ed. I have been aftonished to fee fenfible people pass away their evenings very agreeably in a relation of the trifling incidents of the day. The most we find for entertainment is adventures from a toilet to a ball-room, the feats and ribaldry of a buffoon, or the mimic arts of a monkey. Levity on every occafion is a departure from dignity of character. It is rarely affociated with great minds and fteady virtues. It is commonly the fruit of weakness and ignorance.

To occafional freedom from ferious exercifes we do not refer. But levity, when indulged beyond a certain degree, cannot fail to preclude important concerns. No one after having imbibed a taste for such kind of relaxation, as interests the imagination only, will receive culture and enjoyment from religious and useful fubjects. His fentiments will affume the colouring of the prevailing paffion; loose habits of thinking are contracted, and attention can never be confined to instructive and fubftantial reflections.

Our minds are not lefs improved, and our hearts still more corrupted by the manner, in which we convey corrupt thoughts. It is commonly imagined, that witticisms are indicative of brilliant talents and fuperior knowledge. There are occafions, when a person with talents for these will ingratiate himself, when there is no other feature in his character to render him engaging. But wit is feldom profitably employed. Its general tendency is to corrupt the heart instead of improving it. If judiciously directed, it may subserve a useful purpose; and in many circumstances it is the most fuccessful method of affailing vice, and defeating its efpoufers. But, where it is employed in impure fentiments, moral feeling receives not even a remote gratification, and the tendency is only to eradicate chaste and virtuous affections, and give a pleasing aspect to vice. It places immodefty in an engaging attitude, and when the refiftance. to this is overcome, virtue lofes its greatest barrier. In wit there is fomething fo fubtle and infinuating, that we are apt to feel ourselves fecure, when we are in imminent danger; for if the imagination can be diverted, poison is imperceptibly conveyed to the heart,

There is a grofs fpecies of wit, which, though always disgusting to the refined part of mankind, has effect among a particular class of men. Its object is to excite only impure and unwarrantable affections. It defcends to the most indecent vulgarities. But there is a refined kind of wit, which has a more extenfive influence. It is flower in deftroying our moral feelings, but equally certain. This is decked out in the beauties of language and art, that it may give lefs offence to a nice fenfibility. This prevails mostly among the higher circles, but it diminishes the beauties of refinement. It may in fome proceed from a wish to be thought fenfible and witty; but it is reproachable in any view, and diftempers purity of heart. It gradually throws off a modest reserve, and hides the deformities of vice under the cloak of innocence.

Vice can never be reprefented in too odious colours. It is what we ought to disclaim in every form. It is infidious, treacherous and destructive. The more it is concealed, the greater is its progrefs. Where it is calculated to excite a pleasing emotion, instead of our abhorrence, it imperceptibly gains upon our affections. If we be disposed to amuse others with humourous thoughts, let them be founded on subjects, that cannot wound the heart.

To a refined and pious fenfibility there is much in the intercourse between men to bring regret and forrow. To mingle in most of our focial circles, more is loft in principle and affection, than is acquired by information and amufement. The taste is not in general fo depraved as to renounce a profeffion of religi ous principle, but we have little to do but preserve a few decorums and virtues to render ourselves engaging and worthy.

It requires little difcernment to be convinced, where the prejudices, feelings and defires of men would end; much circumfpection and fortitude to acquire and retain, what is amiable and ufeful. Few have fo weak a sense of propriety as not to feel injured by grofs errors, but thefe in general have not that radi. cal and extenfive effect, which arifes from more fecret and indi rect operations. What in the firft cafe reafon and fenfibility would difcard, in the latter would be pleafing and often affume the afpect of innocence.

THE ANTHOLOGY.

Original Poetry.

LINES

ON THE DEATH OF

DAVID TAPPAN, D. D.

Late Profeffor of Theology in Harvard College.

BE gone, ye guileful lurements of the world!

And leave one melancholy hour to grief;
When hope is blighted, and the heart is fad,
To muse and weep is privileg'd relief.
While Heaven's illum'd with ever-living light,
The earth is fhrouded and its pomp withdrawn ;
'Tis folemn now to gaze upon the sky,
And mark where late a fainted fhade has gone.
Celestial spirit! thou art welcome there;

Protecting angels claim'd thee to be bleft!

Pilgrim on earth, thy thoughts were plac'd in heaven

And there alone thy fpirit fought its reft.

Tho' thou art happy in a better world,

Still thou art gone, and tears are nature's debt.
Then let these flowings of a wounded heart
Express thy merit and its own regret.

In vain the grave conceals the mouldering duft;
I ftill thy living form and mien recall.

Still can I fee thy face with goodness beam,
And think I hear thy pious accents fall.

Legate of heaven! how didft thou feel thy truft!
How did thy bofom beat with holy zeal !
Touch'd by the pathos of thy prayer, the heart,
Tho' paralyzed by fin, was made to feel.

So humbly didft thou bear the proudest rank,
That modeft youth thy converfe fweet would feek;
So fair thy mind, fhone in thy open mien,
Thy look exprefs'd it, ere thy tongue could speak.

Thrice happy they, who form'd thy tender care,
And in thy life faw thy religion prov'd;
How muft they love that influence divine,
Which cherish'd and infpir'd the man they lov'd.
And, bleffed fpirit, ftill the grateful heart
Follows thy flight to yon celestial sphere;
It fees thee join the kindred choir of faints,
In hymning fongs while lift'ning angels hear.

A TALE:

OR, WHAT YOU WILL.

WHAT feats are acted in the skies

Are present to the mufe's eyes:

;

So Homer fings, whose muse made known
What past at Cloud-compeller's throne.
Tho' mine, a bashful flut, affumes
No birth fo near the parlour rooms,
Like Helen, at her weaving fits,
Or fings her forrows, while she knits
Yet, lately fill'd with courage equal,
She wrought her fampler with the fequel.
When laft was swept the star-pav'd floor,—
(And in the moon dropt many more,-)
Our earth this, like a meteor, fought,
And left her to be fcolded for't.

The Graces, when too young to feel

Difgrace at being ungenteel;
Ere madam Venus took upon her

To ufe them for her maids of honour;

And fimple, as a turtle dove,

That feeds on flies, fplit-peas and love;
Came down, where fat my mufe a stitching,
And rais'd a riot in the kitchen.
Fatigu'd with romping, (what the harm
About the hearth to chat and warm-
The fire with tongs and fhovel punch,
Or try the tricks of mother Bunch.)

A. B.

How pointed every falling brand,
How crowd the sparks on either hand,
On whom the starry volume roll'd,
They watch as figns, that fate unfold.
But ah, they ne'er believed it true,
Who plays with fire will quarrel too!
And now effaying to discover

For whom fhould figh the first fond lover,
By damp unbroke, green chefnuts ftrewing
Upon the hearth with embers glowing
They fee, ah cause of dire mishap,
They fee, alone in Thalia's lap
Whole crowds of smoking kernels fhot-
(Unfailing fign of luckieft lot.)
Terpfecorne now looking round
Some meaning for the omen found,
For Mars, than any red-coat bolder,
Was peeping over Thalia's fhoulder,
Just like the devil when he's spoke on
With all the lover's pining look on.
Now was the time, alas, ye mufes,
Could heavenly minds bear fuch abuses!
That Envy, ragged imp of spite,
And twinborn with the fiend of night,
At whofe vile birth the Gorgons fcream'd

And eaft winds blew and lightning stream'd

That Envy down the chimney broke

And round them bruft'd the blinding smoke. His eyes of microscopic fight

On fudden cause of mischief light,

To kindle which he calls his fellows
To bring his ftrife-inflaming bellows.
Quickly his eyes, with jaundice fpeckled,
Obferve that Thalia's cheek was freckled,
And further down fuccessful stole,
Disclosing on her neck a mole.

With gladness reddening, like a blister,
He whisper'd Phrofy and her fifter,