formed into worlds by his power, and dispersed at intervals, to which even the imagination cannot travel. In this great theatre of his glory, | a thousand suns, like our own, / animate their respective sys.tems, I appearing, and vanishing at Divine command. | We behold our own bright luminary, i fixed in the centre of its system, I wheeling its planets in times proportioned to their dis'tances, and at once dispensing light, heat, and action. | The earth also is seen with its twofold motion; 1 producing by the one, the change of sea sons; and, by the other, the grateful vicissitudes of day, and night. | With what silent magnificence is all this performed. ! | with what seeming ease! | The works of art are exerted with interrupted force; , and their noisy progress discovers the obstructions they receive; but the earth, with a silent, steady rotation, successively presents every part of its bosom to the sun ; at once imbibing nourishment, and light from that parent of vegetation, and fertility. ||

But not only provisions of heat, and light are thus supplied ; | the whole surface of the earth is covered with a transparent at'mosphere that turns with its motion, / and guards it from external injury. | The rays of the sun are thus broken into a genial warmth"; 1 and, while the surface is assisted, I a gentle heat is produced in the bowels of the earth, which contributes to cover it with verdure. | Waters also are supplied in healthful abundance, I to support life, and assist vegetation. | Mountains rise to diversify the prospect, and give a current to the stream. | Seas extend from one continent to the other, 1 replenished with animals that may be turned to human support; and also serving to enrich the earth with a sufficiency of vapour. I Breezes fly along the surface of the fields, / to promote health. and vegetation. The coolness of the evening invites to rest'; and the freshness of the morning renews for labor.

Such are the delights of the habitation / that has been

assigned to man :) without any one of these, he must have been wretched ; | and none of these could his own industry bave supplied. | But while, on the one hand, many of his wants are thus kindly furnished, there are, on the other, numberless inconveniences to excite his industry. | This habitation, though provided with all the conveniences of air, pasturage, and water, is but a desert place, without human cultivation. | The lowest an'imal finds more conveniences in the wilds of nature, I than he who boasts himself their lord. | The whirlwind, the inundation, and all the asperities of the air, I are peculiarly terrible to man, who knows their consequences, | and, at a distance, dreads their approach. | The earth itself, where human art has not pervaded, puts on a frightful, gloomy appearance. | The forests are dark, and tangled ; | the meadows are overgrown with rank weeds'; and the brooks stray without a determined channel. | Nature, that has been kind to every lower order of beings, I seems to have been neglectful with regard to him. : | to the savage uncontriving man, 1 the earth is an abode of desola tion, where his shelter is insufficient, and his food precarious.

A world, thus furnished with advantages on one side, and inconveniences on the other, is the proper abode of rea'son, and the fittest to exercise the industry | of a free, and a thinking creature. | These evils, which art can remedy. I and prescience' guard against, | are a proper call for the exertion of his fac'ulties; 1 and they tend still more to assimilate him to his Creator. I God beholds, with pleasure, I that being which he has made, Iconverting the wretchedness of his natural situation / into a theatre of triumph ; | bringing all the headlong tribes of nature / into subjection to his will. ; I and producing that order, and uniformity upon earth, of wnich his own heavenly fabric is so bright an ex. ample.

• Prè'she-ens.

CHARACTER OF PITT.

(ROBERTSON.) The secretary stood alone : ! modern degeneracy had not reached him. | Original, and unaccommodating, the features of his character, had the hardihood of antiquity. | His august mind over-awed majesty ;/ and one of his sovereignsa I thought royalty so impaired in his presence, I that he conspired to remove him in order to be relieved from his superiority. | No state chica'. nery,' | no narrow system of vicious politics, I no idle contest for ministerial victories, I sunk him to the vul. gar level of the great, ; , but over-bearing, persuasive, and impracticable, I his object was England, i his ambition was fame.

Without dividing, he destroyed party ; ) without corrupting, he made a venal age unanimous. | France sunk beneath him. / With one hand he smote the house of Bourbon, I and wielded in the other, the democracy of England. | The sight of his mind was in finite; I and his schemes were to affect, | not England, I not the present age only, but Europe, and posterity. | Wonder. ful were the means by which these schemes were accom plished — | always seasonable, I always ad'equate, the suggestions of an understanding | animated by ar. dour, and enlightened by prophecy. I

The ordinary feelings which make life amiable, and indolent, I were unknown' to him. | No domestic difficulties, I no domestic weakness reached him; 1 but, aloof from the sordid occurrences of life, I and unsul. lied by its intercourse, he came occasionally into our system, / to counsel, and to decide. ||

A character so exalted, / so strenuous, / so various, 1 so authoritative, / astonished a corrupt age — and the treasury trembled at the name of Pitt | through all her classes of venality. | Corruption imagined, indeed,!

Såv'er-ind. She-ka'når-re. • • Untractable.

that she had found defects' in this statesman,' and talked much of the inconsistency of his glory, and much of the ruin of his victories; I but the history of his country, I and the calamities of the enemy, i answered, and refuted her. I

Nor were his political abilities his only talents:1 his eloquence was an era in the senate, 1 peculiar, and sponta'neous, familiarly expressing gigantic sentiments, and instinctive wisdom; í not like the torrent of Demosthenes, I or the splendid conflagration of Tully ; | it resembled sometimes the thunder, I and sometimes the music of the spheres. | Like Murray, I he did not conduct the understanding through the painful subtlety of argumentation; | nor was he, like Townshend, for ever on the rack of exertion; I but rather lightened upon the subject, I and reached the point by the flashings of the mind', / which, like those of his eye, I were fell, but could not be followed. ||

Upon the whole, I there was in this man something that would create', / subvert', / or reform'; | an understanding, I a spirit, I and an eloquence, I to summon mankind to society, I or to break the bonds of slavery asun der, - | something to rule the wilderness of free minds 1 with unbounded author'ity ; , something that could establish, / or overwhelm' empire, / and strike a blow in the world, that should resound through the universe.

CLARENCE'S DREAM.

(SHAKSPEARE.)
SCENE — A Room in the Tower of London.

(Enter CLARENCE and BRACKENBURY.] Brack. Why looks your grace so heav'ily to-day?)

Clar. O I have pass'd a miserable nighti, 1 So full of fearful dreams, l of ugly sights, I That, as I am a Christian faithful man, 1

I would not spend another such a night,
Though 't were to buy a world of happy days': /
So full of dismal terror was the time.
Brack. What was' your dream, my lord'? | I pray

you, tell me.
Clar. Methought that I had broken from the tower,
And had embark'd to cross to Burgundy; ||
And, in my company, my brother Glos'ter, 1
Who from my cabin, / tempted me to walk
Upon the hatches; I thence we look'd toward England,
And cited up a thousand heavy times, |
During the wars of York, and Lancaster,
That had befallen us. | As we pac'd along
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,
Methought that Gloster stumbled, I and, in falling,
Struck me that thought to stay him, I o'ver-board
Into the tumbling billows of the main. I
O methought what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful noise of water in mine ears' !a ||
What sights of ugly death within mine eves !
Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks',
A thousand men' that fishes gnaw'd' upon, 1
Wedges of gold', / great anchors, I heaps of pearl, 1
Inestimable stones, / unvalued jewels,
All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea.
'Some lay in dead men's skulls. ; 1 Pand, in those holes
Where eyes did once inhabit, I there were crept,
(As 't were in scorn of eyes) | reflecting gems
That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep,
And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.

Brack. Had you such leisure in the time of death, To gaze upon these secrets of the deep'? |

Clar. Methought I had'; ' and often did I strive
To yield the ghostı; ' but still the envious flood
Kept in my soul, I and would not let it forth |
To seek the empty, vast, and wand'ring air, 1
But smother'd it within my panting bulk, I
Which almost burst to belch it in the sea. /

• Mine ears; not mine-nears. "Mine eyes; not inine-nize.