ed, and every power of man paralised and lost in weakness and stupidity? The bliss of the drunkard is a visible picture of the expectation of the dying atheist, who hopes no more than to lie down in the grave with the "beasts that perish." It is not requisite to describe the actual pains of the poor besotted wretch, when his swoln carcase awakes to sensibility. When the cup of any sensual pleasure is drained to the bottom, there is always poison in the dregs. Anacreon himself declares, that "the flowers swim at the top of the bowl!"

MEN are loving creatures, when injuries put them not from their natural course.

2.

Nature gives not to us her degenerate children, any more general precept than,-That

one help the other; that one feel a true compassion of the other's needs or mishaps.

Remark.

The selfish and sordid pursuits of most modern young people, tend to alienate their minds, not only from general compassion, but from imparting any happiness to the domestic circle. That tender pity, which regarded our suffering fellow-creatures as brethren, and that more particular fraternal love, which delightfully bound families together, have gone out of fashion, with many other of our best affections. A fondness for such low gratifications as the tavern, the stable, the kennel, and profligate society, smothers those finer feelings of the heart, which derive their pleasures from the enjoyment of cultivated minds and tender confidence. Young men, now-a-days, seem ashamed of nothing so much as of a character for sensibility. I do not mean that morbid irritability of nerve, which trembles like a leaf, at every sigh that agitates the air: a youth ought to hold such weakness in as much dis

dain, as a soldier would the comrade he should see running from his post. True feeling melts with compassion at the sight of misery; gives relief instead of tears; and instead of flying from objects which excite pity, pursues every track that may lead to the wretchedness it can alleviate. The proper manly character is that, which engrafts the domestic and social affections on the general humanity of nature. Man is never more noble than when honouring his parents, protecting his sisters, cherishing his offspring, and administering to the necessities of his fellow-creatures. There are talents of the heart, as well as of the mind; and woe to him who allows them to rust in inactivity!

3.

Doing good is not inclosed within any terms

of people.

Remark.

National antipathy is the basest, because the most illiberal and illiterate of all prejudices.

4.

Compassion cannot stay in the virtuous, without seeking remedy.

5.

Favour and pity draweth all things to the highest point.

6.

It is a lively spark of nobleness, to descend in most favour, to one when he is lowest in affliction.

Remark.

Such pity the loftiest natures may accept, without any derogation of their dignity. It springs from that beneficence of heart, that commiseration for the lot of humanity, and that regard for the particular feelings of the individual, which form themselves at once into a tender and respectful interest for the object in distress: this pity endears the giver, while it seems to ennoble the receiver. In imitation of the divine Jesus, it loves to sit on the ground and bathe the feet of its companions, who have sunk down, overcome by

toil, weariness, and sorrow. How different is this description, the ready hand, tearful eye, and soothing voice, from the ostentatious appearance which is called pity! A suppliant approaches, and is received with a haughty demeanour, a chilling promise of assistance, and a ceremonious bow at parting. (0, the proud man's contumely!) An acquaintance requires sympathy, (the name of friendship must not be prostituted between such characters ;) and the fashionable comforter "pities him, from his soul-poor fellow, it is a sad thing; but the sight of misfortune makes one miserable. And when he finds his nerves stronger, he will look in upon him again."Cold, heartless wretches! Incapable of compassionating the afflictions of others; how desolate is your situation, when the hand of adversity marks you, in your turn, for calamity! How like the stricken deer, whom the rest of the herd flies, for fear that disaster should be infectious! Then, do you find the solitude of a kindless spirit: of a soul which cannot recollect the shedding of one honest tear of pity,