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mouths of volcanoes; and all the matter, which is there deficient, has been ejected by the action and explosion of their fires, which are since become extinct through a defect of combustible matter. The concavity of mount Ararat is surrounded with black and burnt rocks, as some day those of Etna, Vesuvius, and other volcanoes will be when they have consumed all the combustible matters they include.

Great cavities and deep mines are generally in mountains, and never descend to a level with the plains; therefore by these cavities we are made acquainted only with the inside of a mountain, and not at all with the internal part of the globe!"---Buffon.

PITY,

Is that passion which commiserates the woes of others, and its operation is attended with many substantial advantages; its origin is thus figuratively and most pleasingly detailed.

"IN the happy period of the golden age, when all the celestial inhabitants descended to the earth, and conversed familiarly with mortals, amongst the most cherished of the heavenly powers were twins, the offspring of Jupiter, Love and Joy. Wherever they appeared, the flowers sprung up beneath their feet, the sun shone with a brighter radiance, and all nature seemed embellished by their presence. They were inseparable companions, and their growing attachment was favoured by Jupiter, who had decreed that a lasting union should be solemnized between them so soon as they were arrived at maturer years. But in the mean time the sons of men deviated from their native in

nocence; vice and ruin overran the earth with giant strides; and Astrea with her train of celestial visitants forsook their polluted abodes. Love alone remained, having been stolen away by Hope, who was his nurse and conveyed by her to the forests of Arcadia, where he was brought up among the shepherds. But Jupiter assigned him a different partner, and commanded him to espouse Sorrow, the daughter of Atè. He complied with reluctance; for her features were harsh and disagreeable, her eyes sunk, her forehead contracted into perpetual wrinkles, and her temples were covered with a wreath of cypress and wormwood. From this union sprung a virgin, in whom might be traced a strong resemblance to both her parents; but the sullen and unamiable features of her mother were so mixed and blended with the sweetness of her father, that her countenance, though mournful, was highly pleasing. The maids and shepherds of the neighbouring plains gathered round and called her Pity. A redbreast was observed to build in the cabin where she was born; and while she was yet an infant, a dove pursued by a hawk flew into her bosom. This nymph had a dejected appearance, but so soft and gentle a mien that she was beloved to a degree of enthusiasm. Her voice was low and plaintive, but inexpressibly sweet; and she loved to lie for hours together on the banks of some wild and melancholy stream singing to her lute. She taught men to weep, for she took a strange delight in tears; and often, when the virgins of the hamlet were assembled at their evening sports, she would steal in amongst them, and captivate their hearts by her tales full of a charming sadness. She wore on her head a garland com

posed of her father's myrtles, twisted with her mother's cypress.

One day, as she sat musing by the waters of Helicon, her tears by chance fell into the fountain; and ever since, the Mases' spring has retained a strong taste of the infusion. Pity was commanded by Jupiter to follow the steps of her mother throngh the world, dropping balm into the wounds she made, and binding up the hearts she had broken. She follows with her hair loose, her bosom bare, and throbbing, her garments torn by the briars, and her feet bleeding with the roughness of the path. The nymph is mortal, for her mother is so; and when she has fulfilled her destined course upon the earth, they shall both expire together, and Love be again united to Joy, his immortal and long betrothed bride !"Mrs. Barbauld.

A KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD,

Is necessary to our passing through the world with any degree of respectability. Without its attainment the wisest and best of men may expose themselves to the derision of mankind.

"IT is too common for those who have been bred to scholastic professions, and passed much of their time in academies, where nothing but learning confers honours, to disregard every other qualification, and to imagine that they shall find mankind ready to pay homage to their knowledge, and to crowd about them for instruction. They therefore step out from their cells into the open world, with all the confidence of authority and dignity of importance; they look round about them at once with ignorance and scorn on a race of beings

to whom they are equally unknown and equally contemptible, but whose manners they must imitate, and with whose opinions they must comply, if they desire to pass their time happily among them.

To lessen that disdain with which scholars are inclined to look on the common business of the world, and the unwillingness with which they condescend to learn what is not to be found in any system of philosophy, it may be necessary to consider, that though admiration is excited by abstruse researches and remote discoveries, yet pleasure is not given, nor affection conciliated, but by softer accomplishments, and qualities more easily communicable to those about us. He that can only converse upon questions, about which only a small part of mankind has knowledge sufficient to make them curious, must lose his days in unsocial silence, and live in the crowd of life without a companion. He that can only be useful in great occasions may die without exerting his abilities, and stand a helpless spectator of a thousand vexati. ons which fret away happiness, and which nothing is required to remove but a little dexterity of conduct and readiness of expedients.

No degree of knowledge attainable by man is able to set him above the want of hourly assistance, or to extinguish the desire of fond endearments, and tender officiousness; and therefore, no one should think it unnecessary to learn those arts by which friendship may be gained. Kindness is preserved by a constant reciprocation of benefits or interchange of pleasures; but such benefits can only be hestowed, as others are capable of receiving, and such pleasures only imparted, as others are qualified to enjoy.

By this descent from the pinnacles of art no honor will be lost; for the condescensions of learning are always overpaid by gratitude. An elevated genius employed in little things, appears, to use the simile of Longinus, like the sun in his evening declination; he remits his splendor but retains his magnitude; and pleases more though he dazzles less."-- Dr.Johnson.

GOOD SENSE

Is most desirable, because it turns every thing to advantage; it is, indeed, the basis of real respectability of character, imparting to every virtue a more permanent duration.

"WERE I to explain what I understand by good sense, 1 should call it right reason; but right reason that arises not from formal and logical deductions, but from a sort of intuitive. faculty in the soul, which distinguishes by immediate perception: a kind of innate sagacity, that in many of its properties seems very much to resemble instinct. It would be improper, therefore, to say, that Sir Isaac Newton shew. ed his good sense, by those amazing discoveries which he made in natural philosophy: the operations of this gift of heaven are rather instantaneous, than the result of any tedious pro

Like Diomed, after Minerva had endued him with the power of discerning gods from mortals, the man of good sense discovers at once the truth of those objects he is most concerned to distinguish; and conducts himself with suitable caution and security.

It is for this reason, possibly, that this quality of the mind is not so often found united with learning as one could wish for good

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