glish mile, though his hands were not only tied behind him, but his arm pinioned." Thus it appears that these three poor naked wretches were all murdered in cold blood, because they endeavoured to escape from thofe who, without provocation, had in. juriously and cruelly feized them by violence, in their native country, and were carrying them as flaves into exile. Harris tells the ftory, without the leaft intimation that any thing had been done to thefe infidels, which a good chriftian might not juftify. In an account of Capt. George Shelvoc's voyage, which was undertaken in the year 1719, there is the following paragraph.-" M. Friziere gives us an account that the Indians inhabiting the continent to the south of this ifland (the island of Chiloe, which lies off the coaft of Chili, about lat. 42 S. and long. about 72 W. of London) are called Chronos, that they go quite naked, and that in the inland part there is a race of men of an extraordinary fize, call ed Cacabues, who being in amity with the Chronos, have fometimes come with them to the dwellings of the Spaniards at Chiloe. He adds, that he was credibly in formed by feveral who had been eye-witneffes, that fome were about nine or ten feet high. Who Frezier was, Mr. Harris, though he quotes him, does not tell us. His ftory is certainly fabulous, for the whole coaft of Chili, and the island of Chiloe, having been long in poffeffion of the Spaniards the existence of a gigantic race in thofe parts, if real, would have been long out of doubt. The fame objection lies against the ac count given of the Indian natives of Guam, by Cowley. The giants, four of whom he says he took prifoners, and three of whom he murdered, muft have been familiar to the Spaniards, and confequently, their existence recorded by Spanish writers of credit, fo as to make the fact as well known and believed as the existence of the island itself. Of the other accounts, our readers must judge for themselves. Catherine Vade's Preface to the Tales of William Vaaé. -From the French of M. de Voltaire. I Still lament the death of my coufin William Vadé, who died, as all the world knows, fome years ago. He was attacked by the fmall-pox: I nurfed him, and faid to him with tears, "Ah! my coufin; fee the confequence of your not being inoculated: It cost your brother Anthony his life, who was, like you, one of the lights of the age." "What would you have me fay ?” re. plied William; "I waited for leave from the Sorbonne, and I am convinced that I muft die for having been too fcrupulous.”. "The ftate," answered I, “will have a dreadful lofs." "Ah !" cried William," Alexander and brother Bertier are dead, Semiramis and Tillon, Sophocles and Danchet are duft and afhes.”— "Yes, my dear coufin, but their great names will live for ever. Would you not furvive in your nobleft part? Will you not allow me to give the public, for their confolation, thofe old-womens ftories with which you amufed us laft laft year? they were the delight of our family; and Jerom Carrè, your first coufin once removed, valued your works almost as much as his own: they will without doubt please all the world, that is to fay, about thirty readers who have nothing to do." William had no fuch ambitious views: he answered me with a modefty very becoming an author, but very uncommon, "Ah! my coufin, do you think, that, among the 90,000 pamphlets pub. lifhed in Paris within these ten years, my trifles can find a place, and that I can float upon the river of oblivion which every day fwallows up fo many excellent writings !''. Though you fhould live but fifteen days after your death," replied I," even that would be a great deal; there are few who en joy that advantage. The fate of moft men is to live unknown, and those who have made the moft noise are sometimes forgotten the day after their death; you will be diftinguished from the croud, and perhaps the very name of William Vadé having the honour to be printed in one or two journals, may be tranfmitted to the lateft pof. terity. Under what title would you have me publifh your mifcellanies?" "Coufin," faid he "I think the name of Trifles moft fuitable to them; most of the things that are done, faid, or printed, well deferve that title." I admired my coufin's modefty, and was extremely affected by it. Jerom Carrè then entered the chamber. William made his will, by which he left me abfolute mif. trefs of his manufcripts. Jerom and I asked him where he would be buried; and he made the following reply, which will ever be fresh in my memory. a "I am very fenfible, that, having never been exalted in this worid to any of those dignities which produce grand fentiments, and which elevate a man above himself, having been neither a privy-counsellor, nor a sheriff, nor church-warden, I fhall be treated after my death with very little ceremony. I fhall be thrown into the charnel-houfe of St. Innocent's, and nothing will be placed on my grave but a wooden crofs, which has already ferved for others; but I have always had fuch a tender regard for my country, that I am very averfe to being buried in a church-yard. Certain it is, that, dying of the disease with which I am attacked, I fhall ftink horribly. This corruption of fo many corpfes that are buried at Paris, in or near the churches, neceffarily affects the air, and as young Ptolemy fays, much to the purpofe, when he was deliberating whether he should grant Pompey an afylum, Their putrifying bodies taint the air, And with "the living wage perpetual war. This ridiculous and odious custom of paving the churches with the dead, occafions in Paris, every year, epidemical diseases, and all the deceafed contribute, more or lefs, to infect their country. The Greeks and Romans were much wifer than we; their buryingplaces were without the cities; and even now there are many nations in Europe where this falutary cuftom prevails. What pleas fure would it afford a good citizen, to go and manure, for example, the William talked a long time on of a tree, and afterwards cut it down. I have always been shock. ed with this ingratitude. Some time after William Vadé's death, we loft our good friend and kinfman Jerom Čarrè, fo well known in his time by the comedy of The Scotch woman, which, he faid, he tranflated for the advance. ment of polite literature. I think it my duty to acquaint the public with the diftrefs to which Jerom was reduced at the latter part of his life; which thus he disclosed in my prefence to brother Girofiée, his confeffor. happinefs to receive confirmation, there were added to my three pa trons, St. Ignatius de Loyola, St. Francis Xavier, St. Francis de Borgia, and Rigis, all Jefuits, fo that I ftyled my felf Jerom-1 homas-Raymond - Ignatius. XavierFrancis-Rigis Carrè. I thought, for a long time, that with fo many patrons I could not be in want of any thing upon earth. Ah! brother Giroflée, how have I been de. ceived! Patrons are like fervants, the more we have, the worse we are ferved. But attend, if you pleafe, to my misfortunes. As foon as this was over, I res "You know," faid he, " that at folved to give him a magnificent my chriftening there were given me funeral, worthy of the great repu- for patrons, St. Jerom, St. Thotation which he had acquired in the mas, and St. Raymond de Penna world. I went to the most cele-, fort, and that when I had the brated book fellers of Paris; Ipropofed their purchafing my coufin William's pofthumous works; I even added to them fome excellent differtations of his brother Antho ny, and fome pieces of his firft coufin once removed, Jerom Carrè. I obtained three Louis d'ors in rea. dy money, a fum which William had never poffeffed at one time in all his life. I had funeral tickets printed; I begged all the wits of Paris to honour with their prefence the mafs which I ordered for the repofe of William's foul; not one came. I could not attend at the ceremony myself, and fo William was buriedwithout any one's knowing it. In the fame manner he had lived for though he had enriched the fair with many comic operas, which were the admiration of all Paris, they enjoyed the fruits of his genius, and neglected the author; thus (as the divine Plato fays) we fuck an orange nd throw away the peel, we gather the fruits The reverend fathers the Jefuifts, or Jefuits, were banished, because their inftitution is pernicious, con trary to the rights of kings, and of human fociety, &c. Now Ignatius de Loyola having been author of that inftitution, after caufing himfelfto be whipped at the college of St. Barbe, and Xavier, Francis Bergia, and Regis, having practifed the fame difcipline, it is plain they they are all equally blameable, and thus here are four faints whom I muft neceffarily devote to all the devils. This raised in my mind fome fcruples about St Thomas and St. Raymond de Pennafort. I read their works, and I was aftonished when I found in Thomas and in Raymond, almoft the very fame words as in Bufembaum. I got rid as foon as poffible of thefe two patrons, and burnt their books, Thus was I reduced to the fingle name of Jerom; but this Jerom, the only patron that I had left, has been of no more fervice to me than the reft; is it because Jerom has no intereft in paradife? I confulted on this subject a man of great learning; he told me that Jerom was the most choleric of all men; that he used moft grofs and inju. rious language to John, the holy bishop of Jerufalem, and to the holy prieft Rufinus; that he even called the latter Hydra and Scorpion, and that he infulted him after he was dead: he fhewed me the paffages. At length I found my felf obliged to renounce Jerom, and to ftyle myself nothing but plain Carrè, which is very difagreeable, Thus Carrè lodged his grief in the bofom of brother Giroflee, who made him this anfwer: "You fhall not want for faints, my dear child; take St. Francis d'Affife." "No." fays Carrè, his wife of snow would fometimes incline me to laugh, and this is a ferious affair." "Well then, take St. Dominic." "No, he was the founder of the inquifition.""Will you have St. Bernard?"" He perfecuted too much poor Abelard, who had more VOL. X. wit than him felf, and he intermeddled too much with bufinefs; give me a patron of fuch humility that no one ever heard him fpeak; that is the faint for me." Brother Giroflée laid before him the impoffibility of being canonized and unknown; he gave a lift of many other patrons, with whom our friend was unacquainted, which was juft the fame thing; but at each faint that he propofed, he demanded fomething for his convent; for he knew that Carrè had money. Jerom Carrè then told him this ftory, which feems to me very curious: There was formerly a king of Spain who had promifed to bestow confiderable donations on all the inhabitants near Burgos, who had been ruined by the war. They came to the gates of the palace; but the guards refufed them admittance, except on condition that they should allow the guards to go halves. Good Cardero first prefented himfelt before the king; he fell on his knees, and faid, "Great Sir, I intreat your majefty to order each of us a hundred lafhes with a thong." "A droll request this," replied the king: "why do you make it ?" "Becaufe" faid Cardero, your guards would abfolutely have half of what you should give us." The king laughed very heartily, and made Cardero a confiderable prefent. This gave rife to the proverb, It is better to have to do with God than with his faints." " With thefe fentiments my dear Jerom Carrè departed this life; I have therefore annexed fome of his works to thofe of William and I flatter myself, that the Parifians, for whom Vadé and Carrè have al Ways mufic than others, and that there may be fome languages totally improper for any. Of the latter kind would be a language compofed of mixt founds, of mute, furd and nafal fyllables, of few fonorous vowels, and a great many confonants and articulations; and which might want fome of thofe effential conditions which I thall fpeak of under the article of meafure. For the fake of curiofity, let us enquire what would be the confequence of applying mufic to fuch a language. In the first place, the want of force in the found of the vowels would oblige the compofer to give a good deal to the notes, and becaufe the language would be furd, the mufic would be noify. In the fecond place, the hardnefs and frequency of the confonants would oblige him to exclude a great number of words, to proceed on others only by elementary tones, fo that the mufic would be infipid and monotonous. For the fame reafon, it would be flow and tirefome, and when the movement should be ever fo little accelerated, its hafte would refemble that of a hard and angular body rolling along on the pavement. As fuch a mufic would be destitute of all agreeable melody, the faint and inexpreffive; while its images, deftitute of all force and energy, defcribe but a few objects in a great number of notes, exactly like Gothic writing, the lines of which are full of ftrokes and characters, yet contain only two or three words, and but a very small quantity of meaning in a great fpace of paper. The impoffibility of inventing agreeable fongs would oblige the compofers to turn all their thoughts to the fide of harmony; and for want of natural beauties to introduce thofe of arbitrary fashion, which have no other merit than lies in the delicacy of the execution. Thus, inftead of compofing good mufic, they would compofe difficult mufic; and to fupply the want of fimple melody, would multiply their accompaniments. It would coft them much lefs trouble to lay a great many bad things one upon another, than to invent one good one. In order to remove the infipidity, they would increase the confafion; they would imagine they were making mufic when they were only making a noife. Another effect which would refult from this defect of melody, is, that the muficians, having only a falfe |