not proceeded above twenty paces, when the supposed statue of the giant prefented itfelf to our view. We quickly perceived, that what the ignorant natives had been terrified at as a giant, was nothing more than a sparry concretion, formed by the water dropping from the roof of the cave and by degrees hardening into a figure, which their fears had formed into a monster. Incited by this extraordinary appearance, we were induced to proceed ftill further, in queft of new adventures in this fubterranean abode. As we proceeded, new wonders offered themselves; the fpars, formed into trees and fhrubs, prefented a kind of petrified grove; fome white, some green; and all receding in due perspective. They ftruck us with the more amazement, as we knew them to be mere productions of nature, who, hitherto in folitude, had, in her playful moments, dreffed the fcene, as if for her own amufement." "We had as yet feen but a few of the wonders of the place; and we were introduced only into the portico of this amazing temple. In one corner of this half illuminated recefs, there appeared an opening of about three feet wide, which feemed to lead to a place totally dark, and which one of the natives affured us contained nothing more than a refervoir of water. Upon this information, we made an experiment, by throwing down fome ftones, which rumbling along the fides of the defceht for fome time, the found feemed at last quafhed in a bed of water. In order, however, to be more certain, we sent in a Levantine mariner, who, by the promise of a good reward, ventured, with a flambeau in his hand into this narrow aperture. After continuing within it for about a quarter of an hour, he returned, bearing in his hand, fome beautiful pieces of white fpar, which art could neither equal nor imitate. Upon being informed by him that the place was full of these beautiful incrustations, I ventured in once more with him, about fifty paces, anxiously and cautiously descending, by a fteep and dangerous way. Finding however, that we came to a precipice which led into a fpacious amphitheatre, (if I may fo call it,) ftill deeper than any other part, we returned, and being provided with a ladder, flambeau, and other things to expedite our descent, our whole company, man by man, ventured into the fame open g; and defcending one after another, we at laft faw ourfelves all together in the most magnificent part of the cavern." SECTION IV. The Grotto of Antiparos, continued. "OUR candles being now all lighted up, and the whole place completely illuminated, never could the eye be prefented with a more glittering, or more magnificent fcene. The whole roof hung with folid ificles, tranfparent as glafs, yet folid as marble. The eye could fcarcely reach the lofty and noble ceiling; the fides were regularly formed with fpars; and the whole prefented the idea of a magnificent theatre, illuminated with an immenfe profufion of lights. The floor confifted of folid marble: and, in feveral places, magnificent columns, thrones, altars, and other objects, appeared, as if nature had defigned to mock the curiofities of art. Our voices, upon fpeaking or finging, were redoubled to an astonifhing loudness; and upon the firing of a gun, the noise and reverberations were almoft deafening. In the midft of this grand amphitheatre rofe a concretion of about fifteen feet high, that, in fome measure, refembled an altar; from which, taking the hint, we caufed mafs to be celebrated there. The beautiful columns that shot up round the altar, appeared like candlesticks; and many other natural objects represented the cuftomary ornaments of the rite." "Below even this fpacious grotto there feemed another cavern; down which I ventured with my former mariner, and descended about fifty paces by means of a rope. I at laft arrived at a small spot of level ground, where the bottom appeared different from that of the amphitheatre, being compofed of foft clay, yielding to the preffure, and in which I thrust a stick to the depth of fix feet. In this, however, as above, numbers of the beautiful crystals were found; one of which, particularly resembled a table. Upon our egrefs from this amazing cavern, we perceived a Greek infcription upon a rock at the mouth, but fo obliterated by time, that we could not read it distinctly. It seemed to import that one Antipater, in the time of Alexander, had come hither; but whether he penetrated into the depths of the cavern, he does not think fit to inform us." This account of fo beautiful and ftriking a scene, may ferve to give us fome idea of the fubterraneous wonders of nature. SECTION V. Earthquake at Catanea. GOLDSMITH. ONE of the earthquakes most particularly described in history, is that which happened in the year 1693; the damages of which were chiefly felt in Sicily, but its motion was perceived in Germany, France, and England. It extended to a circumference of two thousand fix hundred leagues; chiefly affecting the fea coafts, and great rivers; more perceivable alfo upon the mountains than in the vallies. Its motions were fo rapid, that persons who lay at their length, were toffed from fide to fide, as upon a rolling billow. The walls were dashed from their foundations; and no fewer than fifty four cities, with an incredible number of villages, were either destroyed or greatly damaged. The city of Catanea, in particular, was utterly overthrown. A traveller, who was on his way thither, perceived, at the diftance of fome miles, a black cloud, like night hanging over the place. The fea, all of a sudden began to roar; Mount Etna to fend forth great fpires of flame; and foon after à fhock enfued, with a noise as if all the artillery in the world had been at once discharged. Our traveller, being obliged to alight inftantly, felt himself raised a foot from the ground; and turning his eyes to the city, he with amazement faw nothing but a thick cloud of duft in the air. The birds flew about aftonished; the fun was darkened; the beasts ran howling from the hills; and although the shock did not continue above three minutes, yet near nineteen thousand of the inhabitants of Sicily perished in the ruins. Catanea, to which city the defcriber was travelling, feemed the principal scene of ruin; its place only was to be found; and not a footstep of its former magnificence was to be feen remaining. GOLDSMITH. SECTION VI. IN the progrefs of the Divine works and government, there arrived a period, in which the earth was to be called into exiftence. When the fignal moment, predeftined from all eternity, was come, the Deity arofe in his might; and with a word created the world. What an illuftrious moment was that, when from nonexistence, there sprang at once into being, this mighty globe, on which fo many millions of creatures now dwell! No preparatory measures were required. No long circuit of means was employed. "He fpake; and it was done he commanded; and it ftood fast. The earth : was at firft without form, and void; and darkness was on the face of the deep." The almighty furveyed the dark abyfs; and fixed bounds to the feveral divifions of nature. He faid "let there be light; and there was light. Then appeared the fea, and the dry land. The mountains rofe; and the rivers flowed. The fun and moon began their course in the skies. Herbs and plants clothed the ground. The air, the earth, and the waters, were ftored with their respective inhabitants. At laft, man was made after the image of God. He appeared, walking with countenance erect; and received his Creator's benediction, as the lord of this new world. The Almighty beheld his work when it was finished; and pronounced it Goop. Superior beings faw with wonder this new acceffion to existence. "The morning ftars fang together; and all the fons of God fhouted for joy." SECTION VII. On Charity. BLAIR. CHARITY is the fame with benevolence or love; and is the term uniformly employed in the New Teftament, to denote all the good affections which we ought to bear towards one another. It confifts not in fpeculative ideas of general benevolence, floating in the head, and leaving the heart, as fpeculations too often do, untouched and cold. Neither is it confined to that indolent good nature, which makes us reft satisfied with being free from inveterate malice, or ill will to our fellow creatures, without prompting us to be of fervice to any. True charity is an active principle. It is not properly a fingle virtue; but a difpofition refiding in the heart, as a fountain whence all the virtues of benignity, candour, forbearance, generofity, compaffion, and liberality, flow, as fo many native ftreams. From general good will to all, it extends its influence particularly to those with whom we ftand in nearest connection, and who are directly within the sphere of our good offices. From the country or community to which we belong, it defcends to the fmaller affociations of neighbourhood, relations, and friends; and spreads itfelf over the whole circle of focial and domeftic life. I mean not that it imports a promifcuous undiftinguishing affection, which gives every man an equal title to our love. Charity, if we thould endeavour to carry it fo far, would be rendered an impracticable virtue; and would refolve itfelf into mere words, without affecting the heart. True charity attempts not to fhut our eyes to the distinction between good and bad men; nor to warm our hearts equally to thofe who befriend, and thofe who injure us. It referves our esteem for good men, and our complacency for our friends. Towards our enemies it infpires forgivenefs, humanity, and a folicitude for their welfare. It breaths univerfal candour, and liberality of fentiment. It forms gentleness of temper, and dictates affability of manners. It prompts correfponding fympathies with them who rejoice, and them who weep. It teaches us to flight and despise no man. Charity is the comforter of the afflicted, the protector of the oppreffed, the reconciler of differences, the interceffor for offenders. It is faithfulness in the friend, public fpirit in the magiftrate, equity and patience in the judge, moderation in the fovereign, and loyalty in the fubject. In parents, it is care and attention; in children, it is reverence and fubmiffion. In a word, it is the foul of focial life. It is the fun that enlivens and cheers the abodes of men It is "like the dew of Hermon," fays the Pfalmift," and the dew that defcendeth on the mountains of Zion, where the Lord commandeth the bleffing, even life for evermore.” SECTION VIII. Prosperity is redoubled to a good Man. BLAIR. NONE but the temperate, the regular, and the virtuous, know how to enjoy profperity. They bring to its comforts the manly relifh of a found uncorrupted mind. They ftop at the proper point, before enjoyment degenerates into difguft, and pleasure is converted into pain. They are strangI |