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tation fucceeds temptation, and one compliance prepares us for another ; we in time lose the happiness of innocence, and folace our disquiet with sensual gratifications. By degrees we let fall the remembrance of our original intention, and quit the only adequate object of rational desire. We entangle. ourselves in business, immerge ourselves in luxury, and rove through the labyrinths of inconstancy, till the darkness of old age begins to invade ps, and diseale and anxiety obstruct-our way: then look back upon our lives with horrour, with forrow, with repentance; and will, but too often vainly with, that we had not forsaken the ways of virtue. Happy are they, my fon, who shall learn from thy example not to despair, but fhall remember, that though the day is palt, and their strength is wasted, there yet remains one effort to be made ; that reformation is never hopeless,, nor fincere endeavours ever unaslisted, that the wander: er may at length-retorn after all his errours; and tliat ho who implores strength and courage from above, hall. finel: danger and difficulty give way before him. Go AOW, my son, to thy repole ; commit thyself to the care of Omnipotence; and when the morning. calls again to toil, begin anew thy journey and thy life.!

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SECTION IV.

1. Description of the Amphitheatré of Titus, POSTERITY admires, and will long admire, the awful

remains of vie amphitheatre of Titus, which fo well deserved the epithet of Colossal. It was a building of an elliptic figure, five hundred and fixty-four feet in length, and four hundred and fixty-feven in breadth ; founded on four core arches; and rising, with four fucceffive or, ders of architecture, to the height of one hundred and forty feet. The outside of the edifice was encrusted with marble, and decorated with ftatues. The slopes of Hie vast concave which formed ille inside, were filled and fur. rounded with fixty or eighty rows of feats of marble, covered with culhions, and capable of receiving with ease above fourícore thoufand spectators. Sixty-four vomitories (for by that name the doors were very aptly diftin. guished) poured forth the inmense multitude ; and the entrances, paffages, and stair-cases, were contrived with such exquisite skill, that each person, whether of the senatorial, the equestrian, or the plebeian order, arrived at his destined place, without tronble or confusion.'

Nothing was omitted which in any refpect could be fubservient to the convenience and pleasure of the spectators. They were protected from the sun and rain by an ample canopy, occasionally drawn over their heads. The air was continually refreshed by the playing of fountains, and profusely impregnated by the grateful scent of aromatics. In the centre of the edifice, the arena or stage was strewed with the finest fand, and fuccessively assumed the most different formis.

At one mo. ment, it seemed to rise out of the earth like the garden of the Hesperides; at another, it exhibited the rugged rocks and caverns of Thrace. The subterraneous pipes conveyed an inexhauitible supply of water; and what had just before appeared a level plain, might be suddenly converted into a wide lake, covered with armed vessels, and replenifhed with the monsters of the deep,

In

In the decorations of these scenes, the Roman empe. rors displayed their wealth and liberality; and we read, that, on various occasions, the whole furniture of the amphitheatre confifted either of filver, or of gold, or of amber. The poet who describes the games of Carinus, in the character of a shepherd attracted to the capital by the fame of their magnificence, affirms, that the nets defigned as a defence against tlie wild beasts were of goldwire ; that the porticoes were gilded ; and that the belt or circle which divided the several ranks of spectators from each other, was studded with a precious mosaic of beautiful itones.

II. Reflections in Westminster Abbey. WHEN I am in a ferious humour, I very often walk

by myself in Westminster Abbey; wliere the gloominefs of the place, and the use to which it is applied, with the folemnity of the building, and the condition of the people who lie in it, are apt to fill the mind with a kind of melancholy, or rather thoughtfulness, that is not disagreeable. I yetterday paffed a whole afternoon in the church-yard, the clciiters, and the church; amusing myself with the tomb-ftones and inscriptions which I met with in those several regions of the dead. Moit of them recorded nothing else of the buried person, but that he was born upon one day, and died

upon

another; the whole history of his life being comprehended in these two circumstances, that are common to all mankind. I could not but look upon those registers of existence, whether of brass or marble, as a kind of sàtire upon the departed persons, who had left no other memorial of themselves, but that they were born, and that they died.

Upon my going into the church, I entertained myself with the digging of a grave ; and faw, in every shovelful of it that was thrown up, the fragment of a bone or skull intermixed with a kind of fresh-mouldering earth, that, some time or other, had a place in the composition of an human body. Upon this, I began to consider with myself, what innumerable multitudes of people lay confused together, under the pavement of that ancient cathedral ; how men and women, friends and enemies,

priests

priests and soldiers, monks and prebendaries, were crumbled amongit one another, and blended together in the fame common mass; how beauty, strength, and youth, with old age, weakness, and deformity, lay undiftinguished in the lame promiscuous heap of matter.',

After having thus surveyed this great magazine of mortality as it were in the lump, I examined it more parlicularly by the accounts which I found on several of the monuments which are raised in every quarter of that ancient fabric. Some of them were covered with such extravagant epitaphs, that, if it were poflible for the dead person to be acquainted with them, he would blush at the praises which his friends have bestowed upon him, There are others fo excelsively modelt, that they deliver the character of the person departed in Greek or Hebrew; and by that means are not understood once in a twelvemonth. In the poetical quarter, I found there were poets who had no monuments, and monuments which had no poets. I observed, indeed, that the prefent war had filled the church widi many of those uninhabited monuments, which had been erected to the memory of persons whole bodies were perhaps buried in the plains of Blenheim, or in the bofom oil the ocean.

I could not but be very much delighted with leveral modern epitaphs, which are written with great elegance of expreflion and jullness of thought, and which there. fore do honour to the living as well as to the dead. As a foreigner is yery apt to conceive an idea of the igno. rance or politeness of a nation from the turn of their public monuments, and inscriptions, they should be fub. initted to the perusah of men of learning and genius, before they are put into execution. Sir Cloudelly Slovel's monument has very often given me great offence. In. stead of the brave rough Englilh admiral, which was the distinguishing character of that plain gallant man, he is represented on his tomb by the figure of a beat, drefled in a long periwig, and reposing himself upon velvet cushions under a canopy of state. The infcription is an swerable to the monument; for, instead of celebrating the many remarkable actions he had performed in the service of his country, it acquaints us only with the manver of his death, in which it was impossible for him to

reap

reap any honour.

The Dutch, whom we are apt to despise for want of genius, fhow an infinitely greater falte in their buildings and works of this nature, than we meet with in those of our own country. The monuments of their admirals, which have been erected at the public expence, represent them like themselves, and are adorned with roftral crowns and naval ornaments, with beautiful feltoons of fea-weed, shells, and coral.

I know that entertainments of this nature are apt to - raife dark and dismal thoughts in timorous minds and gloomy imaginations : but, for my own part, though I am always serious, I do not know what it is to be me. lancholy; and can therefore take a view of nature in her deep and folemn scenes, with the same pleasure as in her most

gay and delightful ones. By these means, I can improve myself with objects which others confider with terrout -When I look upon the tombs of the great, every emotion of envy dies in me; when I read the epitaphs of the beautiful, every inordinate defire goes out ; when I meet with the grief of parents upon a tothb-ftone, my heart melts with compaflion; when I see the tomb of the parents themselves, I consider the vanity of grieving for thofe whom we must quickly follow. When I see kings lying by those who depofed them; when I conlider rival wits placed fide by side, or the holy men that divided the world with their contests and disputes ; I reHect with forrow and astonishment on the little competitions, factions, and debates of mankind. When I read the several dates of the tombs, of fome that died yesterday, and fome fix hundred years ago, I consider that great day when we shall all of us be contemporaries, and make our appearance together.

III. The Character of Mary Queen of Scots. To all the charms of beauty, and the utmost elegance

of external form, Mary added those accomplishments which render their impreffion irresistible. Polite, affable, inlinuating, sprightly, and capable of speaking and af writing with equal ease and dignity. Sudden, however, and violent in all her attachments, because her heart was Warm and unsuspicious. Impatient of contradiction, because she had been accuftomed from her infancy to be K

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