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of that! the black rascal pretended to have a conscience!) to engage in the prosecution of my plan; that it was cruel to sport with the miseries of our fellow creatures; that it was wicked to take advantage of the weaknesses and follies of mankind; that our medicines would never do good, and might do much harm; that we should prevent the afflicted from applying to those who might be able to ufford them relief; that we should destroy the constitutions of the healthy, ande hurry the feeble out of the world when they might other wise have lived for years-" What," cried I, "Quassia, are you mad? Is it not a law of nature that the strong should prey upon the weak? that the tiger should lie in wait for the stag? and that the great fishes should devour the small? Dear Quassia, only think of that all-destroying animal, man; does he not make a prey of every creature that is subject to his power? But you must know that men not only take advantage of the weakness of all inferior animals; but of the frailties and misfor. tunes of their own species. Only look through the world and see how they delude, destroy, and tyrannize over each other. There is no right but might; there is no law but power." Thus I attempted to reason with him; but in vain. He was stubborn as a mule; and I was obliged to dismiss him.

Since that time I have never attempted to renew my project until the present moment. You, Piomingo, are advanced in years and consequently know the world. Let us join our forces and go forth to battle. We are sure of victory; and great will be the spoil.

I have the honor to be &c.

EPHRAIM HEADWORK, We were struck dumb with astonishment at the impudence of the scoundrel in making such a proposal to us. In the first transports of our fury we started up with a full determination to search him out and offer him up as a sacrifice to our insulted honor; but reflection soon showed us the folly of our passion. There was no great probability that we could find him; and if we should, very possibly we might not be able to chastise him. We therefore calmed our agitated spirits, and resolved to rest satisfied with exposing to the world the projects of Mr. Headwork; and this we have fully done by publishing his letter.

The epistle, we have had the honor of receiving, sheds a blaze of light on a subject which, before, appeared to us to be involved in the greatest obscurity. We had long observed advertisements in the public papers which announced infallible remedies for every disease, Cures innumerable, authenticated by the most respectable names, demanded our implicit belief: yet still we heard the frequent tolling of the bells, which proclaimed the daily departure of souls, and we met in the streets the melancholy hearse which conveyed the lifeless body to the grave! We were amazed at the obstinacy of the people. Why should they die, when

health and life courted their acceptance? Ephraim Headwork's letter has explained the mystery.

But is it not strange that an enlightened and civilized people should suffer themselves to be deluded, in a matter of such consequence, by every arrogant pretender? When a watch or any other machine of the like nature is dam. aged by any casualty, it is sent to some skilful mechanic who understands its structure, and is therefore qualified to rectify that which is wrong: and when the human body, a most complex piece of machinety, becomes deranged in its parts, or disordered in its operations, how can we expect to have it regulated by the hand of daring and unprincipled ignorance?

A multitude of laws is one of the distinguish ing characteristics of civilization: why then are there no laws against quackery? Shall property be protected by innumerable statutes, and life and health be left at the mercy of every one who has the hardihood to assert and persist in a falsehood?

THE SAVAGE-NO. VI.

Virtue.

It has already been proved, that the direct tendency of what is called civilization is to create and perpetuate a disparity among men ; and, that as civilization progresses, the number of the refined is diminished and that of the debased and degraded part of the community increased in the like proportion. The great majority of the people, therefore, never become sharers in this refinement which is so highly eulogized by authors who understand not the subject they have undertaken to discuss. They have said much in favor of the diffusion of knowledge; but knowledge can never be generally diffused under the present constitution of society. How can men acquire knowledge who are condemned, by their necessities, to never-ending labor? Much may be said in favor of those arts which humanize the mind, and soften the ferocious passions of man; but it is not considered that this humanized and softened being requires the assistance and servitude of a dozen beings, who are brutalized and degraded in the same proportion that he is refined and exalted.

Hereafter we will endeavor to form a proper estimate of the enjoyments of the polished luxurious man who requires that others should be miserable and wretched that he may become splendid and great: at present we will confine our ideas to that immense majority of mankind, the laboring poor.

Are they virtuous ?

When a man of this description becomes capable of reflection, he immediately perceives the disadvantages of his situation: there are privileges to which he must not aspire; there are enjoyments of which he must not partake. He finds himself necessitated to labor continually for a wretched subsistence, while others

enjoy leisure, amusement and pleasure without any exertion of their own. These circum. stances have a natural tendency to sour and imbitter his mind. Envy and malignity take up their residence in his heart; but as he sees no opportunity of improving his situation, he becomes as stupid as an "ass couching down between two burdens." He is despised by the world; and he despises himself. When he sees that he is utterly contemptible in the estimation of others, how is it possible that he should value himself, or retain any idea of personal importance or dignity of character? It is not possible.

Honor is a powerful incentive to virtuous actions; but honor has no influence with the wretch that I describe. Shame, in certain societies, will prevent a man from falling into vicious pursuits; but shame has no power over this victim of refinement. He is already contemptible, degraded, miserable; what more can he fear?

When you have destroyed, by your boasted civilization, every motive to virtue, and every preventive of vice, in the great body of the people, do you, notwithstanding, expect to find them virtuous? We will undertake to say, that you are very unreasonable in your expectations; and that you will most assuredly be disappointed. We assert with confidence that the great body of the poor, in every civilized society, are not only degraded but wicked and malignant. Whence arises the multiplicity of your laws, but from the multitude of crimes that are found in the mass of the community? They are nccessarily vicious, yet the circumstances of society require that they should be punished. And all this collection of miseries and crimes, is created and supported by the sickly and effeminate refinement of a few, who have deserted nature and sought out for themselves factitious and enervating enjoyments, at the expense of the virtue and happiness of millions of their species.

Those who will not take time to reflect, may suppose that we exaggerate when we affirm that the indigent man is compelled by the circumstances of his situation to practise continual dissimulation. He dare not, he cannot, approach his superior with the easy confidence of virtue. He must not speak what is true, but what he supposes will be agreeable. His neighbor is rich and consequently powerful; he must therefore, as far as he is able, endeavor to countervail this ascendency, by flattery and dissimulation. He asks justice as a favor,and begs the contemptible pittance he receives for his labor with the whining tone of a medicant.

There is no object in nature so disgusting as to see one man crawling to and fawning on another. We may pity the base grovelling wretch, but we must and do despise him. Can this creature be virtuous? He may be deterred from atrocious crimes by the terrors

of the law; but his mind is necessarily and radically depraved.

The necessity that the indigent man is under, of receiving favors from the hand of opulence, humbles and enervates his mind. One man may safely receive benefits from another if he have it in his power to make a suitable return; but the moment he incurs an obliga. tion from which he cannot disengage himself at pleasure, that moment he becomes a slave. His mind ist brought into thraldom, and his soul is obliged to acknowledge a master. The supposed benefactor may insult him with im punity. He can turn neither to the right hand nor to the left without sullying the purity of his virtue. If he should resent an injury, he is ungrateful; if he submit in silence, it is im puted to baseness and cowardice of spirit. And every thing poverty receives from wealth is accounted a favor. If we lend a rich man a few dollars, it is considered merely as an act of common courtesy, and we think of it no more; but if we lend half the sum to a man who is in want; what then? Why we conceive that we lay him under an eternal obligation: and should he ever after refuse to comply with our demands, however unjust or unreasonable, we publish to the world his baseness and in. gratitude, and extol to the skies our own humanity and beneficence.

Should an indigent neighbor pass through our field and accidentally do some slight damage to our property; if we do not prose. cute him for a trespass, we are loud in the praise of our own lenity and forbearance: but if the trespasser be opulent, though the damage be much greater, we are pleased that he has presumed upon our good nature, and thank him for the liberty he has taken.

accost us in the street and desire some inforDoes a person of figure and genteel address. mation concerning a neighboring church or other public building, we attend to his requests with the utmost complaisance, and are highly gratified that he should think us worthy to be his intelligencer; but should a ragged misera. ble mortal have the assurance to make the same demand, we are astonished at his effrontery, and pass him with a glance of the most sovereign contempt-or, admitting that we had just risen from dinner, where we had eaten and drunk freely,and consequently were in that happy disposition of mind which renders us averse to every species of contention-if, from all these causes, we should return a kindly and condescending answer, we would admire our own politeness and urbanity, and conceive the poor devil to be under infinite obligations' to our good nature.

Now, how can a man who is continually re. ceiving favors, and feels the impossibility of making suitable returns, maintain a proper degree of self-respect? And the man who has no respect for himself will be careless in the performance of duties that have no immediate connexion with his interest.

From such considerations as the foregoing we deduce the conclusion, that the progress of civilization is unfavorable to the practice of

The Grave.

When Diogenes was about to die, he was

unburied in the fields. 66

virtue, because it places an immense majority asked what should be done with his body. of the human race in a situation which renders The cynic ordered it to be carried out and leftthem incapable of virtuous exertions-in a What," said his situation where they are almost inevitably com. pelled to become vicious. [To be continued.

Justice.

We have somewhere read of a people who asked nothing, in their prayers to the gods, but justice. In this they appear to have done wisely for, had they asked for any thing else, can it be supposed that their requests would have been granted?,

Justice is the perfection of virtue; it may be supposed to arise from the relatron all created beings bear to each other, and to their creator. From all these relations there originate certain rights: whoever acts in conformity with these, acts justly; but whoever violates them, acts unjustly.

Ovid says that the goddess of justice has de. serted the earth; and we believe he is correct in the assertion:

Virgo cæde madentes

Ultima cœlestum terres Astræa reliquit. However, we are inclined to believe that she was the first, and not the last, of the celestials who deserted the earth and winged their flight to the etherial regions. One thing is certain she is not here.

There is a strange Protean being who has usurped her name, but possesses none of her qualities, found among us. This pseudo-jus. tice is extremely accommodating to the weak. nesses and passions, but most of all to the interests, of men. She studies what will be ac counted the interest of a nation, or of an individual; and she says to that nation, or that individual, this is justice. There is one thing observable in her conduct: she always adheres to the stronger side. She is a friend to good order and regular government as long as go. vernment is able to support itself; but the mo. ment that its weakness is discovered, she ranges herself on the side of anarchy and confusion. She assisted at the massacre of the whites in St. Domingo, and is an advocate for the slave trade in Jamaica. In Russia she speaks in favor of despotism; in England she advocates the dominion of the seas; and in France she brings the crowns of the sove. reigns of Europe and lays them at the feet of Napoleon. She is a nice observer of times, places and circumstance. She is a mahome tan, a christian, a pagan, a catholic, a protestant, a royalist, a republican, a jacobin, an im. perialist, as the power shifts from the hands of one party to those of the other. She worships the rising sun, observes the course of the wind, and was never known to row against the tide.

friends, "shall it be exposed as a prey to the
birds and wild beasts?" 66
Lay a staff near
me," replied the dying philosopher, "with
which I may drive them away." "How can
you drive them away," demanded his friends,
"since you will not perceive them ?" "What
harm can they do me," said Diogenes, "if
when they devour my flesh, I do not perceive
it ?"

If Diogenes cared as little about the disposal of his body after death as his words indicate, he had divested himself of a very general weakness; for the most of men show an un. common solicitude on this subject. Some de. sire to be buried in consecrated ground, supposing, no doubt, that evil spirits will be afraid to disturb them within the precincts of the sanctuary. Possibly they desire to rest among the saints, that they may have good company in the grave; or at least may be found among the righteous at the general resurrection. We have some times supposed that they were ap. prehensive that they might be overlooked by the eye of the Eternal, at the great day, if they were deposited in any other place than a churchyard.

The greater part of mankind express a wish to be buried near their relations or friends. This desire is very general, and, we had almost said, natural; but the man who has experi enced the perfidy of friends and the coldness of relations would rather be buried in the desert or cast into the ocean. The ancient Jews, who appear to have had very faint ideas of a future state, found a strange consolation in going down to the grave in peace and sleeping with their fathers.

Socrates declared it to be a matter of indiffer. ence to him how they disposed of his body. Another philosopher, being told in a threatening tone by a tyrant, that he should remain unburied, replied, "Fool! do you suppose that I care whether this body rot above ground or below?" Reason, indeed, informs us all, that it is a matter of no consequence what becomes of the body when the spirit has departed; but we have been so long in the habit of connecting life and feeling with the human frame, that we can hardly be led to suppose that the carcass is totally destitute of sensation. The custom of digging a deep pit for the reception of the dead, and leaving them as a prey for worms and corruption is excessively disagreeable: the practice of burning the body was much more decent, and had not a tendency to awaken so many gloomy and loathsome ideas. The urn containing the ashes of a deceased relative might be deposited in our chamber to remind us continually of the virtues of the departed, and of the friendship that had subsisted between

Conversation.

us. Who would not rather that his flesh should face the roaring cannon. If he conquer, he is be consumed by the action of fire, than un- despised; if he die, he is forgotten. dergo an abominable fermentation in the grave? Who would not rather his body should be purified by the flames, than become the parent and the nourishment of worms? Who would not rather ascend in smoke to the clouds, than become an inhabitant of darkness and the grave? Who would not rather be scattered by the four winds of heaven than say "to corruption thou art my father and to the worm thou art my sister and my mother ?"

The Stage of Life. One poet has truly said that

All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, And another has said, in an imperative style,

Act well your part, there all the honor lies. Does he mean by this that there is as much honor in acting well in an inferior station as in a superior? Pope was inspired, no doubt, and therefore we might expect him to speak the truth; but we have read of "an evil spirit from the Lord," and of "a lying spirit in the mouth of all the prophets," and we conclude that Pope must have been troubled by one or both of these.

We agree that the world may be considered as a stage; but we deny that honor is to be gained by performing well an inferior part. He who enacts a principal character, if he sus tain his part with dignity and propriety, may expect to be rewarded by the plaudits of the audience; but who will applaud the industrious and diligent exertions of the prompter, sceneshifter, or candle-snuffer? The actor who struts his hour in the character of Othello, Macbeth, or Richard the third, receives an honorary as well as a pecuniary recompense; but the call-boy and lamp-lighter, however perfect in their parts, can gain nothing but the stipulated hire. Should any thing go wrong through their mismanagement, they may be saluted by a hiss; but the thundering voice of applause never awakens their love of glory, or rewards the punctual discharge of their servile occupations.

So it is in life: an Alexander and a Ceasar, a Brutus and a Cato, a Trajan and an Antonine, perform their parts in the wide theatre of the world, in the sight of admiring nations, who are ever ready to raise the song of triumph and sing hosannas to the great. Who would not be a hero, when encouraged by the hopes of such a reward? Who would not press for ward in the race, when a crown of glory is in view? Who would not encounter death, for everlasting fame?

The obscure individual can have no such motives. He is compelled to tread the insanguined field, to mount the deadly breach, and

When five or six men are together, it is curious to observe the anxiety every one has to speak. No one wishes to hear: all he desires is an auditor. Rather than defer telling their respective stories, they frequently all speak at the same time.

Every one has a subject of his own that he wishes to introduce; therefore he is miserable until he has an opportunity to drag it in. One is desirous to discuss some religious subject; another would engage in a political disquisition. One would talk of the price of stocks; and another would expatiate on the merits of a favorite horse. The glass circulates, and the confusion becomes general.

The Tower of Babel would be an excellent sign for a modern tavern.

THE SAVAGE-NO. VII.
Happiness.

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Was it Plato who said that "the more we live for others, the more we live for ourselves?" Whether it were Plato or another, the sentiment appears to be founded on a critical acquaintance with human nature. Those emotions that carry us out of ourselves and interest us in the concerns of others are productive of infinitely higher degrees of happiness than any personal gratifications can possibly be. Those affections of the mind which are denominated benevolence and humanity may be considered as emanations of the divine nature. They make us forget, in a moment, all those paltry avocations that occupy our days with labor and our nights with thought. They sup. press the cold calculations of prudence, the gloomy forebodings of care, the aspiring me ditations of ambition, and the bewitching delu. sions of pleasure, They carry us away, above the clouds of mortality, to the third heaven of delight, where we experience pleasures not to be described, and joys too mighty for our na ture. We breathe the air of the celestial regions: the earth and all its evils, sickness, pain, sorrow, and death, are forgotten. The ecstasy is short: but, for a moment, we seem to have found what has been so long and so earnestly desired by men-happiness. We are, like Moses, in the "cleft of the rock"the glory of the Lord passes by; and we get a glimpse of its brightness. God of nature! remove thy hand, and let the vision destroy us!

Perfect happiness, if such a thing be de. signed for man, is reserved for a future state, when we shall be put in possession of the GREAT GOOD-when we shall forget ourselves in the contemplation of the Author of our existence; but that qualified imperfect kind of felicity, which we are permitted to taste, in this feverish state of existence, seems to con

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sist in the exercise of the benevolent affections: merable dangers. Why then should they and we are led to conclude with the author continue to delude, afflict, and destroy each above mentioned that "the more we live for other? others, the more we live for ourselves."

The earth is full of misery. We are weary travellers in a strange land. Our path is narrow, and we are grievously incommoded by the thorns and briers and thistles that obstruct our passage.

Thick darkness is behind us: we know not whence we came.

Heavy clouds hang over us: we are appalled by the voice of the thunder and terrified by the glare of the lightning.

We hear, on each side, the noise of mighty waters, the howling of wild beasts in the desert, and the rushing of the blast through the trees of the forest. Strange forms pass by us. The air is troubled with meteors: we cannot understand them. We are mocked with deceitful appearances. We drink; but our thirst is not allayed. We are hungry: a tree fair to the eyes' presents its tempting fruit: we seize it with greediness, and-chew bitter ashes. We are desirous of repose: a couch of roses is at hand; and we lie down among serpents. As we proceed, we meet an "angel of light" who holds out his hand to assist us. We rejoice: but ere we are

aware,

-black he stands as night, Fierce as ten furies, terrible as hell, And shakes a dreadful dart! We start back with horror: a malignant laugh is heard on the right hand and on the left, above and below. Spirits of darkness! what would ye?

Before us there is a tremendous precipice, to which we know of no bottom. We must make the dreadful leap: and we know not whither we go, Such is the situation of men. They are fellow travellers and fellow sufferers in this wilderness which we have attempted faintly to delineate. What can alleviate their distresses, or lessen their difficulties? What can serve as a balm for their wounds, or an opiate for their cares? The world has existed many thousands of years. One generation has passed away, and another has succeeded. They have all been in the search of happiness. What have they learned from the wisdom and experience of ages? We should suppose that by this time they would have discovered the delusive nature of pleasure, the vanity of riches, and the misery of ambition. We should have supposed that by this time they would have discovered that the more we forget ourselves and become interested for others, the more we promote our own felicity. They have the same common nature. Their hopes and their fears are the same. They must know that evils are lessened by sympathy; and that joy is height ened by sharing it with others. By mutual assistance they might smooth the rough path of life, surmount difficulties, and avert innuE

"If we should be told," says the abbe Barthe lemi," that two strangers, cast by chance on a desert island, had found in the society of each other a pleasure which indemnified them for being secluded from the rest of the world; if we should be told there exists a family entirely occupied in strengthening the ties of consanguinity by the bands of friendship; if we should be told that there exists, in some corner of the earth, a people who know no other law than that of loving each other, nor any other crime than that of being wanting in mutual affection; who would think of commiserating the lot of the two shipwrecked friends? who would not wish to appertain to that family? who would not wish to fly to the most distant clime to join that happy people?"

If we may be permitted to judge of mankind from our own feelings, we should instantly conclude that there is not one man in ten thousand, who would not desert, with joy ap. proaching to rapture, the pleasures and amusements of the world, and all the gay dreams of ambition, to appertain to such a family, or to become one of such a people. If this be the case, it proves that there is something divine in human nature which would point out the path that conducts to happiness. To what then are we to impute those artificial miseries, vices and follies, which distress and debase the children of men? Why should these creatures, whom God has endowed with a portion of the divine mind, which is sometimes known to elevate them above all sublunary cares, be miserable from generation to generation? We feel confident that we are right when we trace the cause to those barbarous institutions of civilized society which cramp, brutalize and distort the human mind. The farther men have strayed from the plain paths of nature, the more vicious and the more wretched have they become.

Nearly all the evils that afflict the sons of men flow from one source-WEALTH, or the appropriation of things to individuals and to societies. Take away this mother curse and all its cursed progeny, and the world would be, comparatively speaking, a paradise!

Modern philosophers talk much of the advantages and blessings which have flowed from commerce, from the fine arts, from the diffusion of knowledge. They carry their ideas forward to a time, when man will be refined, polished and enlightened into a kind of terres. trial God, who will have the powers of nature at his command.

One of these future sages is thus described by the philosophic author of the Columbiad; but we are apprehensive that there is more poetry in the passage than any thing else.

The sage with steadier lights directs his ken, Through twofold nature leads the walks of men, Remoulds her moral and material frames,

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