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2. Look out of your door, take notice of that man; fee what difquieting, intriguing, and fhifting, he is content to go through, merely to be thought a man of plain dealing; three grains of honesty would fave him all this trouble. Alas! he has them not. Behold a fecond, under a fhew of piety, hiding the impurities of a vicious life he is juft entering the houfe of God; would he was more pure, or lefs pious! but then he could not gain his point.


3. Obferve a third going almost in the fame track; with what an inflexible fanctity of deportment he fuftains him. felf as he advances! every line in his face writes abstinence ; every ftride looks like a check upon his defires; see, I beseech you, how he is cloaked up with fermons, prayers, and facraments; and fo bemuffled with the externals of religion, that he has not a hand to fpare for a worldly pur pofe; he has armour at least--Why does he put it on? Is there no true worship without all this? Mult the garb of religion be extended fo wide to the danger of its rend. ing? Yes, truly, or it will not hide the fecret-and, what is that? That the faint has no religion at all.

4. But here comes generofity; giving, not to a decay. ed artift, but to the arts and fciences themselves. See he builds not a chamber in the wall apart for the prophets; but whole fchools and colleges for thofe who come after. Lord! how they will magnify his name! it is in capitals already; the first, the highest, in the gilded rent-roll of every hofpital and asylum;-one honeft tear, fhed in private over the unfortunate, is worth it all.

5. What a problematic fet of creatures does fimulation make us! Who would divine that all the anxiety and concern fo vifible in the airs of one half of that great affembly fhould arise from nothing else, but that the other half of it may think them to be men of confequence, penetration, parts, and conduct? What a noife amongst the claimants about it! Behold humility, out of mere pride, and honef ty almost out of knavery; chastity never once in harm's way; and courage, like a Spanish fo dier upon an Italian ftage, a bladder full of wind. Hark! hark! that, the found of that trumpet let not my foldier tun, it is fome good Chriftian giving alms. O pity thou gentleft of human paffions! foft and tender are thy notes, and ill ac gord they with fo loud an inftrument.




HEN an awkward fellow firft comes into a

"W room, he attemps to bow, and his fword, if


he wears one, gets between his legs, and nearly throws him down. Confused and ashamed, he stumbles to the upper end of the room, and feats himself in the very place where he should not. He there begins playing with his hat, which he prefently drops; and recovering his hat, he lets fall his cane; and, in picking up his cane, down goes his hat again. Thus, 'tis a confiderable time before he is adjusted.

2. When his tea or coffee is handed to him, he spreads his handkerchief upon his knees, fcalds his mouth, drops either the cup or faucer, and fpills the tea or coffee in his lap. At dinner, he feats himself upon the edge of his chair, at fo great a distance from the table, that he frequently drops his meat between his p'ate and his mouth; he holds his knife, fork, and fpeon, differently from other people; eats with his knife to the manifeft danger of his mouth; and picks his teeth with his fork.

3. If he is to carve he cannot hit the joint; but, in laboring to cut through the bone, fplafhes the fauce over every body's clothes. He generally daubs himself all over; his elbows are in the next perfon's plate; and he is up to the knuckles in foup and greafe. If he drinks, tis with his mouth full, interrupting the whole company with, "To your good health, Sir," and "My fervice to you; perhaps coughs in his glass, and befprinkles the whole table.

4. He addreffes the company by improper titles, as, Sir for my Lord; miftakes one name for another; and tells you of Mr. What d'ye call him, or you know who Mrs. Who 'ist there, what's her name, or how d'ye call her; he begins a story; but, not being able to finish it breaks off in the middle, with, "I've forgot the reft."




HE Bay of Naples, furrounded by the mot beautiful fcenery, exhibits an object beyond defeription. It is of a circular figure; in moft places pwards of twenty miles in diameter; fo that including all its breaks and inequalities, the circumference is more then fixty miles. The whole of this space is fo wonder. fully divided, by all the riches both of art and nature, that there is fcarce an object wanting to render it com pletely fublime.

2. It is difficult to determine, whether the view is more pleafing from the fingularity of many of those ob jects, or from the incredible variety of the whole. You fee an amazing mixture of the ancient and modern ; fome rifing to fame, and fome finking to ruin. Palaces reared over the tops of other palaces; and Ancient magnifcence trampled under foot by mode:n folly. Mountains and iflands, that were celebrated for their fertility, shanged into barren waftes, and barren wafles into fertile fields and rich vineyards.


3. You fee mountains funk into plains, and plains swoll. en into mountains. Lakes drank up by volcanoes, and extinguished volcanoes turned into lakes. The earth ftill fmoking in many places, and in others throwing out flames. In fhort nature feems to have formed this coast in her most capricious mood; for every object is a lufus natura She never feems to have gone feriously to work; but to have devoted this spot to the most unlimited indul. gence of caprice and frolic.

4. The Bay is fhut out from the Mediterranean by feveral famous islands and celebrated promontories, all lying a little weft, exhibiting the finest scenery that can be imagined; the great and opulent city of Naples, with its three cafties, its harbour full of fhips from every nation, its palaces, churches, and convents innumerable. The rich country from thence to Portici, covered with noble houfes and gardens, and appearing only a continuation of the city. The palace of the king, with many others farrounding it, all built over the roofs of thofe of Hercu

Janeum, buried near a hundred feet by eruptions of VeJuvius.

5. You fee Vefuvius itself in the 'back ground of the fcene difcharging volumes of fire and fmoke, and form. ing a broad track in the air over our heads, extending without being broken or diffipated, to the utmost verge of the horizon; a variety of beautiful towns and villages round the bafe of the mountain, thoughtless of the impending ruin that daily threatens them. Next follows the extenfive and romantic coast of Castello Mare, and Sorrentum, diverfified with every picturefque object in


6. It is ftrange that nature fhould make use of the fame agent to create as to deftroy; and that what has only been looked upon as the confumer of countries, is in fact the very power that produces them. Indeed this part of our earth feems to have already undergone the fentence pronounced upon the whole of it; but like the Phoenix, has rifen again from its own afhes, in much greater beauty and fplendor than before it was confumed. The traces of these dreadful conflagrations are still confpicuous in every corner; they have been violent in their operations, but in the end have proved falutary in their ef fects. The fire in many places is not yet extinguished, but Vefuvius is now the only fpot where it rages with any degree of activity,




HE influence of honour on the character and the improvement of the mind, is no less happy than that of virtue. As a virtuous man would not do a criminal action, because repugnant to the laws of God, and injurious to his neighbour; fo would an honourable man defpife a mercenary deed, because abhorrent to his feelings, and the genuine principles of rectitude. The ideas many have of honour, and of the means to attain it, are as different and perhaps as erroneous as thofe they have of true: happiness.

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2. Perfons who entertain right conceptions of honour, enjoy a double advantage. Stimulated by its dictates, and inftructed by the precepts of virtue, they scorn whatever is low, and afpire at what is amiable. Ambitious to gain the cfteem of the world, the man of honour makes virtue his guide; his life is marked with integrity; his foul beams fincerity, and justice ever graces the tenor of his conduct.

3 Others who have wrong, or no ideas at all upon this fubject, commit crimes of the vileft nature, and pretend to veil their guilt with the falfe notion, that they are hoo. orable vices, because they are called fashionable. Ask a diffipated man why he caroufes at midnight revels, and riots in the luxuries of pleasure, he will anfwer," to maintain my honour and Support the dignity of a gentleman.” Is this honour and dignity? Such would better grace the gibbet, or the halter, than adorn the gentleman.


4. Ask the duellift, why he would take away the life of-perhaps a brother, he answers, “to vindicate my honour, and at the part of a man." Witness a Tymogenes, who run a young fellow through in a duel for fpeaking ill of Belinda, a young lady, whom he had himself brought to poverty and difgrace. Such is the force of custom, to convert the baseft crimes into a fashionable point of honour. Alas! Such may have become fashionable, but they will ever be contemptible.

5. Flattered by a falfe notion of honour, the voluptuary endeavors to exculpate the criminality of his conduct. Uncontrouled by principles, he gives unbounded fcope to his defires, and riots with intemperate feftivity. Unacquainted with what is truly honorable, the duelift, for the most trivial offence, thus challenges his antagonist ;


Equip yourself with sword and pistol, meet me at such a time and place, and prove yourself a GENTLEMAN" His antagonift, if deftitute of honour like himself, thus answers, "I accept your challenge with pleasure, and am happy to give you and the world this proof."

6. But, if his antagonist be encued with just and honMorable principles, be thus replies: "Senfible what difgrace a compliance with your request would bring upon us both, and humanity itflf, I condemn your offer as derogatory to the human tharader. If in fault, I am willing to make every reasonable

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