Socrates, "has
she endured from your wrangling, fretfulness, and inces-
sant cries, in the period of infancy! What anxieties has
she suffered from the levities, capriciousness, and follies, of
your childhood and youth! What affliction has she felt,
what toil and watching has she sustained, in your illnesses
These, and various other powerful motives to filial duty and
gratitude, have been recognized by the legislators of our
republic. For if any one be disrespectful to his parents, he
is not permitted to enjoy any post of trust or honour.
6. "It is believed that a sacrifice, offered by an impious
hand, can neither be acceptable to Heaven, nor profitable
to the state; and that an undutiful son cannot be capable
of performing any great action, or of executing justice with
impartiality. Therefore, my son, if you be wise, you will
pray to Heaven to pardon the offences committed against
your mother.
7. "Let no one discover the contempt with which you
have treated her; for the woriu will condemn, and abandon
you for such behaviour. And if it be even suspected, that
you repay with ingratitude the good offices of your parents,
you will inevitably forego the kindness of others; because
no man will suppose, that you have a heart to requite either
his favours or his friendship."
SECTION XII.
SOCRATES AND DEMETRIUS.
Brethren should dwell together in harmony.
PERCIVAL.
1. Two brothers, named Timon and Demetrius, having
quarrelled with each other, Socrates, their common friend,
was solicitous to restore amity between them. Meeting,
therefore, with Demetrius, he thus accosted him: "Is not
friendship the sweetest solace in adversity, and the greatest
enhancement of the blessings of prosperity ?" Certainly
it is," replied Demetrius; because our sorrows are dimi
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Chap. 6.
97
Prumiscuous Pieces.
nished, and our joys increased by sympathetic participa.
tion."
2. "Amongst whom, then, must we look for a friend ?”
said Socrates. "Would you search among strangers?
They cannot be interested about you. Amongst your ri
vals? They have an interest in opposition to yours.
Amongst those who are much older, or younger than your-
self? Their feelings and pursuits will be widely different
from yours. Are there not, then, some circumstances favour-
able, and others essential, to the formation of friendship ?"
3. "Undoubtedly there are," answered Demetrius.
"May we not enumerate," continued Socrates, amongst
the circumstances favourable to friendship, long ac-
quaintance, common connections, similitude of age, and
union of interest ?" "I acknowledge," said Demetrius,
the powerful influence of these circumstances: but they
may subsist, and yet others be wanting, that are essential
to mutual amity."
66
4. "And what," said Socrates, "are those essentials
which are wanting in Timon ?”
"He has forfeited my es-
teem and attachment," answered Demetrius. "And has
he also forfeited the esteem and attachment of the rest of
mankind?" continued Socrates. "Is he devoid of benevo-
lence, generosity, gratitude, and other social affections ?"
"Far be it from me," cried Demetrius, " to lay so heavy
a charge upon him? His conduct to others, is, I believe,
irreproachable; and it wounds me the more, that he should
single me out as the object of his unkindness."
5. "Suppose you have a very valuable horse," resumed
Socrates, "gentle under the treatment of others, but un-
governable, when you attempt to use him; would you not
endeavour, by all means, to conciliate his affection, and to
treat him in the way most likely to render him tractable?
Or, if you have a dog, highly prized for his fidelity, watch-
fulness, and care of your flocks, who is fond of your shep-
herds, and playful with them, and yet snarls whenever you
Come in his way; would you attempt to cure him of this
fault by angry looks or words, or by any other marks of
resentment? You would surely pursue an opposite course
with him.
6. "And is not the friendship of a brother of far more
worth, than the services of a horse, or the attachment of
I
98
Part 1.
Introduction, &c.
dog? Why then do you delay to put in practice those
means, which may reconcile you to Timon ?" "Acquaint
me with those means," answered Demetrius, " for I am a
stranger to them." "Answer me a few questions," said
Socrates.
7. "If you desire, that one of your neighbours should in-
vite you
to his feast, when he offers a sacrifice, what course
would you take ?""I would first invite him to mine."-
"And how would you induce him to take the charge of
your affairs, when you are on a journey ?"—" I should be
forward to do the same good office to him, in his absence."
8. "If you be solicitous to remove a prejudice, which he
may have received against you, how would you then be-
have towards him ?"" I should endeavour to convince
him, by my looks, words and actions, that such prejudice
was ill-founded."" And if he appeared inclined to recon
ciliation, would you reproach him with the injustice he had
done you ?"-"No," answered Demetrius; "I would re-
peat no grievances."
9. "Go," said Socrates, " and pursue that conduct to-
wards your brother, which you would practise to a neigh-
bour. His friendship is of inestimable worth; and nothing
is more lovely in the sight of Heaven, than for brethren to
dwell together in unity."
SECTION XIII.
On good breeding.
PERCIVAL.
1. As learning, honour, and virtue, are absolutely neces
sary to gain you the esteem and admiration of mankind,
politeness and good breeding are equally necessary to make
you agreeable in conversation and common life.
2. Great talents are above the generality of the world,
who neither possess them themselves, nor judge of them
rightly in others: but all people are judges of the smaller
talents, such as civility, affability, and an obliging, agreeable
address and manner; because they feel the effects of them,
as making society easy and pleasing.
3. Good sense must, in many cases, determine good
breeding; but there are some general rules of it, that al
ways hold true. For example, it is extremely rude not to
give proper attention, and a civil answer, when people
Chap. 6.
99
Promiscuous Pieces.
speak to you: or to go away, or be doing something else,
while they are speaking to you; for that convinces them
that you despise them, and do not think it worth your while
to hear, or answer, what they say.
4. It is also very rude to take the best place in a room;
or to seize immediately upon what you like at table, with-
out offering first to help others; as if you considered no-
body but yourself. On the contrary, you should always
endeavour to procure all the conveniences you can, to the
people you are with.
5. Besides being civil, which is absolutely necessary, the
perfection of good breeding is, to be civil with ease, and in
a becoming manner :-Awkwardness can proceed but from
two causes; either from not having kept good company, or
from not having attended to it. Attention is absolutely ne-
cessary for improving in behaviour, as indeed it is for eve-
ry thing else.
6. If an awkward person drinks tea or coffee, he often
scalds his mouth, and lets either the cup or the saucer fall,
and spills the tea or coffee on his clothes. At dinner his
awkwardness distinguishes itself particularly, as he has more
to do.
7. There, he holds his knife, fork, and spoon, differently
from other people; eats with his knife, to the great danger
of his lips; picks his teeth with his fork; and puts his
spoon, which has been in his mouth twenty times, into the
dishes again.
8. If he is to carve, he can never hit the joint; but in
his vain efforts to cut through the bone, scatters the sauce
in every body's face. He generally daubs himself with soup
and grease, though his napkin is commonly stuck through
a button-hole, and tickles his chin.
9. When he drinks, he coughs in his glass, and besprin-
kles the company. Besides all this, he has strange tricks
and gestures; such as snuffing up his nose, making faces,
putting his fingers in his nose, or blowing it, and looking
afterwards in his handkerchief, so as greatly to disgust the
company.
10. His hands are troublesome to him, when he has not
something in them; and he does not know where to put
them, but keeps them in perpetual motion. All this, I own,
is not in any degree criminal; but it is highly disagreeable
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Part 1.
Introduction, &c.
and ridiculous in company; and ought most carefully to be
guarded against, by every one that desires to please.
11. There is, likewise, an awkwardness of expression and
words, which ought to be avoided; such as false English,
bad pronunciation, old sayings, and vulgar proverbs; which
are so many proofs of a poor education.
12. For example, if instead of saying that tastes are differ-
ent, and that every man has his own peculiar one, you should
et off a vulgar proverb, and say, "That what is one man's
meat is another man's poison;" or else, "Every one to his
liking, as the good man said when he kissed his cow;" the
company would be persuaded that you had never associated
with but low persons.
any
66
13. To mistake or forget names, to speak of "What-
d'ye-call-him," or, "Thingum," or, " How-d'ye-call-her,"
is excessively awkward and vulgar. To begin a story or
narration, when you are not perfect in it, and cannot go
through with it, but are forced, possibly, to say in the mid-
dle of it, "I have forgotten the rest," is very unpleasant
and bungling.
14. One must be extremely exact, clear, and perspicuous,
in every thing one says; otherwise, instead of entertaining
or informing others, one only tires and puzzles them. The
voice and manner of speaking, too, are not to be neglect
ed. Some people almost shut their mouths when they
speak; and mutter so, that they are not to be understood
others speak so fast, and sputter, that they are equally un-
intelligible.
15. Some always speak as loud as if they were talking
to deaf people; and others so low, that one cannot hear
them. All these, and many other habits, are awkward and
disagreeable, and are to be avoided by attention. You
cannot imagine how necessary it is to mind all these little
things. I have seen many people, with great talents, ill
received, for want of having these talents too; and others
well received, only from their little talents, and who had
o great ones.
SECTION XIV.
The ungrateful guest.
1. PHILIP, king of Macedon, is celebrated for an act
Chap. 6.
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Promiscuous Pieces.
private justice, which does great honour to his memory.
A certain soldier, in the Macedonian army, had, in various
instances, distinguished himself by extraordinary acts of
valour; and had received many marks of Philip's approba-
tion and favour.
2. On a particular occasion, this soldier embarked on
board a vessel, which was wrecked by a violent storm; and
he was cast on the shore, helpless and naked, with scarce-
ly any appearance of life. A Macedonian, whose lands
were contiguous to the sea, came opportunely to be wit
ness of his distress; and, with the most humane and chari
table tenderness, flew to the relief of the unhappy stranger.
3. He bore him to his house, laid him in his own bed, re-
vived, cherished, and comforted him; and, for forty days.
supplied him freely with all the necessaries and conve-
niences which his languishing condition could require.
4. The soldier thus happily rescued from death, was in-
cessant in the warmest expressions of gratitude to his be-
nefactor; assured him of his interest with the king; and of
his determination to obtain for him, from the royal bounty,
the noble returns which such extraordinary benevolenc
had merited. He was at length completely recovered; and
was supplied by his kind host with money to pursue his
journey.
5. After some time, the soldier presented himself before
the king; he recounted his misfortunes; he magnified his
services; and this inhuman wretch, who had looked with
an eye of envy on the possessions of the man by whom his
life had been preserved, was so devoid of gratitude, and of
every humane sentiment, as to request that the king would
bestow upon him the house and lands, where he had been
so tenderly and kindly entertained.
6. Unhappily, Philip, without examination, precipitately
granted his infamous request. The soldier then returned to
his preserver; and repaid his goodness by driving him from
his settlement, and taking immediate possession of all the
fruits of his honest industry.
7. The poor man, stung with such an instance of unpa-
ralleled ingratitude and insensibility, boldly determined, in-
stead of submitting to his wrongs, to seek relief: and in a
letter addressed to Philip, represented his own and the sol-
dier's conduct, in a lively and affecting manner
102
Introduction, yo
8. The king was instantly fired with indignation He
ordered that ample justice should be done without delay
that the possessions should be immediately restored to the
man whose charitable offices had been thus horridly repaid;
and, to show his abhorrence of the deed, he caused the
soldier to be seized, and to have these words branded on
his forehead-" The Ungrateful Guest."
SECTION XV.
The hospitable negro woman.
GOLDSMITH.
1. THE enterprising traveller, Mungo Park, was employ
ed, by the African Association, to explore the interior re-
gions of Africa. In this hazardous undertaking, he encoun-
tered many dangers and difficulties. His wants were often
supplied, and his distresses alleviated, by the kindness and
compassion of the negroes. He gives the following lively
and interesting account of the hospitable treatment he re-
ceived from a poor negro woman.
Being arrived at Sego, the capital of the kingdom of
Bambarra, situated on the banks of the Niger, I wished to
pass over to that part of the town in which the king resides⚫
hut, from the number of persons eager to obtain a passage
I was under the necessity of waiting two hours.
3. "During this time, the people who had crossed the
river, carried information to Mansong, the king, that a
white man was waiting for a passage, and was coming to
see him.
4. "He immediately sent over one of his chief men, who
informed me that the king could not possibly see me, until
he knew what had brought me into his country; and that
I must not presume to cross the river without the king's
permission.
5. "He therefore advised me to lodge, for that night, at
a distant village to which he pointed; and said that, in the
morning, he would give me further instructions how to con-
duct myself.
6. "This was very discouraging. However, as there
was no remedy, I set off for the village; where I found, to
my great mortification, that no person would admit me in-
to his house. From the prejudices infused into their minds,
I was regarded with astonishment and fear; and was
Chap. 6.
103
Promiscuous Pieces.
obliged to sit the whole day without victuals, in the shade
of a tree.
7. "The night threatened to be very uncomfortable;
for the wind rose, and there was great appearance of a hea-
vy rain the wild beasts too were so numerous in the neigh-
Dourhood, that I should have been under the necessity of
climbing up the tree, and resting among the branches.
8. "About sunset, however, as I was preparing to pass
the night in this manner, and had turned my horse loose,
that he might graze at liberty, a negro woman, returning
from the labours of the field, stopped to observe me; and
perceiving that I was weary and dejected, inquired into my
situation.
9. "I briefly explained it to her; after which, with looks
of great compassion, she took up my saddle and bridle, and
told me to follow her. Having conducted me into her hut,
she lighted a lamp, spread a mat on the floor, and told me
I might remain there for the night.
10. "Finding that I was very hungry, she went out to
procure me something to eat; and returned in a short
time with a very fine fish; which, having caused it to be
half broiled upon some embers, she gave me for supper.
11. "The rites of hospitality being thus performed to-
wards a stranger in distress, my worthy benefactress (point-
ing to the mat, and telling me I might sleep there without
apprehension) called to the female part of her family, who
had stood gazing on me all the while in fixed astonishment,
⚫to resume their task of spinning cotton; in which they con-
tinued to employ themselves great part of the nignt.
12. "They lightened their labour by songs, one of
which was composed extempore; for I was myself the sub-
ject of it. It was sung by one of the young women, the
rest, joining in a sort of chorus. The air was sweet and
plaintive, and the words, literally translated, were these.
13. “The winds roared and the rains fell.—The poor
white man, faint and weary, came and sat under our tree.-
He has no mother to bring him milk; no wife to grind his
corn. Chorus. Let us pity the white man: no mother has
be to bring him milk; no wife to grind his corn,**
*These simple and pathetic sentiments, have been very
beautifully versified and expanded, by the Dutchess of Dev
104
Part 1
Introduction, &c.
14. "Trifling as these events may appear to the reader,
they were to me affecting in the highest degree. I was
oppressed by such unexpected kindness; and sleep fled
from my eyes. In the morning I presented to my compas-
sionate landlady two of the four brass buttons which re-
mained on my waistcoat; the only recompense it was in my
power to make her."
PARK'S TRAVELS.
SECTION XVI.
Catharina, empress of Russia.
1. CATHARINA ALEXOWNA, born near Derpat, a little city
in Livonia, was heir to no other inheritance than the vir-
tues and frugality of her parents. Her father being dead,
she lived with her aged mother, in their cottage covered with
straw; and both, though very poor, were very contented.
2. Here, retired from the gaze of the world, by the la-
bours of her hands she supported her parent, who was now
shire. The following is a copy of this little interesting piece of
poetry.
1. The loud wind roar'd, the rain fell fast;
The white man yielded to the blast.
He sat him down beneath the tree,
For weary, sad, and faint was he:
And ah! no wife or mother's care,
For him the milk or corn prepare.
CHORUS.
The white man shall our pity share:`
Alas! no wife, or mother's care,
For him the milk or corn prepure.
2. The storm is o'er, the tempest past,
And mercy's voice has bush'd the blast;
The wind is heard in whispers low:
The white man far away must go;
But ever in his heart will bear
Remembrance of the negro's care.
CHORUS.
Go, white man, go; but with thee bear
The negro's wish, the negro's pray'r,
Remembrance of the negro's care.
Chap. 6.
105
Promiscuous Pieces.
incapable of supporting herself. While Catharina spur,
the old woman would sit by, and read some book of devo-
tion. When the fatigues of the day were over, both would
sit down contentedly by the fire-side, and enjoy their fruga
meal.
3. Though Catharina's face and person were models of
perfection, yet her whole attention seemed bestowed upon
her mind. Her mother taught her to read, and an old
Lutheran minister instructed her in the maxims and duties
of religion. Nature had furnished her not only with a
ready, but a solid turn of thought; not only with a strong,
but a right understanding.
4. Her virtues and accomplishments procured her seve-.
ral solicitations of marriage, from the peasants of the
country but their offers were refused; for she loved her
mother too tenderly to think of a separation.
5. Catharina was fifteen years old when her mother
died. She then left her cottage, and went to live with the
Lutheran minister, by whom she had been instructed from
her childhood. In his house she resided, in quality of go-
verness to his children; at once reconciling in her character
unerring prudence with surprising vivacity.
6. The old man, who regarded her as one of his own
children, had her instructed in the elegant parts of female
education, by the masters who attended the rest of his
family. Thus she continued to improve, till he died; by
which accident she was reduced to her former poverty.
7. The country of Livonia was at that time wasted by
war, and lay in a miserable state of desolation. Those
calamities are ever most heavy upon the poor; wherefore
Catharina, though possessed of so many accomplishments,
experienced all the miseries of hopeless indigence. Pro-
visions becoming every day more scarce, and her private
stock being entirely exhausted, she resolved at last to travel
to Marienburgh, a city of greater plenty.
8. With her scanty wardrobe, packed up in a wallet, she
set out on her journey, on foot. She was to walk througn
a region miserable by nature, but rendered still more hide-
ous by the Swedes and Russians, who, as each happened to
become masters, plundered it at discretion: but hunger had
taught her to despise the dangers and fatigues of the way.
9. One evening, upon her journey, as she had entered a

106
Part 1.
Introduction, &c.
cottage by the way-side, to take up her lodging for the
night, she was insulted by two Swedish soldiers. They
might probably have carried their insults into violence, had
not a subaltern officer, accidentally passing by, come in to
her assistance.
10. Upon his appearing, the soldiers immediately de-
sisted; but her thankfulness was hardly greater than her
surprise, when she instantly recollected, in her deliverer,
the son of the Lutheran minister, her former instructer, be
nefactor, and friend. This was a happy interview for
Catharina.
11. The little stock of money she had brought from
home was by this time quite exhausted; her clothes were
gone, piece by piece, in order to satisfy those who had en-
tertained her in their houses: her generous countryman,
therefore, parted with what he could spare, to buy her
clothes; furnished her with a horse; and gave her letters
of recommendation to a faithful friend of his father's, the
superintendent of Marienburgh.
SECTION XVII. -
The same subject continued.
1. THE beautiful stranger was well received at Marien-
burgh. She was immediately admitted into the superin-
tendent's family, as governess to his two daughters; and,
though but seventeen, showed herself capable of instruct-
ing her sex, not only in virtue, but in politeness.
2. Such were her good sense and beauty, that her master
himself in a short time offered her his hand; which, to his
great surprise, she thought proper to refuse. Actuated by
a principle of gratitude, she was resolved to marry her de-
liverer only, though he had lost an arm, and was otherwise
disfigured by wounds, received in the service.
3. In order, therefore, to prevent further solicitations
from others, as soon as the officer came to town upon duty.
she offered him her hand, which he accepted with joy; and
their nuptials were accordingly solemnized.
4. But all the lines of her fortune were to be striking.
The very day on which they were married, the Russians
laid siege to Marienburgh. The unhappy soldier was im-
Chap. 5.
107
Promiscuous Pieces.
mediately ordered to an attack, from which he never re-
turned.
5. In the mean time, the siege went on with fury, ag-
gravated on one side by obstinacy, on the other by revenge.
The war between the two northern powers at that time
was truly barbarous: the innocent peasant, and the harm-
less virgin, often shared the fate of the soldier in arms.
6. Marienburgh was taken by assault; and such was the
fury of the assailants, that not only the garrison, but almost
all the inhabitants, men, women, and children, were put to
the sword.
7. At length, when the carnage was pretty well over,
Catharina was found hid in an oven. She had hitherto
been poor, but free. She was now to conform to her hard
fate, and learn what it was to be a slave. In this situation,
however, she behaved with piety and humility; and though
misfortunes had abated her vivacity, yet she was cheerful.
8. The fame of her merit and resignation reached even
prince Menzikoff, the Russian general. He desired to see
her; was pleased with her appearance; bought her from
the soldier, her master; and placed her under the direction
of his own sister. Here she was treated with all the re-
spect which her merit deserved, while her beauty every
day improved with her good fortune.
9. She had not been long in this situation, when Peter
the Great paying the prince a visit, Catharina happened to
come in with some dried fruits, which she served round
with peculiar modesty. The mighty monarch saw her, and
was struck with her beauty.
10. He returned the next day; called for the beautiful
slave; asked her several questions; and found the charms
of her mind superior even to those of her person. He had
been forced, when young, to marry from motives of in-
terest; he was now resolved to marry pursuant to his own
inclinations. He immediately inquired into the history of
the fair Livonian, who was not yet eighteen.
11. He traced her through the vale of obscurity, through
the vicissitudes of her fortune; and found her truly great
in them all. The meanness of her birth was no obstruc
tion to his design. The nuptials were solemnized in pri
vate; the prince declaring to his courtiers, that virtue was
the properest ladder to a throne.
اثر
108
Part 1.
Introduction, &c.
12. We now see Catharina, raised from the low, mud-
walled cottage, to be empress of the greatest kingdom upon
earth. The poor solitary wanderer is now surrounded by
thousands, who find happiness in her smile. She, who
formerly wanted a meal, is now capable of diffusing plenty
upon whole nations. To her good fortune she owed a part
of this pre-eminence, but to her virtues more.
13. She ever after retained those great qualities which
first placed her on a throne: and while the extraordinary
prince, her husband, laboured for the reformation of his
male subjects, she studied, in her turn, the improvement of
her own sex. She altered their dresses; introduced mixed
assemblies; instituted an order of female knighthood; pro-
moted piety and virtue; and, at length, when she had
greatly filled all the stations of empress, friend, wife, and
mother, bravely died without regret,-regretted by all.
SECTION XVIII.
GOLDSMITH.
Virtue and happiness equally attainable by the rich and the
poor.
1. THE man to whom God has given riches, and blessed
with a mind to employ them aright, is peculiarly favoured,
and highly distinguished. He looks on his wealth with
pleasure, because it affords him the means to do good. He
protects the poor that are injured; he suffers not the mighty
to oppress the weak.
2. He seeks out objects of compassion; he inquires into
their wants; he relieves them with judgment, and without
ostentation. He assists and rewards merit; he encourages
ingenuity, and liberally promotes every useful design. He
carries on great works, his country is enriched, and the la-
bourer is employed; he forms new schemes, and the arts
receive improvement.
3. He considers the superfluities of his table, as belong
ing to the poor of his neighbourhood: and he defrauds them
not. The benevolence of his mind is not checked by his
fortune; he rejoices therefore in riches, and his joy is
blameless.
4. The virtuous poor man also may rejoice; for he has
many reasons. He sits down to his morsel in peace; his
Chap. 6.
109
Promiscuous Pieces.
He is
table is not crowded with flatterers and devourers.
not embarrassed with a train of dependents, nor teased with
the clamours of solicitation. Debarred from the dainties
of the rich, he escapes also their diseases.
5. The bread that he eats, is it not sweet to his taste?
The water he drinks, is it not pleasant to his thirst? yea,
far more delicious than the richest draughts of the luxuri-
ous. His labour preserves his health, and procures him a
repose, to which the downy bed of sloth is a stranger.
6. He limits his desires with humility; and the calm of
contentment is sweeter to his soul, than all the acquisitions
of wealth and grandeur.-Let not the rich, therefore, pre-
sume on his riches; nor the poor in his poverty yield to
despondence: for the providence of God dispenses happi-
ness to them both.
ECONOMY OF HUMAN LIFE.
SECTION XIX.
The character of Christ.
1. WHOEVER Considers, with attention, the character of
our blessed Lord, as it may be collected from the various
incidents and actions of his life, (for there are no laboured
descriptions of it, no encomiums upon it, by his own disc
ples,) will soon discover that it was, in every respect, the
most excellent that ever was made known to mankind.
2. If we only say of him, what even Pilate said of him,
and what his bitterest enemies cannot and do not deny,
that we can find no fault in him, and that the whole tenour
of his life was blameless, this is more than can be said of
any other person that ever came into the world.
3. But this is going a very little way indeed, in the ex
cellence of his character. He was not only free fron
every failing, but he possessed and practised every imagina-
ble virtue. Towards his heavenly Father he expressed the
most ardent love, the most fervent yet rational devotion:
and displayed, in his whole conduct, the most absolute re-
signation to his will, and obedience to his commands.
4. His manners were gentle, mild, condescending, and
gracious: his heart overflowed with kindness, compassion,
and tenderness to the whole human race. The great em-
ployment of his life, was to do good to the bodies and souls
K
110
Part 1
Introduction, &c.
of men.
In this, all his thoughts, and all his time, were
constantly, and almost incessantly occupied.
5. He went about dispensing his blessings to all around
him, in a thousand different ways; healing diseases, reliev
ing infirmities, correcting errors, removing prejudices; pro-
moting piety, justice, charity, peace, and harmony; and
crowding into the narrow compass of his ministry more
acts of mercy and compassion, than the longest life of the
most benevolent man upon earth ever yet produced.
6. Over his own passions he had obtained the most com-
plete command: and though his patience was continually
put to the severest trials, yet he was never overcome, ne-
ver betrayed into any intemperance or excess, in word o
deed; "never once spake unadvisedly with his lips."
7. He endured the cruellest insults from his enemies,
with the utmost composure, meekness, patience, and resig-
nation; displayed astonishing fortitude under a most pain-
ful and ignominious death; and, to crown all, in the very
midst of his torments on the cross, implored forgiveness for
his murderers, in that divinely charitable prayer," Father,
forgive them, for they know not what they do."
8. Nor was his wisdom inferior to his virtues. The doc-
trines he taught were the most sublime, and the most im-
portant, that were ever before delivered to mankind; and
every way worthy of that God, from whom he professed to
derive them, and whose Son he declared himself to be.
9. His precepts inculcated the purest and most perfect
norality; his discourses were full of dignity and wisdom,
yet intelligible and clear; his parables conveyed instruc-
tion in the most pleasing, familiar, and impressive manner;
and his answers to the many insidious questions that were
put to him, showed uncommon quickness of conception,
soundness of judgment, and presence of mind; completely
baffled all the artifices and malice of his enemies; and ena-
bled him to elude all the snares that were laid for him.
10. From this short and imperfect sketch of our Saviour's
character, it is evident that he was, beyond comparison,
the wisest and the most virtuous person that ever appeared
in the world.
KELBY, BISHOP OF LONDON.
PART II.
PIECES IN POETRY.
CHAPTER I.
SELECT SENTENCES AND PARAGRAPES.
SECTION I.
Improvement of time.
DEFER not till to-morrow to be wise;
To-morrow's sun to thee may never rise.
Moral culture.
If good we plant not, vice will fill the place;
And rankest weeds the richest soils deface.
The noblest art.
Indulge the true ambition to excel
In that best art,—the art of living well.
Life a state of trial.
In its true light, this transient life regard:
This is a state of trial, not reward.
Happiness domestic.
For genuine happiness we need not roam;
'Tis doubtless found with little, and at home.
Virtue and vice progressive.
The human heart ne'er knows a state of rest;
Bad leads to worse, and better tends to best.
Humility.
Be humble; learn thyself to scan:
Know, pride was never made for man.
Contentment is happiness.
Could wealth our happiness augment?
What can she give beyond content. ?
[12
Part 2.
Introduction, &c.
Virtue altogether lovely.
Virtue is amiable, mild, serene:
Without, all beauty; and all peace within.
Self partiality.
The faults of our neighbours with freedom we blame,
But tax not ourselves though we practise the same.
Candour and forgiveness.
How noble 'tis to own a fault!
How gen'rous and divine to forgive it!
Troubles from ourselves.
'Tis to ourselves, indeed, we chiefly owe
The multitude of poignant griefs we feel.
Resignation.
Nor love thy life, nor hate; but what thou liv'st
Live well; how long or short, permit to Heav'n
SECTION II.
Integrity.
THE man of pure and simple heart,
Through life disdains a double part.
He never needs the screen of lies,
His inward bosom to disguise.
Best use of riches.
When wealth to virtuous hands is giv❜n,
It blesses like the dews of Heav'n:
Like Heav'n it hears the orphan's cries;
And wipes the tears from widows' eyes
Choice of friends.
Who friendship with a knave has made
Is judg'd a partner in the trade.
"Tis thus, that on the choice of friends
Our good or evil name depends.
Christian morality.
'Tis our part,
As Christians, to forget the wrongs we feel
To pardon trespasses; our very foes
To love and cherish; to do good to all ;
Chap. 2.
113
Select Sentences, &c.
Live peaceably; and be, in all our acts,
Wise as the serpent, gentle as the dove.
Hope in affliction.
-Shall we pine,
And be dishearten'd with a day of grief,
When the same hand which brought affliction on,
Retains its pow'r, and can, with equal ease,
Remove it?
Folly of envy
Can you discern another's mind?
Why is't you envy? Envy's blind.
Tell Envy, when she would annoy,
That thousands want what you enjoy.
The wish.
I sigh not for beauty, nor languish for wealth;
Bút grant me, kind Providence! virtue and health:
Then, richer than kings, and more happy than they,
My days shall pass sweetly and swiftly away.
Censoriousness reproved.
In other men we faults can spy,
And blame the mote that dims their eye;
Each little speck and blemish find,
To our own stronger errors blind.-
Ere we remark another's sin,
Let our own conscience look within.
Self command
Ungovern'd wrath, and fell resentment fly:
They rend the soul, as tempests rend the sky.
Shun peevish humours: they corrode the breast,
And cloud the brow; are childish at the best.
Learn to control your tongue, that restless thing!
Of mischief oft and shame the fatal spring.
Inscription on a sun-dial.
Mark well my shade, and seriously attend
The silent lesson of a common friend:
Since time and life speed hastily away,
And no one can recall the former day,
Improve each fleeting hour before 'tis past;
And know, each fleeting hour may be thy last.
Introduction, &c.
Purt 1.
SECTION III.
Source of true happiness.
THE happiness of human kind
Consists in rectitude of mind,
A will subdu'd to reason's sway,
And passions practis'd to obey;
An open and a gen'rous heart,
Refin❜d from selfishness and art;
Patience which mocks at fortune's pow'r,
And wisdom neither sad nor sour.
Love to God produces love to men.
Let gratitude in acts of goodness flow;
Our love to God, in love to man below.
Be this our joy-to calm the troubled breast,
Support the weak, and succour the distrest;
Direct the wand'rer, dry the widow's tear;
The orphan guard, the sinking spirits cheer.
Tho' small our pow'r to act, tho' mean our skil,
God sees the heart; he judges by the will.
Men mutually helpful.
Nature expects mankind should share
The duties of the public care.
Who's born for sloth? To some we find
The ploughshare's annual toil assign'd.
Some at the sounding anvil glow;
Some the swift-sliding shuttle throw:
Some, studious of the wind and tide,
From pole to pole, our commerce guide:
While some, with genius more refin'd,
With head and tongue assist mankind.
Thus, aiming at one common end,
Each proves to all a needful friend.
To bless, is to be blest.
When young, what honest triumph flush'd my breast,
This truth once known,-To bless, is to be blest!
I led the bending beggar on his way;
(Bare were his feet, his tresses silver-gray;)
Sooth'd the keen pangs his aged spirit felt,
And on his tale with mute attention dwelt.
1
Chup. 2.
115
Narrative Pieces.
As in his scrip I dropp'd my little store,
And wept to think that little was no more,
He breath'd his pray'r,-" Long may such goodness live!"
'Twas all he gave, 'twas all he had to give.
Epitaph on a young woman.
In dawn of life she wisely sought her God;
And the straight path of thorny virtue trod.
Fond to oblige, too gentle to offend;
Belov'd by all, to all the good a friend :
The bad she censur'd by her life alone;
Blind to their faults, severe upon her own:
In others' griefs a tender part she bore;
And with the needy shar'd her little store:
At distance view'd the world with pious dread;
And to God's temple for protection fled :
There sought that peace which Heav'n alone can give;
And Jearn'd to die ere others learn to live.
CHAPTER II.
NARRATIVE PIECES.
SECTION I.
The looking-glass; or, ill-humour corrected.
I THERE was a little stubborn dame,
Whom no authority could tame:
Restive by long indulgence grown,
No will she minded but her own:
At trifles oft she'd scold and fret;
Then in a corner take a seat,
And sourly moping all the day,
Disdain alike to work or play.
2. Papa all softer arts had tried
And sharper remedies applied,
But both were vain; for ev'ry course
He took still made her worse and worse.
3. Mamma observ'd the rising lass,
By stealth retiring to the glass,
116
Part 2.
Introduction, &c.
To practise little airs unseen,
In the true genius of thirteen:
On this a deep design she laid,
To tame the humour of the maid;
Contriving, like a prudent mother,
To make one folly cure another.
4. Upon the wall against the seat
Which Jessy us'd for her retreat,
Whene'er by accident offended,
A looking-glass was straight suspended,
That it might show her how deform'd
She look'd, and frightful, when she storm'd;
And warn her, as she priz'd her beauty,
Tɔ bend her humour to her duty.
5. All this the looking-glass achiev'd:
Its threats were minded, and believ'd.
The maid, who spurn'd at all advice,
Grew tame and gentle in a trice:
So when all other means had fail'd,
The silent monitor prevail'd.
SECTION 1.
WILKIE.
The Butterfly and the Snail; or, elevation renders little minds
proud and insolent.
1. ALL upstarts insolent in place,
Remind us of their vulgar race.
As in the sunshine of the morn,
A Butterfly (but newly born)
Sat proudly perking on a rose;
With pert conceit his bosom glows:
His wings (all glorious to behold)
Bedropt with azure, jet, and gold,
Wide he displays; the spangled dew
Reflects his eyes, and various hue.
2. His now forgotten friend, a Snail,
Beneath his house, with slimy trail,
Crawls o'er the grass; whom when he spies,
In wrath he to the gard'ner cries:
"What means yon peasant's daily toil,
From choking weeds to rid the soil?
Chap. 2.
117
Narrative Pieces.
Why wake you to the morning's care?
Why with new arts correct the year?
Why grows the peach with crimson hue?
And why the plum's inviting blue?
Were they to feast his taste design'd,
That vermine of voracious kind?
Crush then the slow, the pilf'ring race,
So purge thy garden from disgrace."
3. "What arrogance!" the snail replied;
"How insolent is upstart pride!
Hadst thou not thus with insult vain
Provok'd my patience to complain,
I had conceal'd thy meaner birth,
Nor trac'd thee to the scum of earth.
For scarce nine suns have wak'd the hours,
To swell the fruit, and paint the flow'rs,
Since I thy humbler life survey'd,
In base and sordid guise array'd:
A hideous insect, vile, unclean,
You dragg'd a slow and noisome train;
And from your spider bowels drew
Foul film, and spun the dirty clue.
4 I own my humble life, good friend;
Snail was I born, and Snail shall end.
And what's a Butterfly? At best,
He's but a caterpillar drest:
And all thy race (a num'rous seed)
Shall prove of caterpillar breed."
SECTION III.
GAY.
The Brother and Sister; or, mental excellence superior to
personal beauty.
1. WARN'D by our counsel oft beware,
And look into yourselves with care.
There was a certain father had
A homely girl and comely lad.
These being at their childish play
Within their mother's room one day,
A looking-glass was in the chair,
And they beheld their faces there.
118
Introduction, &c.
Part 2.
SMART
2. The boy grows prouder, as he looks;
The girl is in a rage, nor brooks
Her boasting brother's jests and sneers,
Affronted at each word she hears.
Then to her father down she flies,
And urges all she can devise
Against the boy, who could presume
To meddle in a lady's room.
3. At which, embracing each in turn
With most affectionate concern,
66
"My dears," said he, you must not pass
A day without this useful glass:
You, lest you spoil a pretty face,
By doing things to your disgrace-
You, by good conduct to correct
Your form, and beautify defect,”
SECTION IV.
The Lamb and the Pig; or, nature and education
1. CONSULT the moralist, you'll find
That education forms the mind.
But education ne'er supplied,
What ruling nature has denied.
If you'll the following page pursue,
My tale shall prove this doctrine true.
2. Since to the muse all brutes belong,
The lamb shall usher in my song;
Whose snowy fleece adorn'd her skin,
Emblem of native white within.
Meekness and love possess'd her soul,
And innocence had crown'd the whole.
3. It chanc'd upon a luckless day,
The little wanton, full of play,
Rejoic'd a thimy bank to gain;
But short the triumphs of her reign!
The treacherous slopes her fate foretell,
And soon the pretty trifler fell.
4. Beneath, a dirty ditch impress'd
Its mire upon her spotless vest.
What greater ill could lamb betide,
The butcher's barb'rous knife beside?
Chap. 2.
119
Narrative Pieces.
5. The shepherd, wounded with her cries,
Straight to the bleating sufferer flies.
The lambkin in his arms he took,
And bore her to a neighb'ring brook.
The silver streams her wool refin'd;
Her fleece in virgin whiteness shin'd.
6. Cleans'd from pollution's every stain,
She join'd her fellows on the plain ;
And saw afar the stinking shore,
But ne'er approach'd those dangers more.
The shepherd bless'd the kind event,
And view'd his flock with sweet content.
7. To market next he shap'd his way,
And bought provisions for the day:
But made, for winter's rich supply,
A purchase from a farmer's sty.
The children round their parent crowd;
And testify their mirth aloud.
8. They saw the stranger with surprise,
And all admir'd his little eyes.
Familiar grown he shar'd their joys;
Shar'd too the porridge with the boys.
The females o'er his dress preside;
They wash his face and scour his hide.
But daily more a swine he grew,
For all these housewives e'er could do.
SECTION V.
COTTON
The Bee and the Ant; or the advantages of application and
diligence in early years.
1. On a bright dewy summer's morn
A Bee rang'd o'er the verdant lawn;
Studicus to husband ev'ry hour,
And make the most of ev'ry flow'r.
2. Nimble from stalk to stalk she flies,
And loads with yellow wax her thighs;
With which the artist builds her comb,
And keeps all tight and warm at home:
Or from the cowslip's golden bells
Sucks honey to enrich her cells;
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Part 2.
Introduction, &c.
•
Or ev'ry tempting rose pursues,
Or sips the lily's fragrant dews;
Yet never robs the shining bloom,
Or of its beauty, or perfume.
Thus she discharg'd in ev'ry way,
The various duties of the day.
3. It chanc'd a frugal Ant was near,
Whose brow was furrow'd o'er by care;
A great economist was she,
Nor less laborious than the Bee:
By pensive parents often taught
What ills arise from want of thought;
That poverty on sloth depends,
On poverty the loss of friends.
4. Hence every day the Ant is found
With anxious steps to tread the ground;
With curious search to trace the grain,
And drag the heavy load with pain.
5. The active Bee with pleasure saw
The Ant fulfil her parents' law.
Ah! sister-labourer, says she,
How very fortunate are we!
Who, taught in infancy to know
The comforts which from labour flow,
Are independent of the great,
Nor know the wants of pride and state.
6. Why is our food so very sweet?
Because we earn before we eat.'
Why are our wants so very few ?
'Because we nature's calls pursue.
Whence our complacency of mind?
Because we act our parts assign'd.
Have we incessant tasks to do?
Is not all nature busy too?
Does not the sun with constant pace
Persist to run his annual race ?
Do not the stars which shine so bright,
Renew their courses every night?
Does not the ox obedient bow
His patient neck, and draw the plough?
Or when did e'er the gen'rous steed
Withhold his labour or his speed?
Chap. 2.
121
Narrative Preces.
SECTION VL
The Doves.
1. REAS'NING at ev'ry step he treads,
Man yet mistakes his way,
While meaner things, whom instinct leads,
Are rarely known to stray.
2 One silent eve I wander'd late,
And heard the voice of love;
The turtle thus address'd her mate,
And sooth'd the list❜ning dove:
8. "Our mutual bond of faith and truth,
No time shall disengage;
Those blessings of our early youth,
Shall cheer our latest age. .
4. While innocence without disguise,
And constancy sincere,
Shall fill the circles of those eyes,
And mine can read them there;
5. Those ills that wait on all below
Shall ne'er be felt by me;
Or, gently felt, and only so,
As being shar'd with thee.
6. When lightnings flash among the trees
Or kites are hov'ring near,
I fear lest thee alone they seize,
And know no other fear.
7. 'Tis then I feel myself a wife,
And press thy wedded side,
Resolv'd a union form'd for life
Death rever shall divide.
8. But, oh! if, fickle and unchaste,
(Forgive a transient thought,)
Thou couldst become unkind at last,
And corn thy present lot,
9. No need of lightnings from on high,
Or kites with cruel beak;
L
122
Part 2.
Introduction, &c.
Denied th' endearments of thine eye,
This widow'd heart would break."
10 Thus sang the sweet sequester'd bird,
Soft as the passing wind;
And I recorded what I heard,-
A lesson for mankind.
SECTION VII. .
The Goldfinches.
1. ALL in a garden, on a currant bush,
Two Goldfinches had built their airy seat;
In the next orchard liv'd a friendly thrush,
Nor distant far, a woodlark's soft retreat.
COWPER
2. Here, blest with ease, and in each other blest,
With early songs they wak'd the neighb'ring groves;
Till time matur'd their joy, and crown'd their nest
With infant pledges of their faithful loves.
8. And now, what transport glow'd in either's eye!
What equal fondness dealt th' allotted food!
What joy each other's likeness to descry,
And future sonnets in the chirping brood!
4. But ah! what earthly happiness can last?
How does the fairest purpose often fail!
A truant school-boy's wantonness could blast
Their flattering hopes, and leave them both to wail.
5. The most ungentle of his tribe was he;
No gen'rous precept ever touch'd his heart:
With concord false, and hideous prosody,
He scrawl'd his task, and blunder'd o'er his part.
6. On mischief bent, he mark'd with rav'nous eyes,
Where, wrapt in down, the callow songsters lay
Then rushing, rudely seiz'd the glitt'ring prize,
And bore it in his impious hands away!
7. But how shall I describe, in numbers rude,
The pangs for poor Chrysomitris decreed,
When, from her secret stand, aghast, she view'd
The cruel spoiler perpetrate the deed?
Chụp. 2.
123
Narrative Pieces.
8. "O grief of griefs !" with shrieking voice she cried,
"What sight is this that I have liv'd to see!
O! that I had in youth's fair season died,
From all false joys, and bitter sorrows free.
9. Was it for this, alas! with weary bill,
Was it for this I pois'd th' unwieldy straw;
For this I bore the moss from yonder hill,
Nor shunn'd the pond'rous stick along to draw?
10. Was it for this I pick'd the wool with care,
Intent with nicer skill our work to crown;
For this, with pain, I bent the stubborn hair,
And lin'd our cradle with the thistle's down'
11. Was it for this my freedom I resign'd,
And ceas'd to rove at large from plain to plain;
For this I sat at home whole days confin'd,
To bear the scorching heat, and pealing rain ?
12. Was it for this my watchful eyes grew dim?
For this the roses on my cheek turn pale?
Pale is my golden plumage, once so trim!
And all my wonted mirth and spirits fail!"
13. Thus sung the mournful bird her piteous tale ;—
The piteous tale her mournful mate return'd:
Then side by side they sought the distant vale ;
And there in secret sadness inly mourn'd.
SECTION VIII.
The pet Lamb.
JAGO.
1. THE dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink;
I heard a voice; it said, "Drink, pretty creature, drink !”
And, looking o'er the hedge, before me I espied,
A snow-white mountain Lamb, with a maiden at its side.
2. No other sheep were near, the Lainb was all alone,
And by a slender cord was tether'd to a stone;
With one knee on the grass did the little maiden kneel,
While to the mountain Lamb she gave its evening meal
3. 'Twas little Barbara Lethwaite, a child of beauty rare :
I watch'd them with delight; they were a lovely pair.
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Part 2.
Introduction, &ü
And now with empty can, the maiden turn'd away,
But ere ten yards were gone her footsteps did she stay.
4. Towards the Lamb she look'd; and from that shady place,
I unobserv'd could see the workings of her face:
If nature to her tongue could measur'd numbers bring,
Thus, thought I, to her Lamb that little maid would sing.
5. "What ails thee, young one? what? why pull so at thy
cord?
J
Is it not well with thee? well both for bed and board?
Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass can be:
Rest, little
young one, rest; what is't that aileth thee ?
6. What is it thou would'st seek? What's wanting to thy
heart?
Thy limbs are they not strong? and beautiful thou art:
This grass is tender grass; these flowers they have no
peers;
And that green corn all day is rustling in thy ears.
7. If the sun is shining hot, do but stretch thy woollen chain,
This beech is standing by, its covert thou canst gain :
For rain and mountain storms the like thou need'st not fear;
The rain and storm are things which scarcely can come
here.
8. Rest, little young one, rest; thou hast forgot the day
When my father found thee first in places far away:
Many flocks were on the hills, but thou wert own'd by
none,
And thy mother from thy side for ever more was gone.
9. He took thee in his arins, and in pity brought thee home
A blessed day for thee ! then whither wouldst thou roam ?
A faithful nurse thou hast; the dam that did thee yean
Upon the mountain tops, no kinder could have been.
10. Thou know'st that, twice a day, I've brought thee in
this can
Fresh water from the brook, as clear as ever ran :
And twice in the day, when the ground is wet with dew,
I bring thes draughts of milk, warm milk it is and new.
Chap. 2.
125
Narrative Pieces.
11. It will not, will not rest!-Poor creature ! can it be
That 'tis thy mother's heart, which is working so in thee?
Things that I know not of perhaps to thee are dear,
And dreams of things which thou canst neither see nor
hear.
12. Alas! the mountain tops that look so green and fair ;-
I've heard of fearful winds and darkness that come there:
The little brooks, that seem all pastime and all play,
When they are angry, roar like lions for their prey.
13. Here thou need'st not dread the raven in the sky;
He will not come to thee; our cottage is hard by.
Night and day thou art safe as living thing can be:
Be happy then and rest; what is't that aileth thee ?"
SECTION IX.
WORDSWORTH.
The Farmer, the Spaniel, and the Cat.
1. As at his board a farmer sat,
Replenish'd by his homely treat,
His fav'rite Spaniel near him stood,
And with his master shar'd the food;
The crackling bones his jaws devour'd,
His lapping tongue the trenchers scour❜d;
Till, sated now, supine he lay,
And snor'd the rising fumes away.
2. The hungry Cat, in turn drew near,
And humbly crav'd a servant's share.
Her modest worth the master knew,
And straight the fatt'ning morsel threw.
8. Enrag'd, the snarling cur awoke,
And thus with spiteful envy spoke:
"They only claim a right to eat,
Who earn by services their meat
Me, zeal and industry inflame*
To scour the fields, and spring the game;
Or, plunged in. the wint❜ry wave,
For man the wounded bird to save.
4. With watchful diligence I keep
From prowling wolves his fleecy sheep;
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Part 2.
Introduction, &c.
At home his midnight hours secure,
And drive the robber from the door.
For this his breast with kindness glows,
For this his hand the food bestows.
5. And shall thy indolence impart
A warmer friendship to his heart,
That thus he robs me of my due,
To pamper such vile things as you ?"
6. "I own," with meekness, Puss replied,
"Superior merit on your side;
Nor does my heart with envy swell,
To find it recompens❜d so well:
Yet I, in what my nature can,
Contribute to the good of man.
7 Whose claws destroy the pilf'ring mouse?
Who drives the vermine from the house?
Or, watchful for the labʼring swain,
From lurking rats secures the grain ?
From hence if he rewards bestow,
Why should your heart with gall o'erflow?
Why pine my happiness to see,
Since there's enough for you and me ?”
"Thy words are just," the Farmer cried,
And spurn'd the snarler from his side.
SECTION X.
The Wheat and the Weeds.
1. "Twas in a pleasant month of spring,
When flow'rets bloom and warblers sing:
A field of wheat began to rise,
The farmer's hope, his country's prize.
When lo! amid the op'ning ears,
A various crop of weeds appears.
The poppy, soldier-like array'd,
Its flimsy scarlet flow'rs display'd.
Some, like the lofty sky, were blue;
And some were ting'd with golden hue:
But ev'ry where the wheat was seen,
Clad in one robe of modest green.
2. It chanc'd three youths, in city bred,
That knew to eat-not raise their bread,
Chap. 2.
127
Narrative Preces.
For pleasure's sake, had rambled there,
To see the sun, and breathe fresh air,
Of herbs and grain they little knew
What Linnæus wrote, or Sinclair grew :
But each, as o'er the field they gaz'd,
What fancy led to, pluck'd and prais'd.
3. "See," said the first, "this flow'r so red,
That gently bows its blushing head:
Can the whole field a plant display,
So rich, so noble, and so gay?"
"Yes," said the next, "the flow'r I show,
With star-like rays, and sky-like blue,
So much does your dull plant outshine,
That the best choice is surely mine."
" Stop," said the third, "the flow'r I hold,
With cluster'd leaves of burnish'd gold,
Than yours or his, is richer drest;
The choice I've made, is doubtless best."
In this, however, each agreed,
That nothing could his own exceed;
And that the rising blades of green,
Did not deserve to grow between.
5 A Farmer chanc'd behind the gate
To overhear the youths' debate;
Knowing from ign'rance error springs,
He strove to teach them better things.
6. "My lads," he said, "now understand,
These are but weeds that spoil our land;
But the green blades you trample down,
Are wheat, man's food, and nature's crown.
With art and pains the crop is sown,
And thus your daily bread is grown.
Alas! your judgment was not right,
Because you judg'd from outward sight.”
SECTION XI.
Economy the source of charity.
By gen'rous goodness taught, my early youth
Soon learn'd humanity. My parents died-
Orphans have claims on charitable souls;
The pious Edgar thought so· mov'd perhaps
128
Part 2.
Introduction, &c.
2.
3.
By the soft eloquence of infant tears,
Perchance by nature prompted, to his roof
He led the fatherless.-
It was the seat,
Of nuptial happiness: a rustic cot,
Small, yet convenient, for their wants were few:
And Edgar, knowing what all men should learn,
Was with his lot contented.-Happy state!
Labour he plied for exercise, not gain.
At early dawn, he led me to the field;
And, drawing morals from each task he took,
Told me, "That every seed, well sown on earth,
Would yield full harvest in that awful day,
When all arrears of labour shall be paid;
Each well-meant toil rewarded."-
Once, perchance,
I found him busied near a murm❜ring rill:
To various little streams he turn'd its source,
Where, wand'ring devious thro' his neat-dress'd grounds,
It cheer'd the green copse, fill'd the earing corn;
Then trickled gently through the perfum'd grove.
4." Mark well, my child," he said; "this little stream
Shall teach thee Charity. It is a source
5.
6.
I never knew to fail: directed thus
Be that soft stream, the fountain of thy heart.
For, Oh! my much lov'd child, I trust thy heart
Has those affections that shall bless thyself;
And flowing softly, like this little rill,
Cheer all that droop.”—
The good man did not err;
The milk of human-kindness warm'd my breast;
Young as I was, I felt for others' woes,
And, when I could, reliev'd them.-Yet I was young!
And, having lavish'd all my infant store
In gewgaw toys, and childish fooleries,
I do remember well, a vet'ran old,
Maim'd and disfigur'd by the hand of war,
'Implor'd my charity.
I felt, alas!
His various wants-sore, sick, and wan, he seem'd:
My little heart bled at each wound he show'd.
Alas! alas! replied my infant thoughts,
Chap. 8.
129
Didactic Pieces.
7.
8.
And shall want cloud the evening of his days
Whose noon of life was toil?-And then I wept.--
It was the first time that I e'er knew want:
I was indeed a bankrupt.
Edgar came.
I wept, but spoke not; for my heart was full.
"What wilt thou give, my boy?"-Fearing a lie,
I sobb'd out truth most sadly. Edgar felt;
Pardon'd my folly; (for he lov'd my tears ;)
And gave what sooth'd the poor man's misery.
But, in our evening walk, behold! the stream
Was dry. I ask'd the cause-
"Mark me, my child
This rill, I told thee oft, through all thy life,
Should teach thee Charity.-Now let it teach,
If yet thou hast to learn, that the bless'd source
Of lib'ral deeds, is wise Economy.
This morn, like thee, I drew the stream too fast
Now-when the parch'd glebe wants its wat'ry aid,
The source is all exhausted."
401
CHAPTER III.
DIDACTIC PIECES.
SECTION I.
To some children listening to a lark.
1. SEE the lark prunes his active wings,
Rises to heav'n, and soars, and sings!
His morning hymns, his mid-day lays,
Are one continued song of praise.
He speaks his Maker all he can,
And shames the silent tongue of man.
2. When the declining orb of light
Reininds him of approaching night,
His warbling vespers swell his breast;
And, as he sings, he sinks to rest.
130
Part 2
Introduction, &c.
3. Shall birds instructive lessons teach,
And we be deaf to what they preach ?--
No, ye dear nestlings of my heart;
Go, act the wiser songster's part:
Spurn your warm couch at early dawn,
And with your God begin the morn.
To him your grateful tribute pay,
Through ev'ry period of the day.
To him your evening songs direct;
His eye shall watch, his arm protect:
Though darkness reigns, he's with you still;
Then sleep, my babes, and fear no ill.
£
SECTION II.
The advantages of early religion.
1. HAPPY the child, whose tender years,
Receive instruction well;
Who hates the sinner's path, and fears
The road that leads to hell.
2. When we give up our youth to God,
"Tis pleasing in his eyes:
A flow'r, that's offer'd in the bud,
Is no vain sacrifice.
3. 'Tis easy work, if we begin
To fear the Lord betimes;
While sinners, who grow old in sin,
Are harden'd in their crimes.
4. 'Twill save us from a thousand snares,
To mind religion young;
It will preserve our foll'wing years,
And inake our virtue strong.
5. To thee, Almighty God! to thee
Our childhood we resign;
'Twill please us to look back and see
That our whole lives were thine.
6. Let the sweet work of pray'r and praise
Employ our youngest breath;
Thus we're prepar'd for longer days,
Or fit for early death.
COTTON
Chap. 3.
131
Didactic Pieces
AL
SECTION III.
Peace and love recommended
1. LET dogs delight to bark and bite;
For God has made them so :
Let bears and lions growl and fight;
For 'tis their nature too.
2. But, children, you should never let
Such angry passions rise;
Your little hands were never made
To tear each other's eyes.
8. Let love through all your actions run
And all your words be mild;
Live like God's well beloved Son,
That sweet and lovely child.
4. His soul was gentle as a lamb
And as in age he grew,
He grew in favour both with man,
And God his Father too.
5. The Lord of all who reigns above
Does from his heav'nly throne,
Behold what children dwell in love,
And marks them for his own.
SECTION IV.
To a young woman, with a watch
1. WALE. this gay toy attracts thy sight,
Thy reason let it warn;
And seize, my dear, that rapid time,
That never must return.
2. If idly lost, no art or care
The blessing can restore;
And Heav'n requires a strict account
For ev'ry mispent hour.
8. Short is our longest day of life,
And soon its prospect ends;
Yet on that day's uncertain date,
Eternity depends.
132
Part 2.
Introduction, &a
4. But equal to our being's aim,
The space to virtue giv'n;
And ev'ry minute, well improv'd,
Secures an age in Heav'n.
SECTION V.
Verses accompanying a nosegay
1. THOU canst not steal the rose's bloom,
To decorate thy face;
But the sweet, blush of modesty,
Will lend an equal grace.
2. These violets scent the distant gale;
(They grew in lowly bed;)
So real worth new merit gains,
By diffidence o'erspread.
3. Nor wilt thou e'er that lily's white,
In thy complexion find;
Yet innocence may shine as fair,
Within thy spotless mind.
4. Now, in the op'ning spring of life,
Let ev'ry flow'ret bloom:
The budding virtues in thy breast
Shall yield the best perfume.
5. This nosegay, in thy bosom plac'd,
A moral may convey:
For soon its brightest tints shall fade,
And all its sweets decay.
6. So short-liv'd are the lovely tribes
Of Flora's transient reign:
They bud, blow, wither, fall, and die;
Then turn to earth again.
7. And thus, my dear, must ev'ry charm,
Which youth is proud to share,
Alike this quick succession prove,
And the same truth declare.
8. Sickness will change the roseate hue,
Which glowing health bespeaks
And age will wrinkle with its cares
The smile on beauty's cheeks
•
Chap. 3
133
Didactic Pieces.
9. But as that fragrant myrtle wreath,
Will all the rest survive;
So shall the mental graces still,
Through endless ages live.
SECTION VI
Duties of the Morning.
1. SEE the time for sleep has run;
Rise before or with the sun.
Lift thy hands and humbly pray,
The Fountain of eternal day,
That, as the light serenely fair,
Illumines all the tracts of air;
The sacred spirit so may rest,
With quick'ning beams upon thy breast.
And kindly clean it all within,
From darker blemishes of sin;
And shine with grace until we view
The realm it gilds with glory too.
2. See the day that dawns in air,
Brings along its toil and care.
From the lap of night it springs,
With heaps of business on its wings:
Prepare to meet them in a mind,
That bows submissively resign'd:
That would to works appointed fall;
That knows that God has order'd all.
And whether, with a small repast,
We break the sober morning fast;
Or in our thoughts and houses lay
The future methods of the day;
Or early walk abroad to meet
C
business with industrious feet.
W....e'er we think, whate'er we do,
His glory still be kept in view.
4. O, Giver of eternal bliss,
Heav'nly Father, grant me this!
Grant it all, as well as me,
All whose hearts are fix'd on thee;
Who revere the Son above;
Who thy sacred Spirit love!
PARNEL
134
Part 2.
Introduction, &c.
SECTION VII.
The mind to be cultivated.
1. HEAR, ye fair mothers of our isle,
Nor scorn your poet's homely style.
What tho' my thoughts be quaint or new,
I'll warrant that my doctrine's true:
Or if my sentiments be old,
Remember, truth is sterling gold.
2. You judge it of important weight,
To keep your rising offspring straight?
For this such anxious moments feel,
And ask the friendly aid of steel;
For this import the distant cane,
Or slay the monarch of the main.
8. And shall the soul be warp'd aside,
By passion, prejudice, and pride?
Deformity of heart I call
The worst deformity of all.
4. Your cares to body are confin'd;
Few fear obliquity of mind.
Why not adorn the better part?
This is a nobler theme for art.
For what is form, or what is face,
But the soul's index, or its case?
5. Now take a simile at hand;
Compare the mental soil to land.
Shall fields be till'd with annual care,
And minds lie fallow ev'ry year?
O, since the crop depends on you,
Give them the culture which is due:
Hoe ev'ry weed, and dress the soil;
So harvest shall repay your toil.
6. If human minds resemble trees,
(As ev'ry moralist agrees,)
Prune all the stragglers of your vine;
Then shall the purple clusters shine.
The gard'ner knows, that fruitful life
Demands his salutary knife:
For every wild luxuriant shoot,
Or robs the bloom, or starves the fruit.
COTTON.
Chap. 3
135
Didactic Pieces
SECTION VIII.
Dependence on Providence.
1. REGARD the world with cautious eye,
Nor raise your expectation high.
See that the balanc'd scales be such,
You neither fear nor hope too much.
For disappointment's not the thing;
'Tis pride and passion point the sting.
2. Life is a sea where storms must rise;
'Tis folly talks of cloudless skies:
He who contracts his swelling sail,
Eludes the fury of the gale.
3. Be still, nor anxious thoughts employ;
Distrust embitters present joy:
On God for all events depend;
You cannot want when God's your friend.
Weigh well your part, and do your best;
Leave to your Maker all the rest.
4. The hand which form'd thee in the womb,
Guides from the cradle to the tomb.
Can the fond mother slight her boy?
Can she forget her prattling joy?
Say then, shall sov'reign Love desert
The humble and the honest heart?
3. Heav'n may not grant thee all thy mind
Yet say not thou that Heav'n's unkind.
God is alike, both good and wise,
In what he grants, and what denies :
Perhaps, what Goodness gives to-day,
To-morrow, Goodness takes away.
6 You say, that troubles intervene ;
That sorrows darken half the scene.
True-and this consequence you see,
The world was ne'er design'd for thee:
You're like a passenger below,
That stays perhaps a night or so⚫
But still his native country lies
Beyond the bound'ries of the skies.
7 Of Heav'n ask virtue, wisdom, health;
But never let thy pray'r be wealth.
;
136
Part 2.
Introduction, &c.
If food be thine, (tho' little gold,)
And raiment to repel the cold;
Such as may nature's wants suffice,
Not what from pride and folly rise;
If soft the motions of thy soul,
And a calm conscience crowns the whole :
Add but a friend to all this store,
You can't in reason wish for more:
And if kind Heav'n this comfort brings,
'Tis more than Heav'n bestows on kings.
COTTON
1040
CHAPTER IV.
DESCRIPTIVE PIECES.
SECTION I.
The pleasures of retirement.
1. HAPPY the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound;
Content to breathe his native air,
In his own ground.
2. Whose herds with milk, whose fields witn bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire;
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.
3. Blest who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years, slide soft away,
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day.
4. Sound sleep by night; study and ease,
Together mix'd; sweet recreation,
And innocence, which most does please,
With meditation.
6. Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die,
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.
Chap. 4.
Descriptive Pieces.
SECTION II.
The Sluggard.
1. 'Tis the voice of the sluggard-I heard him complain,
"You have wak'd me too soon-I must slumber again."
As the door on its hinges, so he on his bed,
Turns his sides, and his shoulders, and his heavy head.
2. "A little more sleep, and a little more slumber;"
Thus he wastes half his days, and his hours without
number;
And when he gets up, he sits folding his hands,
Or walks about saunt'ring, or trifling he stands.
3. I pass'd by his garden, I saw the wild brier,
The thorn, and the thistle, grow broader and higher.
The clothes that hang on him are turning to rags;
And his money still wastes, till he starves or he begs.
4. I made him a visit, still hoping to find
"
He had ta'en better care for improving his mind :
He told me his dreams, talk'd of eating and drinking ;
But he scarce reads the Bible, and never loves thinking
5. Said I then to my heart," Here's a lesson for me;
That man's but a picture of what I might be :
But thanks to my friends for their care in my breeding,
Who taught me betimes to love working and reading."
SECTION III.
Creation and Providence.
1. I SING th' almighty pow'r of God,
That made the mountains rise;
That spread the flowing seas abroad,
And built the lofty skies.
2. I sing the wisdom that ordain'd
The sun to rule the day :
The moon shines full at his command,
And all the stars obey.
WATTS.
138
Part 2.
Introduction, &c.
3. I sing the goodness of the Lord,
That fill'd the earth with food⚫
He form'd the creatures with his word,
And then pronounc'd them good.
4. Lord! how, thy wonders are display'd
Where'er I turn mine eye;
If I survey the ground I tread,
Or gaze upon the sky!
5. There's not a plant or flow'r below
But makes thy glories known;
And clouds arise, and tempests blow,
By order from thy throne.
6. Creatures (as num'rous as they be)
Are subject to thy care;
There's not a place where we can flee,
But God is present there.
7. In Heav'n he shines with beams of love;
With wrath in hell beneath!
'Tis on his earth I stand or move,
And 'tis his air I breathe.
8. His hand is my perpetual guard;
He keeps me with his eye:
Why should I then forget the Lord,
Who is for ever nigh?
SECTION IV.
A morning in spring.
1. Lo! the bright, the rosy morning,
Calls me forth to take the air:
Cheerful spring, with smiles returning,
Ushers in the new-born year.
2. Nature now in all her beauty,
With her gently-moving tongue,
Prompts me to the pleasing duty,
Of a grateful morning song.
Chap. 4.
Descriptive Pieces.
139
3. See the ear.y blossoms springing!
See the jocund lambkins play!
Hear the lark and linnet singing,
Welcome to the new-born day!
4. Vernal music, softly sounding,
Echoes through the verdant
Nature now with life abounding,
grove:
Swells with harmony and love.
5. Now the kind refreshing showers,
Water all the plains around:
Springing grass, and painted flowers,
In the smiling meads abound.
6. Now their vernal dress assuming,
Leafy robes adorn the trees:
Odours now, the air perfuming,
Sweetly swell the gentle breeze.
7. Praise to thee, thou great Creator!
Praise be thine from ev'ry tongue:
Join, my soul, with ev'ry creature;
Join the universal song!
8. For ten thousand blessings giv'n;
For the richest gifts bestow'd;
Sound his praise through earth and heav'n,
Sound Jehovah's praise aloud!
SECTION V.
Heavenly wisdom.
1. How happy is the man who hears
Instruction's warning voice;
And who celestial Wisdom makes
His early, only choice.
2. For she has treasures greater far
Than east or west unfold;
And her reward is more secure
Than is the gain of gold.
8. In her right-hand she holds to view
A length of happy years;
And in her left, the prize of fame
And honour bright appears.
FAWCETT
140
Part 2.
Introduction, &c.
4. She guides the young, with innocence,
In pleasure's path to tread :
A crown of glory she bestows
Upon the hoary head.
5. According as her labours rise,
So her rewards increase:
Her ways are ways of pleasantness,
And all her paths are peace.
SECTION VI.
The Man of Ross.
LOGAR
1. RISE, honest muse! and sing the Man of Ross.—
Who hung with woods yon mountain's sultry brow?
From the dry rock who bade the waters flow?
Not to the skies in useless columns tost,
Or in proud falls magnificently lost;
But clear and artless, pouring through the plain,
Health to the sick, and solace to the swain.
2. Whose causeway parts the vale with shady rows?
Whose seats the weary traveller repose?
Who taught that heav'n-directed spire to rise?
"The Man of Ross," each lisping babe replies.
3. Behold the market-place with poor o'erspread!
The Man of Ross divides the weekly bread.
He feeds yon alms-house, neat, but void of state,
Where Age and Want sit smiling at the gate.
Him portion'd maids, apprentic'd orphans blest;
The young who labour, and the old who rest.
4. Is any sick?
The Man of Ross relieves,
Prescribes, attends, the med'cine makes, and gives.
Is there a variance? Enter but his door,,
Balk'd are the courts, and contest is no more.
Thrice happy man! enabled to pursue
What numbers wish, but want the pow'r to do.
SECTION VII.
Resignation.
1. WHILE Some in folly's pleasures roll,
And seek the joys that hurt the soul;
POPE
Chap. 4.
141
Descriptive Pieces.
-
Be mine, that silent calm repast,
A peaceful conscience to the last
2. That tree which bears immortal fruit,
Without a canker at the root;
That friend, which never fails the just,
When other friends must quit their trust.
3. Come then, my soul, be this thy guest,
And leave to folly's sons the rest⚫
With this thou ever mayst be gay,
And night shall brighten into day.
4. With this companion in the shade,
My soul no more shall be dismay'd;
But fearless meet the midnight gloom.
And the pale monarch of the tomb.
5. Though tempests drive me from the shore,
And floods descend, and billows roar;
Though death appear in ev'ry form,
My little bark shall brave the storm.
6. Amid the various scene of ills,
Each stroke some kind design fulfils ;
And shall I murmur at my God,
When sov❜reign love directs the rod?
7. Peace, rebel thoughts-I'll not complain;
My Father's smiles suspend my pain:
Smiles, that a thousand joys impart,
And pour the balm that heals the smart.
8. Though Heav'n afflict, I'll not repine;
Each heart-felt comfort still is mine:
Comforts that shall o'er death prevail,
And journey with me through the vale,
9. Blest Saviour! cheer that darksome way,
And lead me to the realms of day;
To milder skies and brighter plains,
Where everlasting sunshine reigns
42
Part 2
Introduction, &c.
SECTION VIII.
Character of Christ
1. BEHOLD, where, in a mortal form,
Appears each grace divine:
The virtues, all in Jesus met,
With mildest radiance shine.
2. The noblest love of human kind
Inspir'd his holy breast;
In deeds of mercy, words of peace,
His kindness was exprest.
3. To spread the rays of heav'nly light,
To give the mourner joy,
To preach glad tidings to the poor,
Was his divine employ.
4. Lowly in heart, by all his friends,
A friend and servant found;
&
He wash'd their feet, he wip'd their tears,
And heal'd each bleeding wound.
5. Midst keen reproach, and cruel scorn,
Patient and meek he stood:
His foes, ungrateful, sought his life;
He labour'd for their good.
6. In the last hour of deep distress,
Before his Father's throne,
With soul resign'd, he bow'd and said,
'Thy will, not mine, be done!'
7 Be Christ my pattern, and my guide!
His image may I bear!
O may I tread his sacred steps:
And his bright glories share!
ENFIELD
Chap. 5.
Promiscuous Pieces.
CHAPTER V.
PROMISCUOUS PIECES
SECTION I.
Gratitude to the Supreme Being
1. How cheerful along the gay mead,
The daisy and cowslip appear!
The flocks, as they carelessly feed,
Rejoice in the spring of the year.
1.
2. The myrtles that shade the gay bow'rs,
The herbage that springs from the sod,
Trees, plants, cooling fruits, and sweet flow'rs
All rise to the praise of my GOD.
3. Shall man, the great master of all,
The only insensible prove?
Forbid it, fair Gratitude's call!
Forbid it, devotion and love!
4. The LORD, who such wonders could raise,
And still can destroy with a nod,
My lips shall incessantly praise;
My heart shall rejoice in my GOD.
SECTION II.
Acknowledgment of Divine favours
1. WHENE'ER I take my walks abroad,
How many poor
I see !
What shall I render to my God,"
For all his gifts to me!
2. Not more than others I deserve,
Yet God has giv'n me more,
For I have food, while others starve,
Or beg from door to door.
8. How many children in the street,
Half naked, I behold!
While I am cloth'd from head to feet,
And cover'd from the cold!
144
Part 2
Introduction, &c.
4. While some poor creatures scarce can tell,
Where they may lay their head,
I have a home wherein to dwell,
And rest upon my bed.
5. While others early learn to swear,
And curse, and lie, and steal,
Lord! I am taught thy name to fear,
And do thy holy will.
6. Are these thy favours, day by day
To me above the rest?
Then let me love thee more than they,
And try to serve thee best.
SECTION III.
The excellence of the Bible.
1. GREAT GOD! with wonder and with praise
On all thy works I look;
But still thy wisdom, pow'r, and grace,
Shine brightest in thy book.
2. The stars, which in their courses roll,
Have much instruction giv'n;
But thy good word informs my soul
How I may get to heav'n.
3. The fields provide me food, and show
The goodness of the Lord;
But fruits of life and glory grow
In thy most holy word.
4 Here are my choicest treasures hid,
Here my best comfort lies;
Here my desires are satisfied, -
And hence my hopes arise.
5 Lord! make me understand thy law;
Show what my faults have been;
And from thy gospel let me draw
Pardon for all my sin.
6. For here I learn how Jesus died,
To save my soul from hell:
Not all the books on earth beside
Such heav'nly wonders tell.
WATTS
Chap. 5.
145
Promiscuous Pieces.
more,
7. Then let me love my Bible
And take a fresh delight,
By day to read these wonders o'er,
And meditate by night..
SECTION IV.*
On Industry.
1. How does the little busy bee
Improve each shining hour;
And gather honey all the day,
From every op'ning flow'r!
2. How skilfully she builds her cell!
How neat she spreads the wax!
And labours hard to store it well,
With the sweet food she makes.
3. In works of labour, or of skill,
I would be busy too:
For Satan tinds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.
4. In books, or work, or healthful play,
Let my first years be past;
That I may give for ev'ry day
Some good account at last.
SECTION V.
On early rising.
1. How foolish they who lengthen night,
And slumber in the morning light!
How sweet at early morning's rise,
To view the glories of the skies,
And mark with curious eye the sun
Prepare his radiant course to run!
Its fairest form then nature wears,
And clad in brightest green appears.
The sprightly lark, with artless lay,
Proclaims the entrance of the day.
2. How sweet to breathe the gale's perfume,
And feast the eye with nature's bloom'
N
WATTS.
WATTS.
146
Part 2.
Introduction, &c.
Along the dewy lawn to rove,
And hear the music of the grove!
Nor you, ye delicate and fair,
Neglect to taste the morning air;
This will your nerves with vigour brace,
Improve and heighten ev'ry grace;
Add to your breath a rich perfume;
Add to your cheeks a fairer bloom:
With lustre teach your eyes to glow;
And health and cheerfulness bestow.
SECTION VI.
The drowning fly.
ARMSTRONG
IN yonder glass, behold a drowning fly!
Its little feet, how vainly does it ply!
Poor helpless insect! and will no one save?
Will no one snatch thee from the threat'ning grave ♪
My finger's top shall prove a friendly shore.
There, trembler, all thy dangers now are o'er.
Wipe thy wet wings, and banish all thy fear:
Go, join thy num'rous kindred in the air.
Away it flies; resumes its harmless play;
And lightly gambols in the golden ray.
2. Smile not, spectators, at this humble deed:
For you, perhaps, a nobler task's decreed:
A young and sinking family to save;
To raise the thoughtless from destruction's wave!
To
you, for help, the wretched lift their eyes:
Oh! hear, for pity's sake, their plaintive cries;
Ere long, unless some guardian interpose,
O'er their devoted heads, the floods may close.
SECTION VII.
To a Redbreast.
LITTLE bird, with bosom red,
Welcome to my humble shed!
Daily near my table steal,
While I pick my scanty meal.
Doubt not, little though there be,
But I'll cast a crumb to thee:
Chap. B.
147
Promiscuous Pieces.
Well rewarded, if I spy
Pleasure in thy glancing eye;
See thee, when thou'st eat thy fill,
Plume thy breast and wipe thy bill.
Come, my feather'd friend, again!
Well thou know'st the broken pane
Ask of me thy daily store;
Ever welcome to my door!
SECTION VIII.
To a child five years old.
1. FAIREST flower all flowers excelling,
Which in Milton's page we see:
Flowers of Eve's embower'd dwelling,
Are, my fair one, types of thee.
2. Mark, my Polly, how the roses
Emulate thy damask cheek;
How the bud its sweets discloses-
Buds thy op'ning bloom bespeak.
8. Lilies are by plain direction
Emblems of a double kind
;
Emblems of thy fair complexion,
Emblems of thy fairer mind.
4. But, dear girl, both flowers and beauty
Blossom, fade, and die away:
Then pursue good sense and duty,
Evergreens, which ne'er decay.
SECTION IX.
The Rose.
1. How fair is the rose! what a beautiful flow'r!
In summer so fragrant and gay!
But the leaves are beginning to fade in an hour,
And they wither and die in a day.
2 Yet the rose has one powerful virtue to boast,
Above all the flowers of the field:
When its leaves are all dead, and fine colours lost-
Still how sweet a perfume it will yield'
7
148
Part 2
Introauction, &c.
3. So frail is the youth and the beauty of men,
Though they bloom and look gay like the rose:
For all our fond care to preserve them is vain
Time kills them as fast as he goes.
4. Then I'll not be proud of my youth or my beauty,
Since both of them wither and fade :
But gain a good name by performing my duty
This will scent like a rose, when I'm dead.
SECTION X.
The Ant.
1. THESE emmets, how little they are in our eyes!
We tread them to dust, and a troop of them dies,
Without our regard or concern:
Yet as wise as we are, if we went to their school,
There's many a sluggard, and many a fool,
Some lessons of wisdom might learn.
WATTS
2. They don't wear their time out in sleeping or play,
But gather up corn in a sun-shiny day,
And for winter they lay up their stores :
They manage their work in such regular forms,
One would think they foresaw all the frosts and the
storms;
And so brought their food within doors.
3. But I have less sense than a poor creeping ant,
If I take not due care for the things I shall want,
Nor provide against dangers in time.
When death or old age shall stare in my face,
What a wretch shall I be in the end of my days,
If I trifle away all their prime !
4. Now, now, while my strength and my youth are in bloom,
Let me think what will serve me when sickness shall
come,
And pray that my sins be forgiv❜n:
Let me read in good books, and believe and obey;
That, when death turns me out of this cottage of clay,
I
may dwell in a palace in Heav'n.
WATTS
Promiscuous Pieces.
149
"
SECTION XI.
A morning hymn.
1. My God, who makes the sun to know
His proper hour to rise,
And to give light to all below,
Does send him round the skies
2. When from the chambers of the east
His morning race begins,
He never tires, nor stops to rest;
But round the world he shines.
8. So, like the sun, would I fulfil
The bus'ness of the day:
Begin my work betimes, and still
March on my heav'nly way.
4. Give me, O Lord, thy early grace;
Nor let my soul complain,
That the young morning of my days
Has all been spent in vain.
SECTION XII.
An evening hymn.
1. AND now another day is gone
I'll sing my Maker's praise:
My comforts ev'ry hour make known
His providence and grace.
2. But how my childhood runs to waste!
My sins, how great their sum!
Lord! give me pardon for the past,
And strength for days to come.
8. I lay my body down to sleep;
Let angels guard my head,
And through the hours of darkness keep
Their watch around my bed.
4. With cheerful heart I close my eyes,
Since God will not remove;
And in the morning let me rise,
Rejoicing
WATTS
160
Part 2
Introduction, &c.
SECTION XIII.
The winter's day.
1. WHEN raging storms deform the air,
And clouds of snow descend;
And the wide landscape, bright and fair,
No deepen'd colours blend;
2. When biting frost rides on the wind,
Bleak from the north and east,
And wealth is at its ease reclin'd,
Prepar'd to laugh and feast;
P. When the poor trav❜ller treads the plain,
All dubious of his way.
And crawls with night-increasing pain,
And dreads the parting day;
4. When poverty in vile attire,
Shrinks from the biting blast,
Or hovers o'er the pigmy fire,
And fears it will not last;
. When the fond mother hugs her child
'Still closer to her breast;
And the poor infant, frost-beguil'd,
Scarce feels that it is prest;
6. Then let your bounteous hand extend
Its blessings to the poor;
Nor spurn the wretched, while they bend
All suppliant at your door.
SECTION XIV.
Compassion and forgiveness.
1. I HEAR the voice of wo;
A brother mortal mourns:
My eyes with tears, for tears o'erflow;
My heart his sighs returns.
2. I hear the thirsty cry;
The famish'd beg for bread:
O let my spring its streams supply;
My hand its bounty shed.
Chap. S.
Promiscuous Preces.
191
3. And shall not wrath relent,
Touch'd by that humble strain,
My brother crying, "I repent,
Nor will offend again?”
4. How else, on sprightly wing,
Can hope bear high my pray'r,
Up to thy throne, my God, my King,
To plead for pardon there?
SECTION XV.
The ignorance of man.
1. BEHOLD yon new-born infant griev'd
With hunger, thirst, and pain;
That asks to have the wants reliev'd
It knows not to complain.
2. Aloud the speechless suppliant cries,
And utters, as it can,
The woes that in its bosom rise,
And speak its nature-man.
8. That infant, whose advancing hour
Life's various sorrows try,
(Sad proof of sin's transmissive pow'r ?
That infant, Lord, am I.
4. A childhood yet my thoughts confess,
Though long in years mature;
Unknowing whence I feel distress,
And where, or what, its cure.
5. Author of good! to thee I turn;
Thy ever-wakeful eye
Alone can all my wants discern;
Thy hand alone supply.
6. O let thy fear within me dwell;
Thy love my footsteps guide:
That love shall all vain loves expel
That fear all fears beside.
7. And oh! by 'error's force subdu'd,,
Since oft my stubborn will
Prepost'rous shuns the latent good
And grasps the specious ill
152
Part 2
Introduction, yc.
8. Not to my wish, but to my want,
Do thou thy gifts apply:
Unask'd, what good thou knowest grant
What ill, tho' ask'd, deny.
SECTION XVI.
The happy choice.
1. BESET with snares on ev'ry hand,
In life's uncertain path I stand:
Father Divine! diffuse thy light,
To guide my doubtful footsteps right.
2. Engage this frail, and wav'ring heart,
Wisely to choose the better part
To scorn the trifles of a day,
For joys that never fade away.
3. Then let the wildest storms arise ;
Let tempests mingle earth and skies:
No fatal shipwreck shall I fear;
But all my treasures with me bear.
4. If thou, my Father! still art nigh,
Cheerful I live, and peaceful die:
Secure, when mortal comforts flee,
To find ten thousand worlds in thee.
SECTION XVII.
The fall of the leaf.
1. SEE the leaves around us falling,
Dry and wither'd to the ground;
Thus to thoughtless mortals calling,
In a sad and solemn sound:
2. "Sons of Adam, (once in Eden,
When, like us, he blighted fell,)
Hear the lecture we are reading;
'Tis, alas! the truth we tell.
8. Virgins, much, too much presuming
On your boasted white and red;
View us late in beauty blooming,
Number'd now mong the dead
DODDENDGY.
Chap. 5.
159
Promiscuous Pieces.
4. Youths, though yet no losses grieve you,
Gay in health, and many a grace;
Let not cloudless skies deceive you;
Summer gives to autumn place.
5. Yearly in our course returning,
Messengers of shortest stay;
Thus we preach this truth concerning,
Heav'n and earth shall pass away.
6. On the tree of life eternal,
Man, let all thy hopes be staid;
Which alone, for ever vernal,
Bears a leaf that shall not fade."
SECTION XVIII.
Trust in the goodness of God.
1. WHY, O my soul, why thus deprest,
And whence this anxious fear?
Let former favours fix thy trust,
And check the rising tear.
2. When darkness and when sorrows rose,
And press'd on ev'ry side,
Did not the Lord sustain thy steps,
And was not God thy guide?
3. Affliction is a stormy deep,
Where wave resounds to wave:
Tho' o'er my head the billows roll,
I know the Lord can save.
4. Perhaps before the morning dawns,
He'll reinstate my peace;
For he who bade the tempest roar,
Can bid the tempest cease.
5. In the dark watches of the night,
I'll count his mercies o'er;
I'll praise him for ten thousand past,
And humbly sue for more.
6. Then, O my soul, why thus deprest,
And whence this anxious fear
Let former favours fix thy trust,
And check the rising tear.
154
Part 2.
Introduction, &c.
7 Here will I rest, and build my hopes,
Nor murmur at his rod;
He's more than all the world to me,
My health, my life, my God!
SECTION XIX.
The Christian race.
I AWAKE, my soul, stretch ev'ry nervo,
And press with vigour on:
A heav'nly race demands thy zeal,
And an immortal crown.
2. A cloud of witnesses around,
Hold thee in full survey:
Forget the steps already trod,
And onward urge thy way.
8. "Tis God's all-animating voice,
That calls thee from on high;
'Tis his own hand presents the prize
To thine aspiring eye:
4. That prize with peerless glories bright,
Which shall new lustre boast,
When victors' wreaths, and monarchs' gems,
Shall blend in common dust.
5. My soul, with sacred ardour fir'd,
The glorious prize pursue;
And meet with joy the high command,
To bid this earth adieu.
SECTION XX.
The dying Christian to his soul.
1. VITAL spark of heav'nly flame!
Quit, oh quit this mortal frame:
Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying,
Oh the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life.
2. Hark! they whisper; angels say,
"Sister spirit, cone away.”-
COTTON
DODDRIDGE
Chap. 5.
155
Promiscuous Preces.
What is this absorbs me quite;
Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath?
Tell me, my soul, can this be death?
3 The world recedes; it disappears!
Heav'n opens on my eyes! my ears
With sounds seraphic ring:
Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
O Grave! where is thy victory?
O Death! where is thy sting?
SECTION XXI.
Epitaph on a poor and virtuous man.
1. STOP, reader, here, and deign to look
On one without a name;
Ne'er enter'd in the ample book
Of fortune, or of fame.
2. Studious of peace, he hated strife;
Meek virtues fill'd his breast:
His coat of
66
arms, a spotless life
"An honest heart," his crest.
8. Quarter'd therewith was innocence;
And thus his motto ran:
"A conscience void of all offence
Before both God and man."
t. In the great day of wrath, tho' pride
Now scorns his pedigree,
Thousands shall wish they'd been allied
To this great family.
Mw
SECTION XXII.
Love to enemies.
1. WHEN Christ, among the sons of men,
In humble forin was found,
With cruel slanders, false and vain,
He was encompass'd round.
2. The woes of men, his pity mov'd;
Their peace, he still pursu'd;
Introduction, &c.
l'art
They render'd hatred for his love,
And evil for his good.
3 Their malice rag'd without a cause,
Yet, with his dying breath,
He pray'd for murd'rers on his cross,
And bless'd his foes in death.
4. From the rich fountain of his love,
What streams of mercy flow!
"Father, forgive them," Jesus cries,
"They know not what they do."
5. Let not this bright example shine,
In vain before our eyes!
Give us, great God, a soul like his,
To love our enemies.
SECTION XXIII.
The dangers and snares of life.
1. AWAKE, my soul! lift up thine eyes;
See where thy foes against thee rise,
In long array, a num❜rous host!
Awake, my soul, or thou art lost
2. Here giant danger threat'ning stands,
Must'ring his pale terrific bands;
There pleasure's silken banners spread,
And willing souls are captive led.
See where rebellious passions rage,
And fierce desires and lusts engage;
The meanest foe of all the train
Has thousands and ten thousands slain.
Thou tread'st upon enchanted ground;
Perils and snares beset thee round:
Beware of all, guard every part,
But most the traitor in thy heart.
Come then, my soul, now learn to wield,
The weight of thine immortal shield:
Put on the armour from above
Of heav'nly truth and heav'nly love.
WATTS
up. 3.
157
Promiscuous Preces.
6. The terror and the charm repel,
And pow'rs of earth, and pow'rs of hell
The Man of Calvary triumph'd here;
Why should his faithful followers fear?
SECTION XXIV.
BARBAULD
The Divine Being knows and sees every thing.
1. LORD, thou hast search'd and seen me thro',
Thine eye beholds, with piercing view,
My rising and my resting hours,
My heart and flesh, with all their pow'rs.
2. My thoughts, before they are my own,
Are to my God distinctly known;
He knows the words I mean to speak,
Ere from my op'ning lips they break.
8. Within thy circling pow'r I stand;
On ev'ry side I find thy hand:
Awake, asleep, at home, abroad,
I am surrounded still with God.
Amazing knowledge, vast, and great!
What large extent! what lofty height!
My soul, with all the pow'rs I boast,
Is in the boundless prospect lost.
5. O may these thoughts possess my breast,
Where'er I rove, where'er I rest!
Nor let my weaker passions dare
Consent to sin, for God is there.-
6. Could I so false, so faithless
prove,
To quit thy service and thy love,
Where, Lord, could I thy presence shun,
Or from thy dreadful glory run?
7. If up to heav'n I take my flight,
'Tis there thou dwellet inthron'a in light,
Or dive to hell, there vengeance reign,
And Satan groans beneath tryin
If, mounted on a morning raj.
i fly beyond the western sea,
158
Part 2
Introduction, &c.
Thy swifter hand would first arrive,
And there arrest thy fugitive.
9. Or should I try to shun thy sight
Beneath the spreading veil of night;
One glance of thine, one piercing ray,
Would kindle darkness into day.
9. Oh! may these thoughts possess my breast,
Where'er I rove, where'er I rest;
Nor let my weaker passions dare
Consent to sin, for God is there.
SECTION XXV.
All nature attests the great Creator.
1. HAST thou beheld the glorious sun,
Through all the sky his circuit run,
At rising morn, at closing day,
And when he beam'd his noontide ray?
2. Say, didst thou e'er attentive view
The ev❜ning cloud, or morning dew?
Or, after rain, the wat❜ry bow
Rise in the east, a beauteous show ?
3. When darkness had o'erspread the skies,
Hast thou e'er seen the moon arise;
And with a mild and placid light,
Shed lustre o'er the face of night?
4. Hast thou e'er wander'd o'er the plain,
And view'd the fields, and waving grain;
The flow'ry mead, the leafy grove,
Where all is melody and love?
5. Hast thou e'er trod the sandy shore,
And heard the restless ocean roar,
When, rous'd by some tremendous storm,
Its billows roll in dreadful form?
6. Hast thou beheld the lightning stream,
'Thro' night's dark gloom with sudden gleam;
While the bellowing thunder's sound
Roll'd rattling through the heav'ns profound?
WATTS
Chap. 5.
159
Promiscuous Pieces.
7, Hast thou e'er felt the cutting gale,
The sleety show'r, the biting hail;
Beheld bright snow o'erspread the plains,
The water, bound in icy chains ?
8 Hast thou the various beings seen,
That sport along the valley green;
That sweetly warble on the spray,
Or wanton in the sunny ray;
9. That shoot along the briny deep,
Or under ground their dwellings keep;
That through the gloomy forest range,
Or frightful wilds and deserts strange?
10. Hast thou the wondrous scenes survey'd
That all around thee are display'd?
And hast thou never rais'd thine eyes
TO HIM who caus'd these scenes to rise?
11 'Twas GOD who form'd the concave sky,
And all the shining orbs on high:
Who gave the various beings birth,
That people all the spacious earth.
12. "Tis HE that bids the tempest rise,
And rolls the thunder through the skies.
His voice the elements obey:
Thro' all the earth extends his sway.
13. His goodness all his creatures share :
But man is his peculiar care.—
Then, while they all proclaim his praise,
Let man his voice the loudest raise.
SECTION XXVI.
Praise due to God for his wonderful works.
1. My God! all nature owns thy sway;
Thou giv'st the night, and thou the day!
When ali thy lov'd creation wakes,
When Morning, rich in lustre, breaks,
And bathes in dew the op'ning flow'r,
To thee we owe her fragrant hour;
And when she pours her choral song,
Her melodies to thee belong '
160
Part 2.
Introduction, &c.
2. Or when, in paler tints array'd,
The Ev'ning slowly spreads her shade.
That soothing shade, that grateful gloom,
Can. more than day's enliv'ning bloom,
Still ev'ry fond and vain desire,
And calmer, purer thoughts inspire,
From earth the pensive spirit free,
And lead the soften'd heart to thee.
3. In ev'ry scene thy hands have dress'd,
In ev'ry form by thee impress'd,
Upon the mountain's awful head,
Or where the shelt'ring woods are spread
In ev'ry note that swells the gale,
Or tuneful stream that cheers the vale,
The cavern's depth, or echoing grove,
A voice is heard of praise and love.
4. As o'er thy work the seasons roll,
And sooth, with change of bliss, the soul,
O never may their smiling train
Pass o'er the human scene in vain!
But oft, as on the charm we gaze,
Attune the wond'ring soul to praise;
And be the joys that most we prize,
The joys that from thy favour rise!
SECTION XXVII
The happy end.
1. WHEN life's tempestuous storms are o'er,
How calm he meets the friendly shore,
Who liv'd averse to sin!
•
Such peace on virtue's path attends,
That, where the sinner's pleasure ends,
The good man's joys begin.
See smiling patience smooth his brow!
See the kind angels waiting now,
To lift his soul on high!
While eager for the blest abode,
He joins with them to praise the God,
Who taught him how to die.
Chap. 5.
161
Promiscuous Pieces.
3. The horrors of the grave and hell,
Those sorrows which the wicked feel,
In vain their gloom display;
For he who bids yon comet burn,
Or makes the night descend, can turn
Their darkness into day.
4. No sorrow drowns his lifted eyes;
No horror wrests the struggling sighs;
As from the sinner's breast:
His God, the God of peace and love,
Pours sweetest comforts from above,
And sooths his heart to rest!
SECTION XXVIII.
A kind and gentle temper of great importanes to the happiness
of life.
1. SINCE trifles make the sum of human things,
And half our inis'ry from our foibles springs;
Since life's best joys consist in peace and ease,
And few can save or serve, but all can please;
Oh! let th' ungentle spirit learn from hence
A small unkindness is a great offence.
2. Large bounties to bestow, we wish in vain:
But all may shun the guilt of giving pain.
To bless mankind with tides of flowing wealth,
With pow'r to grace them, or to crown with health,
Our little lot denies; but Heav'n decrees
To all the gift of minist❜ring to ease.
8. The gentle offices of patient love,
Beyond all flatt'ry, and all price above;
The mild forbearance of another's fault ;
The taunting word suppress'd as soon as thought:
On these Heav'n bade the sweets of life depend;
And crush'd ill fortune when it made a friend.
4. A solitary blessing few can find;
Our joys with those we love are intertwin'd:
And he whose wakeful tenderness removes
Th' obstructing thorn which wounds the friend he loves,
Smooths not another's rugged path alone,
But scatters roses to adorn his own.
162
Part 2
Introduction, &c.
5. Small slights, contempt. neglect, unmix'd with hate,
Make up in number what they want in weignt:
These, and a thousand griefs, minute as these,
Corrode our comforts, and destroy our peace.
SECTION XXIX.
Simplicity.
MORE
1. HALL, artless Simplicity, beautiful maid,
In the genuine attractions of nature array'd:
Let the rich and the proud, and the gay and the vain,
Still laugh at the graces that move in thy train.
2. No charm in thy modest allurements they find;
The pleasures they follow a sting leave behind.
Can criminal passion enrapture the breast,
Like virtue, with peace and serenity blest?
3. O would you Simplicity's precepts attend,
Like us, with delight at her altar you'd bend;
The pleasures she yields would with joy be embrac'd ;
You'd practice from virtue, and love them from taste.
4. The linnet encharts us the bushes among :
Tho' cheap the musician, yet sweet is the song;
We catch the soft warbling in air as it floats,
And with ecstacy hang on the ravishing notes.
5. Our water is drawn from the clearest of springs,
And our food, nor disease nor satiety brings:
Our mornings are cheerful, our labours are blest,
Our ev'nings are pleasant, our nights crown'd with rest.
6. From our culture yon garden its ornament finds;
And we catch at the hint of improving our minds:
To live to some purpose we constantly try;
And we mark by our actions the days as they fly.
7. Since such are the joys that simplicity yields,
We may well be content with our woods and our fields
How useless to us then, ye great, were your wealth,
When without it we purchase both pleasure and health
MOR
Chap. 5.
Promiscuous Pieces.
SECTION XXX.
Care and Generosity.
1. OLD Care, with industry and art,
At length so well had play'd his part,
He heap'd up such an ample store,
That av'rice could not sigh for more.
2. Ten thousand flocks his shepherd told,
His coffers overflow'd with gold;
The land all round him was his own,
With corn his crowded gran'ries groan.
3. In short, so vast his charge and gain,
That to possess them was a pain:
With happiness oppress'd he lies,
And much too prudent to be wise.
4. Near him there liv'd a beauteous maid,
With all the charms of youth array'd;
Good, amiable, sincere, and free;
Her name was Generosity.
5. 'Twas her's the largess to bestow
On rich and poor, on friend and foe.
Her doors to all were open'd wide;
The pilgrim there might safe abide.
6. For th' hungry and the thirsty crew,
The bread she broke, the drink she drew |
There sickness laid her aching head,
And there distress could find a bed.
7. Each hour, with an all-bounteous hand,
Diffus'd the blessings round the land.
Her gifts and glory lasted long,
And num'rous was th' accepting throng.
8. At length pale penury seiz'd the dame,
And fortune fled, and ruin came;
She found her riches at an end,
And that she had not made one friend.
9. All blam'd her for not giving more,
Nor 'hought on what she'd done before.
She wept, she rav'd, she tore her hair,
When lo! to comfort her, came Care;
10. And cried, " My dear, if you will join
Your hand in nuptial bonds with mine,
164
Part 2
Introduction, &c.
All will be well-you shall have store,
And I be plagu'd with wealth no more.
11. Tho' I restrain your bounteous heart,
You shall act the gen'rous part."-
The bridal came, great was the feast,
And good the pudding and the priest.
12. The bride in nine moons brought him forth
A little maid of matchless worth:
Her face was mix'd with care and glee;
And she was nam❜d Economy.
18. They styl'd her fair discretion's
The mistress of the golden mean.
Now Generosity confin'd,
Perfectly easy in her mind,
queen,
Still loves to give, yet knows to spare,
Nor wishes to be free from Care.
SECTION XXXI.
The Slave
1. WIDE over the tremulous sea,
The moon spread her mantle of light;
And the gale, gently dying away,
Breath'd soft on the bosom of night.
2. On the forecastle Maratan stood,
And pour'd forth his sorrowful tale;
His tears fell unseen in the flood;
His sighs pass'd unheard in the gale.
3. "Ah, wretch!" in wild anguish, he cried,
"From country and liberty torn!
Ah, Maratan, would thou hadst died,
Ere o'er the salt waves thou wert borne !
4. Thro' the groves of Angola I stray'd,
Love and hope made my bosom their home
There I talk'd with my favourite maid,
Nor dreamt of the sorrow to come.
5. From the thicket the man-hunter sprung;
My cries echoed loud through the air:
There were fury and wrath on his tongue
He was deaf to the voice of despair
;
SMART
Chap. 5.
165
Promiscuous Pieces.
•
5. Flow, ye tears, down my cheeks ever flow;
Still let sleep from my eye-lids depart;
And still may the sorrows of wo,
Drink deep of the stream of my heart.
6. But hark! o'er the silence of night
My Adila's accents I hear;
And mournful beneath the wan light,
I see her lov'd image appear.
7. Slow o'er the smooth ocean she glides,
As the mist that hangs light on the wave;
And fondly her partner she chides,
"
Who lingers so long from his grave.
8 Oh, Maratan! haste thee,' she cries,
'Here the reign of oppression is o'er;
The tyrant is robb'd of his prize,
And Adila sorrows no more.'
9. Now sinking amidst the dim ray,
Her form seems to fade on my view:
O! stay thee, my Adila stay!—
She beckons, and I must pursue.
10. To-morrow the white man, in vain,
Shall proudly account me his slave:
My shackles I plunge in the main,
And rush to the realms of the brave !*95
SECTION XXXII.
The Swallows.
1. ERE yellow autumn from our plains retir'd,
And gave to wint'ry storms the varied year,
The swallow race, with foresight clear inspir'd,
To southern climes prepar'd their course to steer.
2. On Damon's roof a grave assembly sat,
His roof, a refuge to the feather'd kind:
With serious look he mark'd the nice debate,
And to his Delia thus address'd his mind.
*It may not be improper to remind the young reader, that
the anguish of the unhappy negroes, on being separated for
ever from their country and dearest connexions, with the dread-
ful prospect of perpetual slavery, frequently becomes so exqui
site, as to produce derangement of mind, and suicide.
166
Part ?
Introduction, Se
3. "Observe yon twitt'ring flock, my gentle maid;
Observe, and read the wondrous ways of Heav'n!
With us, thro' summer's genial reign they stay'd,
And food and lodgings to their wants were giv'n.
4. But now, thro' sacred prescience, well they know,
The near approach of elemental strife ;
The blust'ring tempest and the chilly snow,
With ev'ry want and scourge of tender life.
5. Thus taught, they meditate a speedy flight;
For this, e'en now they prune their vig rous wing;
For this, consult, advise, prepare, excite;
And prove their stength in many an airy ring.
6. They feel a pow'r, an impulse all divine!
That warns them hence; they feel it and obey:
To this direction all their cares resign,
Unknown their destin'd stage, unmark'd their way.
7. And does no pow'r its friendly aid dispense,
Nor give us tidings of some happier clime?
Find we no guide in gracious providence,
Beyond the stroke of death, the verge of time?
8. Yes, yes, the sacred oracles we hear,
That point the path to realms of endless day;
That bid our hearts nor death, nor anguish fear:
This, future transport; that, to life the way.
9. Then let us timely for our flight prepare,
And form the soul for her divine abode;
Obey the call, and trust the leader's care,
To bring us safe, through virtue's paths to God.
10. Let no fond love for earth exact a sigh;
No doubts divert our steady steps aside;
Nor let us long to live, nor dread to die:
Heav'n is our hope, and Providence our guide.”
ZAGO
THE END.
Anso
ད
166
Part 2
Introduction, Se
v
B. "Observe yon twitt'ring flock, my gentle maid;
Observe, and read the wondrous ways of Heav'n!
With us, thro' summer's genial reign they stay'd,
And food and lodgings to their wants were giv❜n.
4. But now, thro' sacred prescience, well they know,
The near approach of elemental strife ;
The blust'ring tempest and the chilly snow,
With ev'ry want and scourge of tender life.
5. Thus taught, they meditate a speedy flight;
For this, e'en now they prune their vig rous wing ;
For this, consult, advise, prepare, excite;
And prove their stength in many an airy ring.
6. They feel a pow'r, an impulse all divine!
That warns them hence; they feel it and obey:
To this direction all their cares resign,
m their destin'd stage, unmark'd their way.
Ansor Sis

༽བས་ཨ་
166
Part ?
Introduction, St
3. "Observe yon twitt'ring flock, my gentle maid;
Observe, and read the wondrous ways of Heav'n!
With us, thro' summer's genial reign they stay'd,
And food and lodgings to their wants were giv'n.
4. But now, thro' sacred prescience, well they know,
The near approach of elemental strife;
The blust'ring tempest and the chilly snow,
With ev'ry want and scourge of tender life.
they meditate a speedy fli
Anso
Z
B
བས

་
12
Son
netory

UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
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Nechiga
Detroit
Auson Burlons
Anson Is