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ANECDOT E. W H EN Oliver Cromwell first coined his mo

ney, an old cavalier looking upon one of the new pieces, read this inscription on one side, God with us; on the other, The common wealth of England. I fee, said he, God and the common wealth are on different fides.

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retire,

No further entreaties employ,
Nor meanly pretend any more to admire,

What basely you wish to destroy.

Say, youth, must I madly rush forward on shame,

If a traitor but artfully sighs ?
And eternally part with my honour and fame,

For a compliment paid to my eyes ?
If a flame all dishonest be vilely profest,

Thro' tenderness must I incline,
And seek to indulge the repose of a breast,

That would plant endless tortures in mine!

No,

No, Belmour!-a passion I can't but despise,

Shall never find way to my ears; Nor a man meet a glance of regard from these eyes,

That would drench them for ever in tears.

Can the lover who thinks, nay, who wishes me

base! Expect that I e'er should be kind? Or atone, with a paltry address to my face,

For the injury done to my mind ? Hence, Belmour, this instant! and cease ev'ry

dream, Which your hope saw so foolishly born; Nor vainly imagine to gain my esteem,

By deserving my hate and my scorn.

L I N E S

ADDRESSED BY
A Young Lady to ber Father.
OH! author of my being! far more dear

To me than light, than nourishment, or

rest, sygeia's blessings, rapture's burning tear, Or the life blood, that mantles in my breast.

mo

If in my heart, the love of virtue glows,

'Twas planted there by an unerring rule, From thy example the pure flame arose,

Thy life my precept, thy good works my school. Could my weak pow’rs thy num'rous virtues trace,

By filial love each fear should be repress’d, The blush of incapacity I'd chase,

And stand recorder of thy worth confess’d.

But since my niggard stars that gift refuse,

Concealment is the only boon I claim; Obscure be still the unsuccessful muse, .

Who cannot raise, but would not sink thy fame.

Oh! of my life at once the source and joy!

If e'er thy eyes these feeble lines survey, Let not their folly, their intent destroy,

Accept the tribute but forget the lay.

ON THE FOLLY OF

Sacrificing Comfort to Tafte. THERE are certain homely, but sweet com

1 forts and conveniences, the absence of which no elegance can supply. Since, however, they have nothing of external splendour, they are often facrificed to the gratification of vanity. We live

too

too much in the eyes and minds of others, and too little to our own consciences, and too little to our own satisfaction. We are more anxious to appear, than to be happy. According to the present modes of living, and ideas of propriety, an ostentatious appearance must be at all events, and in all instances, supported. If we can preserve a glittering and gloffy varnish, we disregard the interior materials and substance. Many shew a disposition in every part of their conduct, similar to that of the Frenchman, who had rather go without a shirt, than without ruffles; rather starve as a count, than enjoy affluence and independence as an honest merchant. Men idolize the great, and the distinctions of fashionable life, with an idolatry so reverential and complete, that they seem to mistake it for their duty towards God. For to use the words of the catechism, do they not appear to be. lieve in them, to fear them, to love them with all their hearts, with all their minds, with all their fouls, and with all their strength; to worship them, to give them thanks, to put their whole trust in them, to call upon them, to honour their names and their words, and to serve them truly all the days of their lives?” As they worship false goods, their blessings are of the kind which corresponds with the nature of their deities. They are all sha

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dowy and unsubstantial; dreams, bubbles, and meteors, which dance before their eyes, and often lead them to perdition.

It is really lamentable to behold families of a competent fortune, and respectable rank, who, (while they deny themselves even the common pleasures of a plentiful table, while their kitchen is the cave of cold and famine, while their neighbours, relations, and friends, pity and despise, as they pass, the comfortless and unhospitable door) scruple not to be profusely expensive in dress, furniture, building, equipage, at public entertainments, in excursions to Bath, Tunbridge, or Brighthelmstone. To feed the fashionable extravagance, they rob themselves of indulgences which they know to be more truly satisfactory; for which of them returneth from the midnight assembly, or from the summer excursions, without complaining of dulness, fatigue, and insipidity? They have shewn themselves, they have seen many fine perfons, and many fine things; but have they felt the delicious pleasures of domestic peace, the tranquil delights of social intercourse at their own towns and villages, the folid satisfactions of a cool collected mind, the comforts arising from a disembarrassed state of finances, and the love and respect of a neighbourhood? The poor imitator of splen

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