himself obliged to repay his visits at the church; and the variety relieves the ennui of the dull sunday. Feeling makes him assist the indigent, that accident throws in his way; and vanity makes him liberal. Altogether no man in the community bears a fairer character; yet is Leontes the same. Without principle, his actions flow from the circumstances, in which he is placed. In India he might have been a Brahmin, in Arabia a robber, in Spain a monk, in France a modern philosopher, and here a man of business. Such men usually pass through life with reputation, frequently with having committed but few misdeeds, and with having performed some good actions; but, as they are guided by no principle, they can never command our esteem or confidence. We may like them as acquaintance, but can never regard them as friends, or trust our life or fortune in their hands.

Whatever opinion is formed of the above character, it is necessary carefully to distinguish it from the man of bad principles, who has no tie but interest or want of power to prevent his overturning society, and reducing the world to its original barbarity. Temporary interest, the only check to his commit, ting the worst of crimes, a thousand accidents may remove; and what shall then prevent his reach ing the lowest degree of depravity, and perpetrating crimes, which would make us shrink from the name of man, that we might disclaim kindred with the monster?

The world confounds these characters, so perfectly distinct; and to say, that a man has no principles is supposed synonimous to saying, that his principles are bad. But the difference is really great; the former will never act wrong, ex

cept when sanctioned by custona, or urged by an apparent necessity. The latter will never act right, except when he believes it for his interest. The one, though you can place but little confidence in him, yet has many restraints upon his conduct; the other you are never sure is not plotting to injure you. Happily there are but few wholly depraved, few who have entirely silenced the voice of conscience, or who have no belief in future rewards and punishments; but multitudes act all their lives, without reflecting upon the moral rectitude of any one action. The far greater part of mankind, though in some cases, in which they are little inclined to err, have a strong sense of right and wrong; yet in others will suffer interest to blind their judgment. The necessity of principle is generally allowed; yet are there few, who will not occasionally bend their principles to circumstances, or, by some sophistry, colour bad actions with a semblance of right; or will intend to make atonement for their vices by the more rigid performance of other duties, as the knights of old satisfied their conscience by dedicating to the church a portion of the spoils, they had taken from the defenceless and the poor.

Society sanctions many things not correct; and violations of truth are frequently considered justifiable. The outworks of principle. are every where invaded with impunity, for she is thought secure, while the citadel is safe. But society suffers more from these indirect attacks, than from any open violation of principle. Some men, in other respects honest, will not scruple to sell a defective horse as sound, provided it can be done without a direct falsehood. Others will overreach in a bargain; and

I have heard a countryman praise another man, because he cheated fairly. One conceals a sum of money he had found, and quiets his conscience, as he is ignorant of the owner, by liberality to the poor. Another justifies his libertinism by saying, that he only injures himself. But it is principle alone that can protect us against the allurements of vice and the storms of interest and passion.

Principle should be firm, like the rock, but not so frowning and forbidding in its aspect. It should, in things indifferent, yield to the opinion of the world, while it carefully guards against even the semblance of wrong; like the elm, it should yield the smaller branches to the gentlest breeze, while itself remains firm against every tempest. Too great a love of principle, it is true, hardens the character, destroys the amiable feelings, and produces a harsh stiffness. Such was the case with Menander, Educated in the rigid rule of right, he was taught never to act from feeling; but to weigh the moral

rectitude of every action. At the age of fifteen he had completely banished feeling from his breast, and would view with indifference, or rather with abhorrence, those unfortunate wretches, whose miseries proceeded from their own vices. His morals were rigidly correct, he gave large sums to the indigent, and discouraged immorality and vice, both by precept and example; yet, as he spoke without feelings for the infirmities of man; as he gave, without sympathising with the sufferings, that he relieved; as he was stern to the poor, that subsisted on his bounty; and as he was a severe censor of every slight indiscretion; though all acknowledged his goodness, yet he never had a friend. His presence cast a gloom upon society, for every sportive thought and action was to be reduced to the rigid rule of right. At his death the wretches, whom he had relieved, regretted that bounty they no longer felt; but not a tear was shed on his grave for the loss of Menander.

ARTICLE 10.

Plain discourses on the laws and properties of matter; containing the elements or principles of modern chemistry, with more particular details of those practical parts of the science, most interesting to mankind, and connected with domestick affairs. Addressed to all American promoters of useful knowledge. By Thomas Ewell, M. D. one of the surgeons of the United States navy 1 vol. 8vo. Brisban & Brannan. -New-York. 1806.

[Continued from page 154.3

We are now to consider the more immediate object of this work, the application of the principles of chemistry to domestick affairs, and to those arts, which are intimately connected with the ease and comfort of society. It is obvious, that the author aims, not only at giving a general view of the objects of this science, but at detailing with minuteness their various habitudes and relations, which have given birth to the immense body of chemical arts. We do not think it impossible to combine these two objects in one work, but we are confident that the plan is too extensive to be completed by the labours of one man. Foureroy has, perhaps, advanced further in

the execution of this design, than any other writer on the science. If we view his work as a general system of chemistry, it is admirable; but, when examined as a body, or collection of the processes or operations of the chemical arts, we find it imperfect. If therefore this able chemist was unsuccessful in eleven volumes, what are we to expect from Dr. Ewell in one? In proportion as our knowledge of this science is extended, and our acquaintance with the properties and relations of bodies enlarged, the arts, which are dependent on its principles, become more numerous and their processes more refined. When the philosophers and the learned of Europe were first engaged in the investigation of certain effects, which resulted from the application of the laws of chemistry to the various substances, by which they were surrounded, they found it necessary to their future progress, that these unconnected facts should be collected into one body; they established data and drew conclusions, and thus, by the acquisition of principles, they were enabled to form a regular and dependent system. But modern chemists, while employed in giving a general view of their science, have neglected to