and the pamphleteers who surrounded me shrunk into the form of toads.

My heart fainted with horror as I gazed on these prodigies, and I every moment expected some dreadful change would befal myself for my temerity in visiting this odious place. While I stood speechless and trembling, Truth touched the floor with her sword, and a sudden concussion overturned the Temple from its foundation. The throne vanished in a thin vapour; the vitreous wall dissappeared, and beyond, where it had expanded its deceptive medium, instead of a rich landscape, I beheld a blasted heath overgrown with thorns and thistles.

At this scene of desolation my fears increased; I turned towards Religion; and was going to prostrate myself before her, when Morality prevented me, and putting the Bible into my hand, whispered, "You are now safe, that book will direct you to the Temple of Religion, which is on the road to Salvation." My spirits were revived, and a new hope animated my heart as I clasped the treasure of Divine Knowledge in my hands. Religion turned upon me her majestic eyes, beaming with philanthropy. "Fear not, O Man!" said she," will ever be thy guardian while thou pursuest the path pointed out by Revelation. Go, feeble mortal!

reform thy manners; correct thy passions by the vigilance and authority of Reason; remember that Christianity is the true Philosophy; and that happiness consists in piety to the Creator, and universal benevolence."

While Religion was speaking I felt unusual transport animate my heart, insomuch that I awoke and beheld the Sun just rising. The vision

of the night enlightened and purified my soul, and incited me to that activity in the performance of the social virtues which alone can render the life of man valuable to himself and beneficial to his fellow-creatures.

SEDUCTION.

How abandoned is that heart which bulges the tear of innocence, and is the cause----the fatal cause, of overwhelming the spotless soul, and plunging the yet untainted mind into a sea of sorrow and repentance ! ---Though born to protect the fair, does not man act the part of a demon first alluring by his temptations, and then triumphing in his victory?

STERNE.

OF all the crimes which contribute to human infelicity, seduction is looked upon with the most favourable eye. Even some persons of irreproachable morals seem to think it a venial offence, nay, merely obedience to the dictates of nature! They do not consider that female chastity is the true foundation of national honour; and that licentiousness, should it become universal among us, would, like an earthquake, overturn the social edifice.

Men of pleasure often triumph over their modest opponents, by a repetition of those witticisms which have been adopted as maxims by voluptuaries, from time immemorial. But what is still more reprehensible, many of the fair sex, by a simper of complacency, countenance the loose sallies of the libertine, while he exclaims-"I hate a prude! give me a girl whose freedom of dress and mien declare a mind d sposed to ga ety and pleasure -surely it can be no crime to love a pretty girl::-were not the sexes created for mutual love?" "Ye witlings! Suppose you rambled through a flower garden, would you wantonly pluck the beautiful blossoms, and after having gazed on each a moment, and in

haled their balmy odours, cast them at your feet to wither?" 66 No, certainly no man of taste would behave so brutishly. Then just such a monster is the sensualist, who robs the virgin of her honour then flings her from his arms "like a detested sin," and leaves her to perish. Yet this votary of Venus is admitted to an intercourse with women of rank and character, who affect to consider these blemishes merely as spots in the sun.

Let any man who thoughtlessly proceeds in the career of intrigue, pause a moment, and laying his hand upon his breast, question himself" Can I bear the idea of my sister, or any female relation, being seduced?" No-the enormity of the dishonour instantly presents itself, and every generous and delicate feeling rises in opposition to it. This is natural, this is noble; and on the same principle, no man has a right to seduce a woman even of the lowest class. She also has a father, a brother, or a kinsman, to whom her innocence and happiness are dear! Why would you add to the mass of human misery by her seduction? why detach a blameless individual from society, and condemn her to associate with those wretched outcasts, who, in their turn, prey upon their betrayer, man? The monster who gains the affections of an an amiable young woman, and, forgetful that he is her natural protector, sacrifices her chastity to his capricious desires, is more detestable than the guard who robs the traveller whom he was paid to protect!--more brutal than the ferocious tyger, who instinctively destroys the unresisting deer!

Is it not superlatively treacherous in the seducer to address his mistress in a voice attuned by tenderR

ness, and with the smile of love, at the very moment he meditates her ruin? Pause and reflect then, ye generous youth of Britain, ere you violate the chastity of the maiden-— it is her only treasure, and renders her truly desirable. Conscious virtue gives lustre to her eye, delicacy to her complexion, and ease to her demeanour: it adorns her charming features with the smile of modesty, attunes her dulcet voice to the social affections, and renders her at once- the ornament, the pride, and the delight of society. Why would you reduce this angelic creature to guilt and wretchedness?---Ah! love, but do not betray her!

Commiseration for an unhappy young lady suggested these reflections; but her own simple tale will best illustrate the necessity of an adherence to virtue. A regard for the survivors of the catastrophe requires that the characters should be disguised under fictitious names:

ELIZA WARNER was the daughter of a clergyman, in Devonshire; she was educated under the eye of her mother, who, as well as her father, was particularly solicitous to form her mind to the love of rectitude. She was docile and good-natured; and as she grew up, the beauty of her person and her elegant attainments were the delight of her friends. In the sixteenth year of her age her father died, leaving his widow and three daughters in possession of a small estate.

Soon after this mournful event, William Benson, the son of a rich farmer, was captivated by the charms of Fliza, and declared his passion with all the simplicity of honourable love. As he was very amiable, he soon inspired his mistress with recipro