furnish them with useful moral instructions. In these benevolent labors he was indefatigable. He communicated his instructions not only when he was in the chair, and at set hours of discourse, but even in his amusements; when he was at his meals; in the camp or market; and, finally, when he was in prison: thus making every place a school of virtue.

Through his whole life, this good man discovered a mind superior to the attractions of wealth and power. Contrary to the general practice of the preceptors of his time, he instructed his pupils, without receiving from them any gratuity. He frequently refused rich presents. The chief men of Athens were his stewards: they sent him provisions, as they apprehended he wanted them. He took what his present necessities required, and returned the rest. Observing at a particular time, the numerous articles of luxury which were exposed to sale at Athens, he exclaimed: "How many things are here which I do not want!"

His intrepid virtue, and the severity with which he reproved vice, produced the hatred of men whose principles and conduct were the reverse of his own. He was maliciously accused of corrupting the youth, and of despising religion, and was, with singular injustice, condemned to die. Before the trial, his chief accuser sent him a private message, assuring him that if he would desist from censuring his conduct, the accusation should be

withdrawn. But Socrates refused to comply with so degrading a condition; and, with his usual integrity, replied: "Whilst I live I will never disguise the truth, nor speak otherwise than my duty requires."

After the sentence was passed, he was sent to prison, where he lay in fetters thirty days. In this long interval, with the prospect of death continually before him, he did not cease to enjoy that profound tranquillity of mind which his friends had always admired in him. He entertained them with the same cheerful temper which he had ever manifested and Crito observes, that the evening before his death, he slept as peacefully as at any other time.

On the day assigned for him to die, his friends repaired early to the prison. They found him, with his chains off, sitting by his wife, who held one of his children in her arms. As soon as she perceived them, she made the prison resound with her cries. Socrates, that the tranquillity of his last moments might not be disturbed by unavailing lamentations, requested that she might be conducted home. With the most frantic expressions of grief she left the prison.

An interesting conversation then passed between Socrates and his friends, which chiefly turned upon the immortality of the soul. In the course of this conversation, he expressed his disapprobation of the practice of suicide; and assured his friends

that his chief support, in his present situation, was an expectation, though not unmixed with doubt, of a happy existence after death. "It would be inexcusable in me," said he, "to despise death, if I were not persuaded that it will conduct me into the presence of the gods, who are the most righteous governors, and into the society of just and good men: but I derive confidence from the hope that something of man remains after death: and that the condition of good men will then be much better than that of the bad."

Towards the close of the day, he retired into an adjoining apartment to bathe; his friends in the meantime, expressing to one another their grief at the prospect of losing so excellent a father, and being left to pass the rest of their days in the solitary state of orphans. After a short interval, during which he gave some necessary instructions to his domestics, and took his last leave of his children, the attendant of the prison informed him that the time for drinking the poison was come.

The executioner, though accustomed to such scenes, shed tears as he presented the fatal cup. Socrates received it without change of countenance, or the least degree of perturbation. Then offering up a prayer, that he might have a prosperous passage into the invisible world, with perfect composure he swallowed the poisonous draught. His friends around him burst into tears. Socrates alone remained unmoved. He upbraided their pusillani

mity, and entreated them to exercise a manly constancy, worthy of the friends of virtue.

"What are you doing?" said he to them: "I wonder at you. O! what has become of your virtue? was it not for fear of their falling into these weaknesses that I sent away the women? I have always heard that we ought to die peaceably, and blessing the gods. Be at ease, I beg of you, and show more firmness and resolution."

He continued walking till the chilling operation of the hemlock obliged him to lie down upon his bed. After remaining a short time in this situation, he covered himself with his cloak, and expired. Such was the fate of the virtuous Socrates! "A story," says Cicero, "which I never read without tears."

It was not till some time after the death of this great man, that the people of Athens perceived their injustice, and began to repent of it. Their hatred being satisfied, their prejudices removed, and time having given them an opportunity for reflection, the notorious iniquity of the sentence appeared in all its horrors. Nothing was heard, throughout the city, but discourses in favor of Socrates. The Academy, the Lyceum, private houses, public walks, and market-places, seemed still to reecho the sound of his loved voice.

"Here," said they, "he formed our youth, and taught our children to love their country, and to honor their parents. In this place, he gave us his

admirable lessons, and sometimes made us seasonable reproaches, to engage us more warmly in the pursuit of virtue. Alas! how have we rewarded him for those important services!" Athens was in universal mourning and consternation. The schools were shut up, and all exercises suspended. The accusers were punished for the innocent blood they had caused to be shed; and the regard and gratitude of the Athenians towards this excellent man rose to the highest degree of veneration.

MANY other instances might have been given, of heathens, who, by their actions and discourses, appear to have been under the influence of religion; but, in paganism, we find light so mixed with darkness, religion and truth so blended with superstition and error, that the minds of Christians will be less edified by examples of this kind, than by those which exhibit piety and virtue, enlightened by the rays of the gospel, and animated by the assurance it gives of a happy immortality: we shall therefore confine ourselves, in the succeeding pages of this work, to instances of the power of religion on the minds of persons who have lived under the Christian dispensation.

It is, however, to the serious and benevolent mind, a source of thankfulness, to believe that the Divine Goodness extends itself towards the upright