fairs; and ruining them by that neglects He pays, indeed, said I, too much for his whistle.

if I knew a miser who gave up every kind of comfortable living, all the pleasure of doing good to others, all the esteem of his fellow-citizens, for the joys of accumulating wealth; Poor man! said I you do indeed pay too much for your whistle.

When I meet a man of pleasure saerificing every laudable improvement of the mind, or of his fortune, to mere corporeal sensations, Mistaken man, I say, you are providing pain for yourself, instead of pleasure; you give too much for your whistle.

If I see one fond of fine clothes, fine furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he contracts debts, and ends his career in prison; Alas, I say, he has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle.

When I see a beautiful, sweet-tema

pered girl married to an ill-natured brute of a hushand: What a pity it is, I say that she has paid

30

much for a whistle!

In short, I conceived that great part of the miseries of mankind were brought upon them by the false estimate they had made of the value of things, and by their giving too much for their whistles,

Conversation.

of a Company of Ephemeræ; with the soliloquy of one advanced in age. To Madame Brilliant.

You may remember, my dear friend, that when we lately spent that happy day in the delightful garden and sweet society of the Moulin Joly, I stopped a little in one of our walks, and staid some time behind the company. We had been shown numberless skeletons

of a kind of little fly called an Epheme ra, whose successive generations, we were told, were ilyed and expired within the day. I happened to see a living company of them on a leaf, who appeared to be engaged in conversation. You know I understand all the inferior animal tongues; my too great application to the study of them is the best excuse I can give for the little progress I have made in your charming language. 1 listened through curiosity to the discourse of these little creatures; but as they, in their national vivacity, spoke three or four together, I could make but little of their conversation. I found, however, by some broken expressions that I heard now and then, they were disputing warmly on the merit of two foreign mu- ́ sicians, one a cousin, the other a muscheto; in which dispute they spent their time, seemingly as regardless of the shortness of life as if they had been sure of living a month. Happy people! thought I, you live certainly under a wise, just, and mild govern

1 turned

ment, since you have no public grievances to complain of, nor any subject of contention, but the brfections or imperfections of foreign music. my head from them to an old grey. headed one, who was single on another leaf, and talking to himself. Being amused with his soliloquy, I put it down in writing, in hopes it will likewise amuse her to whom 1am so much indebted for the most pleasing of all amusements, her delicious company, and heavenly harmony.

"It was," says he,,,the opinion of ,,learned philofophers of our race, who ,,lived and flourished long before my ,,time, that this vast world, the Mou ,,lin Joly, could not itself subsist ,,nore than eighteen hours; and I think ,,there was some foundation for that opi,,nion; since, by the apparent motion ,,of the great luminary that gives life to „all nature, and which in my time has ,,evidently deelined considerably, towards the ocean at the end of our earth, it must then finish its course,

be extin.

guished in the waters that surround us, ,,and leave the world in cold and dark. ,,ness, necefsarily producing universal ,,death and destruction. I have lived ,,seven of these hours; a great age ,,being no less than 420 minutes of time ,,How very few of us continue so long! ,,I have seen generations born, flourish ,,and expire. My present friends are ›,,the children and grand - children of the ,,friends of my youth, who are now, ,,alas, no more! And I must soon fol,,low them; for, by the course of na,,tare, though still in health, I can,,not expect to live above seven or eight ,,minutes longer.. What now avails all my toil and labour, in amassing honey,,dew on this leaf, which I cannot live

to enjoy? What the political strug,,gles have been engaged in, for the ,,good of my compatriot inhabitants of ,,this bush, or my philosophical studies, ,,for the benefit of our race in general? ,,for in politics (what can laws do without ,,morals?) our present race of epheme-` ræ will in a course of minutes become