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pendent on power, but the guide of all power. Virtue is the foundation of honour and esteem, and the source of all beauty, order, and happiness, in nature. It is what confers value on all the other endowments and qualities of a reasonable being, to which they ought to be absolutely 'subfervient ; and without which, the more cminent they are, the more hideous deformities and the greater curses they become.

The use of it is not confined to any one stage of our existence, or to any particular situation we can be in, but reaches through all the periods and circumstances of our being. Many of the endowments and talents we now possess, and of which we are too apt to be proud, will ceafe entirely with the present state; but this will be our ornament and dignity, in every future ftate to which we may be removed. Beauty and wit will die, learning will vanish away, and all the arts of life be foon forgot; but virtue will remain for ever. This unites us to the whole rational creation ; and fits us for converfing with any order of fuperiour natures, and for a place in any part of God's works. It procures us the approbation and love of all wife and good beings, and renders them our allies and friends. But what is of unfpeakably greater consequence is, that it makes God our friend, asimilates and unites our minds to his, and ena gages his Almighty power in our defence. Superiour beings of all ranks are bound by it no less than ourselves. It has the fame authority in all worlds that it has in this. The further any being is advanced in excellence and perfection, the greater is his attachment to it, and the more is he under its influence.---To fay no more, it is the law of the whole universe, it stands first in the eftimation of the Deity, its original is his nature, and it is the very object that makes him lovely.

Such is the importance of virtue.- Of what consequence, therefore, is it that we practise it! There is no argument or motive in any respect fitted to influence a reafonable mind, which does not call us to this. One virtuous difpofition of foul is preferable to the greatelt natural accomplishments and abilities, and of more value than all the treasures of the world. If you are wile, then, study virtue, and contemn every thing that


can come in competition with it. Remember, that no thing else deserves one anxious thought or wish. Remember, that this alone is hoñour, glory, wealth, and happiness. Secure this, and you secure every thing. Lofe this, and all is loft.

VII. Addrefs to Art. O ART! thou distinguishing attribute and honour of

human kind! who art not only able to imitate nature in her graces, but even to adorn her with graces of thine own! Posseised of thee, the meanest genius grows deserving, and has a just demand for a portion of our esteem : devoid of thee, the brightest of our kind lie lost and useless, and are but poorly distingnished from the molt despicable and base. When we inhabited foreits in common with brutes, nor otherwise known from them than by the figure of our species, thou taughtest us to affert the sovereignty of our nature, and to assume that 'empire for which providence intended us. Thousands of utilities owe their birth to thee; thousands of elegancies, pleasures, and joys, without which life itself would be but an insipid poffeffion.

Wide and extensive is the reach of thy dominion. No element is there, either fo violent or fo fubtile, so yielding or so sluggish, as, by the powers of its nature, to be fuperiour to thy direction. Thou dreadeft not the fierce impetuofity of Fire, but compellest its violence to be both obedient and useful. By it thou softenelt the stubborn tribe of minerals, so as in be formed and moulded into shapes innumerable. Hence weapons, armour, coin: and, previous to these and other thy works, and ener. gies, hence all those various tools and instruments, which empower thee to proceed to farther ends more ex. cellent. Nor is the subtile Air less obedient to thy power, whether thou willest it to be a minister to our pleasure or utility. At thy command, it giveth birth to founds, which charm the soul with aự the powers of harmony. Under thy initruction, it moves the thip over feas; while that yielding element, where otherwise we fink, even Water itself is by thee taught to bear us ; the vast ocean, to promote that intercourse of nations which ignorance would imagine it was destined to intercept.


To say how thy influence is seen on Earth, would be to teach the meanest what he knows already. Suffice it but to mention, fields of arable and pasture ; lawns, and groves, and gardens, and plantations ; cottages, villages, calles, towns ; .palaces, temples, and spacious cities.

Nor does thy empire end in fubje&ts thus inanimate. Its power also extends through the various race of Animals, who either patiently submit to become thy flaves, or are fure to find thee an irresistible foe. The faithful dog, the patient ox, the generous horse, and the mighty elephant, are content all to receive their instructions from thee, and readily to lend their natural inftin&ts or ftrength to perform those offices which thy occafions call for. If there be found any species which are serviceable when dead, thou suggesteit the means to investigate and take them: if any be so savage as to refuse being tamed, or of natures fierce enough to venture an attack, thou teachelt us to fcorn their brutal rage, to meet, repel, pursue, and conquer.

Such, O Art! is thy amazing influence, when thon art employeå only on these inferiour subjects, on natures inanimate, or at bet irrational. Būt, whenever thou chooselt a subject more noble, and settest to the cultivating of Mind itself, then 'tis thou becomeft truly amiable and divine, the ever-Powing source of those sublimer beauties of which no subject but mind alone is capable. Then 'tis thou art enabled to exhibit to mankind the admired tribe of poets and orators, the sacred train of patriots and heroes, the god-like lift of philosophers and legillators, the forms of virtuous and equal polities, ,where private welfare is made the same with public, where crowds themselves prove disinterested, and virtue is made a national and popular characteristic: - Hail ! facred fource of all these wonders! Thyself in

ftruét me to praise thee worthily, through whom, whatever we do, is done with elegance and beauty; without whom, what we do is' ever graceless and deformed. „Venerable power! by what name shall I address thee?

Shall I call thee Ornament of mind, or art thou more truly Mind itself ! 'Tis Mind thou art, most perfect Mind: not rude, untaught; but fair and polished. In


such thou dwellest ; of such thou art the form ; nor is it a thing more possible to separate thee from fuch, than it would be to separate thee from thy own existence.

VITI. Flattery. FLATTERY is a manner of conversation very shameful

in itself, but beneficial to the flatterer,

If a flatterer is upon a public walk with you, “ DO but mind,” says he, “ how every one's eye is upon you. Sure there is not a man in Athens that is taken so much notice of. You had justice done you yesterday in the portico. There were above thirty of us together; and, the question being started who was the most considerable person in the commonwealthấthe whole company was of the same fide. In short, Sir, every one made familiar with your name." "He follows this whisper with a thousand other flatteries of the fame nature.

Whenever the person to whom he would make his court begins to speak, the fycophant begs the company to be silent, molt impudently praises hiin to his face, iş in raptures all the while he ialks, and, as soon as he has done, cries out, That is perfectly right! When his patron aims at being witty upon any man, be is ready to . burst at the smartness of his raillery, and stops his mouth with his handkerchief that he may not laugh out. If he calls his children about him, the flatterer has a pocketful of apples for them, which he distributes among them with a great deal of fondness, wonders to see so many fine boys, and, turning about to the father, tells him they are all as like him as they can stare.

When he is invited to a feaft, he is the first man that calls for a glass of wine, and is wonderfully pleased with the deliciousness of the flavour; gets as near as possible to the man of the house, and tells him with much concern that he eats nothing himself. He fingles out some particular dish, and recommends it to the rest of the company for a rarity. He defires the master of the feaft to fit in a warmer part of the room; begs him to take more care of his health, and advises him to put on a fupernumerary garment in this cold weather. He is in a ciofe whisper with him during the whole entertainment, and

has neither eyes nor ears for any one else in the company.

If a man shows him his house, he extols the architect, admires the gardens, and expatiates upon the furniture. If the owner is grossly flattered in a picture, he outflatters the painter; and, though he discovers a great likeness in it, can by no means allow that it does justice to the original.-In Thört, his whole business is to ingratiate himself with those who hear bim, and to wheedle them out of their senses.

IX. The abfent Man. MENALCAS comes down in the morning : opens his

door to go out ; but shuts it again, because he perceives he has his night-cap on; and, examining himself further, finds that he is but half-shaved, that he has stuck his sword on his right side, that his stockings are about his heels, and that his shirt is over his breeches.

When he is dressed, he goes to court'; comes into the . drawing-room; and, walking upright under a branch of candlesticks, his wig is caught up by one of them, md hangs dangling in the air. All the courtiers fall alaughing; bát Menalcas laughs louder than any of them, and looks about for the person that is the jest of the company: Coming down to the court-gate, he finds a coach ; which, taking for his own, he whips into it ; and the coachman drives off, not doubting but' he carties bis matter. As foon he stops, Menalcas throws himself out of the coach, crosses the court, ascends the stair-case, and runs through all the chambers with the greateft faniliarity, reposes himself on a couch, and fan. cies himfelf at home. The matter of the house at lalt comes in. Menalcas rilés to receive him, and desires hím to fit dowił. He talks, muses, and then talks again. The gentleman of the house is tired and amazed. Menalcas is no less fo; but is every moment in hopes that his'impertinent guest will at last end his tedious visit. Night comes on, when Menalcás is hardly convinced.

When he is playing at backgammon, he calls for a full glass of wine and water. is his turn to throw. He his the box in one hand, and his glass in the other; and, being extremely dry and unwilling to lose time, he swal.



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