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summits of more distant hills appear beyond those you have already seen; and, rising behind each other in lueceffive ranges and azure groups of craggy and broken Steeps, form an immense and awful picture, which can only be expressed by the image of a tempestues sea of mountains. Let me rrow conduet you down again to the valley, and conclude with one circumstance more; which is, that a walk by ftill moon- light (at wliich time the dittant water-falls are heard in all their variety of found) among these enchanting dales, opens fuch scenes of delicate beauty, repose, and folemnity, as exceed all de-' fcription.
VIII. Pity, an Allegory. IN the happy period of the golden age, when all the
celestial inhabitants descended to the earth, and conversed familiarly with mortals, among the most cherished of the heavenly powers, were twins, the offspring of Jupiter, Love and Joy. Wherever they appeared, the flowers sprung up beneath their feet, the fun Mone with a brighter radiance, and all nature seemed embellifhed by their presence.
• They were inseparable companions; and their growing attachment was favoured by Jupiter, who had decreed that a lasting union should be folemnized between them fo soon as they were arrived at maturer years. But, in the mean time, the fons of men deviated from their native innocence ; vice and ruin over-ran the earth with giant ftrides; and Aftrea, with her train of cele
tial visitants, forlook their polluted abodes. Love alone remained, having been stolen away by Hope, who was his nurse, and conveyed by her to the forests of Arcadia, where he was brought up among the shepherds. But Jupiter affigned him a different partner, and commanded him to espouse SORROW the daughter of Atè. He complied with reluctance ; for her features were harth and disagreeable, her eyes funk, her forehead contract. ed into perpetual wrinkles, and her temples were covered with a wreath of cypress and wormwood.
From this union spring a virgin, in whom might be traced a strong resemblance to both her parents; but the fullen and unamiable features of her mother, were fru
mixed and blended with the sweetness of her father, that her countenance, though mournful, was highly pleasing. The maids and shepherds of the neighbouring plains gathered round, and called her Pity. A redbreast was observed to build in the cabin where she was born ; and, while she was yet an infant, a dove, pur, sued by a hawk, flew into her bosom. This nymph had a dejected appearance ; but fo soft and gentle a mien, that she was beloved to a degree of enthusiasm. Her voice was low and plaintive, but inexpressibly sweet; and the loved to lie, for hours together, on the banks of fume wild and melancholy stream, singing to her lute. She taught men to weep, for the took a frange delight in tears; and often, when the virgins of the hamlet were assembled at their evening sports, she would steal in amongst them, and captivate their hearts by her tales, full of a charming fadnels. She wore on her head a garland, compofed of her father's myrtles, twisted with her mother's cypress.
One day, as the fat musing . by the waters of Helicon, her tears by chance fell into the fountain ; and ever fince, the Muse's spring has retained a strong tafte of the infusion. Pity was commanded by Jupiter to follow the steps of her mother through the world, dropping balın into the wounds she made, and binding up the hearts the had broken. She follows with her hair Joose, her bosom bare and throbbing, her, garments torn by the briars, and her feet bleeding with the roughness of the path. The nymph is mortal, for her mother is so; and when she has fulfilled her destined course upon the earth, they shall both expire together, and LOVE be again united to Joy, his immortal and long betrothed bride.
IX. Advantages of Commerce. THERE is no place in town which I so much love
to frequent as the Royal Exchange. It gives me a secret fatisfaction, and in some measure gratifies my vanity as an Englishman, to see so rich an assembly of my countrymen and foreigners consulting together upon the private business of mankind, and making this metropolis a kind of emporium for the whole earth. I mult con
fels, I look upon High Change to be a grand council, in which all confiderable nations have their
representatives. Factors, in the trading world, are what ambassadours are in the politic world. They negociate affairs, conclude treaties, and maintain a good correspondence between those wealthy focieties of inen that are divided from one another by feas and oceans, or live on the different ex. tremities of a continent. I have often been pleased to hear disputes adjusted between an inbabitant of Japan and an alderinan of London, or to see a subject of the Great Mogul entering into a league with one of the Czar of Mulcovy. I am infinitely delighted in mixing with these several ministers of commerce, as they are distinguished by their different walks and different languages. Sometimes I a joftled among a body of Armenians; fometimes I am lost in a crowd of Jews; and sometimes make one in a group of Dutchmen. I am a Dane, a Swede, or Frenchman, at different times; or rather fancy myself like the old philosopher, who, upon being asked what countryman he was, replied, That he was a citizen of the world.
Nature seems to have taken a particular care to diffeminate her blessings among the different regions of the world, with an eye to this mutual intercourse and traf. fic among mankind, that the natives of the several paris of the globe might have a kind of dependence upon one another, and be united together by their common inte. Tests. Almost every degree produces fomething peculia: to it. The food often grows in one country and the fauce in another. The fruits of Portugal. are corrected by the products of Barbadoes; the infusion of a China plant sweetened with the pith of an Indian cane. The Philippine islands give a flavour to our European bowls. The single dress of a woman of quality is often the product of an hundred climates. The inuts and the fan come together from the different ends of the earth. The scarf is sent from the torrid zone, and the tippet from beneath the pole. The brocade peuticoat rises cut of the miñes of Peru, and the diamond necklace out of the bowels of Indoftan.
If we consider our own country in its natural prospect, without any of the benefits and advantages of commerce, H2
what a barren uncomfortable spot of earth falls to our share ! Natural historians tell us, that no fruit grows originally among us besides hips and haws, acorns and pig.nuts, with other delicacies of the like nature : that our climate, of itself, and without the assistance of art, can make no farther advances towards a plum than a Joe, and carries an apple to no greater perfection than a crab: that our melons, our peaches, our figs, our apricots, and our cherries, are strangers among iis, imported in different ages, and naturalized in our English gar. dens; and that they would all degenerate and fall away into the trah of our own country, if they were wholly pieglected by the planter, and left to the mercy of our fun and foil.
Nor has traffic more enriched our vegetable world than it has improved the whole face of nature among us. Our Hips are laden with the harvest of every climate; our tables are stored with spices, and oils; and wines; our rooms are filled with pyramids of china, and adorned with the workmanlip of Japan; our morning's draught comes to us from the remotest corners of the earth; we repair our bodies by the drugs of America, and repose ourselves under Indian canopies. · My friend-Sir Andrew calls the vineyards of France our gardens; the spice-iflands, our hot beds; the Persians, our filk-weavers; and the Chinese, our potters. Nature, indeed, furnishes us with the bare necessaries of life ; but traffic gives us a great variety of what is useful, and, at the same time, fupplies us with every thing that is convenient and ornamental. Nor is it the least part of this our happiness, that, while we enjoy tie remotest products of thenorth and fouth, we are free from those extremities of weather which give them birth ; that our eyes are refreshed with the green
fields of Britain, at the same time that our palates are feafted with fruits that rise between the tropics.
For these reasons, there are not more useful members in a commonwealth than merchants. They knit mankind together in a mutual intercourse of good offices, diAtribute the gifts of nature, find work for the poor, add wealth to the rich, and magnificence to the great. Our English merchant converts the tin of his own country into gold, and exchanges his wool for rubies. The Maho
metans are clothed in our British manufacture, and the inhabitants of the frozen zone warmed with the fleeces of our sheep.
x. On public Speaking. MOST foreign writers who have given any character
of the English nation, whatever vices they ascribe to it, allow, in general, that the people are naturally modeft. It proceeds, perhaps, from this our national virtue, that our orators are oblerved to make use of less gelture or action than those of other countries. Our preachers stand stock-fill in the pulpit, and will not so much as move a finger to set off the best sermons in the world. We meet with the same fpeaking Itatues at our bars, and in all public places of debate. Our words flow from us in a smooth continued stream, without those ftrainings of the voice, motions of the body, and majesty of the hand, which are so much celebrated in the orators of Greece and Rome. We can talk of life and death in cold blood, and keep our temper in a discourse which turns upon every thing that is dear to us. Though our zeal breaks out in the finest tropes and figures, it is not able to stir a limb about us,
It is certain that proper gestures and exertions of the voice cannot be too much studied by a public orator. They are a kind of comment to what he utters ; and enforce® every thing he says, with weak hearers, better than the strongest argument he can make use of. They keep the audience awake, and fix their attention to what is delivered to them; at the same time that they show the fpeaker is in earnest, and affected himself with what he so passionately recommends to others.
We are told, that the great Latin orator very much impaired his health by the vehemence of action with which he used to deliver himself. The Greek orator was likewise so very famous for this particular in rhetoric, that one of his antagonists, whom he had banilhed from Athens, reading over the oration which had procured his banishment, and seeing his friends admire it; could not forbear asking them, If they were so much affected by the bare reading of it, how much more they