punishment; that every deviation from virtue is in the road to unhappiness, and may be productive of the most wretched consequence. When a man's life has been spent in the indulgence and slavery of his passions, in the accumulation of wealth, right or wrong, and the neglect of every social obligation, the retrospective view of it must certainly alarm his soul, and fill him with the dread of future punishment. The torture of a wounded conscience who can bear? Our ideas of such misery are too faint; it is even beyond the description of language. Hence we often find some, who, labouring under so miserable a situation, endeavour to avoid its smart by unnaturally precipitating the termination of their existence; as if death was the composer of all disorders, and the grave a shelter from the storms of a troublesome world. Despair certainly argues a want of spirit and manly resolution; and to end our lives because we are weary of the burthen, is no argument of fortitude, but of pusillanimity. It is the fortitude of a good man and a Christian to receive and bear with resignation the afflictions of this probationary state; to acquiesce in the will of the Great Being, whether we receive good or bad from his hand; to murmur or repine is to oppose his dispensations, which, though incomprehensible to our finite capacities, will, no doubt, in the end, be adjusted to our satisfaction; and the whole universe of creatures will acknowledge the justice of all his ways. There is an infinite distance between entity and non-entity, and

and the gift of life should be esteemed a great blessing; to despise and refuse this kind gift of our Creator, one would imagine, must proceed either from rashness of insanity, or from the inexpressible misery of a guilty mind. What helpless creatures we are, when left to ourselves, daily experience teaches us; therefore we have great reason to be extremely careful of the rectitude of our conduct, the improvement of our precious time, and the avoiding every appearance of evil. We may assure ourselves, vice will always disturb the serenity of our minds, and that virtue alone is happiness, and the best support under the frowns of fortune, and the malignant tongues of

men.

E. L.

Epitaph in Peterborough Minster.

You see old Scarleit's picture stand on hie,
But at your feete there doth his body lie;
His gravestone doth his age and death time show,
His office by theis tokens you may know.
Second to none for strength and sturdye limm,
A scarebabe mighty voice with visage grim:
Hee had interred two Queenes within this place,
And this townes householders in his lives space,
Twice over: but at length his own turne came,
What hee for others did for him the same
Was done no doubt his soul doth live for aye
In heaven though here his body clad in clay.
July 2, 1594, R. S. Ætatis 98.

On Miss Rhoda Delavel, eldest daughter of Sir John Hussey Delavel, Bart. who died August 7, 1770.

Hail! happy maid! to life restor❜d,

And everlasting bliss!

Henceforth be thou our guardian saint,

And guide us still to this.

May all thy virtue stand confin'd,

Thy love to God and man;
Thy virgin grace, thy lowly mind,
The ev'ry art, and pain;

Ode.-To Signora Cuzzoni.

Little Syren of the stage,

Charmer of an idle age;

Empty warbler, breathing lyre,
Wanton gale of fond desire;
Bane of every manly art,
Sweet enfeebler of the heart:
O, too pleasing in thy strain,
Hence, to southern climes again.
Tuneful mischief, vocal spell,
To this island bid farewell;
Leave us as we ought to be,
Leave the Britons rough and free.

W. H.

The Parson's Answer to a Lady, who sent him her
Compliments on the Ten of Hearts.

Your compliments, Lady, I pray you forbear,
Old English service is much more sincere ;
You sent me ten hearts, the tythe's only mine,
So give me one heart and burn t'other nine.

The Lady's Reply.

The Parson but asks a free heart of each ten,
What say my young Bucks to those sanctify'd men;
They'll preach to us Ladies, as able divines,
That tything is trifling, and mow t'other nine.

London, August 13.-The following very singular and truly admirable instance of humanity and generosity deserves to be universally known. During the late war in Germany, the present Earl Cornwallis, then Lord Viscount Brome, being only an ensign, though Aid-de-Camp to Prince Ferdinand; his father, the late Earl Cornwallis, bought him a Lieutenant Colonel's commission in General Napier's regiment, upon condition of allowing the last Lieutenant Colonel 3007. a year, who is very old, and has a very large family. A few weeks ago his Lordship being sent for to town from Scotland, where the regiment was quartered, to be a lord of the bed-chamber, which he declined accepting, his Lordship last Wednesday

1

morning resigned his commission, and solicited This Majesty to give his post to the Major of the regiment, who has been many years in the service, is very old, and has a large family and his Lordship farther requested of his Majesty to permit the other officers of the regiment to rise according to their seniority; all which being granted, his Lordship declared, that out of his own fortune he would continue to allow the 3007. year to the former Lieutenant Colonel.

To the Printer of the London Evening Post. Sir, In a late excursion, whilst at St. Edmund's Bury, I picked up at church, (a good place you will say for news) the following anecdote. Mary Tudor, daughter of Henry VII. was first married to Lewis XII. of France, and after his death came over to England, where (as a neighbouring Clergymen has ventured to engrave on her tomb) she was married to Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk. She was first buried in the abbey of St. Edmund's Bury, as it seems by the tomb, in 1533; but after the dissolution of monasteries, her remains were removed and deposited under the altar of St. Mary's church in that place. A few years since, when the church was under a repair, one of the workmen digging to level the ground under the altar, found a body without a coffin, so wrapped in lead, that it was first thought a living image, till by washing off the dust, an inscription was