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ficent city destroyed by time and the hands of barbarians. M. de Peyffonel, who has given a defcription of it, feems to have taken a very fuperficial view of it. The drawing of five columns of an ancient temple fituated on the plain towards the weft, contained in his work, is by no means accurate. By a pedestal which is ftill standing it appears, that this temple, which was fupported by three rows of columns, was ninety-feven paces in length, measuring from the above pedestal to the oppofite column in the first row, by fifty-nine in breadth. Thefe columns, as far as they can at prefent be feen, are nearly thirty feet in height. The temple is of the Ionic order, and of the highest antiquity; from the beauty of the workmanship of what ftill remains, an idea may be formed of its magnificence it was dedicated, according to all appearance, to Juno pro nuba, the goddess whofe worthip was established at Sardis.

In the plain, to the north, and not far from the high road, are fome beautiful ruins of a vast edifice, which like wife feems to have been a temple : clofe by it is a building, erected in part from the ruins, which may be prefumed to have been a Chriftian church. Farther diftant, towards the Pactolus, is a wall, which once constituted part of an inimenfe circular edifice refembling an amphitheatre. These ruins are of a date anterior to the Romans, but not fo ancient as the time of Crefus, when the arts had not yet attained a certain degree of perfection. A little lower is the Pactolus, which traversed the Forum. It is a fmall river, the water of which is excellent, and very Jimpid. It rifes in the Tmolus, and in winter inundates the valley through which it directs its courfe. We encamped on its bank.

On the first eminence to the fouth of the town is a level fpot, where probably ftood the palace of the Kings; and further fouth, on the moit elevated fummit of this projection of the bates of Tmolus was fituated the Theatre of Sardis, the profeenium of which was 158 paces wide. The stadium, fupported by large arches, is placed exactly oppofite the theatre; the mountain on the left, formed of earth, like Mount Tmolus in general, was cut into fteps for the fpectators. The view from thence overlooks the whole plain of Sardis and the neighbouring mountains.

It is the most beautiful prospect imaginable.

To the right of Sardis, towards the fouth, is another very pleasant valley, watered by a river, which, as well as the Pactolus, difcharges itself, in the plain, into the Hermus.

The castle of Sardis is fituated on the declivity of the mountain. We climbed to it, not without confiderable danger, for we were obliged to creep on hands and feet over a narrow ridge of land on the edge of a precipice; there is likewife another on the other fide, but a kind of a parapet prevents one from feeing it. This pals was defended by that fort of turret which the Turks now call Kiz-Koulefi. It is fupposed to have been erected by the Perfians. There is abfolutely nothing in the caftle, which was built by the barbarians from the ruins of the ancient city. We found in the wall a tone reverfed, with a Greek infcription, which it is almoft impoffible to decypher: all that we could make out was, that it related to a Stepbanophoros archiereus tis Afias. It is well known, that the dignity of Afiarch was the highest dignity in the church; that it was elective and annual; and that it was ufually conferred on the most dif tinguished perfon amongst the clergy of the large cities of Alia.

To the north of Sardis, at the dif tance of forty ftadia, according to Herodotus, is the Lake of Gyges, which the Turks call Innligheul. It is very extensive, reaching to the mountains of Marmar. The northern shore of this lake rifes in a flope towards Sardis. On this spot, which the Turks at prefent call Bing Tépé, are the tombs of the ancient Kings of Sardis. They are very numerous, but three tumuli are particularly remarkable: the neareft of them to the plain is that of Aliathes, the father of Crefus. Herodotus fays, that it is fix itadia and two plethra. in circumference, and thirteen plethra in height. It is very fingular, that thefe three tombs, although circu'lar at the bafe, approach much nearer the pyramidal form towards the top than the others; perhaps from a defire of the Kings of thofe times to imitate the Egyptian pyramids. Befides thefe, a multitude of other ruins, both ancient and modern, is to be feen at Sardis, that atteit the great revolutions which this celebrated city has fucceffively experienced. All

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thefe ruins are of a greyish ftone procured from the quarries of Mount Tmolus. The plain of Sardis, which formerly made a part of the Hyrcanian fields, fo called from the colonies which the Kings of Perfia etablished there, is but little cultivated. Probably the inundations of the Hermus, which difgufted the natives of antiquity with it, have likewife deterred the modern ones. We obferved no villages in it: all this vast tract is occupied by No. madic Turcomans, who pafture their flocks there. The city of Sardis itself is reduced to about fifteen Turkish houses, forming a population of lefs than 100 perfons, including the Aga and his suite. The prefent inhabitants of the town appear to be miferably poor, and the Pactolus no longer fweeps along his golden fand for

them.

Tuesday, 5. Leaving Sardis at fix o'clock in the evening, we crofled Mount Tmolus to go to Eudemiche. About a league from Sardis are fulphureous hot baths, in a place called by the Turks Tchamour. We stopped there a few hours to fee the affluence of the company collected there from all parts it is part of the pleasure, of the Turks. We paffed over Mount Tmolus in the night : it is very high, and full of dangerous paffes and precipices. About four o'clock in the morning we arrived at a place called Gueldjik, about fix leagues from Tchamour. It is an extenfive plain upon Mount Timolus itfelf, at the fouthern extremity of which is a fmall lake abounding in fith, furrounded with gardens and country houfes, whither the Turks of the adjacent villages refort to fpend the fummer. This is one of the most delightful fpots that I have feen in Turkey. It is covered with beautiful trees; horfechefnuts, chefnuts, walnuts of the largest growth and the greatest beauty; Italian poplars, of which the Turks are particularly fond, form charming thades; you likewife fee great num bers of fruit-trees. The view of the Jake, towards the fouth, is bounded by a lofty ever-verdant hill, crowned with trees; on the banks of the lake is a fpot furrounded with a low ftone wall, planted with fuperb plantain and willow trees, where the Turks affemble to prayers, for want of a mofque. The fight of this ceremony reminded us of the temples of the primitive ages.

Wednesday, 6. Quitting Gueldgik, you defcend the Tmolus into the plain of Eudemiche, fituated three hours journey diftant. The fides of the Tmolus are covered with vines, and the wine made there is still of fuch excellent quality as to deferve the praifes bestowed on it by ancient authors. They are likewife decorated with beautiful plantations of olivetrees, which extend into the plain of Eudemiche. This plain forms part of the Cilbianian fields of the ancients. It is every where fertile and well cultivated. Eudemiche is a small town with a great trade in cotton, linen, and corn.

Thursday, 7. An hour's march from Eudemiche, at the foot of Mount Tmolus, we found the remains of the ancient town of Hyppepa, fpoken of by Herodotus, and one of the twelve towns deftroyed by a great earthquake in the reign of Tiberius. They confift of the arches of a large edifice, in perfect prefervation. There are likewife other arched ways and arches of a bridge over a wide ravine, inundated in winter by a torrent. This place is now called Tappui. We there found a beautiful mutilated ftatue of a woman, which a Turk fold to M. Coufineri for 100 paras, at the fame time loudly ridi culing the folly of the Francs, who, as he faid, gave fuch an extravagant price for fuch rubbish. The Turks of this village are extremely favage, and all the people at work in the plain ran to fee us país. The country which contains the ruins of Hyppera appears not to have been at all known, as no tra veller has yet fpoken of it.

Friday, 8. From Eudemiche to Bay. endir is about feven hours journey. The town of Thyra is fituated at the foot of the mountain that forms the fouthern limit of the plain denominated by the ancients the lower Cilbianian fields. This whole tract is the finest plain I have feen in Turkey: it is embellished with trees, and perfectly well cultivated in every part. town of Thyra, which is very large, was probably the ancient Maftaoura. On a high hill before the town is a large tumulus, and another small one lower down towards the plain. Bayendir is a tolerable town, at the foot of Mount Tmolus, with a confiderable trade.

The

Upon leaving that place, you defcend into the Caiftrian fields, the northern

northern part of which, like the plain of Thyra, is decorated with olive trees to the very fummit of the mountains; the rest is cultivated with corn. The banks of the Caifter exhibit a view of rice-fields and gardens in the Turkish tyle. This plain is feparated by hills from that of Tourbali, which is almoft entirely uncultivated. In the latter plain was fituated the metropolis of the ancients. To the north-weft of Tourbali, near a fheep-fold, we difcovered a cemetery, with marble columns and enormous ftones; which feem to indi

cate, that that ancient town existed in the vicinity of Tourbali, if even the latter place be not erected on its ruins.

A little farther are feen the remains of a grand aqueduct which traverses the whole plain, where flows the Kenkrios of the ancients, which difcharges itself into the Caifter. This plain is feparated from that of Djama Ovafi by a range of fmall eminences, as is the latter from that of Sedikoi, where we arrived on Saturday the 9th, about nine o'clock in the evening.

20. VI.

PRIDE.

Ορῶ γὰρ ἡμᾶς εδέν οντας άλλο, πλην
Είδωλο, οσοί περ ζώμεν, ἤ κύφην σκίαν.

Frail mortals are no more

Than a vain image, and

WHEN we are remarking the different traits of a man's character, it too frequently happens, that Pride is to be found in the number of thofe failings which prefent themselves to our obfervation. In a few rare inftances we may be furprifed to meet with it in men poffeffed of refpectable mental attainments; but we commonly find it in those whom we should have fuppofed to be devoid of every pretenfion to vanity. The fondling of fashion may indeed, instead of condemning it as a ftain, regard it as the badge of dignity and independence; but to a philofo. phic mind it cannot affume a more favourable appearance than that of a pitiable weakness. Various are the caufes which give birth to it in different individuals; but none of them, when fubjected to the fcrutiny of reflection, will be found fufficient to fupport it.

A title is but rarely unaccompanied by a confiderable fhare of felf-import. ance, and many in a fubordinate ftation of life value themselves not a little that they are able to trace an affinity to fome diftant branch of nobility. But what can be more abfurd,

SOPH. AJ. FLAG.

an empty fhade. FRANCKLIN.

than for a man to elevate himself upon the poffeffion of honours which others acquired, or to be vain of an alliance with thofe who fubstitute inaction for labour, and are influenced by no other' motive than that of their own gratification? Were nobility conferred only upon those who should diftinguish themfelves by their benevolence, their talents, or their erudition, the boast of extraction might not be without fome apology; but until it be fo, it cannot be reconciled to reafon.

Wealth is another fource from which Pride very frequently proceeds. He who, not raised by education above the prejudices of the crowd, has propofed to himself riches as the fole object of his defires, will very probably betray an elation of mind, when he finds himfelf furrounded by the comforts which are now within his reach, and invested with that authority which opulence confers. Having fucceeded in the only purfuit to which he has applied himself, he will not be wanting in commendations of his own activity and prudence; and, taught from his youngest years to confider wealth as the only Itandard of precedency, he

The reason why the plain of Thyra is fo well cultivated is, because it is under the immediate jurisdiction of the Khafs of Conftantinople, and confequently is not fubject to the vexations as the adjacent country, ruined by petty Agas.

will

will accordingly allot to himfelf no mean rank in the fcale of fociety. But is it not folly for man to pride himself upon the poffeffion of thofe things, which he muft fo foon lofe? Is it not ingratitude, nay even prefumption, in him to arrogate to himself merit, becaufe Providence has deigned to file upon his exertions ?

But Pride is by no means confined to thofe who are exalted by dignity of extraction, or fwollen by the greatnefs of wealth. In many it proceeds from a blind admiration of themfelves. To any one who will liften to their felfpraife, they will enumerate with eager nefs different inftances of their good conduct, will repeat with exultation their happy obfervations or their keen retorts, or will recount with invidious malignancy the rocks which have proved fatal to others, but which they have been prudent enough to efcape, They will feek commendation for their honefty; and their religion will be made a caufe of triumph. But let it be remembered, that our very best actions are tained by imperfections, and may too frequently be traced to fome finif ter motive; and that even when we are moft upon our guard, numberlefs inftances of negligence and tranfgreffion, of ingratitude, impatience, and arrogance, meet the piercing eye which pervades the universe.

When Pride does not proceed from any of the foregoing caufes, it may, for the most part, be attributed to ignorance. Indeed, this may be perhaps imputed, in fome degree, to fuch as have been already mentioned with the greatest propriety. But there is a very numerous claís of men, whofe exceffive felfelteem can only be ac counted for by referring it to the weakness of their understandings or the deficiency of their information. He who is unconfcious of the fuperiority of others, will readily admit the inroads of that vanity which is always affailing the human heart. But he who is capable of forming a correct eftimate of thofe around him, will probably discover, that he is outdone by many in every attainment upon which he may value himself. If he has ever congratulated himself that he has ftruck out fome original thought, he will, poffibly, in the courfe of his reading, be furprifed by the occurrence of the very fame idea in an author who lived

perhaps five hundred years ago. If he has ever felt inclined to efteem himself for the firmness of his virtue, or the conftancy of his faith, he will be confounded when he recurs to the hiftory of those who have not contented themfelves with mere negative merit, ΟΙ an inoperative affent, but have manfully faced every temptation, proved every ordeal, and fealed their incerity with their blood. Thus convinced of his own comparative un worthinefs, he will not fuffer himself to be inflated by the unqualified commendations of ignorance or hypocrify: if at any time he difcovers, that the ramparts which he has raifed are endangered by the aggreffions of human vanity, he immediately rallies into the line of his recollection all the failings of which he is confcious, and strengthens his fort by the acceffion of every confideration which can tend to fecure his defence.

It may not be improper here to remark, that many affect to effecm pride, as being of fervice to them in refining their notions of honour and decorum, and guarding them against every action which would be derogatory to their character. But it is an abufe of language to give the name of Pride to that noble principle, which elevates us into virtue. That greatnefs of mind which is alluded to cannot but be difgufted with the swelt lings of felf-fufficiency.

Many arguments might be adduced to fhew the abfurdity of pride, and to prove, that it is a matter of the greatest importance to prevent it from obtaining in our breafts.

In the first place, it renders us ob noxious to our fellow-creatures. It will occur to every attentive obferver, that he who evidently admires himfelf is feldom admired by others. Although he may be poffeffed of many amiable qualities, which of themselves are entitled to our esteem, till the oftentatious difplay of them is fo loathifome to us, that we view his conduct with prejudice, and feel inclined to withhold the commendation which is really due. The humble man, on the contrary, infinitates himself into our favour. We frequently place that to the account of his diffidence which is in fact owing to his mability; his failings we pafs over with an air of peculiar indulgence, and his excellencies, when

developed

developed from the cloud of modesty, thine forth upon us with redoubled Splendour.

But if Pride be offenfive to our fellow-creatures, how odious muft it be in the fight of Him who made us; who is acquainted with all the infirmities of our nature, and the inmoft fecrets of our hearts! He furely cannot behold, without difguft, a creature fo worthlefs and fo infignificant as man, erecting his creft, and prefuming to think highly of himself. The facred writings, whilst they abound with the ftrongest denunciations against the proud, at the fame time hold forth the largest promifes to the humble. It is worthy of remark, that our Saviour's celebrated Sermon on the Mount commences with a gracious benediction upon fuch as are poor in fpi

rit.

;

call to mind the endless myriads of beings who exift as well as himself; he will be astounded. The further he proceeds in the path of fcience, the more unbounded profpect will continually open upon his view; and from. the unnumbered objects which distract his attention, he will turn to himself with confufion and abafement. But if he raife his thoughts to the omnipotent Ruler of the Univerfe, he will lofe himfelf in wonder and admiration. What must be his ideas of Him in whofe fight a thousand years are but as yesterday, when it is paft. or as a watch in the night; who meajureth out the waters in the hollow of his band; who weigheth the mountains in fcales and the hills in a balance; who looketh down upon the inba. bitants of the earth as upon grasshoppers and firetcheth out the heavens as a curtain. Such reflections as these are well calculated to reduce the pride of man, and to paint to him his own worthleff nefs and infignificance in their proper colours: they will tend to awaken his admiration of that incomprehenfible Being whofe prefence is unbounded by space, and will teach him to build his hopes on no other bafis than that of the Rock of Ages. Though the confideration of his own weakness and unimportance may be ungrateful to the vanity of human nature, ftill he is not left without a confolation. The comfort which he derives under this depreffion, cannot be expreffed better than by borrowing the language of Addifon. After proving that the prefence and cognizance of the Deity extend to the most minute particle of creation, the unrivalled Penman adds, that "As it is impoffible he should overlook any of his creatures; so we may be confident, that he regards with an eye of mercy those who endeavour to recommend themselves to his notice, and in an unfeigned humility of heart think themfelves unworthy that he fhould be mindful of them.”

The contemplative man will, in the courfe of his meditations, be fupplied almost every day with additional reafons for bumbling bimfelf even unto the dust. He will reflect, that but a thort time ago he received his existence, and that in a few years at most he will be numbered with the dead; that poffibly at the very moment at which he is thus reflecting, Fate may be breaking the thread which fupports him from drop. ping into eternity; that when he refigns his breath, he will be confined to the gloomy prifon of the grave; that his abfence will not be miffed in fociety; but that after a few friends have paid him the pious tribute of a tear, his memory will perhaps perifh for ever. If he look into himself, he will find that he is a creature whofe fphere of knowledge is circumfcribed in the extreme, whofe miferies are complicated, whofe impotence is contemptible, whofe heart is corrupt. Should he review the tenor of his life, a ghaftly group of fins will ftare him in the face, and he will fhrink back from the furvey with horror and remorfe. If he turn his attention to the wonders of creation; if he contemplate the infinitude of the heavenly bodies; if he January 6th, 1803.

AURELIUS.

CAPE OF GOOD HOPE.

Tas following is an Abstract of the

Account which has been tranfmitted by the Gentlemen who were fent by Government on a Voyage of Discovery into the Interior of África.

"After travelling about 300 hours from the Cape, or, as we fuppofe, about 800 English miles in the direction of north-eaft, or thereabouts, which would bring them within two

degrees

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