whole assembly. A man came at full speed--the throng gave way to his approach: he was mounted on a steed of foam: in an instant, he was off his horse, on the scaffold, and held Pythias straitly embraced. You are safe," he cried,

you are safe. My friend, my beloved friend, the gods be. praised, you are safe! I now have nothing but death to suffer, and am delivered from the anguish of those reproaches which I gave myself, for having endangered a life so much dearer than my own." Pale, cold, and halfspeechless, in the arms of his Damon, Pythias replied, in broken accents-" Fatal haste!-Cruel impatience!What envious powers have wrought impossibilities in your favour?-But I will not be wholly disappointed.-Since I cannot die to save, I will not survive you.' Dionysius heard, beheld, and considered all with astonishment. His heart was touched; he wept; and, leaving his throne, he ascended the scaffold. "Live, live, ye incomparable pair!" he cried, "ye have borne unquestionable testimony to the existence of virtue! and that virtue equally evinces the existence of a God to reward it. Live happy, live renowned: and, oh! form me by your precepts, as ye have invited me by your example, to be worthy the participation of so sacred a friendship." Brooke.

On the Abuse of Genius, with reference to the Works
of Lord Byron.

I HAVE endeavoured to show, that the intrinsic value of genius is a secondary consideration, compared with the use to which it is applied; that genius ought to be estimated chiefly by the character of the subject upon which it is employed, or of the cause which it advocates-considering it, in fact, as a mere instrument, a weapon, a sword, which may be used in a good cause, or in a bad one; may be wielded by a patriot, or a highwayman; may give protection to the dearest interests of society, or may threaten those interests with the irruption of pride, and profligacy, and folly of all the vices which compose the curse and degradation of our species. I am the more disposed to dwell a little upon this subject, because I am persuaded that it is not sufficiently attended to-nay, that in ninety-nine instances out of a hundred, it is not attended to at all! That works of imagination are perused, for the

sake of the wit which they display; which wit not only reconciles us to, but endears to us, opinions, and feelings, and habits, at war with wisdom and morality-to say nothing of religion. In short, that we admire the polish, the temper, and shape of the sword, and the dexterity with which it is wielded; though it is the property of a lunatic, or of a bravo; though it is brandished in the face of wisdom and virtue; and, at every wheel, threatens to inflict a wound, that will disfigure some feature, or lop some member; or, with masterly adroitness, aims a death-thrust at the heart! I would deprive genius of the worship that is paid to it, for its own sake. Instead of allowing it to dictate to the world, I would have the world dictate to it —dictate to it, so far as the vital interests of society are affected. I know it is the opinion of many, that the moral of mere poetry is of little avail; that we are charmed by its melody and wit, and uninjured by its levity and profaneness; and hence, many a thing has been allowed in poetry, which would have been scouted, deprecated, reviled, had it appeared in prose: as if vice and folly were less pernicious, for being introduced to us with an elegant and insinuating address; or, as if the graceful folds and polished scales of a serpent, were an antidote against the venom of its sting.

There is not a more prolific source of human error, than that railing at the world, which obtrudes itself so frequently upon our attention, in the perusing of Lord Byron's poems-that sickness of disgust, which begins its indecent heavings, whensoever the idea of the species forces itself upon him. The species is not perfect; but it retains too much of the image of its Maker, preserves too many evidences of the modelling of the hand that fashioned it, is too near to the hovering providence of its disregarded, but still cherishing Author, to excuse, far less to call for, or justify, desertion, or disclaiming, or revilings, upon the part of any one of its members. I know not a more pitiable object, than the man, who, standing upon the pigmy eminence of his own self-importance, looks round upon the species, with an eye that never throws a beam of satisfaction on the prospect, but visits with a scowl, whatsoever it lights upon. The world is not that reprobate world, that it should be cut off from the visitation of charity; that it should be represented, as having no alternative, but to inflict or bear. Life is not one continued scene of

wrestling with our fellows. Mankind are not for ever grappling one another by the throat. There is such a thing as the grasp of friendship, as the outstretched hand of benevolence, as an interchange of good offices, as a mingling, a crowding, a straining together, for the relief, or the benefit of our species. The moral he thus inculcates, is one of the most baneful tendency. The principle of self-love-implanted in us for the best, but capable of being perverted to the worst of purposes-by a fatal abuse, too often disposes us to indulge in this sweeping depreciation of the species, founded upon some fallacious idea of superior value in ourselves; with which imaginary excellence we conceive the world to be at war. A greater source of error cannot exist. We are at once deprived of the surest prop of virtue-distrust of our own pretensions, and compound, as it were, with our fellows, for an interchange of thwartings and jostlings; or else, withdrawing from all intercourse with them, commune with rocks, and trees and rivers; fly from the moral region of sublimity and beauty, to the deaf, voiceless, sightless, heartless department of the merely physical one. Knowles.

Harley's Death.

THERE are some remembrances," said Harley, “which rise involuntarily on my heart, and make me almost wish to live. I have been blessed with a few friends, who redeem my opinion of mankind. I recollect, with the tenderest emotion, the scenes of pleasure I have passed among them-but we shall meet again, my friend, never to be separated. There are some feelings which perhaps are too tender to be suffered by the world. The world, in general, is selfish, interested, and unthinking; and throws the imputation of romance, or melancholy, on every temper more susceptible than its own. I cannot but think, in those regions which I contemplate, if there is any thing of mortality left about us, that these feelings will subsist;—they are called--perhaps they are-weaknesses, here;-but there may be some better modifications of them in heaven, which may deserve the name of virtues." He sighed, as he spoke these last words. He had scarcely finished them, when the door opened, and his aunt appeared, leading in Miss Walton. My dear," said she, "here is Miss Wal

ton, who has been so kind as to come and inquire for you herself." I could perceive a transient glow upon his face He rose from his seat." If to know Miss Walton's goodness,” said he,“ be a title to deserve it, I have some claim." She begged him to resume his seat, and placed herself on the sofa beside him. I took my leave. His aunt accompanied me to the door. He was left with Miss Walton alone. She inquired anxiously after his health. “I believe,” said he, "from the accounts which my physicians unwillingly give me, that they have no great hopes of my recovery." She started, as he spoke; but, recollecting herself immediately, endeavoured to flatter him into a belief that his apprehensions were groundless. "I know," said he, "that it is usual with persons at my time of life, to have these hopes which your kindness suggests; but I would not wish to be deceived. To meet death as becomes a man, is a privilege bestowed on few: I would endeavour to make it mine: -nor do I think, that I can ever be better prepared for it than now;-'tis that chiefly which determines the fitness of its approach." Those sentiments," answered Miss Walton, are just; but your good sense, Mr. Harley, will own, that life has its proper value.-As the province of virtue, life is ennobled; as such, it is to be desired.-To virtue has the Supreme Director of all things assigned rewards enough, even here, to fix its attachments."

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The subject began to overpower her.-Harley lifted up his eyes from the ground-"There are," said he, "in a low voice" there are attachments, Miss Walton."-His glance met her's-they both betrayed a confusion, and were both instantly withdrawn. He paused some moments—" ] am," he said, "in such a state as calls for sincerity; let that alone excuse it-it is, perhaps, the last time we shall ever meet. I feel something particularly solemn in the acknowledgment; yet my heart swells to make it, awed as it is by a sense of my presumption,-by a sense of your perfections." He paused again" Let it not offend you," he resumed, "to know their power over one so unworthy. My heart will, I believe, soon cease to beat, even with that feeling which it shall lose the latest.-To love Miss Walton could not be a crime.-If to declare it is one, the expiation will be made." Her tears were now flowing without control." Let me entreat you," said she, "to have better hopes-let not life be so indifferent to you; if my wishes can put any value upon it-I will not pretend to misun

derstand you--I know your worth-I have long known it -I have esteemed it-what would you have me say?— I have loved it, as it deserved!" He seized her hand:-a languid colour reddened his cheek-a smile brightened faintly in his eye. As he gazed on her, it grew dim, it fixed, it closed-he sighed, and fell back on his seat— Miss Walton screamed at the sight-his aunt and the servants rushed into the room-they found them lying mo tionless together. His physician happened to call at that instant-every art was tried to recover them-with Miss Walton they succeeded—but Harley was gone for ever! Mackenzie.

Advantages of uniting Gentleness of Manners, with
Firmness of Mind.

I MENTIONED to you, some time ago, a sentence which I would most earnestly wish you always to retain in your thoughts, and observe in your conduct; it is, suaviter in modo, fortiter in re. I do not know any one rule so unexceptionably useful and necessary in every part of life.

The suaviter in modo, alone, would degenerate and sink into a mean, timid complaisance, and passiveness, if not supported and dignified by the fortiter in re; which would also run into impetuosity and brutality, if not tempered and softened by the suaviter in modo: however, they are seldom united. The warm, choleric man, with strong animal spirits, despises the suaviter in modo, and thinks to carry all before him by the fortiter in re. He may, possibly, by great accident, now and then succeed, when he has only weak and timid people to deal with; but his general fate will be, to shock, offend, be hated, and fail. the other hand, the cunning, crafty man, thinks to gain all his ends by the suaviter in modo only: he becomes all things to all men; he seems to have no opinion of his own, and servilely adopts the present opinion of the present person; he insinuates himself only into the esteem of fools, but is soon detected, and surely despised by every body. else. The wise man-who differs as much from the cunning, as from the choleric man- -alone joins the suaviter in modo with the fortiter in re.

On

If you are in authority, and have a right to command, your commands, delivered suaviter in modo, will be willingly, cheerfully, and-consequently--well obeyed: where