after, I proposed prayer,- "Pray you that can, I never pray ed. I cannot pray-nor need I. Is not heaven on my side already? It closes with my conscience. Its severest strokes

but second my own."

5 Observing that his friend was much touched at this, even to tears-(who could forbear? I could not)—with a most affectionate look, he said, "Keep those tears for thyself. I have undone thee.-Dost thou weep for me? That is cruel. What can pain me more ?"

6 Here his friend, too much affected, would have left him." No, stay-thou still mayst hope; therefore hear me. How madly have I talked! How madly hast thou listened and believed! but look on my present state, as a full answer to thee, and to myself. This body is all weakness and pain; but my soul, as if stung up by torment to greater strength and spirit, is full powerful to reason: full mighty to suffer. And that which thus triumphs within the jaws of immortality, is, doubtless, immortal-And, as for a Deity, nothing less than an Almighty could inflict what I feel."

7 I was about to congratulate this passive, involuntary confessor, on his asserting the two prime articles of his creed, extorted by the rack of nature, when he thus, very passionately exclaimed :— "No, no! let me speak on. I have not long to speak.-My much injured friend! my soul, as my body, lies in ruins; in scattered fragments of broken thought.

8 Remorse for the past, throws my thought on the future. Worse dread of the future, strikes it back on the past. I turn, and turn, and find no ray. Didst thou feel half the mountain that is on me, thou wouldst struggle with the martyr for his stake; and bless Heaven for the flames !-that is not an ever1 lasting flame; that is not an unquenchable fire."

With

9 How were we struck! yet soon after, still more. what an eye of distraction, what a face of despair, he cried out!"My principles have poisoned my friend; my extravagance has beggared my boy! my unkindness has murdered my wife! And is there another hell? Oh! thou blasphemed, yet indulgent LORD GOD! Hell itself is a refuge, if it hide me from thy frown!"

10 Soon after, his understanding failed. His terrified imagination uttered horrors not to be repeated, or ever forgetten. And ere the sun (which, I hope, has seen few like him) arees, the gay, young, noble, ingenious, accomplished, and mort wretched Altamont, expired!

11 If this is a man of pleasure, what How quick, how total, is the transit of suc

a man of pain! persons! In what

a dismal gloom they set for ever! How short, alas! the of their rejoicing!-For a moment, they glitter-they dazze! In a moment, where are they? Oblivion covers their memories. Ah! would it did! Infamy snatches them from oblivion. In the long living annals of infamy, their triumphs are recorded.

12 Thy sufferings, poor Altamont ! still bleed in the bosom of the heart-stricken friend-for Altamont had a friend. He might have had many. His transient morning might have been the dawn of an immortal day. His name might have been gloriously enrolled in the records of eternity. His memory might have left a sweet fragrance behind it, grateful to the surviving friend, salutary to the succeeding generation.

13 With what capacity was he endowed! with what advantages, for being greatly good! But with the talents of an angel, a man may be a fool. If he judges amiss in the supreme point, judging right in all else, but aggravates his folly; as it shows him wrong, though blessed with the best capacity of being right.

DR. YOUNG.

C

CHAPTER IX.

DIALOGUES.

SECTION I.

DEMOCRITUS AND HERACLITUS.*

The vices and follies of Men should excite Compassion rather than Ridicule.

Democritus. I FIND it impossible to reconcile myself to

a melancholy philosophy.

Heraclitus. And I am equally unable to approve of that vain philosophy which teaches men to despise and ridicule one another. To a wise and feeling mind, the world appears in a wretched and painful light.

2

Dem. Thou art too much affected with the state of things; > and this is a source of misery to thee.

Thy

Her. And I think thou art too little moved by it. mirth and ridicule bespeak the buffoon, rather than the philosopher. Does it not excite thy compassion to see mankind so frail, so blind, so far departed from the rules of virtue ?ei Dem. I am excited to laughter, when I see so much im- 7 pertinence and folly.

Her. And yet, after all, they who are the objects of thy Democritas and Heraclitus were two ancient philosophers, the former whom laughed, and the latter wept, at the errors follies of mankind.

ridicule, include, not only mankind in general, but the peras with whom thou livest, thy friends, thy family, nay, even dyself.

Dem. I care very little for all the silly persons I meet with; and think I am justifiable in diverting myself with their folly. Her. If they are weak and foolish, it marks neither wisdom ner humanity, to insult rather than pity them. But is it certain that thou art not as extravagant as they are?

Dem. I presume that I am not; since, in every point, my sentiments are the very reverse of theirs.

Her. There are follies of different kinds. By constantly amusing thyself with the errors and misconduct of others, thou mayst render thyself equally ridiculous and culpable.

Dem. Thou art at liberty to indulge such sentiments; and to weep over me too, if thou hast any tears to spare. For my part, I cannot refrain from pleasing myself with the levities and ill conduct of the world about me. Are not all men foolish or irregular in their lives?

tion.

Her. Alas! there is but too much reason to believe they are, so; and on this ground, I pity and deplore their condiWe agree in this point, that men do not conduct themselves according to reasonable and just principles; but I, who do not suffer myself to act as they do, must yet regard the dictates of my understanding and feelings, which compel me to love them; and that love fills me with compassion for their mistakes and irregularities. Canst thou condemn me for pitying my own species, my brethren, persons born in the same condition of life, and destined to the same hopes and privileges? If thou shouldst enter a hospital, where sick and wounded persons reside, would their wounds and distresses excite thy mirth? And yet, the evils of the body bear no comparison with those of the mind. Thou wouldst certainly blush at thy barbarity, if thou hadst been so unfeeling as to laugh at, or despise a poor miserable being who had lost one of his legs and yet thou art so destitute of humanity, as to ridicule those who appear to be deprived of the noble powers of the understanding, by the little regard which they pay to its dictates.

:

*Dem. He who has lost a leg is to be pitied, because the loss is not to be imputed to himself; but he who rejects the dictates of reason and conscience, voluntarily deprives himself of their aid. The loss originates in his own folly.

Her. Ah! so much the more is he to be pitied! A furious maniac who should pluck out his own eyes, would deserve more compassion than an ordinary blind man.

Dem. Come, let us accommodate the business. - There is something to be said on each side of the question. There is every where reason for laughing, and reason for weeping. The world is ridiculous, and I laugh at it; it is deplorable, and thou lamentest over it. Every person views it in his own way, and according to his own temper. One point is unquestionable; that mankind are preposterous to think right, and to act well, we must think and act differently from them. To submit to the authority, and to follow the example of the greater part of men, would render us foolish and miserable.

Her. All this is, indeed, true; but then thou hast no real love or feeling for thy species. The calamities of mankind excite thy mirth; and this proves that thou hast no regard for men, nor any true respect for the virtues which they have unhappily abandoned. Fenelon, Archbishop of Cambray.

SECTION II.

DIONYSIUS, PYTHIAS, AND DAMON.

Genuine Virtue commands Respect, even from the Bad. Dionysius. AMAZING! What do I see? It is Pythias just arrived. It is indeed Pythias. I did not think it possible. He is come to die, and to redeem his friend!

Pythias. Yes, it is Pythias. I left the place of my con-finement, with no other views, than to pay to heaven the vows I had made; to settle my family concerns according to the rules of justice; and to bid adieu to my children, that I might die tranquil and satisfied.

Dio. But why dost thou return? Hast thou no fear of death? Is it not the character of a madman, to seek it thus voluntarily ?

Py. I return to suffer, though I have not deserved death. Every principle of honour and goodness forbids me to allow my friend to die for me.

Dio. Dost thou then love him better than thyself?

Py. No: I love him as myself. But I am persuaded that I ought to suffer death, rather than my friend; since it was --Pythias whom thou hadst decreed to die. It were not just that Damon should suffer, to deliver me from the death which was designed not for him, but for me only.

Dio. But thou supposest that it is as unjust to inflict death upon thee, as upon thy friend.

Py. Very true; we are both perfectly innocent, and it is equally unjust to make either of us suffer.

Dio. Why dost thou then assert, that it were injustice to put him to death, instead of thee?

Py. It is unjust, in the same degree, to inflict death either Son Damon or on myself; but Pythias were highly culpable to let Damon suffer that death which the tyrant had prepared for Pythias only.

Dio. Dost thou then return hither, on the day appointed, with no other view than to save the life of a friend by losing thy own?

Py. I return in regard to thee, to suffer an act of injustice which it is common for tyrants to inflict; and, with respect to Damon, to perform my duty, by rescuing him from the danhger he incurred by his generosity to me.

Dio. And now, Damon, let me address myself to thee. Didst thou not really fear that Pythias would never return ; and that thou wouldst be put to death on his account?

Da. I was but too well assured that Pythias would punc tually return; and that he would be more solicitous to keep his promise, than to preserve his life. Would to heaven that his relations and friends had forcibly detained him! He would then have lived for the comfort and benefit of good men ; and I should have the satisfaction of dying for him!

Dio. What! Does life displease thee?

Da. Yes; it displeases me when I see and feel the power of a tyrant.

Dio. It is well! Thou shalt see him no more. der thee to be put to death immediately.

I will or.

Py. Pardon the feelings of a man who sympathizes with his dying friend. But remember it was Pythias who was devoted by thee to destruction. I come to submit to it, that I may redeem my friend. Do not refuse me this consolation in last hour.

my

Dio. I cannot endure men who despise death, and set my power at defiance.

Da. Thou canst not, then, endure virtue.

Dio. No; I cannot endure that proud, disdainful virtue, which contemns life; which dreads no punishment; and * which is insensible to the charms of riches and pleasure.

Da. Thou seest, however, that it is a virtue which is not insensible to the dictates of honour, justice, and friendship. Dio. Guards, take Pythias to execution. We shall see whether Damon will continue to despise my authority.

Da. Pythias, by returning to submit himself to thy pleagure, has merited his life, and deserved thy favour; but I nave excited thy indignation, by resigning myself to thy