they are. "It is true," said they, "that all men are naturally free and equal; it is a very good idea, and ought to be understood in every contract and partnership which can be formed; it may serve as a check upon ambition and other human passions, and put people in mind that they may some time or other be called to account by their equals. But it is as true that this equality is destroyed by a thousand causes which exist in nature and in society. It is true that all beasts, birds, and fishes are naturally free and equal in some respects, but yet we find them unequal in other respects, and one becomes the prey of another. There is, and always will be, a superiority and an inferiority, in spite of all the system; of metaphysics that ever existed. How can you prevent one man from being stronger, or wiser, or richer than another? and will not the strong overcome the weak? will not the cunning circumvent the foolish? and will not the borrower become servant to the lender? Is not this noble, free and independent creature man, necessarily subject to lords of his own species in every stage of his existence? When a child, is he not under the command of his parents? Send him to school, place him out as an apprentice, put him on board a ship, enrol him in a company of militia, must he not be subject to a master? Place him in any kind of society whatever, and he has wants to be supplied, and passions to be subdued; his active powers need to be directed, and his extravagances to be controlled, and if he will not do it himself, somebody must do it for him. Self-government is indeed the most perfect form of government in the world; but if men will not govern themselves, they must have some governors appointed over them, who will keep them in order, and make them do their duty. Now if there is in fact such an inequality existing among us, why should we act as if no such thing existed? We have tried the beaver scheme of partnership long enough, and find it will not do. Let us then adopt the practice of another kind of industrious animals which we have among us-Let us imitate the bees, who are governed by one supreme head, and, under that direction, conduct their whole economy with perfect order and regularity."

On this principle they drew up an entire new plan, in which there was one chief steward, who was to manage their united interest, and be responsible to the whole for his conduct. He was to have a kind of council to advise and direct him, and several inferior officers to assist him, as there might be occasion; and a certain contribution was to be levied on the trade, or on the estates of the whole, which was to make a common stock for the support of the common interest; and they were to erect a tribunal among themselves, which should decide and determine all differences. If nine of the families should agree to this plan, it was to take place; and the others might or might not adopt it; but if any one should finally refuse, or if any should adopt it and afterward fall from it, he was to be looked upon as an outcast, and no person was to have any connexion with him.

The meeting having continued a long time, everybody became extremely anxious to know what they were about; the doors were kept shut, and no person whatever was let into the secret till the whole was completed. A copy was then sent to each family, for them to consider at their leisure.

Though curiosity was now gratified, yet anxiety was not relaxed. The new plan of partnership went by the name of the fiddle; those who were in favour of it called themselves fiddlers, and those who opposed it were styled antifiddlers. The former said it was the best plan that human wisdom had VOL. 1.-17

ever contrived. The latter imagined it "pregnant with mischief." The former compared it to a strong fence about a rich field of wheat. The latter compared it to the whale that swallowed up Jonah.

In each family a consultation was held on the question, Whether it should be adopted or not? and liberty was given for every one to speak his mind with the utmost freedom. The objections, answers, replies, rejoinders, and rebutters, which were produced on this occasion, would make a curious collection, and form an important page in the history of man. The fiddlers were extremely fond of having it examined, because they said it was like a rich piece of plate, which the more it be rubbed shines the brighter. The antifiddlers said it was like a worm-eaten bottom of a ship, the defects of which would more evidently appear, the more it was ripped to pieces; they were therefore for rejecting it at once, without any examination at all.

When they were urged to point out its defects, they would say, "It is dangerous to put so much power into the hands of any man, or set of men, lest they should abuse it. Our liberty and property will be safe whilst we keep them ourselves, but when we have once parted with them, we may never be able to get them back again."

If the plan was compared to a house, then the objection would be made against building it too high, lest the wind should blow it down. How shall we guard it against fire? how shall we secure it against robbers? and how shall we keep out rats and mice?

If it was likened to a ship, then it would be asked, how shall we guard it against leaking? how shall we prevent it from running on the rocks and quicksands?

Sometimes it would be compared to a clock, then the question was, how shall we secure the pendulum, the wheels and the balance from rust? who shall keep the key, and who shall we trust to wind it up?

Sometimes it was represented by a purse, and then it was said to be dangerous to let any one hold the strings. Money is a tempting object, and the best men are liable to be corrupted.

In short, the whole of the arguments against it might be summed up in one word-JEALOUSY; which is well known to be the highest degree of republican virtue.

To show the futility of these arguments, it was observed by the opposite party, that it was impossible to put it into any man's power to do you good, without at the same time putting it into his power to do you hurt. If you trust a barber to shave your beard, you put it into his power to cut your throat. If you trust a baker to make your bread, or a cook to dress your meat, you put it into the power of each to poison you; nay, if you venture to lie in the same bed with your wife, you put it into her power to choak you when you are asleep. Shall we therefore let our beards grow till they are long enough to put into our pockets, because we are afraid of the barber? shall we starve ourselves because the baker and the cook may poison us? and snall we be afraid to go to bed with our wives? Fie, fie, gentlemen, do not indulge such whims: Be careful in the choice of your barbers, your bakers, your cooks, and your wives; pay them well, and treat them well, and make it their interest to treat you well, and you need not fear them.

After much debate and discussion, some of the families adopted it without exception, but in others, the opposition was so strong that it could not be made to pass, but by the help of certain amendments, which were proposed; and of these amendments every family which thought proper to make any, made as many as they pleased. The new plan with

its appendage of amendments, cut such a grotesque figure, that a certain wag in one of the families, like Jotham, the son of Gideon, ridiculed it in the following fable:

"A certain man hired a taylor to make him a pair of small clothes; the taylor measured him and made the garment. When he had brought it home, the man turned and twisted and viewed it on all sides; it is too small here, said he, and wants to be let out; it is too big here, and wants to be taken in; I am afraid there will be a hole here, and you must put on a patch; this button is not strong enough, you must set on another. He was going on in this manner, when his wife overhearing him, said, have you put on the small clothes, my dear? No, said he. How then, replied she, can you possibly tell whether they will fit you or not? If I had made such objections to a gown or a pair of stays before I had put them on, how would you have laughed at my female wisdom? The man took his wife's advice, and saved the taylor a deal of trouble."

In like manner the new plan of partnership was tried on, and was found to fit very well. The amendments were thrown by, for future consideration; some of them have been since adopted, but they are so few and so trifling, as to make no essential difference.

ELIJAH FITCH.

ELIJAH FITCH was born in 1745. He was educated at Yale, and received an honorary degree of A.M., from Harvard, in 1770. He became a clergyman at Hopkinton, Massachusetts, where he died, as we learn from a notice accompanying his poems, "on the sixteenth of December, 1788, in the forty-third year of his age, and seventeenth of his ministry." He wrote The Beauties of Religion, a poem addressed to youth, in five books, and a short poem entitled The Choice, which were published at Providence in 1789.

The objects of the principal poem are concisely stated in the "Advertisement of the Author." "The design of these Essays is to paint religion in her native beauties. They are principally intended for youth, to give them just views of religion, and to persuade them to love and practise it. The subject required me to study perspicuity more than elegance, and truth more than poetical embellishments."

In the first three books the desires of the soul, the sufficiency of the Gospel to supply its longing, the goodness of God in the material creation, and the need of religion to hallow it to our use, the happiness of a holy life, the evils produced by sin, especially war, are enforced, with occasional narrative episodes. Book IV. contains the soliloquy of an infidel, who, "after a debauch, awakes with a resolution to pursue nothing but the pleasures of the world." He is unable to escape the rebukes of conscience, and expires in misery. An animated description then follows of the beauty and variety of nature, and the sufficiency of harmless pleasures to secure happiness. In the last book the "soliloquy of a believer" is given, in which the happiness of a holy life of devout meditation and participation in the ordinances of public worship is dwelt upon.

THE TRUE CHRISTIAN.

See now the man of wond'rous birth, Born from above, but dwells on earth, Whose heart religion fills:

By wisdom guided in his way,
On wings of faith he mounts to-day
Towards everlasting hills.

Lord of himself, his noble mind,
From fetters free and unconfined,

A flight sublime maintains;
But little his concern to know,
What's done by mortals here below,
Who drag about their chains.
Pleased with himself and satisfied,
While streams of pleasure gently glide
From fountain-head on high;
Possesses all beneath the sun,
And smiles to see how mortals run,

To catch those things which fly.
Pleased with the present, he enjoys
Himself at ease, nor wants those toys

Which little minds call great;
Crowns, riches, honours, and such things,
Which please the vulgar, yea and kings,
He treads beneath his feet.

In love with that fair Goddess bright,
Who sits enthroned in realms of light,
No meaner flame can burn;
"Tis she that leads to Jesus' arms,
And gives possession of his charms;
Christ and religion's one.

Love this fair Goddess; and serene
She'll make you pass thro' life's dark scene,
And gild your passing day:
Grace your last moments with her light,
Then waft your soul to regions bright,
To join angelic lays.

THE CHOICE.

Would Heaven's high sov'reign condescend
To crown my wish, and let me spend
The days on earth he's pleased to give,
In that fair place I'd choose to live,
Where upon a rising ground,
A little distance from the town,
Far beyond the noisy rout
Of carts and waggons driv'n about.
Or the more confounded din
Of men contending for a pin:
Where Aurora spreads her light
First in the morn, and last at night;
Where sweet Zephyr's breath is pure,
Which all diseases helps to cure,
Fresh at ev'ry hour should come,
Wafting spices, myrrh, and gum;
And at eve more fragrant grows,
Like the sweet-briar and the rose.
A placid stream with gentle tide,
Meand'ring thro' a mead, should glide,
Enamel'd o'er with every hue,
Which on the earth yet ever grew,
And lofty pine and oak in rows,
And the elm with careless boughs,
On each side should raise their head,
Shading fishes in their bed.
To the east this stream should run,
As emulous to meet the sun,
Whose beams, reflected from that glass,
Make double morn my life compass;
While pleasure-boats, with silken sails,
And streamers gay, delight the vales.
Men of all professions there
Should issue forth to take the air;
Two or three in ev'ry line,
Should be invited to my wine:
Such whose tempers were serene,
And had with books familiar beer

A garden interspersed with trees,
Waving to the gentle breeze,
Laden with all kinds of fruit
Which the climate e'er could suit:
Peaches, apples, plums and cherris,
Pears and apricots, with berries,
Creeping latent through the grass
All other pleasure should surpass,
Surprising oft the eye with joy,
And to the grateful touch not coy.
A purling rill, with winding course,
Now gentle, and then sounding hoarse,
Thro' arbours and by pleasant walks,

Where flowers should grow on all their stalks,
The pink, and rose, and daffodil,
Lady's delight, which crowns the hill,
Narcissus fair, with tulip gay,
Which finely dress themselves in May.
With all the summer's shining train,
Which breathe more fragrant for the rain,
And afford a sweet repast

For busy bees which love their taste;
There humming-birds, with plumage gay,
Shining bright as flow'rs in May,
Around my head should sprightly play;
On nimble wings they seem to dance,
Suspended still without advance,
And then away as swift as light,
So sudden that they 'scape the sight;
Their plumes of scarlet, gold and green,

A lively hue as e'er was seen;

These o'er my flow'rs should rove at pleasure,
Partake the joy, not spoil the treasure,
But with their little tube-like bill
From op'ning blossoms drink their fill:
And on farina fine they feed,
Which fully satisfies their need.

Frequent here would I resort,
To enjoy the blissful sport,
And to view with pleasing eye
All that blooms beneath the sky;
See where the primrose dips her bill
Among the dew-drops on the hill,
And where the lily hangs her head
O'er the violet's purple bed;

All bestrew'd with green and gold,
Where pretty birds sweet dalliance holl.
There the lark his mate invites
To pass with him the summer nights,
And early in the morn awake,
Together the first dawn partake,
And on their silver pinions rise,
And sing their mattins to the skies;
With sweetest notes they fill the air,
And call forth shepherds to their care.
I'd hear the bleating flocks of sheep,
When the dawn begins to peep,
And from my couch would rise alert,
To join and share the sweet concert ;
Hear the dulcet harmony
Warble sweet from ev'ry tree,
From the meads and from the vales,
On the hills and in the dales;
Various notes of flocks and herds,
Mingling with the singing birds,
Should echo fast from hill to hill,
Till ev'ry part of air they fill.

I'd have a little grove fast by,
There to repair in milder sky:
My morn and ev'ning walk should be,
To view the birds perch'd on the tree,
Their shiny glossy plumes would fill
My ravish'd eye with pleasure still.

There the linnet, thrush, and quail,
There the mock-bird, feme and male,
There the sparrow, with robin-hood,
And ev'ry bird that loves the wood,
Should live at ease, secure from fear,
No cruel fowler should come near;
The whip-poor-will should cheer the night
With her sweet notes, which sleep invite;
About my farm tame fowls should rove,
Geese and turkeys, ducks and dove;
Nor would I want the guinea-hen,
Which imitates the chatt'ring wren;
And the proud cock, who struts and crows
Defiance to his neighb'ring foes.
Martins and swallows, chatt'ring sweet,
In friendship round my house should meet;
The peacock, with majestic mien,
And richest plumes, should oft be seen,
Spreading his waving glories high,
With dazzling lustre charm the eye.
Nor would I want those joys refin'd,
With holy wedlock which are join'd;
For Hymen's mystic knot unites
Sublimest joys and sweet delights.
With one fair in love I'd join,

Whose pleasing words should cheer like wine;
Whose soul to mine so near was grown,
No striking difference could be known,
But blended in sweet bands of love,
In concert both should always move,
And dimpled smiles, with mutual glance,
Should joys reciprocal advance.

To crown the whole, and give a relish
To all the pleasures life embellish,

On holy days I would not lose

The pleasure which from worship flows;

And near my house should be the seat
Where those who love to praise should meet,
To tread the courts of God most high,
And hear his message from the sky,
From one who knows how to dispense
The joyful truths sent down from thence,
And join with those whose souls were graced
With love, and truth, and righteousness;
To pray and praise, adore and sing
Loud anthems to th' eternal King;
With joy my heart should more dilate,
Than all the favours of the great.
But give me such a pleasing spot,
And I'll not envy kings their court.

LINDLEY MURRAY.

THE reader who takes up the autobiography of Lindley Murray with no other previous preparation than his early schoolboy recollections of the grammar, will have a sensation as agreeable as unexpected. It is like meeting the schoolmaster after we have grown up, and finding him a pleasant courteous gentleman instead of the monster we had so often vowed to thrash on arriving at the vigor of manhood prerequisite for the achievement.

Lindley Murray made a dolorous entrance into life for six months after his birth, in 1745, he was, says the editor of his autobiography, "almost perpetually crying." After that time he grew healthier. In 1753, he removed with his parents from Swetara, near Lancaster, Pa., to the city of New York. After receiving the rudiments of an English education he was placed in the counting-house of his father, a prosperous merchant, who was naturally desirous that his son

Lindley Murray

should step into the opening he had provided for him. This, however, did not suit the son's wishes, which were bent upon the law. He ascribes his dislike to his father's calling to the strictness of the rule to which that parent subjected him, a strictness which led to an outbreak on the son's part, the only ripple in the placid stream of his existence.

I have sometimes hesitated, respecting the propriety of communicating this little piece of my history. But as it is intimately connected with events of this period, and contains some traits of disposition and character in early life, I have at length concluded to relinquish my scruples on this subject. The following is the occurrence to which I allude.

Though my father, as the events already mentioned demonstrate, had an earnest desire to promote my interest and happiness, yet he appeared to me, in some respects, and on some occasions, rather too rigorous. Among other regulations, he had, with true parental prudence, given me general directions not to leave the house, in an evening, without previously obtaining his approbation. I believe that his permission was generally and readily procured. But a particular instance occurred, in which, on account of his absence, I could not apply to him. I was invited by an uncle to spend the evening with him; and trusting to this circumstance, and to the respectability of my company, I ventured to break the letter, though I thought not the spirit, of the injunction which had been laid upon me. The next morning, I was taken by my father into a private apartment, and remonstrated with for my disobedience. In vain were my apologies. Nothing that I could offer, was considered as an extenuation of my having broken a plain and positive command. In short, I received a very severe chastisement; and was threatened with a repetition of it, for every similar offence. Being a lad of some spirit, I felt very indignant at such treatment, under circumstances which, as I conceived, admitted of so much. alleviation. I could not bear it; I resolved to leave my father's house, and seek a distant country, what I conceived to be an asylum, or a better fortune. Young and ardent, I did not want confidence in my own powers: and I presumed that, with health and

strength which I possessed in a superior degree, I could support myself, and make my way happily through life. I meditated on my plan; and came to the resolution of taking my books and all my property with me, to a town in the interior of the country; where I had understood there was an excellent seminary, kept by a man of distinguished talents and learning. Here I purposed to remain, till I had learned the French language, which I thought would be of great use to me; and till I had acquired as much other improvement as my funds would admit. With this stock of knowledge, I presumed that I should set out in life under much greater advantages than I should possess by entering immediately into business, with my small portion of property, and great inexperience. I was then about fourteen years of age. My views being thus arranged, I procured a new suit of clothes, entirely different from those which I had been accustomed to wear, packed up my little all and left the city, without exciting any suspicion of my design, till it was too late to prevent its accom. plishment.

In a short time I arrived at the place of destination. I settled myself immediately as a boarder in the seminary, and commenced my studies. The prospect which I entertained was so luminous and cheering, that, on the whole, I did not regret the part I had acted. Past recollections and future hopes combined to animate me. The chief uneasiness which I felt in my present situation, must have arisen from the reflection of having lost the society and attentions of a most affectionate mother, and of having occasioned sorrow to her feeling mind. But as I had passed the Rubicon, and believed I could not be comfortable at home, I contented myself with the thought, that the pursuit of the objects before me was better calculated than any other, to produce my happiness. In this quiet retreat, I had as much enjoyment as my circumstances were adapted to convey. The pleasure of study, and the glow of a fond imagination, brightened the scenes around me. And the consciousness of a state of freedom and independence undoubtedly contributed to augment my gratifications, and to animate my youthful heart. But my continuance in this delightful situation was not of long duration. Circumstances of an apparently trivial nature concurred to overturn the visionary fabric I had formed, and to bring me again to the paternal roof.

I had a particular friend, a youth about my own age, who resided at Philadelphia. I wished to pay him a short visit, and then resume my studies. We met according to appointment, at an inn on the road. I enjoyed his society, and communicated to him my situation and views. But before I returned to my retreat an occurrence took place which occasioned me to go to Philadelphia. When I was about to leave that city, as I passed through one of the streets, I met a gentleman who had some time before dined at my father's house. He expressed great pleasure on seeing me; and inquired when I expected to leave the city. I told him I was then on the point of setting off. He thought the occasion very fortunate for him. He had just been with a letter to the post-office; but found that he was too late. The letter, he said, was of importance; and he begged that I would deliver it with my own hand, and as as soon as I arrived at New-York, to the person for whom it was directed. Surprised by the request, and unwilling to state to him my situation, I engaged to take good care of the letter.

My new residence was at Burlington, about twenty miles from Philadelphia. I travelled towards it rather pensive, and uncertain what plan to adopt respecting the letter. I believe that I sometimes

thought of putting it into the post-office; sometimes, of hiring a person to deliver it. But the confidence which had been reposed in me; the importance of the trust; and my tacit engagement to deliver it personally; operated so powerfully on my mind, that after I had rode a few miles, I determined, whatever risk and expense I might incur, to hire a carriage for the purpose, to go to New York as speedily as possible, deliver the letter, and return immediately. My design, so far as it respected the charge of the letter, was completely accomplished. I delivered it, according to the direction, and my own engagement. I was, however, obliged to remain in New York that night, as the packet boat, in which I had crossed the bay, could not sail till next morning. This was a mortifying circumstance, as I wished to return very expeditiously. The delay was, however, unavoidable. I put up at an inn, near the wharf from which the packet was to sail in the morning, and waited for that period with some anxiety.

I thought I had conducted my business with so much caution, that no one acquainted with me had known of my being in the city. I had, however, been noticed by some person who knew me; and, in the evening, to my great surprise, my uncle, whom I have mentioned before, paid me a visit. He treated me affectionately, and with much prudent attention: and, after some time, strenuously urged me to go with him to my father's house; but I firmly refused to comply with his request. At length he told me, that my mother was greatly distressed on account of my absence; and that I should be unkind and undutiful, if I did not see her. This made a strong impression upon me. I resolved, therefore, to spend a short time with her, and then return to my lodgings. The meeting which I had with my dear and tender parent was truly affecting to me. Every thing that passed, evinced the great affection she had for me, and the sorrow into which my departure from home had plunged her. After I had been some time in the house, my father unexpectedly came in: and my embarrassment, under these circumstances, may easily be conceived. It was, however, instantly removed, by his approaching me in the most affectionate manner. He saluted me very tenderly; and expressed great satisfaction on seeing me again. Every degree of resentment was immediately dissipated. I felt myself happy, in perceiving the pleasure which my society could afford to persons so intimately connected with me, and to whom I was so much indebted. We spent the evening together in love and harmony: and I abandoned entirely, without a moment's hesitation, the idea of leaving a house and family, which were now dearer to me than ever.

He resumed his studies under the charge of a private tutor, and his father at last granted him permission to pursue the profession of his choice. He was a fellow student with John Jay; was admitted and commenced practice with good success, which continued until the commencement of the American Revolution, when finding nothing to do in the courts, and wishing to recruit his health, he retired with his wife (he had become a married man some years before) to Islip, Long Island. Here he remained four years, and then becoming tired of country sports and comparative inaction, returned to the city and entered into mercantile business with such success, that at the close of the war he found himself possessed of a handsome property. He retired from business to a beautiful country-seat, Bellevue, then a few

miles from the city, but long since included in its limits, where he resided for three years. He was then forced to leave this pleasant home in quest of health. After passing some time with the Moravians at Bethlehem, he sailed to England by the advice of his physicians, in order to avoid the rigors of a New York winter. His sojourn was not designed to be extended beyond a year; but, though he earnestly desired to return to his native country, the state of his health would not permit the change, and he passed the remainder of his long life in England, at a small country-seat in the vicinity of York. The disease with which he was afflicted was a weakness in the lower limbs, which precluded him from walking, and after a time from any exercise whatever. His Christian fortitude and cheerfulness, however, enabled him to bear up against this calamity: and just at the time when his life seemed about to become useless to himself, it began to be pre-eminently useful to others. With a well educated and active mind, he naturally turned to literature as a pursuit, and he has recorded the beneficial results to his health which this course produced.

The motives

In the course of my literary labours, I found that the mental exercise which accompanied them, was not a little beneficial to my health. which excited me to write, and the objects which I hoped to accomplish, were of a nature calculated to cheer the mind, and to give the animal spirits a salutary impulse. I am persuaded, that if I had suffered my time to pass away, with little or no employment, my health would have been still more impaired, my spirits depressed, and perhaps my life considerably shortened. I have therefore reason to deem it a happiness, and a source of gratitude to Divine Providence, that I was enabled, under my bodily weakness and confinement, to turn my attention to the subjects which have, for so many years, afforded me abundant occupation. I think it is incumbent upon us, whatever may be our privations, to cast our eyes around, and endeavour to discover, whether there are not some means yet left us, of doing good to ourselves and to others; that our lights may, in some degree, shine in every situation, and, if possible, be extinguished only with our lives. The quantum of good which, under such circumstances, we do, ought not to disturb or affect us. If we perform what we are able to perform, how little soever it may be, it is enough; it will be acceptable in the sight of Him, who knows how to estimate exactly all our actions, by comparing them with our disposition and ability.

He

His debut in literature was a modest one. prepared a work, The Power of Religion on the Mind, giving the testimony of many eminent men "in recommendation of religion, as the great promoter of our happiness here and hereafter," and printed five hundred copies at his own expense, which he presented anonymously to the principal inhabitants of the vicinity. It was so well received that the author was induced to publish it in the ordinary manner. It met with a large sale; other editions were called for, and on the issue of the sixth, he was induced to put his name to the title-page.

His next work was the English Grammar. This originated in the following manner. A school had been established in York for the education of young ladies. Mr. Murray was desirous that the