and the state-all flatter themselves with the hope, that in the evening of life they shall sit down in their little cottage, and feel no more the restlessness of ambition, the desire of popular applause, or the thirst for immortality. There is scarcely a man, however desirable his situation, but feels a void in his bosom; there is something which (busy vanity, or imprudent folly pictures to his mind) will when possessed, produce more exalted felicity.-How irrational to feel the heart-ach of discontent, amidst every enjoyment that ought to satisfy the human mind. What is it they languish to attain? Is it a few more hundreds a year. Honour, equipage, titles, &c.? Alas! these afford but momentary gratification! Let the dissatisfied ask the aged who have seen every vicissitude of life, who have felt every sensation that poison the pure springs of human happiness, and unquestionably, the answer will be that nothing can impart to competence the least advantage "Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, "Lie in three words, health, peace, and com petence. An hundred dishes after the novelty has passed, cannot gratify the man who wishes to pamper his appetite, more than the simple fare to which, perhaps, he had been accustomed, and those honours, to attain which, many have sacrificed liberty, and virtue, very soon cease to swell the bosom with proud delight; and except from the servility of domestics, they but seldom receive the incense of unmanly reverence, or degrading homage. To avoid the snares of pleasure, and the temptations of dissipation; many fly to the country as their only refuge, there every object is tranquil— the beasts are feeding in the meadows the sheep browzing on the hills, the birds are singing in the groves, and hedges, and the domestic race are placidly feeding around the doors of our dwelling. -There the syren voice of VICE is not heard-the blandishments of CIRCE are not seen her stupify→ ing cup remains untasted. But is VIRTUE here exhibited in her most becoming attire, her loveliest attitude, her sweetest aspect? No, perhaps the advocates of a town life will say "To shew VIRTUE in her most dignified form, she must be represented struggling with a vanquishing tempta→ tion; then we behold the indignant fire of her fine eyes the majestic frown of her ample forehead, her snowy arms gracefully repelling the rude foe --in the back ground we survey the tempter expanding his wings, and flying to the dusky pestilential metropolis, where he almost unrivalled reigns!" SOLITUDE at stated seasons is friendly to wis dom; the man of strong passions, can without interruption investigate his own nature and propensities, he can calmly look into himself, and may happily discover those dark shades in his character, which disfigure him in the eyes of man, and which unless speedily removed by patient and attentive discipline, will ultimately render him offensive to his eternal father, whose favour is above all price!➡ Employed in this way, solitude is of inestimable value, but RELIGION must assist REFLECTION; the mind can often easily observe its own failings, but the wakeful PASSIONS are ever presenting some favourite object to attract its attention, and defeat its resolutions-Where can be the advantage of soli tude, unless the mind be regulated by the precepts of religion, which stimulate to goodness, and virtue, by the hope of never-ending joy, and restrain from the commission of crimes, by the denunciations of eternal punishment ? To spend a considerable portion of every year in the country, is doubtless desirable-it strengthens the body, and invigorates the mind-the pure air which we breathe, the fragrance of the flowers, the coolness of the shade, the variety and verdure which surround us, all contribute to the health, and happiness of the man of taste, and refinement. Thousands however from custom, or from fashion, emigrate to the country, and return unimproved in health, and as unwise as heretoforeToo indolent to join in rural amusements, they sit unjoyous at home, and often over-load their understandings, by large libations to the god of wine, and liberal sacrifices to Epicurus-Books like opiates only lull them to sleep, nor can conversation however sprightly, enliven their dull minds, or elicit any spark of wit, humour, or sense, from them. To those then the country can be productive of little enjoyment—the man of cultivated mind only can appreciate the advantages resulting from a few months residence in the country-Every thing to him, however trivial, contributes to his pleasures and his improvement ---"For him the spring Amidst the silence of solitude, he reflects on the brevity of human existence,-the childishness of th tles, the silliness of vanity-the transientness of fame, the uncertainty of the sweetest of all joys, domestic pleasures, and the precariousness of friendship-he compares his own situation with the rest. less great, he finds it superior, and feels satisfied, and contented, he cultivates his taste for the arts with becoming ardour-he forms his mind from the best models-he regulates his conduct by the most eminent examples; in short he is enamoured with VIRTUE, and every faculty of his soul, and every acquisition of his mind is made subservient to her wishes. Nature to him shews not her charms in vain, her sweet variety gladdens his heart, and make his eye sparkle with unspeakable pleasure; with the first dawning of light he pours forth to the divine giver of light and life, his grateful orisons, and when the dewy star of Eve" shines he repeats with thankfulness his devout vespers. On all occasions, and in every varied scene of nature, or of providence, he is satisfied and unfeignedly thankful. To compare with these physical, and moral advantages, what has the metropolis to offer? Can impure air pregnant with disease-the noise of riot -the continual "hum of men"-the scenes of shameless debauchery, be in any degree adequate to produce health, and happiness? Does the morality of the crouded theatre reflect man's image, and character, with equal force and energy, as the book of nature; and is the splendor of assemblies equal to the mild radiance of a moon-light evening. Social pleasures, many will assert, are to be procured in town, suitable to every taste, every capacity, and every situation--admitted. Amidst so many multitudes, it would be strange not to find men capacitated to afford us pleasure and instructions but even this pleasure is subject to some alloy, for man naturally fond of variety is often unsteadyhe flies from one end of the town to the other for enjoyment, like a summer insect he buzzes away the transient hours, and often ranges from circle to circle without feeling, and without imparting sterling pleasure, or affording intrinsic advantage. To sum up the whole, it appears that the mind can be more rationally employed in the country than in town, its calm tranquillity seems more congenial to its nature, it disposes it to solid reflection, and leads it, to improvement-it hushes the turbulent passions-soothes the clamours of discontent-mitigates the pain of disappointment, stifles the fire of resentment, excites the heart to benevolence, and inclines the soul to sympathy, love, and charity, whilst all the advantages resulting from the Town are useless wealth-foolish honour-uncertain reputation, and ruined health-Do these bear any proportion to real benefits, and inestimable virtues? The shadow may as well be compared to the substance; the counterfeit jewel, to the genuine diamond, THE PRINCE OF HESSE AND THE GREY ASS. SOME OME of the German prints relate the following anecdote of Prince Charles of Hesse, field marshal of Denmark, and commander in chief of the Danish troops sent to take possession of Hamburgh a short time ago. "On his march to Hamburgh he halted at a small town called Pinneberg, in the duchy of Holstein, distant from Hamburgh about twelve English miles. There were two inns in the place; the one had for its sign a Grey Ass, and the other a Black Cow. On asking which was the first, his serene highness was told the former: he accordingly alighted there, and went in. As he was preparing to take his departure, the landlord made his appearance, and in a supplicating tone told him, that |