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and strengthened by that veneration which-time affixes to every great event; all these united causes conspire to place hér above mortality. Rome and Athens would undoubtedly have ranked her among their tutelary deities, and have erected temples to her honour; por can I help being amazed, that, amidst the almost infinite number of modern 'saints who crowd and disgrace the French churches, no altar was ever erected to the Maid of Orleans.”



FLORINDA is no beauty ; nay, in the vulgar eye, she is just the reverse; but she has every mental grace in perfection, and beauties of the mind seldom fail to diffuse beauties-indefinable beauties over the person. Florinda has none of those charms that constitute personal excellence -her cheek is pallid-her eye not brilliant; but when the latter beams benevolence, or sparkles with mirth-when the former is suffused with the captivating blush of modesty, or vermilioned with the glow of the tender passion, there are none more pleasing.

Nothing is more natural than for distress to compand attention and excite the tributary tear. In general, this attention has few attractions—there is little in the tear to admire. But when Florinda listens to the tale of the mourner, her passions rise and fall in such perfect unison ! with those of ihe narrator, that were you to trust the evidence of sight alone, it would be difficult for you to determine, whose grief was the greater of the two. When her eye glistens with pily, and her cheek burns with indignation, she has a manner so irresistibly attractive, so peculiarly her own, that admiration follows it as naturally as an effect does its cause.

Her face is a never-failing index to her heart; and what. ever feeling she means to indulge, is sure to afford previous intimation of it. The smile of complacency quivers on her lip, and a certain pleasing archgess is seco in her eyes. that eludes description. She often lets Aly the pointed arrows of her harmless wit; and even where they are directed, they coinmonly extort applause. The lines,

“ Curs'd be the verse, how well soe'er it flow,

Which tends to make one worthy man my fue," she often repeats delighted; and rather than give even the shadow of offence to any well-meaning person, would forego (hard task for a female !) every opportunity of being admired.

Her ear is ever open to the prayer of the unfortunate, and ever closed to the suggestions of calumny; her feet are ever winged to visit the afflicted; her tongue is ever prompt to administer the vivifying balm of consolation; and her hand “open as day, to distribute charity to the poor and needy.” Such is Florinda! There are many who possess more of “ the outward and visible sign" of personal beauty, but in true “ inward and spiritual grace” she has few riyals ; her failings are concealed, as they are the errors of humanity in general, while her virtues are made known to excite universal imitation.

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TOUS berbs

THE common, overgrown with fern, and rough
With prickly gorse, that, shapeless and deform’d,
And dang'rous to the touch, has yet its bloom,
And decks itself with ornainents of gold,
Yields no unpleasing ramble; there the turf
Smells fresh, and rich, in odorif 'rous herbs
And fungous fruits of earth, regales the sense
With luxury of unsuspected sweets.

There often wanders one, whom better days
Saw better clad, in cloak of sattin trimm'd .
With lace, and hat with splendid ribband bound.
A serving maid was she, and fell in love
With one who left her, went to sea, and died.
Her fancy follow'd him through foaming waves
To distant shores; and she would sit and weep
At what a sailor suffers ; fancy, too,
Delusive most where warmest wishes are,
Would oft anticipate his glad return,
And dream of transports she was not to know. -
She heard the doleful tidings of his death-
And never smil'd again ! and now she roams

The dreary waste; there spends the livelong day,
And there, unless when charity forbids,
The livelong night. A tatter'd apron hides,
Worn as a cloak, and hardly hides, a gown
More tatter'd still; and both but ill conceal
A bosom heav'd with never ceasing sighs.
She begs an idle pin of all she meets,
* And hoards them in her sleeve; but needful food,
Though press'd with hunger oft, or comelier clothes,
Though pinch'd with cold, asks never.-Kate is craz'd.



SLOW broke the light, and sweet breath'd the morn, When a maiden I saw sitting under a thorn; Her dark hair hung loose on her bare neck of snow, . Her eyes look'd bewilder'd, her cheek pale with woe: “Ah! whence is thy sorrow? sweet maiden,” said I, “ The green grave will answer,” she said, with a sigh.. The merry lark so sweetly did sing o'er her head; But she thought on her grief, and “ the battle," sbe said.

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The breeze murmur'd by, when she look'd up forlorn, “ Hark! hark! didst thou hear, 'twas the sigh of the morn.' They say that in battle my love met his death, But ah ! 'twas this hawthorn that robb'd his sweet breath. Come here, gentle robin, live safe from the storm, In my bosom now sit; there my true love lies warın. Ah, robin! be constant; my true love was brave; Sweet robin shall sit and sing over his grave."

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“ Augurs and soothsayers, astrologers,
Diviners and interpreters of dreams,
I ne'er consult, and heartily despise :
Vain their pretence to more than human skill :
For gain, imaginary schemes they draw;
Wand'rers themselves, they guide another's steps';
And for poor sixpence promise countless wealth:
Let them, if they expect to be believ'd,
Deduct the sixpence, and bestow the rest."


THOSE who have maintained that men would be more miserable than beasts, were their hopes confined to this life only, among other considerations take notice, that the latter are only afflicted with anguish of the present evil; whereas the former are very often pained by the reflection of what is past, and the fear of what is to come. This fear of any future difficulties or misfortunes is so natural to the human mind, that were a man's sorrows and disquietudes summed up at the end of his life, it would generally be found, that he had suffered more from the apprehension of such evils, as never happened to him, than those evils, had they really befallen him, could have occasioned him to feel. To this we may 'add, that among those evils which befal us, there are many that have been more painful to us in the prospect, than by their actual pressure.

This natural impatience to look into futurity, and to know what accidents may happen to us hereafter, has given birth to many ridiculous arts and strange inventions. Some found the prescience on the lines of a man's hand, others on the features of his face; some on the signatures which nature has impressed on his body, and others on his handwriting: some read men's fortune in the stars, as others have searched after them in the entrails of beasts, or the flight of birds. Men of the best sense have been touched more or less with these groundless horrors and presages of futurity, upon surveying the inost indifferent works of nature. Can any thing be more surprising than to consider Cicero, who made the greatest figure at the bar, and in the senate of the Roman commonwealth, and, at the same time, outshone all the philosophers of antiquity in his library and in his retirements, as busying himself in the college of augurs, and observing with a religious attention,

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Serdgar, which are numbenorant pel in the

after what manner the chickens pecked the several grains of corn which were thrown to them! .

Notwithstanding these follies are pretty well worn out of the minds of the wise and learned in the present age, multitudes of weak and ignorant persons are still slaves to them. There are numberless arts of prediction among the vulgar, which are too trifling to enumerate; and infinite observations of days, voices, numbers, figures, which are regarded by them as portents and prodigies. In short, every thing prophesies to the superstitious man; who thinks there is scarce a straw or a rusiy piece of iron that lies in the way by accident. · The desire of knowing future events is one of the strongest inclinations in the mind of man. But if we consider that we are free agents, we shall discover the absurdity of such enquires. One of our actions which we inight have performed or neglected, is the cause of another that suc ceeds it, and so the whole chain of life is linked together. Pain, poverty, or infamy, are the natural product of vicious and imprudent acts; as, on the contrary, blessings are of good ones. ;

A great enhancement of pleasure arises from its being unexpected; and pain is generally doubled by being foreseen. Upon all these, and several other accounts, we ought to rest satisfied in the portion bestowed on us; to adore the hand that has fitted every thing to our nature, and has not more displayed his goodness in our kuowledge than in our ignorance. . .

It is not unworthy of observation, that superstitious enquiries into future events prevail more or less, in proportion to the improvement of liberal arts and useful knowledge, in the several parts of the world. Accordingly we find that magical incantations remain in Lapland; in the more re. mote parts of Scotland they have their second sight, and several of their own countrymen have seen they tell us) abundance of fairies, &c. In Asia this credulity is strong; and the greatest part of refined learning there consists in the knowledge of amulets, talismans, occult numbers, and the like.

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