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case of needles, or a pair of scissars; and that a family of husbandinen might be converted into a spade or a ploughshare, for the use of their descendants. To the plan of the French philosophers there appears to be no serious objection. Some persons would, perhaps, prefer the glass toys of Becher to the iron medals of the two French philosophers, as being in a more elegant taste. At the same time, it cannot be denied that, with respect to certain classes of people, there is undoubtedly something “more germain to the matter” in the proposal of Messrs. Parmentier and Deyeux. Iron would be an admirable symbolical memorial of conquerors, tyrants, misers, lawyers, hard-hearted damsels, and termagant wives; and, in providing suitable inscriptions to the medals, a wide field would be opened, in which to exercise the talent of the wits and the poets.

** D..

APHORISMS, BY LAVATER. : SAGACITY in selecting the good, and courage to honour it, according to its degree, determines your own degree of goodness. · Call him wise, whose actions, words, and steps, are all a clear because, to a clear why?

He wbo has genius and eloquence sufficient either to cover or to excuse his errors, vet extenuates not, but rather accuses himself, and unequivocally confesses guilt,--approaches the circle of immortals, whom human language has dignified with the appellation of gods and saints..

There are rapid moments of joy and of grief; moments which e

y one has, at least once in his life. that illuminate his character at once.

Who crawlingly receives, will give superciliously. • Who in certain moments can entirely lose himself in another, and, in the midst of the greatest action, think of no observer, is a jewel in the crown of human nature.

Who can look quietly at nothing, will never do any thing worthy of imitation. · Ali finery is a sign of littleness

The wrangler, the puzzler, and the word-hunter, are incapable of great thoughts and actions.

enCS WICO every one nas

Who, in receiving a benefit, estimates its value more closely than in conferring one, shall be a citizen of a better world.

· Imitate him whose observation passes not even the most minute, while it follows only the higher objects : the seeds of grandeur lie already in himself, he gives his own turn to every thing, and borrows less than seizes with one immediate glance: such an one never stops, his Aight is that of the eagle, who, like an arrow, wings the mid air, while his pinions appear motionless.

Know, that the great art to love your enemy consists of never losing sight of man in him: humanity has power over all that is human; the most inhuman mau still remains man, and never can throw off all taste for what becomes a man---but you must learn to wait.

He who is always in want of something cannot be very rich! "Tis a poor wight who lives by borrowing the words, decisions, mien, invention, and actions, of others.

The more there is of mind in your solitary employments, the more dignity there is in your character.

He, who can at all times sacrifice pleasure to duty, approaches sublimity.

Let the four and twenty elders in heaven rise before him who, from motives of humanity, can totally sup. press an arch, pointed, but offensive bon mot.

Call him saint who can forget his own sufferings in the minute griefs of others.

Trust him little who praises all, him less who censures all, and him least who is indifferent about all.

He who is master of the fittest moment to crush bis enemy, and magnanimously neglects it, is born to be a conqueror.

Where there is much pretension, much has been borrowed---Nature never pretends.

Truth, wisdom, love, seck reasons: malice seeks only causes.

Save me from him who is inexhaustible in evasions when called upon to do a good thing, and teems with excuses when he has done a bad one.

Receive no satisfaction for premeditated impertinence--forget it, forgive it-but keep him inexorably at a distance who offered it.

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SUBJECT OF THE PLATE.
FROM LORD BYRON'S POEMS, XX.
WHEN late I saw thy favourite child,

I thought my jealous heart would break;
But when th' unconscious infant smiled,

I kissed it for its mother's sake.
I kissed it, and repressed my sighs

Its father in its face to see;
But then it had its mother's eyes,

And they were all to love and me.
Mary, adieu! I must away:

While thou art blest I'll not repine;
But near thee I can never stay,
My heart would soon again be thine.

Vol. IV. page 90.

VIGNETTE.
FROM WALTER SCOTT'S LADY OF THE LAKE.

THEN through the dell his horn rosounds,
From vain pursuit to call the hounds.
Back limped, with slow and crippled pace,
The sulky leaders of the chace;
Close to their master's side they pressed,
With Crooping tail and humbled crest;
But still the dingle's hollow throat
Prolonged the swelling bugle note.

Canto I. Stanza 10.

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