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ers of solitude, than in the busy walks of men. Neither of these stations enjoy exclusively this envied stream, for it flows along the vale of peace which lies between the two extremes, and those who follow it with a steady pace, without deviating too widely from its brink on either side, will reach its source, and taste it at its spring! But devious to a certain degree must be the walk, for the enjoyments of life are best attained by being varied with judg. ment and discretion. The finest joys grow nau. seous to the taste, when 'the cup of pleasure is drained to its dregs. The highest delight loses its zest by too frequent recurrence. It is only by a proper mixture and combination of the pleasures of society with those of solitude --of the gay and lively recreations of the world with the secret tranquil satisfactions of retire. ment, that we can enjoy each in its highest re. lish. Life is intolerable without society, and society loses balf its charms by being too ea. gerly and constantly pursued. Society, by bringing men of congenial minds and similar dispositions together, and uniting them by a community of pursuits, and a reciprocal sympathy of interest, may greatly assist the cause of truth and virtue, by advancing the means of human knowledge, and multiplying the ties of human affections."... Zimmermann.
A the months tred lea
THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
FORM so interesting a portion of the New World that the reader will be gratified with the following picturesque description of them; it is drawn by a masterly pencil, and there is no reason to question its fidelity,
" SUCH is the aspect of the territory of the United States, an almost uninterrupted conti. nental forest, five great lakes on the north....on the west, extensive savannahs... in the centre, a chain of mountains, their ridges running in a direction parallel to the sea-coast, the distance of which is from tifty to a hundred and thirty miles, and sending off to the east and west rivers of longer course, of greater width, and pouring into the sea larger bodies of water than ours in
Europe.--most of these rivers having cascades,
or falls, from twenty to à hundred and forty
feet in height.--mouths spacious as gulphs, and 3
on the southern coasts, marshes extending above two hundred and fifty miles in length; on the north, snows remaining four or five months of the year, on a coast of three hun. dred leagues extent ten or twelve cities, all built of brick or of wood, painted of different colours, and containing from ten to sixty thou. sand inhabitants; round these cities, farm. houses, built of trunks of trees, which they call log-houses, in the centre of a few fields of wheat, tobacco, or Indian corn; these fields separated by a kind of fence made with branches of trees instead of hedges, for the most part full of stumps of trees half burnt or
stripped of their bark, aud still standing ---| whilst both houses and fields are enchafed as
it were in masses of forest, in which they are swallowed up, and diminish, both in number and extent, the farther you advance into the woods, till at length, from the summit of the hill, you perceive only here and there a few little brown or yellow squares, on a ground of green! Add to this, a fickle and variable sky... an atmosphere alternately very moist and very dry, very misty and very clear, very hot and
cold, and a temperature so changeable that in
INTRINSIC EXCELLENCE OF VIRTUE.
“ BY the writings of that school whose phi. losophy consists in the degradation of virtue, it has often been triumphantly declared, that no excellence of character can stand the test of close observation---that no man is a hero to his domestic servants, or to his familiar friends. How much more just as well as more amiable and dignified is the opposite sentiment deli. vered to us in the words of Plutarch, and il. lustrated throughout all his writings...-" Real virtue is most loved, where it is more nearly seen, and no respect which it commands from strangers can equal the never-ceasing admiraration it excites in the daily intercourse of domestic life!". Richardson.
LETTER TO A FATHER ON THE LOSS OF
A BELOVED SON,
" WHAT indeed is all human consolation ? Can it efface every little amiable word or ac. tion of an object we loved from our memory? Can it convince us that all the hopes we bad
entertained--the plans of future satisfaction we had formed were ill grounded or vain...only be. cause we have lost them? The only comfort (I am afraid) that belongs to our condition is to reflect (when time has given us leisure for reflection) that others have suffered the same misfortunes at times, and in circumstances that wouid probably have aggravated our sorrow. You might have seen this poor child arrived at an age to fulfil all your hopes, to attach you more strongly to him by long habit, by esteem as well as natural affection, and that towards the decline of your life, when we most stand in need of support, and when he might chance to have been your only support; and then by some unforeseen and deplorable accident, or painful lingering distemper, you might have lost him ! Such has been the fate of many an unhappy father! I know there is a sort of tenderness which infancy and innocence alone produce, but I think you must own the other lo be stronger, and more overwhelming. Let me then beseech you to try, by every method of avocation and amusement, whether you can. not by degrees get the better of that dejection of spirits which inclines you to see every thing in the worst light possible, and throws a sort of voluntary gloom, not only over your present, but future days, as if even your situation now were not preferable to that of thousands round
your prospect hereafter might not open as much of happiness to you, as to any person you know; the condition of our life instructs us to be rather slow to hope, as well as to despair!"...Gray.
you, and as if
THE WELSH, OR ANCIENT BRITONS, ARE, on many accounts entitled to our esti. mation. Their understanding and virtues, notwithstanding the warmth of their temper, com. mand our respect, whilst the deeds of their forefathers are renowned in the page of his. tory
“ I WILL not deny that the Welsh are tino. tured with what is called their native warmth of temper. For if by any inadvertent or illtimed observation you reflect upon either their country or their manners, they are on fire in an instant; but even this heat may be as sud, denly extinguished as it was kindled.
The least concession on your part, or acknowledgment that you have wronged them, and are sorry for it, will restore their wonted good hu. mour, and their face again resumes its natural tranquillity. I verily believe they have not the smallest particle of resentment in their whole composition. Who then would wish to rob them of their harnıless jealousy for their native land, and particularly since it is a land that charms every body? Happy, thrice hap. py! would it be for those Welsh gentlemen, who have spent their patrimony in imitating Eng. lish follies and English extravagance, had they retained a little more of their national preju. dices, and set a proper value on those charm. ing woods, mountains, and rivers, where ferti. lity unites with commerce to bring to their very gates all that is useful and valuable in life!”