J be ashamed of loving a man whom we cannot esteem. Pure friendship is something, which none can truly taste, but those of warm passions and a' refined genius: such may say with Ovid, Nos duo turba sumus, Ŵe two are a multitude. WHEN Damon was sentenced by Dionysius of Syracuse to die on a certain day, he begged permission, in the interim, to retire to his own country, to set the affairs of his disconsolate family in order. This the ty rant intended peremptorily to refuse, by granting it, as he conceived, on the impossible conditions of his procuring some one to remain as hostage for his return, under equal forfeiture of life. Pythias heard the cop. ditions, and did not wait for an application upon the part of Damon he instantly offered himself as security for his friend; which being accepted, Damon was im mediately set at liberty. The king and all the courtiers were astonished at this action; and therefore when the day of execution drew near, his majesty had the curiosity to visit Pythias in his confinement. After some conversation on the subject of friendship, in which the tyrant delivered it as his opinion that self-interest was the sole mover of human actions; as for virtue, friendship, benevolence, love of one's country, and the like, he looked upon them as terms invented by the wise to keep in awe and impose upon the weak. My lord," said Pythias, with a firm voice and noble aspect, "I would it were possible that I might suffer a thousand deaths, rather than my friend should fail in any article of his honour. He cannot fail therein, my lord: I am as confident of his virtue, as I am of my own existence. But I pray, I beseech the gods, to preserve the life and integrity of my Damon together oppose him, ye winds, prevent the eagerness and impatience of his honourable endeavours, and suffer him not to arrive, till by my death I have redeemed a life a thousand times of more consequence, of more value, than my own; more estimable to his lovely wife, to his precious little innocents, to his friends, to his country. O leave me not to die the worst of deaths in my Damon." Dionysius was awed and confounded by the dignity of these sentiments, and 66 by the manner in which they were uttered: he felt his heart struck by a slight sense of invading truth; but it served rather to perplex than undeceive him. The fatal day arrived. Pythias was brought forth, and walked amidst the guards with a serious, but satisfied air, to the place of execution. Dionysius was already there; he was exalted on a moving throne, that was drawn by six white horses, and sat pensive and attentive to the prisoner. Pythias came, he vaulted lightly on the scaffold, and beholding for some time the apparatus of his death, he turned with a placid countenance, and addressed the spectators: "My prayers are heard," he cried, "the gods are propitious; you know, my friends, that the winds have been contrary till yesterday. Damon could not come, he could not conquer impossibilities; he will be here to-morrow, and the blood which is shed to-day, shall have ransomed the life of my friend. O could I erase from your bosoms every doubt, every mean suspicion, of the honour of the man for whom I am about to suffer, I shall go to my death even as I would to my bridal. Be it sufficient in the mean time, that my friend will be found noble; that his truth is unimpeachable; that he will speedily prove it; that he is now on his way, hurrying on, accusing himself, the adverse elements, and the gods: but I haste to prevent his speed; executioner, do your office." As he pronounced the last words, a buz began to rise among the remotest of the people; a distant voice was heard, the crowd caught the words, and Stop, stop the execution ! was repeated by the whole assembly a man came at full speed; the throng gave way to his approach: he was mounted on a steed of foam: in an instant he was off his horse, on the scaffold, and held Pythias straitly embraced. "You are safe," he cried, 66 you are safe, my friend, my beloved friend, the gods be prais ed you are safe. I now have nothing but death to suffer, and am delivered from the anguish of those reproaches which I gave myself for having endangered a life so much dearer than my own." Pale, cold, and half-speechless in the arms of his Damon, Pythias replied in broken accents-" Fatal haste !-Cruel impatience-What envious powers have wrought impossibi lities in your favour ?-But I will not be wholly disap-. pointed. Since I cannot die to save, I will not survive you." Dionysius heard, beheld, and considered all with astonishment. His heart was touched, he wept, and leaving his throne, he ascended the scaffold : "Live, live, ye incomparable pair !” cried he, “ ye have borne unquestionable testimony to the existence of virtue ! and that virtue equally evinces the existence of a God to reward it. Live happy, live renowned; and, O! form me by your precepts, as ye have invited me by your example, to be worthy of the participation of so sacred a friendship." CIC. DE OFFICIIS, lib. iii. n. 43. THE FOOL OF QUA LITY. L GAMING. SENTIMENTS. OVE of gaming corrupts the best principles in the world like a quicksand, it swallows up a man in a moment. How many thousands have been ruined by gaming! Yet you say very composedly you cannot live without it: frivolous excuse! Is there any violent and shameful passion which may not use the same language? Would any one be allowed to say, he cannot live without murders, rapes, and robberies? Is gaming without consideration or intermission, where you aim at the total ruin of your adversary; where you are transported with insolence at winning, or thrown into despair by losing; where, infiamed by avarice, you expose on a card or dye, your own, your wife's, and your children's fortunes? Is this allowable? Is this the sport you cannot live without? and yet are there not often worse consequences than these at play? When entirely stripped, when clothes and furniture have been converted into gaming-money, you see your family in unpitied wretchedness. The frequent duels I omit. I allow nobody to be a knave, but I allow a knave to play deep. I forbid it in an honest man. There is much folly, there is wickedness, in exposing one's-self to a great loss. There is one affliction which is lasting, and that is the loss of an estate; time, which alleviates all others, sharpens this; we feel it every moment during the course of our lives, continually missing the fortune we have lost. All play-debts must be paid in specie, or by an equivalent. The man that plays beyond his income pawns his estate; the woman must find out something else to mortgage when her pin-money is gone: the husband has his lands to dispose of; the wife her person. Now, when the female body is once dipped, if the creditor be very importunate, I leave my reader to consider the consequences. The love of cards let sloth infuse The breast, where love had plann'd his reign, EXAMPLES. MIRA was the only daughter of a nobleman, who had bravely served his country; and his estate being but just sufficient to provide for his sons, Mira had her education under an aunt, who afterwards left her fifty thousand pounds. The old lady was what we call a very good sort of a woman; but being very infirm, she led, in Mr. Pope's words, " an old age of cards;" and Mira, being her darling, she always made one of the set. By this she contracted an early love for play; which at first disguised itself under the plausible appearances of willingness to oblige her company, and doing somewhat to pass the time but when Mira became mistress of herself and. fortune, she found this passion so strongly confirmed, that it gained an absolute ascendancy over her mind; though in all other respects she was frugal, prudent, and virtuous. Her husband, who fills a place by which he has opportunities of knowing very secret transactions, loves her to distraction; and she has every indulgence that fortune or nature can bestow. Her passion, however, for play led her some time ago into a set, of which Count Crib was one; and she lost five hundred pounds. The frequent demands of that kind she had made upon her husband, and the many solemn promises she had given not to renew them, rendered it worse than death for her to apply to him; yet the money, be the conse quence ever so disagreeable, nay, fatal, must be ob tained. The count is a secret agent for the enemies of this country, who spare for no money to procure intelligence. Though every way disgustful and disagreeable, yet his readiness to be in all parties at play, and his being always well furnished with money, renders him agreeable to what is called the very best company, though they both know and call him a spy and sharper. The count, who has great experience in distresses of that kind, saw that of the lovely Mira, and knew he could make it worth his while to relieve her. He pretended to enter with her upon a tête-a-tête game at piquet, and throwing up the cards all of a sudden, he swore he was picking her pocket, because she did not mind her game, and that he was sure somewhat was the matter with her. 66 But, faith," continued he, "I am not myself in a good cue for play, I am dy uneasy ; I would give five hundred pounds with all my heartMira in her turn was equally impatient to know the count's distress; and at last she learned, that he could get a thousand pounds bet with lord Mattadore upon a certain destination of great importance; but he did not |