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a writer like the present, who to ease and correctness of expresfion unites that very essential requisile of a novelist,-a talent for nice and accurate delineation of character: who contrafts his several personages with confiderable skill and ability : who gives to them their appropriate language, spirit, and manners; and who finally presents us with a fable or story, tolerably harmonious in all its parts.

The just and pertinent observations contained in the follow, ing extract will thew that our Author is something more than a novel-writer : he appears, indeed, in the honourable and amiable character of a philosopher, and friend of man,--for though in the dialogue which we have here selected, a quaker and a petitmaitre compose che scene, it is very easy to discover that the quaker, the favourite character, speaks the sentiments of the Author's heart.

My next excursion was to Philadelphia, to do my baisemains to that terrible congress, whose name is to be celebrated by future Livys, as the ancient preserver of the only storehouse for liberty in the four quarters of the globe; where thirty generations of men, exclusive of accidents, may be furnished with what they want. I'll tell you a secret, my dear Count; I had it from a Quaker, one of the people who never swear, and very seldom lie.

“ The heads of the Kings and rulers of the old world are wormeaten.” The man is a farmer, and though I have the honour to be the Marquis de St. Claur, and not to know wheat from barley in the blade, yet, as it is the fathion to visit him on account of his numerous improvements, I chose to be in the fashion. His conversation was so entertaining, his hospitality so warm, and his wife so pretty, that I stayed three days with him in the country, without becoming an ennuyè, except once, when the dissertation upon plants had been streiched out rather too long. I had the misfortune to gape. “I tire thee,” says he. I was affuring him to the contrary. study here the language of nature more than that of politeness,” says come,

let us take a walk.” : In a field, where many sheep were feeding, one of them very often, holding its head awry, ftaggered round and round, fell down, and soon rose again and eat. “ The brain of that poor animal,” says he, “ has worms in it; I must order it to the slaughter-house out of compassion. We call this disorder the turn; and I am apt 10 think, kings have it sometimes. Thou knowest the Americans are struggling for liberty. Thy King, and the King of Spain, who dote upon it so, that they keep it all to themselves, and tell their people it is not for common wear, help us forward in the obtaining it with all their might; and the King of England, who lives but to extend and secure this bleiling to all his subjects, is lahouring as lustily to deprive us of it. Much in the same manner acted thy fourteenth Louis, when he revoked the edict of Nantz, to destroy liberty of thinking at home, and sent millions to support it in Germany. What thinkest thou ?- Did not it denote worms ?” 6

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“ Posibly it might,” replies I; “ but this accusation brought again it the present Kings of France and Spain, comes not well froin che mouth of an American.”

“ Thou doft not imagine,” says he, “ that I think they can err on this side. But thou wilt not say they are consistent. Let them give their own people that liberty they endeavour to procure us, and they will be as high in my esteem almost as William Penn."

“ I should like to know what standard you'measure merit hy? It seems odd to compare the Kings of France and Spain with William Penn."

Thou mistakest; I do not. I know of no point of comparison between them. One standard of meric is che good done to mankind. In reading the histories of thy country, one would be apt to conclude Kings thought themselves great in proportion to the mischief they did ; and that their subjects were blind enough to fantify the error."

Surely mankind is much benefited by being well governed.” I grant it.- Is thy country fo?" " We think it is.” “ Who dost thou mean by the term we?" “ The public in general.”

“ The public in general then must be sunk low indeed in the scale of political freedom. Let us for conversation fake turn na. turalists ; and consider man by his inward as well as outward marks. The people of thy country, and ours, are doubtless classed under the náme Man as a GENUS; let us see, if the species may not differ.

“ We will begin the comparison with the rank of peasants, that numerous class employed in raising subsistence for the whole com. munity. In France, how poor they are! how abject! starving in the midst of those delicacies they are daily creating, as it were, for the use of others. See their rags, their black bread, and rancid bacon! If a man of the Noblefjë honours them with his commands, they are abymès infiniment, and ready to jump into a well, to Mew their sense of the amazing condescenfion. View the same rank in America, and acknowledge the difference. It would be insulting thy understanding to point it out. Every man feels himself a Man; claims his Thare of the common bounties of nature ; and above all, of Liberty. It is true, you ave a vaft superiority in your trinket men, your iai. leurs, parfumeurs, your perruquiers, and especially your cuisiniers; and may a thousand ages elapse, before America becomes your rival !

St. Paul says, whatsoever you do, let it be to the praise and glory of God. A good Frenchman obeys the precept, but his god is the grand Monarque. If half a million are lent to Germany or Flanders, to die of the sword, disease, or famine, the King's glory requires it, and we are content. If Versailles and Fontain bleau waste the treasures of a nation in useless magnificence, or childina splendor, it is for the King's glory, and we are content. In return, the grand Monarque, or the grand Monarque's mistrelles, take the trouble to govern these obsequious people according to their own good will and pleasure.

" At present, thou seest America conceives ic possible, though doubtless very affli&ing, to sublift without this species; and when

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they had it, they said not with the French, We are thy servants, o King, do unto us as seemeth good unto thee.-But, thou art our servant, o King, execute our laws in righteousness. Doft thou perceive any difference?

“ I do. But Frenchmen have a great deal to learn, and unlearn too, before they can enter into so licentious a course of thinking, and trample upon the sacred majesty of Kings.”

“ 'Sacred majesty of Kings ! Lord's anointed! Delegates of heaven! Just less than gods! In my youth I also read tragedies, epic poems, romances, and divinity. Now, I read COMMON SENSE. And what pretty epithets haft thou adapted to the dignity of the facred order? Wilt thou not think we are given over to all uncleanness of spirit, living, as we do, unsprinkled, dying un-unctioned. Can there be salvation, thinkest thou, without a Bihop? Without that order of men so useful to a nation that chuses to think by proxy? But to tell thee a secret, and it may serve to confirm the difference in specie, American heads are so pertinaciously constructed, that rather than not take their own road to heaven, they will take none at all."

“ The road to heaven, my dear Sir, has always been represented to us as a thorny path, and hard to find. Why then hould we not take guides?”

“ I grant thee, to the people of thy world, the path is burthened with incumbrances; and prithee who put them there! I fancy it is the work of thy hierarchy only. They seem to me like pilots who tell of a thousand imaginary fand-banks obstructing the road into port, in order to be paid the pilotage. Scarce any thing to us is so safe, so easy, and so pleasant, as the way that conducts to heaven, Love God; love thy neighbour; and be just. This is our law and our prophets."

“ In all the true holy catholic mother church, my dear Sir, there is not a priest who does not derive his defcent, spiritually, from the (welve apoitles. We believe they are called to the sacred work of salvation. We believe they know something of what they teach. We are sure we do not know. If they inform us right, we have all the advantage of it. If wrong, as we cannot guide ourselves better, we are no worse than we were.

Thy plea is so good a one, that I promise thee whenever the men thou speakest of, prove their descent, exclusivelywe will come over unto their faith. Till they do this, thou wilt excuse us, for not trusting wholly oậr estates to stewards, our consciences to confelsors, or our souls to priests. We think all these of importance enough to look to them ourselves.”

“Well Sir, all that I know is, that you have sucked in one set of maxims with your mother's milk, and we another. Yours tends to establish reason, that damnable faculty according to our creed; ours faith ; which whosoever has enough of, may remove your Apa, lachian mountains."

“ Thou art right. Education is all in all."

Were it within the limits and compass of our Review, we would willingly follow this lively and ingenious writer through the several windings and meanderings of his work; but we muft,

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bowever reluctantly, take leave of him, with recommending to our Readers, a performance in which inftruction and entertainment are blended in a manner that is rarely to be found; and which, in the present state of novel writing, we cannot too much commend.

A.B.
Art. VII. An Excursion from Paris to Fontainebleau. To which is

added, an Adventure in the Champs Elisées near Paris; also an in-
teresting Account of the unfortunate Disafter which befel Mon-
fieur Pilatre de Rozier at Boulogne ; 'with a Translation of the
elegant Eulogium upon him, by the Marquis de Maisonfort;
with Abstracts from the Registers of the Parliament of Paris; con.
taining a Year's List of Criminals sentenced at Paris ; with the
Nature of their Crimes and Punishments ; translated from the
French. By a Gentleman, late of Bath. 8vo. 55. Boards.
Becket. 1786.
THEN an author speaks with a becoming diffidence of his

own talents, and pleads guilty to the errors and defects that may have happened in his performance, his modefty softens the severity of criticism. The writer now under consideration may claim the benefit of the above sentiment. Io his dedication, and in his preface, he confeffes himself not insensible of the faults in his work ; yet thinks there may be some things to commend, though there may be others to condemn; and, he adds,

much as that may be [to condemn], it will neither mortify his vanity, nor wound his sensibility, as public judgment will only exfufiitate him to correct his own on some future occafion;' he likewise observes, that great allowance is due to him for inaccuracies, as he was obliged to leave the corrections of a country press to a country bookseller,

Our Author juftly imagining that some readers may object to the 'many French expreflions' in his book, he offers as an apology, that, he thinks they may sometimes be admitted, as they mark more forcibly the manner and meaning of the persons de scribed : it is true, that we often meet with such exp.elions, particularly those called French idioms, that might luffer greatly by a translation.

With respect to the year's list of criminals, the writer remarks, that it may appear rather fingular, but that he wished to see how far it would excite the curiolicy of the Public; and that as it has long been a question who have the greater number of thieves and murderers among them, the French or English, the Public may now in some measure decide that queftion, and fatiffy their curiofity, at least for the year 1782.'

This Author's manner is somewhat humorous, and generally animated, particularly in his description of his honest Hibernian servant, O'Callaghan, whose zeal for the affairs of his master'

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often drew them both into little scrapes and disagreeable fituations. He frequently pafies from the lively ftrain to the more kerious, and even to the pathetic, especially when he meets with objects of distress, who seem worthy of affistance; and, on these occafions, we cannot but applaud his benevolence, and appa-Tent goodness of heart.

As to the history of Mademoiselle Longvillié, the Author avers that it is founded in fact, and but little heightened : the story is melancholy, yet gives the reader an example of benevolence towards a fellow creature, in this young lady's historian, that does honour to the feelings of his heart. The account of poor Pilatre de Rozier contains, we imagine, some particulars not universally known, and is more circumstantial than any we had before seen. It has been generally believed that the death of this unfortunate young man, and of his companion, Mr. Romaine, was occasioned by the montgolfier attached to his balloon but our Author, who says he was on the spot, gives the following account of the balloon after it fell, and his reasons for differing from that received opinion.

• The gallery was broke in several places, but the montgolfier was whole, and not a spark of fire had reached the traw or faggors.

• The balloon fell within eight yards of the gallery. I had an opportunity of examining the balloon, and of taking away a few

part that was finged and burnt, while the coroner and an officer held a long dispute, concerning whose jurisdiction it happened in. The balloon I found was burnt only about a yard and a half round the top of the soupape, or valve, which was to let out the air. The valve was held only by a small piece to the balloon, and the filk immediately round it appeared rended, as from a violent compression. The filk which was fewed to the valve had most of its oil or varnish done away, or gradually dissolved, so that the filk was thinner than in its natural state. This appeared in ragged pieces, about two feet round the valve, while the other parts about a yard round, were thrivelled up, like singed parchment, the varnish was still upon it, and smelled extremely offensive. No other

part

of the balloon was aifected.

• People are much divided here concerning the cause of the acci dent. Many say from some electric matter in the air; others, that it was caused from the heat of the fire which supplied the montgolfier, and which diiated the balloon ; and others in fist upon it, that the fire which supplied the montgolfier, set the inflammable air on fire, &c. &c. “But such are the conceits of the speculatists, who itrain their faculties to find what lies upon the surface."

• Why is it more probable, that this balloon should be destroyed by lighening than any of the many others that have been launched ? especially when the sky was remarkably serene, and not a cloud to be seen. The heat of the smoke of the fire, which supplied the montgolfier, could not be the cause, for it was 34 feet from the balloon, and the other reason is fully as improbable, for the infam, mable air was plainly seen ascending from the top, and if the air

had

pieces of the

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