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MINERALOGICAL NOTICES FROM

KENTUCKY.

The following information concerning a mineral water near Harrodsburg, and a remarkable stratum of mill-stone rock on a branch of the Kentucky River, is taken from Mr. Samuel P. Demaree's letter to Dr. Mitchill, dated Danville, February 6, 1808.

"Half a mile south of the courthouse in Harrodsburg, there is an acidulous spring of some note. It was discovered, as you have probably heard, in the autumn of 1806. What are the peculiar properties which distinguish this water from that of common springs, is a matter of some dispute among our chemists. Their difference is the more excusable, because none of them, I think, are possessed of the proper apparatus and tests by which to ascertain the qualities of the water. Its ef. fects are favourable in colicks, rheumatisms, ophthalmias, cutaneous disorders, &c. but pernicious in consumptive cases, The water itself is extremely transparent and sparkling; taste brackish; when boiled off, it leaves a white powder, said to be Epsom salt; when drank, it lies easy on the stomach, is greatly diuretick, and frequently cathartick. Nearly three miles south-east of the above spring there is an old deer lick, in which a well has been sunk, of perennial water. Of this cattle are very fond. I have seen horses run nearly half a mile, cross two flush streams of common rain water, drink at this well, and return immediately back. Cows having access

to it, fatten on very thin pasture. About this well there is clay of a tough consistence, streaked white and blue. An analysis, I hope, would prove it valuable for manufacturing earthen ware.

"On Red River, a head branch of the Kentucky, a very curious kind of rock is found. It seems to have been formed by the concretion of innumerable pebbles, of all figures and many colours. What may be the cementive quality of the pebbles themselves, or rather of the water, or something else which has passed through them, I am not able to determine. The rock is manufactured into excellent mill-stones."

AMERICAN TOURMALINE.

This mineral is well known for its singular property of becoming electrical merely by being warmed. It has, therefore, excited the attention of the electrician, as well as of the chemist and mineralogist. Mr. Godon, a distinguished cultivator of the physical sciences, from Paris, and now in this town, has discovered tourmalines in several places which he has visited; and they may now be considered as existing in the neighbourhood of New-York and Philadelphia, in some districts of Massachusetts, at Georgetown, in Columbia, and, above all, in NewHampshire, whose mountains can easily furnish tourmalines enough for all the mineralogical collections in the world. Many of them consist of long black crystals, united to quartz, and possessing very much the appearance of schoerl.

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THE MONTHLY ANTHOLOGY.

FOR

MAY, 1808.

For the Anthology.
REMARKER, No. 33.

HAYLEY, in his life of Cowper, has introduced a beautiful poem on Friendship by that moral bard: it is written with all the simplicity and natural elegance, which characterise him; and as his constitutional fee bleness and religious despondency frequently required and always received the tenderest assistance of friendly affection, he knew from ex. perience, as also from moral reasoning, the necessary qualities to create and continue this greatest of human delights. Accordingly, he has described it with such artlessness and force of sentiment, with such vigour and extent of view, that he has condensed, in a short poem, the essence of what has been so largely written on the subject by the best authors, ancient and modern. He has indeed added nothing new to what was already known; for Tully had before the christian era, treated the topick with all the acute knowledge, which reading or reflection could supply, and had adorned it with all the graces of eloquence and fancy. But however splendidly decorated, or philosophically investigated by Hayley or Tully, the ancients considered that a perfect union of sentiments Vol. V. No. V. 2 E

and actions was necessary to constitute this virtue. They supposed that two friends were to be intimately acquainted with all the virtues and vices, and opinions and failings of each other; otherwise the passion could not subsist in vigour, or be long continued. They also said, that there must be a coincidence of sentiment, as to any thing, which was wished for or disliked. The Idem velle atque idem nolle of Horace is well known; and in Cicero, there are many passages of the same nature and tendency. Indeed, in former times, the most romantick ideas were entertained of this virtue. Epithets of enthusiasm and sublimity were lavished on it, as if friendship were the most holy gift of the gods, the proper object of prayer, and the noblest cause of piety and gratitude. A serious reader might almost suppose, that in the works of the classicks, he was reading the compositions of modern writers, such is their flow of sentiment, and their flight of romance; in many is to be found all the eloquence of Rousseau, and in some the fanciful doctrines of Zimmerman.

I certainly do not mean to censure the ancient moralists. They have

often avowed the most just reflections on life and manners; and the elegance of their stile has added every attraction to the truth of their opinions. Yet I cannot but observe with Dr. Johnson, we know little about the ancients. If what they have written and said be the real dictates of their understanding; if their accounts of friendship be not visionary, but practical; if the portraits, which they have drawn, are not merely the ideal beings of the brain, but the true representations of existing characters, we may conclude that Grecian and Roman friends were different from the French or English. In the stores of modern literature, I can find accounts of virtuous friendships, reasonable in their nature, founded in esteem, and durable in operation; but in vain do I search for the inviolable union of Castor and Pollux, the eternal affection of Pylades and Orestes, and the wonderful constancy of Damon and Pythias.

But, without attempting to injure the sentiments of the ancients on this head, it may be reasonably observed, that they endeavoured to write eloquently, rather than accurately; that they were more anxious to show what friendship should be, than to exhibit it as what they had seen or experienced. This was a favourite mode of instruction, as it might induce any one to rise above the common level of virtue, to the most sublime excellence; and it was recommended to the poet or orator for another reason, for in that when they used it, they might give perfect freedom to their imagination; they might array the friend, the philosopher, and the wise man in all the charms of possible perfection, while the sober historian was confined to the truth of testimony and the accuracy of fact. That

the ancients had much romance in
their descriptions of virtue, is proba-
ble from an accurate view of human
nature in relation to the necessary
If they
requisites of friendship.
considered that a thorough acquaint-
ance with each other's views, failings,
virtues, and vices, was essential to a
perfect, friendly union between two
persons, as really seems to have been
an idea entertained by some of the
old moralists, we may safely affirm,
that a complete friendship was never
formed among men, and that all de-
scriptions of its existence are un-
founded and erroneous.

Such are the infirmity and wick-
edness of human nature, that no per-
son was ever free from follies and
crimes; and such is its prudence or
pride, that they are never disclosed.
In the awful period of prayer, no
doubt some men have confessed all
their sins, and humbly have request-
ed pardon for their acknowledged
transgressions. But this breathing
out of wickedness has been caused
by a conviction, that the Omniscient
God was already acquainted with
them, and by a hope that a devout
acknowledgement might propitiate
his judgment, and promote a recon-
ciliation between an offended Deity
and a vile conceiver or actual per-
Similar rea-
petrator of crimes.

sons may have operated to induce
many of the Roman Catholick
church, to pour forth all their sor-
rows and sins into the hearts of the
confessors; as their religion had
declared this to be one source of
consolation, and, perhaps, one means
of salvation. But, independently of
such circumstances and reasons,
where is the man whose heart has
been perfectly known? Where is
the tongue, which has proclaimed
all the wickedness, which the mind
Where is
had ever conceived?
the friend, who has ever laid open

1

his whole soul to the inspection of
another? The thing is morally im-
possible. There is always some
folly unrevealed, some failing, which
as it may be vicious, will not be dis-
covered. Let any one ask himself
candidly, whether he have not,
at some moment of his life thought
of some crime, or actually commit-
ted it, which he would be ashamed
to acknowledge; which, when re-
collected, pains him, and would, if
published even to a friend, at the
hcur of midnight, in the secrecy of
solitude, distract him. The heart
is never pure.
It is often clouded
with sorrow because of its follies,
and sometimes blackened with des-
pair, because of its crimes. When
man is born, sin also is engendered; it
progresses in extent or enormity dur-
ing the course of existence, and,
though frequently baffled by virtuous
resolution, or repented of in contrite
humiliation, is never eradicated from
the soul, till death drives it from its
retreat, and leaves the man to his
Maker.

old world are acknowledged to be extravagant, I cannot think that what I have stated is much farther from the truth than the inaccuracy of a copy wanders from the exactness of an original.

Should it however be supposed, that in the treatises of antiquity, true friendship is described, rather as what it should be than what it has been; and that the heroes of this virtue are more wonderful in the page of the moralist, than they were by their conduct in life; that a knowledge of each other's whole nature and a perfect coincidence in sentiments is to be desired rather than expected; it may then be a matter of much doubt, whether the speculations are not too highly coloured, and consequently distrustful, and whether if carried into practice, they might not produce harm, instead of advantage.

Every foolish boy and romantick girl have learned and believed such beautiful opinions of friendship, that it may not be pleasant to destroy the illusion; yet they should know, that errour always leads to evil; that truth should be the object of every pursuit; that practical good is better than speculative felicity. I do not mean to destroy friendly affection; I intend to cherish it by sobriety and

care.

If this be a true statement of the guilt of human nature, we can never believe, that the friendships of the ancient world were founded on a perfect knowledge of the characters, who formed the union of hearts. It may perhaps be thought that I have stated the opinions of heathen morI am no wild destroyer, who alists too largely; that they never would root out the charities of life, intended that the whole system of but I would prune them with care, intentions and actions in one person and water them with diligence. should be laid bare to the scrutiniz- The friendship of the ancients is ing view of another; and that I have extravagant and useless; it is like in fact raised a hideous phantom, an old oak towering in the inaccessonly to destroy it. This may posible rocks of a lofty mountain, never sibly be the case; but when one invigorated by the mellow breezes writer tells me, that friends should of spring, but always exposed have the same desires and aversions ; to the lightnings and shattered by when a philospher, like Tully, says, the blast. that in friendship one soul should animate two bodies; and when the general opinions on the subject in the

For the ordinary purposes of life, there is no necessity of unveiling to a friend all the secrets of the mind.

The affection can increase to matur. ity, without such a developement. This reason suggests and experience confirms. If the virtuous man, from the iniquity of his nature, be seldom free from faults, and never from follies; if he have sometimes contemplated the pleasures of vice or meditated the execution of evil; if he have afterwards repented of his sins, governed his passions, and humbled himself before God; I would ask the Roman philosopher what advantage could result from the exposing of such frailties and amendments to a friend? He would certainly answer, none. No possible good could result from such confidence. If temptations have led a man astray from the course of virtue, but by contrition and holy living he has been reconciled to his Maker, why should he tear open his heart to a friend, and be obliged to contemplate anew the former wickedness of his mind? Why shall he again cause to bleed, the wound which

had healed? Nay, so far from, its conducing to the ripening of friendship, it might forever blast it; for such is the common prudence of human nature, that no one will repose in another's keeping his secrets, his sorrows, his life, perhaps his reputation, whose unveiled sins and wickedness give him a miserable pledge of good conduct, a pitiful bond of virtuous resolution. Friendship therefore cannot demand to know the heart of another. Our poor nature will be exposed in our conduct and sentiments, without our laying it needlessly open. Let it be gradually discovered of necessity, not suddenly exhibited by folly. If our friends believe us better than we are, let us leave it to proper circumstances to destroy the delusion, and represent the true picture of ourselves; for otherwise a complete developement may make us abhorred; and surely no one is bound to confess what may lead to his condemnation.

SKETCH OF THE UNIVERSITY OF GLASGOW.

FROM the sketch, which has been given of the scheme of publick study at Glasgow, it will appear that the general arrangement of its parts is judicious, and fraught with many advantages to the interests of education. It is not, however, entirely free from the defects, to which all such institutions are liable. In a systematick establishment of this nature, a more important station ought surely to have been allotted to mathematical studies, than the one which they now occupy. A superficial knowledge of the subject is indeed rendered necessary to the degree of Master of Arts; but

this requisition is far from being of sufficient strictness or regularity to remedy the evil, and the general indifference towards such pursuits, manifested among the students, seems to require some other counteraction, than is afforded by the present plans of education, pursued in the college. The mathematical department, which is conducted by Mr. Millar, son to the late celebrated professor of law, occupies an intermediate situation between the publick and private classes. A regular attendance is exacted from those who enter upon the study, examinations are made, in connection

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