ANECDOTE.

HEN Oliver Cromwell firft coined his mo

WHI

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

No further entreaties employ,

Nor meanly pretend any more to admire,
What bafely you wish to deftroy.

Say, youth, muft I madly rush forward on fhame,
If a traitor but artfully fighs?

And eternally part with my honour and fame,
For a compliment paid to my eyes?

If a flame all difhoneft be vilely profeft,
Thro' tenderness must I incline,

And feek to indulge the repofe of a breast,

That would plant endless tortures in mine!

No,

No, Belmour!-a paffion I can't but defpife,
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 bafe!

Expect that I e'er fhould be kind?

Or atone, with a paltry address to my face,
For the injury done to my mind?

Hence, Belmour, this inftant! and cease ev'ry dream,

Which your hope faw fo foolishly born;

Nor vainly imagine to gain my esteem,

By deferving my hate and my fcorn.

LINE S

ADDRESSED BY

A Young Lady to her Father.

H! author of my being! far more dear

OF

To me than light, than nourishment, or

rest,

Hygeia's bleffings, rapture's burning tear,

Or the life blood, that mantles in my

breast.

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 fchool.

Could my weak pow'rs thy num'rous virtues trace,
By filial love each fear should be reprefs'd,
The blush of incapacity I'd chafe,

And ftand recorder of thy worth confefs'd.

But fince my niggard ftars that gift refuse,
Concealment is the only boon I claim;
Obfcure be still the unfuccefsful muse,

Who cannot raise, but would not fink thy fame.

Oh! of my life at once the fource and joy!
If e'er thy eyes these feeble lines furvey,
Let not their folly, their intent destroy,
Accept the tribute but forget the lay.

ON THE FOLLY OF

Sacrificing Comfort to Tafte.

HERE are certain homely, but fweet com

THE

forts and conveniences, the absence of which no elegance can fupply. Since, however, they have nothing of external fplendour, 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 confciences, and too little to our own fatisfaction. We are more anxious to appear, than to be happy. According to the prefent modes of living, and ideas of propriety, an oftentatious appearance must be at all events, and in all inftances, fupported. If we can preserve a glittering and gloffy varnish, we difregard the interior materials and fubftance. Many fhew a difpofition in every part of their conduct, fimilar to that of the Frenchman, who had rather go without a fhirt, than without ruffles; rather ftarve as a count, than enjoy affluence and independence as an honest merchant. Men idolize the great, and the diftinctions 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 catechifm, do they not appear to believe in them, to fear them, to love them with all their hearts, with all their minds, with all their fouls, and with all their ftrength; to worship them, to give them thanks, to put their whole truft in them, to call upon them, to honour their names and their words, and to ferve them truly all the days of their lives?" As they worship falfe goods, their bleffings are of the kind which corresponds with the nature of their deities. They are all fha

M m

dowy

dowy and unfubftantial; 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 refpectable rank, who, (while they deny themfelves 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 defpife, as they pafs, the comfortless and unhofpitable door) fcruple not to be profufely expenfive in drefs, furniture, building, equipage, at public entertainments, in excurfions to Bath, Tunbridge, or Brighthelmftone. To feed the fashionable extravagance, they rob themselves of indulgences which they know to be more truly fatisfactory; for which of them returneth from the midnight affembly, or from the fummer excurfions, without complaining of dulnefs, fatigue, and infipidity? They have fhewn themselves, they have feen many fine perfons, and many fine things; but have they felt the delicious pleasures of domeftic peace, the tranquil delights of focial intercourfe at their own towns and villages, the folid fatisfactions of a cool collected mind, the comforts arifing from a difembarraffed state of finances, and the love and refpe&t of a neighbourhood? The poor imitator of fplen