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deavoured to captivate the votaries of RELIGION, the grew by flow degrees, and gave time to escape; but in feizing the unhappy followers of REASON, the proceeded as one that had nothing to fear, and enlarged her fize, and doubled her chains without intermiffion, and without référve.

Of those who forfook the directions of REASON, fome were led afide by the whispers of AMBITION, who was perpetually pointing to ftately palaces fituated on eminences on either fide, recounting the delights of affluence, and boafting the fecurity of power. They were eafily perfuaded to follow her, and HABIT quickly threw her chains upon them; they were foon convinced of the folly of their choice, but few of them attempted to return. AMBITION led them forward from precipice to precipice, where many fell and were seen no more. Those that escaped were, after a long feries of hazards, generally delivered over to TYRANNY, where they continued to heap up gold till their patrons or their heirs pufhed them headlong at laft into the caverns of -DESPAIR.

Others were inticed by INTEMPERANCE to ramble in fearch of those fruits that hung over the rock, and filled -the air with their fragrance. I obferved, that the HABITS which hovered about these foon grew to an enormous fize, 'nor were there any who lefs attempted to return to REASON, or fooner funk into the gulphs that lay before them. When thefe firft quitted the road, REASON looked after them with a frown of contempt, but had little expectation of being able to reclaim them; for the bowl of intoxication was of fuch qualities as to make them lofe all regard but for the prefent moment; neither HOPE nor FEAR could enter their retreats; and HABIT had fo abfolute a power, that even CONSCIENCE, if RELIGION had employed her in their favour, would not have been able to force an entrance.

There were others whofe crime it was rather to neglect REASON than to obey her; and who retreated from the heat and tumult of the way, not to the bowers of

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INTEMPERANCE, but to the maze of INDOLENCE. They had this peculiarity in their condition, that they were always in fight of the road of REASON, always wishing for her prefence, and always refolving to return tomorrow. In these was moft eminently confpicuous the fubtlety of HABIT, who hung imperceptible fhackles upon them, and was every moment leading them farther from the road, which they always imagined that they had the power of reaching. They wandered on from one double of the labyrinth to another with the chains of HABIT hanging fecretly upon them, till, as they advanced, the flowers grew paler, and the scents fainter; they proceeded in their dreary march without pleasure in their progress, yet without power to return; and had this aggravation above all others, that they were criminal, but not delighted. The drunkard for a time laughed over his wine; the ambitious man triumphed in the miscarriage of his rival; but the captives of INDOLENCE had neither fuperiority nor 'merriment. DISCONTENT lowered in their looks, and SADNESS hovered round their fhades; yet they crawled on, reluctant and gloomy, till they arrived at the depth of the recefs, varied only with poppies and nightshade, where -the dominion of ÍNDOLENCE terminates, and the hopelefs wanderer is delivered up to MELANCHOLY: the chains of HABIT are riveted for ever; and MELANCHOI.Y, having tortured her prifoner for a time, configns him at last to the cruelty of DESPAIR.

While I was mufing on this miferable scene, my protector called out to me, "Remember, Theodore, and be "wise, and let not HABIT prevail against thee." I started, and beheld myself furrounded by the rocks of Teneriffe; the birds of light were finging in the trees, and the glances of the morning darted upon me.

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The Grateful Turk.

Ta time when the Venetians and Turks were at war, one of the fhips of the latter was taken and carried into Venice, where the crew were all fold for flaves. One of thefe unhappy people happened to live oppofite the houfe of a rich Venetian, who had an only fon, then in the twelfth year of his age. The little youth ufed frequently to ftop and gaze at Hamet, for fuch was the name of the flave, and, at laft, an acquaintance commenced between them.

Though Hamet feemed always delighted with the tender regards of his little friend, yet the latter frequently obferved, that involuntary tears trickled down the cheeks of Hamet. The little youth at laft fpoke of it to his father, and begged of him, if he could, to make Hamet happy.

Hereupon the father determined to fee the flave, and talk to him himself. He went to him the next day, and asked him if he were the Hamet, of whom his fon had spoken fo kindly. He replied, that he was the un

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fortunate Hamet, who had been three years a captive, and that during that time his little fon was the only perfon who had in the leaft pitied his misfortunes. "And I, night and morning," added he, "offer up my prayers to that Power, who is equally the God of Turks and Chriftians, to fhower down upon his head every bleffing he deferves, and to preferve him from miferies like mine."

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The Venetian merchant then entered into closer converfation with Hamet, and could not help admiring his generous fentiments and manly fortitude. He asked him what he would do to regain his liberty. "What would I do?" answered Hamet, "By the eternal Majefty of Heaven, I would chearfully face every danger, and even death itself, in whatever fhape it might appear."

The merchant then told him, that the means of his deliverance were in his own hands. "Hear me attentively," faid the merchant. "An inveterate foe of mine lives in this city, and has heaped upon me every injury that can fting the heart of man. He is as brave as he is haughty; and I must confess, that his ftrength and valour prevent my attempting perfonally to revenge my wrongs. Now, Hamet, take this dagger, and as foon as the fhade of night fhall envelope the city, I will lead you to the place, where you may at once revenge the injuries of your friend, and regain your own freedom."

Scorn and contempt now flamed in the eyes of Hamet, and, as foon as his paffion had a little fubfided, he exclaimed, "O gracious prophet! are these the wretches by whom you fuffer your faithful fervants to be enflaved! Go, wicked Christian, and be affured, that Hamet would not become an affaffin for all the riches of Venice, or to purchase the freedom of his whole race!" The merchant coolly replied that he was forry he had offended him, but thought that he prized his freedom at a higher rate; and added, as he turned his back, "You will perhaps change your mind to-morrow, after you

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fhall have more maturely reflected on the matter;" and he then left him.

The next day, the merchant, accompanied by his fon, returned to Hamet, and was going to renew his former converfation, when the honest Turk exclaimed, with a fevere and fixed countenance, "Chriftian! cease to infult the miferable with propofals more fhocking than Ideath itfelf! The Chriftian religion may tolerate fuch acts, but to a Mahometan they are an abomination !"

Francisco, for fuch was the name of the Venetian merchant, now tenderly embraced Hamet, and begged he would forgive the trial to which he had put his virtue, affuring him at the fame time that his foul abhorred all deeds of blood and treachery, as much as Hamet himself. "From this moment," faid the merchant, "you are free; your ranfom is paid, and you are at liberty to go where you please. Perhaps, hereafter, when you fee an unhappy Chriftian groaning in Turkish fetters, your generosity may bring Venice to your remembrance."

The feelings of Hamet at this unexpected deliverance are not to be defcribed. Francisco put him on board a fhip, which was bound to one of the Grecian islands, and, after taking leave of him in the tenderest manner, forced him to accept of a purse of gold to pay his expenfes. Affectionate was the parting of Hamet with his little friend, whom he embraced in an agony of tenderness, wept over him, and implored Heaven to grant him all the bleffings of this life.

About fix months afterwards, one morning, while the family were all in bed, Francifco's houfe was dif covered to be on fire, and great part of the house was in flames before the family was alarmed. The terrified fervants had but just time to awaken Francisco, who was no fooner got into the street, than the whole staircafe gave way, and fell into the flames.

If the merchant thought himself happy on having faved himself, it was only for a moment, as he foon recollected that his beloved fon was left behind to the

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