beast, fled at the sound of thunder. With respect to man, it may be observed, that reason should control his fears, or proportion them to the danger; that the mischief which a fever does in the course of a summer in Paris, is greater than what is occasioned by thunder during fifty years through the whole country. But this mode of arguing, though seemingly specious, is hollow and inconclusive. The evil produced by a summer fever extends through the whole season, and is divided into the various parts of it in an equal degree: whereas the danger of thunder is condensed into one single point of time, and the peril of that instant is comparatively greater than any one moment of a fever. A wall, which threatens to fall, has killed no one since it was built; yet it is certain that it will fall some time or other; and, when that happens, the the danger becomes instantaneous: which evil moment we are to take into the consideration of danger, and not the time in which it has continued to stand, without the peril of falling.

THE CAUSES OF HARMONIOUS AND DISCORD. ANT SOUNDS.

SOUNDS proceed from the air being forcibly put in motion, which we perceive by the impression that it makes on the tympanum of the ear. When a sonorous body is struck or shaken, it communicates to the air around the motion by which it is affected; and that motion operates by undulations similar to those which we may perceive on the surface of a stream, when we throw a stone into it. The more quick and frequent these undulations are, the more sharp is the sound, The treble string of a violin is sharper than the base, for this reason only, that its motion, being quicker, produces readier and more frequent undulations. In loosening a string the motion becomes more slack, the undulations more slow, and the sound less acute. On these principles, the causes of harmony and dissonance are easily accounted for. When the undulations produced by two strings of a violin are equal

and alike, and under the same point of time, an unison, or the most perfect harmony, is the consequence: when the contrary of this case happens, a most horrid discord is the effect. When the undulations are equal, but not of the same time, but returning at regular intervals, those beautiful variations take place, which add so much to the charms of music. From this plain doctrine of undulations, we can account for a very remarkable and a very pleasing natural circumstance, which arises from two strings being in unison: when one string is touched, and utters its proper note, the other by mere agitation sends forth the same tone though more feebly. The undulations of the air, occasioned by the string that is struck, puts the other in motion by pulsation, and excites in it certain undulations, which being equal to those produced by the former string, they combine together, and thus the force of each is aided and increased by its communication.

SELECT SENTENCES.

VICE hath not a more abject slave; society produces not a more odious vermin; nor can the devil receive a guest more worthy of him, nor possibly more welcome to him, than a SLANDERER. The world regards not this monster with half the abhorrence he des ves, yet, it is certain the thief looks innocent in the comparison; nay, the murderer himself can, seldom stand in competition with his guilt: for slander is a more cruel weapon than the sword, as the wounds which the former gives are always incurable.

A

THE foibles and vices of men, in whom there is a great mixture of good, become more glaring from the virtues, which contrast them, and shew their deformity; and when we find such vices attended with their evil consequence ta our favorite characters, we are not only taught to shun them for their own sake; but to hate them for the mischiefs they have already brought on those we love.

WHAT is the reason, that females, who have understandings equal to the wisest and greatest of the other sex, so often make choice of the silliest fellows for companions and favorites? How often does it raise indignation to the highest pitch, to reflect on the number of women of sense, who have been undone by fools!

THE world in general is divided into two opinions concerncerning charity, which are the very reverse of each other. One party seems to hold, that all acts of this kind are to be esteemed as voluntary gifts, and however little you give, (if indeed no more than your good wishes) you acquire a great degree of merit in so doing. Others, on the contrary, appear to be as firmly persuaded, that beneficence is a positive duty, and that whenever the rich fall greatly short of their ability in relieving the distresses of the poor, their pitiful largesses are so far from being meritorious, that they have only performed their duty by halves, and are in some sense more contemptible than those, who have entirely neglected it. The givers are generally of the former sentiment, and the receiv ers are almost universally inclined to the latter.

There is nothing which contributes more to our repose than the ignorance of our evil destinies. To know our future calamities is to be miserable before our time. "What use had it been to Crassus," says Cicero, " amidst his accumulation of riches, to have been assured that he and his son should perish ignominiously beyond the Euphrates, and that his army should be totally defeated? What miseries had Cæsar and Pompey previously felt, amidst their brilliant actions and glorious triumphs, if they had foreseen their respective misfortunes; viz. that the former should be assassinated in the senate, and the latter on the confines of Egypt, by the hands of those who were once their friends and dependants !"

TOM JONES.

SELECTED POETRY.

ODE TO AMBITION.
HENCE, Ambition! Demon, hence !
Haunt no more my peaceful bow'r;
Thy charms are little recompence
For many a troubled hour.

Hence, nor tempt me! Demon, hence!
To me thou'rt known,
Misfortunes damp my every joy,
Each vision form'd in Fancy's eye,

Each hope is flown:

Hence, then! Ambition, hence!

Yet I may paint the wily art
With which thou chain'st the youthful heart,
And tempt'st to tread thy thorny ways;

May tell, as false thy prospects glare,
As meteors flirting through the air,
With quick and transient blaze.

Thou bid'st the hero's breast with ardor glow,
And onward press, unknown to fear,
Unknown to Pity's trembling tear;
Seeking the path through hosts of slain,
And bounding o'er the gory plain;
As Glory calls him, still pursuing,
Callous to tender Mercy's suing,
Onward still, thou bid'st him steer:
"Till, staid amid his bold career,

He falls-he groans-and sinks beneath the deadly blow.

Prompted by thee, the statesman grasps at power,
Nor hears his suff'ring country's groans,
Nor hears the thousand, thousand moans,
Which bid him liberty restore:

Faction's clam'rous, troubled band,
And dire Oppression, blast the land :—

'Till Justice hears the nation's cries,

And 'neath the blood-stain❜d axe the mighty felon dies.
For thee the poet wastes his youth
Amid the night's chill gloom;
For thee he scorns the fickle joys
Which empty Pleasure's vot'ries prize,

And seeks to triumph o'er the tomb :-
But ah! he feels the chilling hand

Of proud Contempt;-his hopes disperse,
And Penury's haggard, frozen band

His tender bosom pierce :
See his fiery eye-balls roll!

Frenzy marks him for her own :-
Now sunk in grief, his noble soul
Mourns each fond vision flown;

And now dark Melancholy wears his frame;
In deep despondency he sinks,

And owns no more "the magic of a name."
Hence then, Ambition! Demon, hence!
O'er me thou hast no power;
Too well I know thy phantoms lead
To many a bitter hour.

BEAUTY IN TEARS.

Он, wеeр not, sweet maid, nor let sorrow oppress thee, Thy innocent bosom should banish all fears;

Kind heaven will protect thee-fair virtue caress thee,
And angels will pity such beauty in tears.

But some cruel tyrants compassion ne'er cherish,
In all their dark actions ambition appears;
They suffer the wretched to languish and perish,
And look without pity on beauty in tears.

How blest is the heart which with charity floweth,
And tranquil the bosom that virtue reveres ;
How sweet is the balm that kind pity bestoweth,
To soften the sorrow of beauty in tears.