an audience of the governor; and gave him a full account of the circumstances of Jacob's family.

7. Nothing can be more interesting and pathetic than this discourse of Judah. Little knowing to whom he spoke, he paints in all the colours of simple and natural eloquence, the distressed situation of the aged patriarch, hastening to the close of life; long afflicted for the loss of a favourite son, whom he supposed to have been torn to pieces by a beast of prey; labouring now under anxious concern about his youngest son, the child of his old age, who alone was left alive of his mother, and whom nothing but the calamities of severe famine could have moved a tender father to send from home, and expose to the dangers of a foreign; land.

8. "If we bring him not back with us, we shall bring down the gray hairs of thy servant, our father, with sorrow, to the grave. 1 pray thee therefore, let thy servant abide, instead of the young man, a bondman to our lord. For how shall I go up to my father, and Benjamin not with me? lest I see the evil that shall come on my father."

9. Upon this relation Joseph could no longer restrain himself. The tender ideas of his father, and his father's house, of his ancient home, his country, and his kindred, of the distress of his family, and his own exaltation, all rushed too strongly upon his mind to bear any farther concealment.< He cried, cause every man to go out from me; and he wept aloud."

10. The tears which he shed were not the tears of grief. They were the burst of affection. They were the effusions' of a heart overflowing with all the tender sensibilities of nature. Formerly he had been moved in the same manner, when he first saw his brethren before him. "His bowels yearned upon them; he sought for a place where to weep. He went into his chamber; and then washed his face and returned to them."

11. At that period his generous plans were not completed. But now, when there was no farther occasion for constraining himself, he gave free vent to the strong emotions of his heart. The first minister to the king of Egypt was not ashamed to show, that he felt as a man, and a brother. "He wept aloud; and the Egyptians, and the house of Pharaoh, heard him."

12. The first words which his swelling heart allowed him to pronounce, are the most suitable to such an affect

ing situation that were ever uttered:"I am Joseph; doth my father yet live ?"-What could he, what ought he, in that impassionate moment, to have said more? This is the voice of nature herself, speaking her own language; and it penetrates the heart; no pomp of expression! no parade of kindness: but strong affection hastening to utter what it strongly felt.

13. "His brethren could not answer him: for they were troubled at his presence." Their silence is as expressive of those emotions of repentance and shame, which, on this amazing discovery, filled their breasts, and stopped their utterance, as the few words which Joseph speaks, are expressive of the generous agitations which struggled for vent within him.

14. No painter could seizer a more striking moment for displaying the characteristical features of the human heart, than what is her presented. Never was there a situation of more tender and virtuous joy, on the one hand; nor, on the other, of more overwhelming confusion and conscious guilt. In the simple narration of the sacred historian, it is set before us with greater energy and higher effect, than if it had been wrought up with all the colouring of the most admired modern eloquence.

a

The following account of an affecting, mournful exit, is related by Dr. Young, who was present at the melancholy scene. 1. THE sad evening before the death of the noble youth, whose last hours suggested the most solemn and awful reflections, I was with him. No one was present, but his physician, and an intimate whom he loved, and whom he had ruined. At my coming in, he said, "You and the physician are come too late. I have neither life nor

hope. You both aim at miracles.

dead!"

You would raise the

2. Heaven, I said, was merciful-" Or," exclaimed he, "I could not have been thus guilty. What has it done to bless, and to save me! I have been too strong for Omnipotence! I have plucked down ruin"-I said, the blessed Redeemer,—“ Hold, ! hold! you wound me !—That is the rock on which I split:-I denied his name!"

3. Refusing to hear any thing from me, or take any thing from the physician, he lay silent, as far as sudden darts of pain would permit, till the clock struck; then with vehemence he exclaimed; "Oh! time! time! it is fit thou shouldst thus strike thy murderer to the heart! How art thou fled for ever!-A month!-Oh, for a single week! I ask not for years! though an age were tod little for the much I have to do." On my saying, we could not do too much that heaven was a blessed place" So much the worse.-'Tis lost! 'tis lost!—Heaven is to me the severest part of hell!"

4. Soon after, I proposed prayer," Pray you that can, I never prayed. I cannot pray-nor need I. Is not Heaven on my side already? It closes with my conscience. Its severest strokes but second my own."

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5. Observing that his friend was much touched at this, even to tears-(who could forbear? I could not)-with a most affectionate look he said, Keep those tears for thyself. I have undone thee.-Dost thou weep for me? that is cruel. What can pain me more?" Here his friend, too much affected, would have left him.

6. "No, stay-thou still mayst hope; therefore hear me How madly have I talked! How madly hast thou listened and believed! but look on my present state, as a full answer to thee, and myself. This body is all weakness and pain; but my soul, as if stung up by torment to greater strength and spirit, is full powerful to reason, full mighty to suffer. And that, which thus triumphs within the jaws of immortality, is, doubtless immortal-And, as for a Deity, nothing less than an Almighty could inflict what I feel."

7. I was about to congratulate this passive, involuntary confessor, on his asserting the two prime articles of his creed, extorted by the rack of nature, when he thus, very passionately, exclaimed :-" No, no! let me speak on. have not long to speak.-My much injured friend! my M

I

soul, as my body, lies in ruins; in scattered fragments of broken thought

8. "Remorse for the past, throws my thought on the future. Worse dread of the future, strikes it back on the past. I turn, and turn, and find no ray. Didst thou feel half the mountain that is on me, thou wouldst struggle with the martyr for his stake; and bless Heaven for the flames! that is not an everlasting flame; that is not an unquenchables fire."

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9. How were we struck! yet, soon after, still more. With what an eye of distraction, what a face of despair, he cried out! My principles have poisoned my friend; my extravagance has beggared my boy! my unkindness has murdered my wife-And is there another hell? Oh! thou blasphemed yet indulgent LORD GOD! Hell itself is a refuge, if it hide me from thy frown!"

10. Soon after, his understanding failed. His terrified imagination uttered horrors not to be repeated, or ever forgotten. And ere the sun (which, I hope, has seen few like him) arose, the gay, young, noble, ingenious, accomplished, and most wretched Altamont expired!

11. If this is a man of pleasure, what is a man of pain? How quick, how total, is the transit of such persons In what a dismal gloom they set for ever! How short, alas! the day of their rejoicing!-For a moment they glitter-they dazzle! In a moment, where are they? Oblivion covers their memories. Ah! would it did! Infamy snatches them from oblivion. In the long living annals of infamy their triumphs are recorded.

12. Thy sufferings, poor Altamont! still bleed in the bosom of the heart-stricken friend-for Altamont had a friend. He might have had many. His transient morning might have been the dawn of an immortal day. His name might have been gloriously enrolled in the records of eternity. His memory might have left a sweet fragrance behin it, grateful to the surviving friend, salutaryi to the surging generation.

13. With what capacity was he endowed! with what advantages for being greatly good! But with the talents of an angel, a man may be a fool. If he judges amiss in the supreme point, judging right in all else, but aggravates his folly; as it shows him wrong, though blessed with the best capacity of being right. DR. YOUNG.

CHAPTER VII.

Dialogues.

SECTION 1.

a De-moc-ri-tus, dè-môk'-rè-tůs, a cel-f ebrated philosopher of Abdera, hej put out his eyes to apply himself more closely to philosophical inquiries

Her-a-cli-tus, her-á-kl'-tos, a celebrated Greekilosopher of Ephesus, m of a melancholy disposition

c Mel-an-chol-y, mél’-ân-kól-è, gloomy, In dismal

d ap-prove, ap-proov', to be pleased o
with

e Mirth, mêrth, merriment, laughter
f Rid-i-cule, rid'-e-kule, to expose to
laughter, mockery

g Buf-foon, båf-föỏn', a man who makes
sport by low jests

A Frail, frale, weak, liable to errour
i Im-per-ti-nence, îm-pèr'-tè-nênse, fol-'

ly, intrusion, trifle

Re-verse, ré-verse', contrary, a contrast, to tarn back

Cul-pa-ble, kůl-på-bl, criminal, biameable

De-plore, dè-plore', to lament, bewail Des-tine, dês'-tin, to doom, appoint, devote

Dic-tate, dik'-tåte, to deliver with authority

Re-ject, rè-jekt', to cast off, discard, refuse

Ma-ni-ack, må'-nè-åk, raging with madness, a mad person

La-ment, lá-ment', to mourn, grieve
Pre-pos-ter-ous, pré-pôs'-tår-ås, ab-
surd, perverted, wrong

Fen-e-lon, fên'-è-lón, Archbishop of
Cambray

DEMOCRITUS" AND HERACLITUS.*

The vices and follies of men should excite compassion rather than ridicule.

Democritus. I FIND it impossible to reconcile myself to a melancholy philosophy.

Heraclitus. And I am equally unable to approved of that vain philosophy, which teaches men to despise and ridicule one another. To a wise and feeling mind, the world appears in a wretched and painful light.

Dem. Thou art too much affected with the state of things; and this is a source of misery to thee.

Her. And I think thou art too little moved by it. Thy mirth and ridicule bespeak the buffoon, rather than the philosopher. Does it not excite thy compassion, to see mankind so frail, so blind, so far departed from the rules of virtue ?

Dem. I am excited to laughter, when I see so much impertinence and folly.

Her. And yet, after all, they, who are the objects of

*Democritus and Heraclitus were two ancient philosophes, the former of whom laughed, and the latter wept, at the errors and follies of mankind,