affected distance, to make our friends feel their inferiority. I consider men like coins, which because stamped with men's heads, pass for more than they are worth. And when the world is willing to treat a man better than he deserves, there is a meanness in endeavouring to extort more from them.

Tru. But shall a man speak without thinking? Did you ever read the old proverb, "Think twice, before you speak once ?"

Steph. Yes and a vile one it is. If a man speak from the impulse of the moment, he'll speak the meaning of his heart; and will probably speak the truth. But if he mind your musty proverb, there will be more pros and cons in his head, more hams and haws in his delivery, than there are letters in his sentences. To your sly, subtle, thinking fellows, we owe all the lies, cheating, hypocrisy, and double dealing there is in the world.

Tru. But you know that every subject has its sides; and we ought to examine, reflect, analyze, sift, consider, and determine, before we have a right to speak; for the world are entitled to the best of our thoughts. What would you think of a tradesman, who should send home your coat, boots, or hat, half finished? You might think him a very honest-hearted fellow; but you'd never employ him again.

Steph. Now, was there any need of bringing in tailors, coblers, and hatters, to help you out? they have nothing to do with this subject.

Tru. You don't understand me. I say, if you would never employ such workmen a second time, why should you justify a man for turning out his thoughts half finished? The mind labors as actually in thinking upon, and maturing a subject, as the body does in the field, or on the shop-board. And, if the farmer knows when his grain is ready for the sickle, and the mechanic, when his work is ready for his customer, the man, who is used to thinking, knows when he is master of his subject,

1

subject, and the proper time to communicate his thoughts with ease to himself and advantage to others.

Steph. All that is escaping the subject. None of your figures, when the very original is before you. You talk about a man's mind, just as if it were a piece of ground, capable of bearing flax and hemp. You have fairly brought forward a shop-board, and mounted your tailor upon it. Now I have no notion of any cross-legged work in my inner man. In fact, I don't understand all this process of thinking. My knowledge upon all subjects is very near the root of my tongue, and I feel great relief, when it gets near the tip.

Tru. Depend on it that thousands have lost fame and even life by too great freedom of speech. Treasons, murders, and robberies, have been generally discovered by the imprudent boasting of the perpetrators.

Steph. Depend on it, that our world has suffered far more by silent, than by prattling knaves. Suppose every man were to speak all his thoughts, relate all his actions, declare all his purposes, would the world be in danger of crimes? No; be assured, that magistrates, bailiffs, thief-takers, prisons, halters, and gallows, all owe their dignity to the contrivance of your sly, plodding mutes.

Tru. You have let off from the tip of your tongue a picked company of dignified substantives; but take notice that my doctrine does not extend to the midnight silence of robbers; but to a due caution and reserve in conveying our thoughts to the world. And this I hope ever to observe. And if you determine on a different course, rest assured, that the consequences will not be very pleasant. [Exit. Steph. Consequences! That's counting chickens before they are hatched. Dignity of human nature ! Pretty words! just fit to be ranked with the honor of thieves, and the courage of modern duelists.

AMER ICAN

S

AMERICAN SAGES.

EE on yon dark'ning height bold Franklin tread,
Heav'n's awful thunders rolling o'er his head ;
Convolving clouds the billowy skies deform,
And forky flames emblaze the black'ning storm.
See the descending streams around him burn,
Glance on his rod, and with his guidance turn;
He bids conflicting heav'ns their blast expire,
Curbs the fierce blaze, and hold's th' imprison'd fire.
No more, when folding storms the vault o'erspread,
The livid glare shall strike thy face with dread;
Nor tow'rs nor temples, shudd'ring with the sound,
Sink in the flames, and spread destruction round.
His daring toils, the threat'ning blasts that wait,
Shall teach mankind to ward the bolts of fate;
The pointed steel o'er-top th' ascending spire,
And lead o'er trembling walls the harmless fire;
In his glad fame while distant worlds rejoice,
Far as the lightnings shine, or thunders raise their voice.
See the sage Rittenhouse, with ardent eye,
Lift the long tube, and pierce the starry sky:
Clear in his view the circling systems roll,
And broader splendours gild the central pole.
He marks what laws th' eccentric wand'rers bind,
Copies creation in his forming mind,

And bids, beneath his hand, in semblance rise,
With mimic orbs, the labours of the skies.
There wond'ring crowds, with raptur'd eye, behold
The spangled heav'ns their mystic maze unfold ;
While each glad sage his splendid hall shall grace,
With all the spheres that cleave th' etherial space.
"To guide the sailor in his wand'ring way,
See Godfrey's toils reverse the beams of day.
His Jifted quadrant to the eye displays
From adverse skies the counteracting rays:
And marks, as devious sails bewilder'd roll,
Each nice gradation from the stedfast pole.

EXTRACT

EXTRACT FROM MR. PITT'S SPEECH, Nov. 18, 1777, on AMERICAN AFFAIRS.

I

RISE, my lords, to declare my sentiments on this most solemn and serious subject. It has imposed a load upon my mind, which, I fear, nothing can remove; but which impels me to endeavour its alleviation, by a free and unreserved communication of my sentiments. In the first part of the address, I have the honor of heartily concurring with the noble Earl who moved it. No man feels sincerer joy than I do; none can offer more genuine congratulation on every accession of strength to the Protestant succession: I therefore join in every congratulation on the birth of another princess, and the happy recovery of her Majesty.

But I must stop here; my courtly complaisance will carry me no farther. I will not join in congratulation on misfortune and disgrace. I cannot concur in a blind and servile address, which approves, and endeavours to sanctify, the monstrous measures that have heaped disgrace and misfortune upon us; that have brought ruin to our doors. This, my lords, is a perilous and tremendous moment! It is, not a time for adulation. The smoothness of flattery cannot now avail; cannot save us in this rugged and awful crisis. It is now necessary to instruct the throne in the language of truth. We must dispel the delusion and the darkness which envelop it; and display, in its full danger. and true colours, the ruin that it has brought to our doors.

And who is the minister; where is the minister, who has dared to suggest to the throne the contrary, un constitutional language, this day delivered from it? The accustomed language, from the throne has been application to Parliament for advice, and a reliance on its constitutional advice and assistance. As it is the right of Parliament to give, so it is the duty of the Crawn to ask it. But on this day, and in this extreme momentous

momentous exigency, no reliance is reposed on our constitutional counsels! no advice is asked from the sober and enlightened care of Parliament ! But the crown, from itself, and by itself, declares an unalterable determination to pursue measures. And what measures, my lords? The measures that have produced imminent perils that threaten us; the measures that have brought ruin to our doors.

Can the Minister of the day now presume to expect a continuance of support, in this ruinous infatuation ? Can Parliament be so dead to its dignity and its duty, as to be thus deluded into the loss of the one, and the violation of the other? To give an unlimited credit and support for the perseverance in measures, which have reduced this late flourishing empire to ruin and contempt! "But yesterday, and England might have stood against the world: now none so poor to do her reverence." I use the words of a poet; but though it is poetry, it is no fiction. It is a shameful truth, that not only the power and strength of this country are wasting away and expiring; but her well-earned glories, her true honors, and substantial dignity, are sacrificed.

France, my lords, has insulted you; she has encouraged and sustained America; and whether America be wrong or right, the dignity of this country ought to spurn at the officious insult of French interference. The ministers and ambassadors of those who are called rebels and enemies, are in Paris; in Paris they transact the reciprocal interests of America and France. Can there be a more mortifying insult? Can even our ministers sustain a more humiliating disgrace? Do they dare to resent it? Do they presume even to hint a vindication of their honor, and the dignity of the State, by requiring the dismissal of the plenipotentiaries of America? Such is the degradation to which they have reduced the glories of England!

The people, whom they affect to call contemptible rebels, but whose growing power has at last obtained

the