fool in the end he has pursued, as a knave in the means. A. Are not men of great learning and knowledge wise men? Mr. C. They are so, if that knowledge and learning are employed to make them happier and more useful. But it too often happens that their speculations are of a kind beneficial neither to themselves nor to others; and they often neglect to regulate their tempers while they improve their understandings. Some men of great learning have been the most arrogant and quarrelsome of mortals, and as foolish and absurd in their conduct, as the most untaught of their species. A. But is not a philosopher and a wise man the same thing? Mr. C. A philosopher is properly a lover of wisdom; and if he search after it with a right disposition, he will probably find it oftener than other men. But he must practise as well as know, in order to be truly wise. A. I have read of the seven wise men of Greece. What were they? Mr. C. They were men distinguished for their nowledge and talents, and some of them for their virtue too. But a wiser than them all was Socrates, whose chief praise it was that he turned philosophy from vain and fruitless disputation to the regulation of life and manners, and that he was himself a great example of the wisdom he taught. A. Have we had any person lately very remarkable for wisdom? Mr. C. In my opinion, few wiser men have ever existed than the late Dr. Franklin, the American. From the low station of a journeyman printer, to the elevated one of ambassador plenipotentiary from is country to the court of France, he always disinguished himself by sagacity in discovering, and ood sense in practising, what was most beneficial to himself and others. He was a great natural philosopher, and made some very brilliant discoveries; but it was ever his favourite purpose to turn everything to use, and to extract some practical advantage from his speculations. He thoroughly understood common life, and all that conduces to its comfort; and he has left behind him treasures of domestic wisdom, superior, perhaps, to any of the boasted maxims of antiquity. He never let slip any opportunity of improving his knowledge, whether of great things or of small; and was equally ready to converse with a day-labourer and a prime-minister upon topics from which he might derive instruction. He rose to wealth, but obtained it by honourable means. He prolonged his life by temperance to a great age, and enjoyed it to the last. Few men knew more than he, and none employed knowledge to better purposes. [There are those, however, who consider, and upon strong grounds, that Franklin was cold and calculating, selfish and heartless, in his general intercourse with mankind.--EDITOR.] A. A man, then, I suppose, cannot be wise without knowing a great deal? Mr. C. If a man be acquainted with everything belonging to his station, it is wisdom enough; and a peasant may be as truly wise in his place as a statesman or legislator. You remember that fable of Gay, in which a shepherd gives lessons of wisdom to a philosopher. A. O yes-it begins "Remote from cities lived a swain." Mr. C. True. He is represented as drawing all his maxims of conduct from observation of brute animals, and they, indeed, have universally that character of wisdom, of pursuing the ends best suited to them by the properest means. But this is owing to the impulse of unerring instinct. Man has reason for his guide, and his wisdom can only be the consequence of the right use of his reason. This will lead him to virtue. Thus the fable we have been mentioning rightly concludes with "Thy fame is just, the sage replies, TWENTY-NINTH EVENING. A FRIEND IN NEED. GEORGE CORNISH, a native of London, was brought up to the sea. After making several voyages to the East Indies in the capacity of mate, he obtained the command of a ship in the country trade there, and passed many years of his life in sailing from one port to another of the Company's different settlements, and residing at intervals on shore with the superintendents of their commercial concerns. Having by these means raised a moderate fortune, and being now beyond the meridian of life, he felt a strong desire of returning to his native country, and seeing his family and friends, concerning whom he had received no tidings for a long time. He realized his property, settled his affairs, and taking his passage for England, arrived in the Downs after an absence of sixteen years. He immediately repaired to London, and went to the house of an only brother, whom he had left respectably established in a public office. He found that his brother was dead, and the family broken up; and he was directed to the house of one of his nieces, who was married and settled at a small distance from town. On making himself known, he was received with great respect and affection by the married niece, and a single sister, who resided with her. To this good reception, the idea of his bringing back with him a large fortune did not a little contribute. They pressed him in the most urgent manner to take up his abod there, and omitted nothing that could testify their dutiful regard to so near relation. On his part, he was sincerely glad to see them, and presented them with some valuable Indian commodities which he had brought with him. They soon fell into conversation concerning the family events that had taken place during his long absence. Mutual condolences passed on the death of the father; the mother had been dead long before. The captain, in the warmth of his heart, declared his intention of befriending the survivors of the family, and his wishes of seeing the second sister as comfortably settled in the world as the first seemed to be. 66 "But," said he, are you two the only ones left ? What is become of my little smiling playfellow, Amelia? I remember her as though it were yesterday, coming behind my chair, and giving me a sly pull, and then running away that I might follow her for a kiss. I should be sorry if anything had happened to her." "Alas! sir," said the elder niece, "she has been the cause of an infinite deal of trouble to her friends! She was always a giddy girl, and her misconduct has proved her ruin. It would be an advantage if we could all forget her!" "What, then," said the uncle, " has she dishonoured herself? Poor creature!" I cannot say," replied the niece, " that she has done so in the worst sense of the word; but she has disgraced herself and her family by a hasty, foolish match with one beneath her, and it has ended, as might have been expected, in poverty and wretched "I am glad," returned the captain, " that it is no worse; for, though I much disapprove of improper matches, yet young girls may fall into still greater evils, and where there is no crime, there can be no irreparable disgrace. But who was the man, and what did my brother say to it ?" 66 Why, sir, I cannot say, but it was partly my father's own fault; for he took a sort of liking to the young man, who was a drawing-master employed in the family, and would not forbid him the house after we had informed him of the danger of an attachment between Amelia and him. So, when it was too late, he fell into a violent passion about it, which had no other effect than to drive the girl directly into her lover's arms. They married, and soon fell into difficulties. My father, of course, would do nothing for them; and when he died, he not only disinherited her, but made us promisé no longer to look upon her as a sister." "And you did make that promise ?" said the captain, in a tone of surprise and displeasure. "We could not disobey our parent," replied the other sister; "but we have several times sent her relief in her necessities, though it was improper for us to see her." "And pray, what is become of her at last-where is she now ?" Really, she and her husband have shifted their lodgings so often, that it is some time since we heard anything about them." "Some time! how long?" 66 Perhaps half a year, or more." "Poor outcast!" cried the captain, in a sort of muttered half voice. "I have made no promise, however, to renounce thee. Be pleased, madam," he continued, addressing himself gravely to the married niece, "to favour me with the last direction you had to this unfortunate sister." She blushed, and looked confused; and at length, after a good deal of searching, presented it to her uncle. 66 But, my dear sir," said she," you will not think of leaving us to-day. My servant shall make all 35* 2 D 2 |