ery period of your age, according as it is well or ill spent, influences the happiness of that which is to follow. Virtuous youth gradually brings forward accomplished and flourishing manhood; and such manhood passes of itself, without uneasiness into respectable and tranquil old age.But when nature is turned out of its regular course, disorder takes place in the moral, just as in the vegetable world. If the spring put forth no blossoms, in summer there will be no beauty, and in autumn, no fruit: so, if youth be trifled away without improvement, manhood will probably be contemptible, and old age miserable. If the beginnings of life have been “ vanity," its latter end can scarcely be any other than" vexation of spirit."..

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I shall finish this address, with calling your attention to that dependence on the blessing of heaven, which, amidst all your endeavors after improvement, you ought continually to preserve. It is too common with the young, even when they resolve to tread the path of virtue and honor, to set out with presumptuous confidence in themselves. Trusting to their own abilities for carrying them successfully through: life, they are careless of applying to God, or of deriving any assistance from what they are apt to reckon the gloomy discipline of religion. Alas! How little do they know the dangers which await them? Neither human wisdom, nor human virtue, unsupported by religion, is equal to the trying situations which often occur in life. By the shock of temp tation, how frequently have the most virtuous intentions been overthrown ? Under the pressure of disaster, how often has the greatest constancy sunk? Every good, and every perfect gift, is from above." Wisdom and virtue, as well as "riches and honor," come from God. Destitute of his favor, you are in no better situation, with all your boasted abilities, than orphans left to wander in a trackless desert, without any guide to conduct them, or any shelter to cover them from the gathering storm. Correct then this ill founded arrogance. Expect not, that your happiness can be independent of Him who made you. By faith and repentance, apply to the Redeemer of the world. By piety and prayer seek the protection of the God of heaven. I conclude with the solemn words, in which a great prince delivered his dying charge to his son; words, which every young person ought to consider as addressed to himself, and to engrave deeply

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on his heart:" Solomon, my son, know thou the God of thy fathers; and serve him with a perfect heart, and with a willing mind. For the Lord searches all hearts. aud understandeth all the imaginations of the thoughts. If thou seek him, he will be found of thee; but if thou forsake him, he will cast thee off forever."

BLAIR.

CHAPTER IX.

PROMISCUOUS AND MIXED PIECES.

SECTION I.

EARTHQUAKE AT CALABRIA, IN THE YEAR 1638.

AN account of this dreadful earthquake is given by the celebrated Father Kircher. It happened whilst he was OD his journey to visit Mount Etna, and the rest of the won ders that lie towards the south of Italy. Karcher is considered, by scholars, as one of the greatest prodigies of learning.

"Having hired a boat, in company with four more, (twɑ friars of the order of St. Francis, and two seculars) we launched from the harbor of Messina, in Sicily; and arriv ed the same day, at the promontory of Pelorus. Our destination was for the city of Euphemia in Calabria where we had some business to transact; and where we designed to

tary for some time. However, providence seemed willing to cross our design; for we were obliged to continue three days at Pelorus, on account of the weather; and though we often put out to sea, yet we were as often driven back. At length wearied with the delay, we resolved to prosecute our voyage; and although the sea seemed more than usually agitated, we ventured forward. The gulf of Charybdis which we approached, seemed whirled round in such a manner, as to form a vast hollow, verging to a point in the centre.Proceeding onward, and turning my eyes to Etna, 1 saw it cast forth large volumes of smoke, of mountainous sizes,

which entirely covered the island, and blotted out the very shores from my view. This, together with the dreadful Boise and sulphurious stench, which was strongly perceived, filled me with apprehensions that some more dreadful calamity was impending. The sea itself seemed to wear a very unusual appearance: they who have seen a lake in a violent shower of rain, covered all over with bubbles, will conceive some idea of its agitations. My surprise was still increased by the calmness and serenity of the weather; not a breeze, nor a cloud, which might be supposed to put all nature thus into motion. I therefore warned my companions, that an earthquake was approaching; and after some time, making for the shore with all possible diligence, we landed at pæa, happy and thankful for having escaped the threatening dangers of the sea.

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"But our triumphs at land were of short duration; for we had scarcely arrived at the Jesuits' College, in that city, when our ears were stunned with a horrid sound, resembling that of an infinite number of chariots, driven fiercely forward; the wheels rattling, and the thongs cracking. Soon after this a most dreadful earthquake ensued; so that the whole track upon which we stood seemed to vibrate, as we were in the scale of a balance that continued wavering. This motion, however, soon grew more violent; and being no longer able to keep my legs, I was thrown prostrate upon the ground. In the mean time, the universal ruin round me redoubled my amazement. The crash of falling houses, the tottering of towers, and the groans of the dying, all contributed to raise my terror and despair. On every side of me, I saw nothing but a scene of ruiu; and danger threatening wherever I should fly. I commended my self to God, as my last great refuge. At that hour, O how vain was every sublunary happiness! wealth, honor, empire, wisdom, all mere useless sounds, and as empty as the bubbles of the deep! Just standing on the threshold of eternity, nothing but God was my pleasure; and the nearer I approached, I only loved him the more. After sometime, however, finding that I remained unhurt, amidst the general concussion, I resolved to venture for safety and running as fast as I could, I reached the shore, but almost terrified out of my reason. I did not search long here, till I found the boat in which I had Fanded; and my companions also, whose terrors were evap

greater than mine. Our meeting was not of that kind, where every one is desirous of telling his own happy escape; it was all silence and a gloomy dread of impending terrors

Leaving this seat of desolation, we prosecuted our voy. age along the coast; and the next day came to Kochetta, where we landed, although the earth still continued in violent agitations. But we had scarcely arrived at our in, when we were once more obliged to return to the boat; and, in about half an hour we saw the greater part of the town, and the inn at which we had set up, dashed to the ground, and burying inhabitants beneath the ruins.

"In this manner, proceeding. onward in our little vessel, finding no safety at land, and yet, from the smallness of our boat, having but a very dangerous continuance at sea, we at length landed at Lopzium, a castle midway between Tropæa and Euphemia. the city to which as I said before, we were bound. Here, wherever 1 turned my eyes, nothing but scenes of ruin and horror appeared: towns and casties leyelled to the ground; Strombolo, though at sixty miles distance, belching forth flames in an unusual manner, and with a noise which I could distinctly hear. But my attention was quickly turned from more remote to contiguous danger. The rumbling sound of an approaching earthquake, which we by this time were grown acquainted with, alarmed us for the consequences; it every moment seemed to grow louder, and to approach nearer. The place on which we stood now be gan to shake most dreadfully; so that being unable to stand, my companions and I caught hold of whatever shrub grew next to us and supported ourselves in that manner.

"After some time, this violent paroxysm ceasing, we agaia stood up, in order to prosecute our voyage to Euphemia, which lay within sight. In the mean time, while we were preparing for this purpose, I turned my eyes towards the city, but could see only a frightful dark cloud that seemed to rest upon the place. This the more surprised us, as the weather was so very serene. We waited therefore till the cloud had passed away then turning to look for the city, it was totally sunk. Wonderful to tell! nothing but a dismal and putrid lake was seen where it stood. We looked about to find some one that could tell us of its sad catastrophe, but could see no person. All was become a melancholy solitude; a Sceɛe of hideous desolation. Thus proceeding pensively

along in quest of some human being that could give us a little information, we at length saw a boy sitting by the shore, and appearing stupefied with terror. Of him therefore, we enqued concerning the fate of the city; but he could not be prevailed on to give us any answer. We entreated him, with every expression of tenderness and pity, to tell us: but his senses were quite wrapt up in the contemplation of the danger he had escaped. We offered him some victuals, but he seemed to loath the sight. We still persisted in our of fices of kindness; but he oply pointed to the place of the city, like one out of his senses; and then running up into the woods, was never heard of after. Such was the fate of the city of Euphemia: and as we continued. our melancholy course along the shore, the whole coast for the space of two hundred miles, presented nothing but the remains of cities; and men scattered, without a habitation, over the fields.Proceeding thus along, we at length ended our distressful voyage, by arriving at Naples, after having escaped a thou sand dangers both at sea and land.”

SECTION II.

GOLDSMITH.

LETTER FROM PLINY TO GEMINIUS.

Do we not sometimes observe a sort of people who though they are themselves under the abject dominion of every vice, show a kind of malicious resentment against the errors of others; and are most severe upon those whom they most re semble? yet, surely a lenity of disposition, even in persons who have the least occasion for clemency themselves, is of all virtues the most becoming. 1 he highest of all characters, in my estimation, is his, who is as ready to pardon the errors of mankind, as if he were every day guilty of some himself; and at the same time as cautious of committing a fault, as if he never forgave one. It is a rul: then which we should, upon all occasions, both private and public, most religiously observe ; "to be inexorable to our own failings, while we treat those of the rest of the world with tenderness, not excepting ever such as forgive none but themselves.”

I shall perhaps, be asked, who it is that has given eccasion to these reflections. Know then that a certain person