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The Chinese Philosopher's Son made a Slave in Persia. THE letter which came by the way of Smyrna, and which you sent me unopened, was from my son. As I have permitted you to take copies of all those I send to China, you might have made no ceremony in opening those directed to me. Either in joy or sorrow, my friend should participate in my feelings. "It would give pleasure to see a good man pleased at my success; it would give almost equal pleasure to see him sympathize at my disappointment.'

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Every account I receive from the East seems to come loaded with some new affliction. My wife and daughter were taken from me, and yet I sustained the loss with intrepidity; my son is made a slave among the barbarians, which was the only blow that could have reached my heart; yes, I will indulge the transports of nature for a little, in order to show I can overcome them in the end. "True magna

nimity consists not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall."

When our mighty emperor had published his displeasure at my departure, and seized upon all that was mine, my son was privately secreted from his resentment. Under the protection and guardianship of Fum Hoam, the best and wisest of all the inhab

itants of China, he was for some time instructed in the learning of the missionaries and the wisdom of the East; but, hearing of my adventures, and incited by filial piety, he was resolved to follow my fortunes and share my distress.

He passed the confines of China in disguise; hired himself as a camel-driver to a caravan that was crossing the deserts of Thibet, and was within one day's journey of the river Laur, which divides that country from India, when a body of wandering Tartars, falling unexpectedly upon the caravan, plundered it, and made those who escaped their first fury slaves. By those he was led into the extensive and desolate regions that border on the shores of the Aral Lake.

Here he lived by hunting, and was obliged to supply every day a certain proportion of the spoil to regale his savage masters; his learning, his virtues, and even his beauty, were qualifications that no way served to recommend him; they knew no merit but that of providing large quantities of milk and raw flesh; and were sensible of no happiness but that of rioting on the undressed meal.

Some merchants from Mesched, however, coming to trade with the Tartars for slaves, he was sold among the number, and led into the kingdom of Persia, where he is now detained. He is there obliged to watch the looks of a voluptuous and cruel master; a man fond of pleasure, yet incapable of refinement, whom many years' service in war has taught pride, but not bravery.

That treasure which I still keep within my bosom, my child, my all that was left to me, is now a slave. Good heavens! why was this? why have I been introduced into this mortal apartment, to be a spectator of my own misfortunes, and the misfortunes of my fellow-creatures! wherever I turn, what a laby*This whole apostrophe seems most literally translated from Ambulaaohamed, the Arabian poet.

rinth of doubt, error, and disappointment appears! why was I brought into being? for what purposes made? from whence have I come? whither strayed? or to what regions am I hastening? Reason cannot resolve. It lends a ray to show the horrors of my prison, but not a light to guide me to escape them. Ye boasted revelations of the earth, how little do you aid the inquiry!

How am I surprised at the inconsistency of the magi; their two principles of good and evil affright me. The Indian, who bathes his visage in urine, and calls it piety, strikes me with astonishment. The Christian, who believes in three gods, is highly absurd. The Jews, who pretend the Deity is pleased with the effusion of blood, are not less displeasing. I am equally surprised that rational beings can come from the extremities of the earth in order to kiss a stone or scatter pebbles. How contrary to reason are those! and yet all pretend to teach me to be happy.

Surely all men are blind and ignorant of truth. Mankind wanders, unknowing his way, from morning till the evening. Where shall we turn after happiness; or is it wisest to desist from the pursuit? Like reptiles in a corner of some stupendous palace, we peep from our holes, look about us, wonder at all we see, but are ignorant of the great Architect's design. Oh for a revelation of himself, for a plan of his universal system! Oh for the reasons of our creation; or why we were created to be thus unhappy! If we are to experience no other felicity but what this life affords, then are we miserable indeed. If we are born only to look about us, repine, and die, then has Heaven been guilty of injustice. If this life terminates my existence, I despise the blessings of Providence and the wisdom of the giver. If this life be my all, let the following epitaph be written on the tomb of Altangi: "By my father's crimes I received this. By my own crimes I bequeath it to posterity."

FROM THE SAME.

The Venders of Quack Medicines and Nostrums ridiculed.

WHATEVER may be the merits of the English in other sciences, they seem peculiarly excellent in the art of healing. There is scarcely a disorder incident to humanity against which they are not possessed with a most infallible antidote. The professors of other arts confess the inevitable intricacy of things; talk with doubt, and decide with hesitation; but doubting is entirely unknown in medicine; the advertising professors here delight in cases of difficulty; be the disorder ever so desperate or radical, you will find numbers in every street who, by levelling a pill at the part affected, promise a certain cure without loss of time, knowledge of a bedfellow, or hinderance of business.

When I consider the assiduity of this profession, their benevolence amazes me. They not only in general give their medicines for half value, but use the most persuasive remonstrances to induce the sick to come and be cured. Sure there must be something strangely obstinate in an English patient who refuses so much health upon such easy terms: does he take a pride in being bloated with a dropsy? does he find pleasure in the alternations of an intermittent fever? or feel as much satisfaction in nursing up his gout as he found pleasure in acquiring it? He must, or otherwise he would never reject such repeated assurances of instant relief. What can be more convincing than the manner in which the sick are invited to be well? The doctor first begs the most earnest attention of the public to what he is going to propose; he solemnly affirms that the pill was never found to want success; he produces a list of those who have been rescued from the grave by taking it. Yet, notwithstanding all this, there are

many here who now and then think proper to be sick: only sick, did I say? There are some who think proper even to die! Yes, by the head of Confucius, they die, though they might have purchased the health-restoring specific for half a crown at every corner.

I am amazed, my dear Fum Hoam, that these doctors, who know what an obstinate set of people they have to deal with, have never thought of attempting to revive the dead. When the living are found to reject their prescriptions, they ought, in conscience, to apply to the dead, from whom they can expect no such mortifying repulses; they would find in the dead the most complying patients imaginable; and what gratitude might they not expect from the patient's son, now no longer an heir, and his wife, now no longer a widow.

Think not, my friend, that there is anything chimerical in such an attempt; they already perform cures equally strange : what can be more truly astonishing than to see old age restored to youth, and vigour to the most feeble constitutions? yet this is performed here every day: a simple electuary effects these wonders, even without the bungling ceremonies of having the patient boiled up in a kettle, or ground down in a mill.

Few physicians here go through the ordinary courses of education, but receive all their knowledge of medicine by immediate inspiration from Heaven. Some are thus inspired even in the womb; and, what is very remarkable, understand their profession as well at three years old as at threescore. Others have spent a great part of their lives unconscious of any latent excellence, until a bankruptcy, or a residence in jail, has called their miraculous powers into exertion. And others still there are, indebted to their superlative ignorance alone for success. The more ignorant the practitioner, the less capable is he thought of deceiving.

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