2. He defired him to repeat some of the verses of Sophocles or Euripides to him, which he accordingly did. Satyrus fpoke them after him, and gave them fuch tone, gefture, and fpirit, with which he pronounced them, that Demofthenes himself found them to be quite different fum what they were in his own manner of speaking. He perceived plainly what he wanted, and applied himself to the acquiring of it.

3. His efforts to correct his natural defect of utterance, and to perfect himself in pronunciation, of which his friend had made him underftand the value, feen almost incredible, and proves that an industrious perfeverance can furmount all things. He ftammered to fuch a degree, that he could not pronounce some letters; among others the Jetter R, with which the art he ftudied begins; and he was fo fhort breathed, that he could not utter a whole pe riod without stopping.

4. He overcame thefe obftacles at length, by putting pebble ftones into his mouth; and pronouncing feveral verfes in that manner without interruption, and with walking and going up steep and difficult places, fo that at last no letter made him hesitate, and his breath held out through the longest periods. He went alfo to the sea fhore; and whilft the waves were in the most violent agitarion, he pronounced harangues, to accuftom himself, by the confufed noife of the waters, to the roar of the people, and the tumultuous cries of public affemblies.

5. Demosthenes took no lefs care of his action than his voice. He had a large looking glass in his houfe, which ferved to teach him gefture, and at which he used to declaim, before he fpoke in public. To correct a fault which he had contracted by an ill habit of fhrugging up his fhoulders, he practised ftanding upright in a very narrow pulpit, over which hung a fword, in such a manner, that if, in the heat of the action, that motion efcaped him, the point of the weapen might ferve at the fame time to admonish and correct him.

6. His application to studies was no lefs furprising. To be the more removed from noife, and lefs fubject to diftraction, he caused a small room to be made for him under ground, in which he fhut himfelf up fometimes for whole months, fhaving on purpose half his head and face, that he might not be in a condition to go abroad. It was

there, by the help of a small lamp, he compofed his admirable orations, which were faid by thofe, who envied him, to fmell of the oil, to imply they were too elaborate.

7. His pains were well bestowed; for it was by these means that he carried the art of declaiming to the higheft degree of perfection, of which it was capable! Whence it is plain he well knew its value and importance. When he was asked three feveral times which quality he thought most receifary in an orator, he answered each time, “ Pronunciation."

8. By making the reply three times fucceffively, he infinuated that pronunciation is the only qualification of which the want could least be concealed, and which is the most capable of concealing other defects; and that alone could give confiderable weight even to an indifferent orator, when without it the most excellent could not hope the leaft fuccefs. As to Demofthenes, Cicero tells us, that his fuccefs was fo great, that all Greece came in crowds to Athens to hear him speak; and he adds, that merit fo great as his could not but have the defired effect.

CHAPTER XIV. (1)

PROOFS OF THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL, AND A FU TURE STATE.

OU acknowledge there is one felf-existent Be

1. YOU ing, and that from him all derive their existence,

whether rational, animal, vegetable, or inanimate ; from what we see and know from his works, may we not reafon with fome degree of precifion, by analogy, to what is lefs cér. tainly understood? Amongst all the works of creation, that come under our obfervation, is there any waste of powers, abilities, qualities, or properties? Every plant can receive from that fingle spot, to which it is confined, all that is neceffary for its fupport and nourishment; the power of motion which would have been injurious, is therefore wifely denied.

2. Obferve the various animals, fee how their different powers, forms, qualities, and clothing are proportioned to their different natures, and the different occupations, or climates, to which they are deftined. Of what ufe to the mole would have been the eagle's eye, or to to the borse the tyger's claw, feet to the fijb, or fins, to birds? Not one

(1) See Rule V. page 17.

fuperfluous gift is bestowed, but each fpecies has exactly that form, conftruction, and those powers which are most u'eful, neceffary, and beft fuited o felf.

3. Let us go on, then to examine man upon the fame plan. Compare him with all the different kinds of ani. mals, over which he claims, and exerts a sovereign power. Some of these are made his food, others neceffary to the comfort and convenience of his life in different capaci ties; neither of which could be obtained by the corporeal qualities he is endowed with, the brute creation being all, either by ftrength, fwiftnefs, or the region they inhabit, beyond the reach of his arm.

4. The fuperior fagacity, therefore, which has enabled him to fupply, by various arts, this natural defect of corporeal powers, was undoubtedly neceffary to his fubfiftence; because, without it, he would have been the most defencelefs of all animals, equal to himself in fize; unable to pro. cure the smallest kinds for his food, and an eafy prey to the larger. Suppofing his whole duration to end with this life, or, at least, that no after consciousnefs remains; was not this sort of fagacity, by which he braves the lions' force, binds to the yoke the stubborn bullock's neck, breaks to the curb the foaming fteed, overtakes with sudden death the diftant bird, or from the rapid ftream drags to the shore the fcaly fry; was not, I fay, on such a supposition, this fort of fagacity, by which he reigns acknowledged lord of this planet, fufficient to answer all the ends of his creation?

5. Wherefore then this waste of rational powers? This capacity of diving into the philofophical difference between matter and spirit? Of tracing effects up to their prob. able caufes, and accounting rationally for almost all the phenonmena of nature? To what end is he endowed with the reafoning faculty in a degree fo fuperior to his fellow mortals here, as to feel his derivation from fome eternal existence, and form to himself not only a wish, but even a probable profpect of immortality? And that this is the result of the natural powers of his mind, exclufive of any fup. pofed revelation, is evident from the conftant, tho' doubtful hope of philofophers, in the earliest ages of the world, from all the accounts that have been transmitted to us.

6 Of what use to man, if consciou refs ends with refpiration, is it to fee and admire the eternal beauty of truth, the fitnefs of things, the unalterable difference

between right and wrong actions, or moral good and evil; the beauty of virtue, and the deformity of vice? And is it reasonable to fuppofe, that in a world wherein we see every creature below us exactly fuited to the manifeft end of its creation, poffeffing just what is necceffary and 'ufe. ful to it, and not a fuperfluous gift bestowed, that the Crea tor should have been thus wantonly lavish in the formation of man alone; and stored his mind with useless faculties, in contradiction to the general plan of creation, which is evidently calculated for the utility, convenience, and happiness of every other species?

7. Admitting this to be the whole duration how.eminently wretched is be made by the fuperior power of which he boasts! Every animal, in the different fcales below himself, enjoys the prefent moment, unconscious of futurity; indulges every rifing wifh, and fearless revels in every joy to which his inclination leads; whilft man, un, happy man! for no end reftrains his every paffion by the rigid rules of reafon; and almost from the cradle to the grave, treads with trembling fteps, as every moment, on the verge of ruin; in the deiufive hope of bringing his mind to a state of fuch perfection, as will qualify it for immortal happinefs, in that future exiflence he is formed to expect. Should his expectation be vain, can the Being who interwove it in his nature be justly deemed benev olent, kind, or good? If not, what are the attributes of the God you pretend to own?

8. By the confciousness which the immortal mind expects to carry with it into another world, and either to fuffer, or enjoy for ever in fome future ftate of existence, is meant ana exact and indelible remembrance of all the paffions, affections, propenfities, actions, and inclinations of the mind, during the whole period in which it was united to matter. According to the nature of this retrofpect it muft unavoidably be productive of perfect happiness or extreme mifery; the remembrance of having checked every propenfity, or rifing inclination to vice, and fo regulated every affection, as to bring the mind into an habitual state of conscious purity, even in fentiment; muft afford that uninterrupted felicity, which confcious rectitude alone is capable of enjoying.

9. Should the mind, thus fupremely bleffed, behold he object of its tendereft love rendered irretrievably wretched, by a retrofpect directly oppofite to its own, the deformity of the character must raise a just abhorrence; while grates ful pleasure would be more strongly excited at the thought of being removed to a state of existence, where vice no more could hide its hateful form beneath the fair femblance of a virtuous garb.

1.

"D

CHAPTER XV.

THE INDIAN AND BRITISH OFFICER.

URING the laft American war, a company of Delaware Indians attacked a small detachment of the British troops, and defeated them. As the Indians had greatly the advantage of fwiftnefs of foot, and were eager in purfuit, very few of the fugitives efcaped; and those who fell into the enemy's hands were treated with a cruelty of which there are not many examples even in the country.

2. Two of the Indians came up with a young officer, and attacked him with great fury; as they were armed with a kind of battle ax, which they call a tomahawk, he had no hopes of escape, and thought only of felling his life as dearly as he could; but just at this time another Indian came up, who feemed to be advanced in years, and was armed with a bow and arrows. The old man instant. ly drew his bow; but after having taken his aim at the officer, he fuddenly dropped the point of his arrow, and interpofed between him and his purfuers, who were about to cut him in pieces-they retired with refpect

3. The old man then took the officer by the hand, footh ed him into confidence by carreffes, and, having conducted him to his hut, treated him with a kindness which did honour to his profeffions. He made him lefs a flave than a companion, taught him the language of the country, and inffructed him in the rude arts that are practifed by the inhabitants. They lived together in the most cordial amity; and the young officer found nothing to regret, but that fometimes the old man fixed his eyes upon him, and, hav. ing regarded him for fome minutes, with a feady and filent attention, burst into tears.