looked upon him, I could not forbear laughing at myself, insomuch that I put my own face out of countenance. The poor gentleman was so sensible of the ridicule, that I found he was ashamed of what he had done: on the other side, I found that I myself had no great reason to triumph; for, as I went to touch my forehead, I missed the place, and clapped my finger upon my upper lip. Besides, as my nose was exceedingly prominent, I gave it two or three unlucky knocks, as I was playing my hand about my face, and aiming at some ther part of it.

I saw two other gentlemen by me, who were in the same idiculous circumstances. These had made a foolish swop between a couple of thick bandy legs and two long trapsticks, Ore of these looked like a man walking upon stilts, and was so lifted up into the air, above his ordinary height, that his head turned round with it; while the other made such awkward circles, as he attempted to walk, that he scarcely knew how to move forward upon his new supporters. Observing him to be a pleasant kind of fellow, I stuck my cane in the ground, and told him I would lay him a bottle of wine, that he did not march up to it, on a line that I drew for him, in a quarter of an hour.

The heap was at last distributed among the two sexes, who made a most piteous sight, as they wandered up and down under the pressure of their several burdens. The whole plain was filled with murmurs and complaints, groans and lamentations. Jupiter, at length, taking compassion on the poor morals, ordered them a second time to lay down their loads, with a design to give every one his own again. They discharged themselves with a great deal of pleasure: after which, the phantom, who had led them into such gross delusions, was commanded to disappear.

There was sent, in her stead, a goddess of a quite different figure: her motions were steady and composed, and her aspect serious but cheerful. Her name was Patience. She had no sooner placed herself by the Mount of Sorrows, but, what I thought very remarkable, the whole heap sunk to such a degree, that it did not appear a third part so big as it was before. She afterwards returned every man his own proper calamity, and, teaching him how to bear it in the most com

manner, he marched off with it contentedly, being I pleased that he had not been left to his own choice, kind of evils which fell to his lot.

es the several pieces of morality to be drawn out of ›n, I learned from it never to repine at my own misforor to envy the happiness of another; since it is imposany man to form a right judgment of his neighbor's s: for which reason, also, I have determined never too lightly of another's complaints, but to regard the of my fellow-creatures with sentiments of humanity passion.

LESSON XXXI.

antages of a Taste for the Beauties of Nature.PERCIVAL.

perception and sensibility to beauty, which, when ed and improved, we term taste, is most general and ■with respect to those objects, which are not liable to n from accident, caprice, or fashion. The verdant he shady grove, the variegated landscape, the boundean, and the starry firmament, are contemplated with e by every beholder. But the emotions of different ors, though similar in kind, differ widely in degree; elish with full delight the enchanting scenes of nature, nd must be uncorrupted by avarice, sensuality, or amquick in her sensibilities, elevated in her sentiments, vout in her affections.

his enthusiasm were cherished by each individual, in gree which is consistent with the indispensable duties station, the felicity of human life would be consideragmented. From this source the refined and vivid res of the imagination are almost entirely derived. legant arts owe their choicest beauties to a taste for the mplation of nature. Painting and sculpture are exmitations of visible objects: and where would be the s of poetry, if divested of the imagery and embellish

ments which she borrows from rural scenes? Painters, statuaries and poets, therefore, are always ambitious to acknowledge themselves the pupils of nature; and, as their skill increases, they grow more and more delighted with every view of the animal and vegetable world.

The scenes of nature contribute powerfully to inspire that serenity, which heightens their beauties, and is necessary to our full enjoyment of them. By a secret sympathy, the soul catches the harmony which she contemplates, and the frame within assimilates itself to that without. In this state of virtuous impres

sweet composure, we become susceptible of sions from almost every surrounding object. The patient ox is viewed with generous complacency; the guileless sheep, with pity; and the playful lamb, with emotions of tenderness and love. We rejoice with the horse in his liberty and exemption from toil, while he ranges at large through enamelled pastures. We are charmed with the songs of birds, soothed with the buzz of insects, and pleased with the sportive motion of fishes, because these are expressions of enjoyment; and, having felt a common interest in the gratifications of inferior beings, we shall be no longer indifferent to their sufferings, or become wantonly instrumental in producing them.

But the taste for natural beauty is subservient to higher purposes, than those which have been enumerated. The cultivation of it not only refines and humanizes, but dignifies and exalts the affections. It elevates them to the admiration and love of that Being, who is the Author of all that is fair, sublime and good in the creation. Scepticism and irreligion are hardly compatible with the sensibility of heart, which arises from a just and lively relish of the wisdom, harmony and order subsisting in the world around us. Emotions of piety must spring up spontaneously in the bosom, that is in unison with all animated nature. Actuated by this beneficial and divine inspiration, man finds a fane in every grove; and, glowing with devout fervor, he joins his song to the universal chorus, or muses the praise of the Almighty in more expressive silence.

LESSON XXXII.

The Common Lot.-MONTGOMERY.

ONCE, in the flight of ages past,

There lived a man :-and who was he?Mortal, howe'er thy lot be cast,

That man resembled thee.

Unknown the region of his birth;

The land in which he died unknown: His name has perished from the earth; This truth survives alone:—

That joy and grief, and hope and fear,
Alternate, triumphed in his breast;
His bliss and wo,-a smile, a tear :-
Oblivion hides the rest.

The bounding pulse, the languid limb,
The changing spirits' rise and fall,-
We know that these were felt by him,
For these are felt by all.

He suffered,-but his pangs are o'er;
Enjoyed, but his delights are fled;
Had friends,-his friends are now no more;
And foes, his foes are dead.

He loved, but whom he loved, the grave
Hath lost in its unconscious womb:
Oh! she was fair; but nought could save
Her beauty from the tomb.

He saw whatever thou hast seen;
Encountered all that troubles thee:
He was whatever thou hast been:

He is what thou shalt be.

P

4

The rolling seasons, day and night,

Sun, moon and stars, the earth and main,
Erewhile his portion, life and light,
To him exist in vain.

The clouds and sunbeams, o'er his eye
That once their shades and glory threw,
Have left in yonder silent sky

No vestige where they flew.

The annals of the human race,
Their ruins since the world began,

Of him afford no other trace

Than this,-THERE LIVED A MAN.

LESSON XXXIII.

The Deserted Wife.-J. G. PERCIVAL.

He comes not. I have watched the moon go down,
But yet he comes not. Once it was not so.
He thinks not how these bitter tears do flow,
The while he holds his riot in that town.

Yet he will come and chide, and I shall weep;
And he will wake my infant from its sleep,
To blend its feeble wailing with my tears.
Oh! how I love a mother's watch to keep
Over those sleeping eyes,-that smile, which cheers
My heart, though sunk in sorrow fixed and deep!

I had a husband once, who loved me. Now
He ever wears a frown upon his brow.

But yet I cannot hate. Oh! there were hours, When I could hang forever on his eye, And Time, who stole with silent swiftness by, Strowed, as he hurried on, his path with flowers.