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tion; and he may enrich his understanding with the experience of ages and generations. The life of one man is like the life of another, and he cannot find himself in circumstances in which his predecessors have not been before him, and his successors shall not be after him. Hence the proper use of history; and above all history, that which relates the lives of persons in stations similar to our own. But there is no knowledge which may not be turned to use by him, who reads with a faithful and honest intention of being the better for it; by applying all for his own correction and amendment. In the moral world, though not in the natural, there is a philosopher's stone, which transmutes all metals into gold. Of the present age it may certainly be said with truth, that it is an age of science. The communication has been opened, by commerce, with all parts of the world. The prophet Daniel's prediction is fulfilled."Many run to and fro, and knowledge is increased." "Wisdom crieth without," but folly has a louder voice, and prevents her from being heard as she should be. Move a little out of the noise of one, and the sound of the other will steal gently upon your ear. Through that she will take possession of the heart, and introduce visitants, of whom you need never be ashamed.

The heart, however, is capacious; still there is room.-And lo, a procession appears advancing toward us, which will fill up every part-led on by one, in whose air reigns native dignity, and in whose countenance majesty and meekness sit enthroned together; all the virtues unite their various lusters in her crown, around which spring the ever-blooming flowers of paradise. We acknowledge at once the queen of heaven, fair religion, with her lovely train; faith, ever musing on the holy book; hope, resting on her sure anchor; charity, blessed with a numerous family around her, thinking no ill of any one, and doing good to all; repentance, with gleams of comfort brightening a face of sorrow, like the sun shining through a watery cloud; devotion, with eyes fixed on heaven; patience smiling at affliction; peace carrying, on a golden scepter, the dove and the olive branch; and joy, with an anthem book, singing an hallelujah! Listen to the leader of this celestial band, and she will tell you all you can desire to know. She will carry you to the blissful bowers of Eden; she will inform you how they were lost; and how they are to be regained. She will point out the world's Redeemer, exhibited from the beginning, in figure and in prophecy, while the patriarchs saw his day at a

distance, and the people of God were trained by their schoolmaster, the law, to the expectation of him. She will shew you how all events from the creation tended to this great end, and all the distinguished persons who have appeared upon the stage, performed their parts in the universal drama, the empires of the world rising and falling in obedience to the appointment of Providence, for the execution of his counsels. At length, in the fulness of time, she will make known to you the appearance of the long-desired Savior; explaining the reasons of his humble birth, and holy life; of all he said, and all he did; of his unspeakable sufferings; his death and burial; his triumphant resurrection, and glorious ascension. She will take you within the veil, and give you a sight of Jesus, for the suffering of death, crowned with honor and immortality, and receiving homage from the hosts of heaven, and from the spirits of just men made perfect. She will pass over the duration of time and the world, and place before your eyes the throne of judgment, and the unalterable sentence; the glories of the righteous, and the miseries of the wicked. The thoughts suggested by this variety of interesting subjects, are thoughts which well. deserve admittance; and if you will please to admit them, we may venture to say, "the house will be furnished with guests."

Such guests you would wish to retain; such thoughts to cherish and improve. For this purpose, when you have started a good thought, pursue it; do not presently lose sight of it, or suffer any trifling fancy that may intervene, to divert you from it. Dismiss it not till you have sifted it, and exhausted it, and well considered the different consequences and inferences that result from it. However, retain not the subject any longer than you find your thoughts run freely upon it; for to confine them to it, when it is quite worn out, is to give them an unnatural bent, without sufficient employment, which will make them play, or be more apt to fly off to something else.

And to keep the mind intent on the subject you think of, you must be at some pains to recall and refix your desultory and rambling thoughts. Lay open the subject in as many lights and views as it is capable of being represented in. Clothe your best ideas in pertinent and well-chosen words, deliberately pronounced, or commit them to writing. Accustom yourself to speak naturally and reasonably on all subjects, and you will soon learn to think on the best; especially if you often converse with those persons who speak, and those authors who write in that manner.

The sincerity of a true religious principle cannot be better known, than by the readiness with which the thoughts turn themselves to God, and the pleasure with which they are employed in devout exercises. And though a person may not always be so well pleased with hearing religious things talked of by others, whose different taste, sentiments, or manner of expression may have something disagreeable; yet, if he have no inclination to think about them himself, he has great reason to suspect that his heart is not right with God. But, if he frequently and delightfully exercise his mind in divine contemplations, it will not only be a good mark of his sincerity, but will habitually dispose it for the reception of the best and most useful thoughts, and fit it for the noblest entertainment. For if bad thoughts are as infectious as bad company, good thoughts solace, instruct, and entertain the mind like good company. And this is one grand advantage of retirement, that a man may choose what company he pleases from within himself.

But as in the world we oftener light into bad company than good, so likewise even in solitude, we are oftener troubled with impertinent and unprofitable thoughts, than entertained with agreeable and useful ones. And a person who has so far lost the command of himself, as to lie at the mercy of every foolish or vexatious thought, is much in the same situation as a host, whose house is open to all comers; whom, though ever so noisy, rude, and troublesome, he cannot get rid of; but with this difference, that the latter hath some recompense for his trouble; the former none at all, but is robbed of his peace and quiet for nothing.

And let no one imagine, as too many are apt to do, that it is a matter of indifference what thoughts he entertains in his heart, since the reason of things concurs with the testimony of scripture, to assure us that "the thought of foolishness," when allowed by us, "is itself sin." Therefore, in the excellent words of an excellent poet,

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"Guard well thy thoughts-our thoughts are heard in heaven."

Keep thy heart with all diligence, for out of it are the issues of life."

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DIALOGUE.

TRUE LOVE IS NO FLATTERER.-SHAKSPEARE.

[Present, King Lear, Cornwall, Albany, Kent, Gloster, Edmund, Goneril, Regan, Cordelia.]

Lear. Tell me, my daughters,

Since now we will divest us, both of rule,

Interest of territory, cares of state,

Which of you, shall we say, doth love us most?

That we our largest bounty may extend

Where merit doth most challenge it.-Goneril,
Our eldest-born, speak first.

Gon. Sir, I

Do love you more than words can wield the matter,
Dearer than eye-sight, space, and liberty;

Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare;

No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honor:
As much as child e'er loved, or father found.

A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable :

Beyond all manner of so much I love you.

Cor. What shall Cordelia do? Love, and be silent. (Aside.) Lear. Of all these bounds, even from this line to this, With shadowy forests, and with champains riched,

With plenteous rivers, and wide-skirted meads,
We make thee lady to thine and Albany's issue
Be this perpetual.-What says our second daughter,
Our dearest Regan, wife of Cornwall? Speak.
Reg. I am made of that self-metal as my sister,
And prize me at her worth. In my true heart
I find, she names my very deed of love;
Only she comes too short,-that I profess

Myself an enemy to all other joys,

Which the most precious square of sense possesses;
And find, I am alone felicitate

In your dear highness' love.

Cor. Then poor Cordelia! (Aside.)

And yet not so; since, I am sure, my love's

More richer than my tongue.

Lear. To thee, and thine, hereditary ever,
Remain this ample third of our fair kingdom;
No less in space, validity, and pleasure,

Than that conferred on Goneril.-Now, our joy,
Although the last, not least: to whose young love
The vines of France, and milk of Burgundy,
Strive to be interested: what can you say, to draw
A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak.
Cor. Nothing, my lord.

Lear. Nothing!

Cor. Nothing.

Lear. Nothing can come of nothing: speak again.
Cor. Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave

My heart into my mouth: I love your majesty

According to my bond; nor more, nor less.

Lear. How, how, Cordelia? mend your speech a little,

Lest it may mar your fortunes.

Cor. Good my lord,

You have begot me, bred me, loved me: I
Return those duties back as are right fit,
Obey you, love you, and most honor you.
Why have my sisters husbands, if they say
They love you, all? Haply, when I shall wed,
That lord, whose hand must take my plight, shall carry
Half my love with him, half my care, and duty:

Sure, I shall never marry like my sisters,

To love my father all.

Lear. But goes this with thy heart?
Cor. Ay, good my lord.

Lear. So young, and so untender!

Cor. So young, my lord, and true.

Lear. Let it be so.-Thy truth, then, be thy dower:

For, by the sacred radiance of the sun;
The mysteries of Hecate, and the night;
By all the operations of the orbs,
From whom we do exist, and cease to be;
Here I disclaim all my paternal care,
Propinquity and property of blood,
And as a stranger to my heart and me,

Hold thee, from this, forever. The barbarous Scythian,
Or he that makes his generation messes

To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom

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