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2. But there is a knowledge of the world of a very i ferior kind, but which many parents value at a high price. Greek and Latin are always mentioned with contempt, on a comparison with this. In compliance with custom indeed, and to get him out of the way, the boy is placed at school; but the knowledge to be gained there is little esteemed by the empty votaries of fashion.
3. Men and things, not words are magisterially pointed out as the proper objects of study, by those who know little of men, things, or words. It is not the knowledge of books (say they) which he is to pursue, but the knowledge of the world; ignorant that the knowledge of books is ne cessary to gain a valuable knowledge of the world.
4. The parents, who give directions to their children, are themselves merely people of the world, as it is called; persons for the most part of very moderate understandings, who have never made any solid improvements in learning and consequently never felt its pleasures or advantages.
5. They have perhaps raised themselves by dint of worldly policy, by the little arts of simulation and dissimulation; and having seen the effects of dress, address, and attention to exterior accomplishments; but at the same time being totally unacquainted with real and solid attainments, they are naturally led to wish to give their children the most useful education, which according to their ideas, is a knowledge of its follies and vices; a knowledge of them at a time of life, when they will not appear in their true light, contemptible in themselves, and the sources of misérỳ; but flattering and pleasurable. To see these at a boyish age, before the mind is properly prepared, will not cause an abhorrence, but an imitation of them.
6. To introduce boys to scenes of immoral and indecent behaviour, is to educate them in vice and to give the young mind a foul stain, which it will never lose. And yet I have known parents in the metropolis to suffer boys of fourteen or fifteen to roam wheresoever they pleased; to frequent theatres, and other places of public diversons by themselves; to return home late at night; and all this
with plenty of money, and without giving any account of the manner of consuming that or their time.
The parents were pleased with their son's proficiency in the knowledge of the world; the son was pleased with liberty. All for a short time went on to their mutual satisfaction. But after a few years, and a sad reverse usually, appeared. The boy became a spendthrift and a debauchee; alienated his father's aflections by incurring debt, and ruined his constitution by every species of excess. What remained after his money and his health were dissipated? No learning, no relish for the works of literary taste. The spring of life when the seeds of these should have been sown, was employed in another manner. Nothing remained but wretched and painful old age, devoted to cards, dice, and illiberal conviviality.
9. He, who is attending to his books, and collecting ideas which will one day render him a blessing and an honor to all with whom he is connected, will appear dull, awk ward, and unengaging to many, in comparison, with the pert stripling, who has been plunged into vice and dissipation before he knows the meaning of the words.
10. The reception which the latter meetswith in company gives him additional spirits; and the poor parents usually triumph awhile in the conscious superiority of their judgment. In four or five years, they commonly see and feel the effects of their folly.
11. Their conduct, as it often undoubtedly proceeds from ignorance, is to be compassioned; but if ever it arise from affectation of singularity, pride, vicious principles, or carelessness concerning their offspring, it deserves the severest reprehension.
12. It is obvious to observe in the world multitudes of beardless boys assuming airs of manhood, and practising many vices, to obtain a title to the appellation of men. The present age abounds with such examples.
13. A most fatal mistake is made by parents of all class. es in the present age. Many of them seem to think vice and irregularity the marks of sense and spirit, in a boy; and that innocence, modesty, submission to superiors, appli cation to study, and to every thing laudable, are the signs of
stupidity. They often smile at the tricks of a young villian, and ever seem pleased with boyish profligacy.
14. Hence it happens that their offspring frequently prove a scourge to them, and that they feel that sting, which, to use Shakspeare's expression, is sharper than a serpent's tooth; the sting inflicted by a thankless, an immoral, an ignorant, an extravagant, and an infidel child.
HISTORY OF POCHAHONTAS.
ERHAPS they who are not particularly ac quainted with the history of Virginia, may be ignorant that Pochahontas was the protectress of the English, and often screened them from the cruelty of her father.
2. She was twelve years old, when Captain Smith, the bravest, the most intelligent and the most humane of the first colonists, fell into the hands of the savages. He already understood their language, had traded with them several times, and often appeased the quarrels between the Europeans and them. Often had he been obliged also to fight them, and to punish their perfidy.
3. At length, however, under the pretext of commerce, he was drawn into an ambush, and the only two compan ons, who accompanied him, fell before his eyes; but though alone, by his dexterity he extricated himself from the troop which surrounded him; until, unfortunately, imagining he could save himself by crossing a morass, he stuck fast, so that the savages, against whom he had no means of defending himself, at last took and bound him, and conducted him to Powhatan.
4. The king was so proud of having Captain Smith in his power, that he sent him in triumph to all the tributary princes, and ordered that he should be splendidly treated till he returned to suffer that death which was prepared
5. The fatal moment at last arrived. Captain Smith was laid upon the hearth of the savage king, and his head placed upon a large stone to receive the stroke of death; when Pochahontas, the youngest and darling daughter of Powhatan
Powhatan, threw herself upon his body, clasped him in her arms, and declared, that if the cruel sentence was executed, the first blow should fall on her.
6. All savages (absolute sovereigns and tyrants not excepted) are invariably more effected by the tears of infancy, than the voice of humanity. Powhatan could not resist the tears and prayers of his daughter.
7. Captain Smith obtained his life, on condition of paying for his ransom a certain quantity of muskets, powder, and iron utensils; but how were they to be obtained? They would neither permit him to return to James-town, nor let the English know where he was, lest they should demand him sword in hand.
8. Captain Smith, who was as sensible as courageous, said, that it Powhatan would permit one of his subjects to carrry to James-town a leaf which he took from his pocket-book, he should find under a tree, at the day and bour appointed, all the articles demanded for his ransom.
9. Powhatan consented; but without having much faith in his promises, believed it to be only an artifice of the Captain to prolong his life. But he had written on the leafa few lines sufficient to give an account of his situa tion. The messenger returned. The king sent to the place fixed upon, and was greatly astonished to find every thing which had been demanded.
10. Powhatan could not conceive this mode of transmitting thoughts; and Captain Smith was henceforth looked upon as a great magician, to whom they could not show too much respect. He left the savages in this opinion, and hastened to return home.
11. Two or three years after, some fresh differences arising between them and the English, Powhatan, who no longer thought them sorcerers, but still feared their pow er, laid a horrid plan to get rid of them altogether. His project was to attack them in profound peace, and cut the throats of the whole colony.
12. The night of this intended conspiracy, Pochahontas took advantage of the obscurity; and in a terrible storm, which kept the savages in their tents, escaped from ber father's house, advised the English to be on their guard, but conjured them to spare her family; to appear ignorant 13-2 of
of the intelligence she had given, and terminate all their differences by a new treaty.
13. It would be tedious to relate all the services which this angel of peace rendered to both nations. I shall only add, that the English, I know not from what motives, but certainly against all faith and equity,thought proper to carry her off. Long and bitterly did she deplore her fate; and the only consolation she had, was Captain Smith, in whom she found a second father.
14. She was treated with great respect, and married to a planter by the name of Rolfe, who soon after took her to England. This was in the reign of James the First; and it is said, that the monarch, pedantic and ridiculous in ev ery point, was so infatuated with the prerogatives of royalty, that he expressed his displeasure, that one of his subjects should dare to marry the daughter of even a savage king.›
15. It will not perhaps be difficult to decide on this occasion, whether it was the savage king who derived honor from finding himself placed upon a level with the European prince, or the English monarch, who, by his pride and prejudices, reduced himself to a level with the chief of the savages
16. Be that as it will,Captain Smith, who had returned to London before the arrival of Pochahontas, was extremely happy to see her again; but dared not treat her with the same familiarity as at James-town. As soon as she saw him, she threw herself into his arms, calling him her father; but finding that he neither returned her caresses with equal warmth, nor the endearing title of daughter, she turned aside ber head and wept bitterly; and it was a long time before they could obtain a single word from her.
17. Captain Smith enquired several times what could be the cause of her affliction. "What! said she, did I not save thy life in America! When I was torn from the arms of my father and conducted amongst thy friends, didst thou not promise to be a father fo me? Didst thou not assure me, that if I went into thy country, thou wouldst be my father, and that I should be thy daughter? Thou hast deceiv ed me, and behold me now here,a stranger and an orphan!
18. It was not difficult for the Captain to make his peace with this charming creature, whom he tenderly lo