them. The equality which fubfifts among these fifters of obfcurity, the fimilarity of their fate, the peace, the leisure they enjoy, give rife to the most endearing friendships. Their innocence is shielded by the fimplicity of their life from even the idea of ill; and they are flattered by the notion of a voluntary renunciation of pleasures, which, probably, had they continued in the world, they would have had little share in. AFTER all that can be faid, we have reafon enough to rejoice that the fuperftitions of former times are now fallen into difrepute. What might be a palliative at one time, foon became a crying evil in itself. When the fuller day of science began to dawn, the monkish orders were willing to exclude its brightness, that the dim lamp might still glimmer in their cell. Their growing vices have rendered them justly I 3 odious odious to fociety, and they seem in a fair way of being for ever abolished. But may we not still hope that the world was better than it would have been without them; and that he, who knows to bring good out of evil, has made them, in their day, fubfervient to fome useful purpofes. The corruptions of christianity, which have been accumulating for fo many ages, seem to be now gradually clearing away; and some future period may perhaps exhibit our religion in all its native fimplicity. So the pure limpid ftream, when foul with ftains ON ON THE PLEASURE DERIVED FROM OBJECTS OF TERROR; WITH SIR BERTRAND, A FRAGMENT. HAT the exercise of our benevolent TH feelings, as called forth by the view of human afflictions, fhould be a fource of pleasure, cannot appear wonderful to one who confiders that relation between the moral and natural fyftem of man, which has connected a degree of satisfaction with every action or emotion productive of the general welfare. The painful sensation immediately arifing from a scene of mifery, is so much foftened and alleviated by the reflex sense of self-approbation attending virtuous fympathy, that we find, on the whole, a very exquisite and refined pleasure remaining, which makes us defirous of again being witnesses to fuch scenes, instead of flying from them with disgust and horror. It is obvious how greatly fuch a provision muft conduce to the ends of mutual support and assistance. But the apparent delight with which we dwell upon objects of pure terror, where our moral feelings are not in the leaft concerned, and no paffion feems to be excited but the depreffing one of fear, is a paradox of the heart, much more difficult of folution. THE THE reality of this fource of pleasure feems evident from daily observation. The greediness with which the tales of ghofts and goblins, of murders,earthquakes, fires, fhipwrecks, and all the most terrible disasters attending human life, are devoured by every ear, must have been generally remarked. Tragedy, the most favourite work of fiction, has taken a full share of thofe fcenes; " it has fupt full with horrors"—and has, perhaps, been more indebted to them for public admiration than to its tender and pathetic parts. The ghoft of Hamlet, Macbeth defcending into the witches' cave, and the tent scene in Richard, command as forcibly the attention of our fouls as the parting Jaffeir and Belvidera, the fall of Wolfey, or the death of Shore. The inspiration of terror was by the antient critics affigned as the peculiar province of tragedy; and the Greek and Roman tra gedians |