English noblemen and gentlemen will not be afraid to follow. Why always employ a profeffed planmaker? Why facrifice their own amusement and inclination to the will of another, and to the imperious edicts of capricious fafhion.

AN ANECDOTE.

OME time after the conclufion of the late war,

SOME

you en

a young American was prefent in a British playhouse, where an interlude was performed in ridicule of his countrymen. A number of Ameican officers being introduced in tattered uniforms, and barefoot, the question was put to them feverally, "What was your trade before tered into the army?" One answered a taylor, another a cobler, &c. The wit of the piece was to banter them for not keeping themselves clothed and fhod; but before that could be expreffed, the American exclaimed from the gallery, "GreatBritain beaten by taylors and coblers! Huzza!" Even the prime minifter, who was prefent, could not help fmiling, amidft a genèral peal of laughter.

ANECDOTE.

ANECDOTE.

AN ingenious young gentleman, at the Uni

versity of Oxford, being appointed to preach before the Vice-Chancellor, and the heads of the Colleges at St. Mary's, and having formerly obferved the drowsiness of the Vice-Chancellor, took this place of scripture for his text. What! cannot ye watch one hour? at every divifion he concluded with his text; which by reafon of the Vice-Chancellor fitting fo near the pulpit, often awaked him; this was fo noted among the wits, that it was the talk of the whole Univerfity, and withal it did fo nettle the Vice-Chancellor, that he complained to the Archbishop of Canterbury, who willing to redress him, fent for this scholar up to London, to defend himself against the crime laid to his charge; where coming, he gave fo many proofs of his extraordinary wit, that the Archbishop enjoined him to preach before King James. After fome excuses, he at length condescended; and coming into the pulpit, begins, James the first and fixth waver not; meaning the first King of England, and the fixth of Scotland: at firft the King was fomewhat amazed at the text, but in the end was fo well pleased with his fermon, that he made him one of his chaplains in ordinary: After this advancement, the Archbishop sent him down

N n

to

to Oxford to make his recantation to the ViceChancellor, and to take leave of the University, which he accordingly did, and took the latter part of the verse of the former text: Sleep on now, and take your reft: Concluding his fermon, he made his apology to the Vice-Chancellor, faying, whereas I faid before, which gave offence, What! cannot ye watch one hour? I fay now, Sleep on, and take your reft: and fo left the University.

The Invisible Nature of GOD.

WE

E are the work of fome more powerful and fuperior hand; but how we came first into being, we know not: the manner of our original existence is hid from us in darkness: we are neither confcious of our creation, nor of the Power which created us. He made us, but he hid himself from our eyes and ears, and all the fearches of fense. He has fent us to dwell in this visible world, amidst an endless variety of images, figures and colours, which force themselves upon our fenses; but he for ever difclaims all image, colour and figure himself. He hath fet us, who are inferior fpirits, this task, in these regions of mortal flesh, to fearch and feel after him, if haply we may find,

the

the fupreme, the infinite and eternal spirit. We are near a kin to him, even his own offspring; but we fee not our Father's face; nor can all the powers of our nature come at the knowledge of him that made us, but by the labours and inferences of our reafon. We toil and work backward to find our Creator: from our present existence, we trace out his eternity; and through the chain of a thousand vifible effects, we search out the first the invisible, and Almighty cause.

When we fancy we perceive fomething of him, it is at a distance, and in a dufky twilight. We espy some faint beams, fome glimmerings of his glory breaking through the works of his hands; but he himself ftands behind the veil, and does not fhew himself in open light to the fons and daughters of mortality. Happy creatures, if we could make our way fo near him, as to behold the lovely and adored beauties of his nature; if we could place our fouls directly under his kindeft influences, as to feel ourselves adore him in the moft profound humility, and love him with the moft fublime affection.

TRUE VIRTUE AND HONOUR.

ΜΕΝ
MEN poffeffed of these, value not themselves

upon any regard to inferior obligation; and yet violate that which is the moft facred and ancient of all-Religion. They fhould confider fuch violation as a fevere reproach in the moft enlightened state of human nature; and under the pureft difpenfation of religion, it appears to have extinguished the sense of gratitude to Heaven and to flight all acknowledgment of the great and true God. Such conduct implies either an entire want, or a wilful fuppreffion of fome of the best and most generous affections belonging to human nature.

A

ANECDOTE.

WOMAN went to find a monk and faid to

him, that she had ftolen a packet which charged her confcience. You must restore it, anfwered the monk. But, father, I am not fufpe&ted, and if I restore it, I am difhonoured. Well, anfwered the monk, bring the theft to me; I myself will make the reftitution. The woman liked the expedient wonderfully, and in a short while after, fhe put into the hands of the monk a basket, well

wrapped