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smelling is delighted with the fragrance diffused from all around. In a word, a thousand objects exercise our senses, and excite our sensibility. The flocks and herds, nourished by the lavish hand of Nature, crop the wholesome herb, to afford us nutriment and clothing. Kindly rains bedew the soil with plenty, and open new sources of thanksgiving. The tufted trees and bowery thickets refresh us with their welcome shade. Whatever we see, and whatever we hear; whatever can delight the taste, or the sense of smelling, augments the number of our pleasures, and contributes to felicity.

But a view of the creation at this season is still more enchanting, when considered as a source of pleasure to the understanding, which discovers what the senses cannot attain: it contemplates beauty, harmony, variety, and pleasure unperceived before. In every object of Nature, it beholds the great Creator of all, the Source of life and beauty, the Author of every good. Inspired by scenes, in which infinite wisdom and unbounded goodness are incessantly conspicuous, with what rapture will the Contemplative Philosopher, the genuine son of Nature, exalt his voice to heaven, in the glowing language of gratitude and adoration: "Yes! (he may exclaim) Thou Best of Beings! how unutterable is thy goodness! I behold thee in all thy wondrous works. The radiant orb of day, and, in the night, the silver moon, and all the stars, the life-infusing suns of other worlds, proclaim the Great Omnipotent. In the balsamic fragrance of the flowers I behold that incense rise, which, in mingled clouds, they roll soft to thee, whose sun exalts, whose breath perfumes, and whose pencil paints them.' In the delicious fruits I taste, I perceive thy unoonfined and unexhausted bounty. Whatever pleasures I enjoy by the kind communication of my senses, shall recall me to thee, as the object of devout and

fervent aspiration; and thou, most adorable Being, who gavest me these sensations, wilt thus exalt and ennoble them. While I am still intent in contemplating these material beauties, I soar insensibly to the most sublime objects, to the centre of all perfection. Yes! Thou Good Supreme, thee I invoke, thee alone adore! To thee this lonely spot, this pleasing solitude, these rural thoughts are sacred, while thus I meditate on thy works, and contemplate the beauties which all resolve in thee, thou source and principle of beauty and perfection!"

Such are the natural effusions of the Contemplative Philosopher, when his eye wanders over the beauties of the Summer. And what pleasure and serenity do such meditations inspire! Can any terrestrial enjoyments be placed in competition with the manly sources of delight which they afford? Can the wise and virtuous be ever satiated with such themes? No: were they to witness the revo lution of a thousand Summers, they would still dis cover new objects of admiration, and new subjects of praise and adoration.

For me, when I forget the darling theme,
Whether the blossom blows, the Summer ray
Russets the plain, inspiring Autumn gleams,
Or Winter rises in the blackening east,
Be my tongue mute, may Fancy paint no more,
And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat!

THOMSON.

No. XLII.

A MORNING WALK.

Look, love, what envious streaks
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:
Night's candles are put out: and jocund Day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain's top.

SHAKSPEARE.

Sweet is the breath of Morn, her rising sweet,
With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the Sun,
When first on this delightful land he spreads
His orient beams on herb, tree, fruit, and flower,
Glistering with dew.

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MILTON.

WHAT a magnificent phenomenon is every day exhibited in the rising of the sun! yet how common is the observation, that indolence and the love of sleep prevent a great part of mankind from contemplating this beauteous wonder of the creation! What numbers are there, in high life especially, who prefer a few more hours of sleep to all the pleasures of a morning walk!

This circumstance has been ridiculed with great propriety by one of my predecessors: This unaccountable disposition in mankind, to continue awake in the night, and sleep in the sunshine, has made me inquire, whether the same change has happened to any other animals? For this reason, I desired a friend of mine in the country to let me know, whether the lark rises as early as it did formerly, and whether the cock begins to crow at his usual hour? My friend has answered me, That his poultry are as regular as ever, and that all the birds and the beasts of his neighbourhood keep the same hours that they have observed in the memory of man; and

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the same which, in all probability, they have kept for these five thousand years.' The same excellent author continues, in a more serious strain, Who would not wonder at this perverted relish of those who are reckoned the most polite part of mankind, that prefer coal and candles to the Sun, and exchange so many cheerful morning hours, for the pleasures of midnight revels and debauches? If a man were only to consult his health, he would choose to live his whole time, if possible, in daylight, and to retire out of the world into silence and sleep, while the raw damps and unwholesome vapours fly abroad, without a sun to disperse, moderate, or control them. For my own part, I value an hour in the morning as much as common libertines do an hour at midnight. When I find myself awakened into being, and perceive my life renewed within me, and, at the same time, see the whole face of Nature recovered out of the dark uncomfortable state in which it lay for several hours, my heart overflows with such secret sentiments of joy and gratitude, as are a kind of implicit praise to the great Author of Nature. The mind, in these early seasons of the day, is so refreshed in all its faculties, and borne up with such new supplies of animal spirits, that she finds herself in a state of youth, especially when she is entertained with the breath of flowers, the melody of birds, the dews that hang upon the plants, and all those other sweets of Nature that are peculiar to the morning.—But it is impossible for a man to have this relish of being, this exquisite taste of life, who does not come into the world before it is in all its noise and hurry; who loses the rising of the sun, the still hour of the day, and immediately upon his first getting up plunges himself into the ordinary cares or follies of the world."

And such are the sentiments of the poet of the

Seasons, whose soul was so capable of enjoying, and his genius of describing, the pleasures of the Morning:

Falsely luxurious, will not man awake:

And, springing from the bed of sloth, enjoy
The cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour,
To meditation due and sacred song?

For is there aught in sleep can charm the wise?
To lie in dead oblivion, losing half

The fleeting moments of too short a life;
Total extinction of th' enlightened soul !
Or else to feverish vanity alive,

Wildered, and tossing through distempered dreams?
Who would in such a gloomy state remain
Longer than Nature craves? when every muse
And every blooming pleasure wait without,
To bless the wildly-devious morning walk ? 1

But it is not indolence and the love of sleep only that give rise to these observations. Beauty ceases to charm, and magnificence to strike, when the object, however perfect it may be, is become familiar to a mind, unaccustomed to reflect on the order and harmony of the creation, and on those wonderful relations between all the objects of it, which naturally

1 Herrick has given us some most pleasing lines on early rising, which we willingly address to every female who sacrifices her health to indolence and fashion.

Get up, get up for shame; the blooming morn
Upon her wings presents the God unshorn:
See how Aurora throws her fair
Fresh-quilted colours through the air.
Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see

The dew bespangling herb and tree:

Each flow'r has wept, and bowed toward the east,
Above an hour since; yet you not drest;

Nay, not so much as out of bed;

When all the birds have matins said,
And sung their thankful hymns: 'tis sin,
Nay, profanation to keep in.

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