self, and endeavors to prove, that it is a mere ens rationis, and has no existence out of the mind. It is impossible to investigate matter, without associating it with mind. Effects cannot be observed, without an attempt to soar to their causes. And here, let us bow in solemn adoration to the Great First Cause-the Creator of the universe, whose being and perfections we trace in the minutest, as in the most stupendous of his works. Who, with his parental and providential eye, regards the meanest, as well as the most sublime of his productions. Who sees with equal eye, as Lord of all, Atoms or systems into ruin hurl'd, And now, a bubble burst-and now, a world. It is the greatest disgrace of pride, that its objects are base and unworthy-its aims are low and trifling-its views are limited by mortality, and their scope is confined to the perishable globe we inhabit. Let the atheist enjoy the sordid and transient gratifications of time, and be content with it ;— deeming eternity the dream of enthusiasm, or the chimera of superstition. Let him debase his lineage by attributing his creation to chance, and indulge the hope of endless slumbers in the grave-The reputation of having conquered the prejudices of childhood, of triumphing over the impressions of the nursery, and breaking the leading-strings of priest craft,this is the gaudy bubble which delights the modern sciolist, and which he for a while esteems an ample compensation for the loss of principle, religion and common sense. But the Christian Philosopher's desires and pretensions are raised toward a source and ancestry worthy of his nature and faculties. He reads the page of scripture and nature with hope, delight, and confidence. He feels himself in his present state of existence as separated from the Divine Parent, to whom he will ultimately return, and, eager to become a happy immortal, he regulates his conduct, governs his passions, and purifies his affections in the manner best calculated to secure the possession of his glorious object. In the steady prosecution of his 1 He per design, he becomes a blessing to his fellow men. forms all his social duties with scrupulous punctuality. He endeavors to imitate the perfections of the greatest and best of Beings, and to diffuse happiness and peace as far as his influence extends. In tracing his Maker through every part of the visible creation, he finds his faith strengthened, his intellects enlarged, and his best hopes invigorated. He is in a continual progress toward the attainment of that knowledge, which constitutes the unalloyed felicity of a superior order of beings. He trusts implicitly in the wisdom of his Creator, and says, to the discontented and ignorant reviler of Providence Cease, then, nor order imperfection name, Our proper bliss depends on what we blame ; Secure to be as blest as thou canst bear ; Or in the natal, or the mortal hour. All nature is but art unknown to thee; All chance, direction which thou canst not see; All discord, harmony not understood; All partial evil-universal good. And spite of pride-in erring reason's spite, HIEROGLYPHICS. THIS kind of learning, says the learned Stillingfleet, deserves the highest form among the difficiles nuga, and all these hieroglyphics put together, will make but one good one, and that should be for LABOR LOST. FOR THE POLYANTHOS. THE MORAL CENSOR....No. II. "Jam vicina toro plenis adoleverat annis Virginitatis; tenerum jam pronuba flamma pudorem "Solicitat: mistaque tremit formidine votum." The maid, now past an infant, seeks the flames Of sprightly love; and innocently claims. CLAUD. ANON. ters. I SHALL in this paper lay before my readers two letters, lately received from correspondents of very opposite charac The reality of the existence of the writers, cannot well be doubted by any one tolerably acquainted with the hearts and head of young and old virgins. I shall not trouble my friends with any further observations, or attempts to prove that I did not write the letters. Who did write them is another question. MR. CENSOR, one. I am a young lady just turned of fourteen. My mother has promised me a husband, for a new year's gift, ever since I can remember-but on every successive anniversary, I have been disappointed. I fully expected to have been provided with the desire of my heart, on the first day of the last infant year ;-but, alas! I am put off until the next babyhood of time. I think this is hard, for I am fit to be a wife to any I can suit the young, the old, the grave, the gay ;—can languish and sigh, be spirited and lively, can sooth or scold, as occasion may require. My mother brought me up under her own eye, and taught me the duty of a wife when "I slipped my leading strings; " and, I flatter myself, my improvement reflects credit on my able instructer. But, as yet, she thinks herself too young to be a grandmother, and therefore, lest I should deprive her of any of her sweethearts, she keeps me confined to my room, while she flirts with the gentlemen in the parlor. I am not allowed to shew myself in the theatre or ball room, the very market places of beauty. I used to be indulged with an airing in the mall twice in a week; but since the militia perform their manœuvres there, and the fashionables of the metropolis are attracted to that spot by the brilliance of martial parade, and the charms of music, my mother engrosses the family gallants, and I am forced to become a desponding recluse, in spite of all my petitions and remonstrances. As I have not yet been deprived of the use of pen, ink, and paper, I have addressed these lines to you, in the hope that by being made public, some heroic young man may be induced to release me from my state of pining and thraldom. Ladies, in the time of the Spectator, used thus to vent their complaints, and solicit relief. If any should apply for my name, place of abode, &c. you can give me a hint in the Polyanthos. I will reward the spirit of the amiable Quixote, with my unbounded love, and eternal gratitude. Heigh ho! for a husband— Be he young-or be he old, Rich or poor-or short or tall ; Your's, A distressed damsel, N. B. I can dearn stockings, make mince pies, and pickle mangoes, peppers and cucumbers. My mother always superintended my education, and I learned to play and dance at home. This may be a recommendation to some queer cynics, though I don't see the reason why it should be so. "Love is merely a madness, and I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do." SHAKSPEARE. MR. CENSOR, In this fashionable world of vanity and vexation, the querulousness and garrulity of antiquated females are much more despised than respected. I am myself an ancient virgin, turned of fifty, and it has been my misfortune the last few years of my life, from prejudices equally strong and unjustifiable, to be neglected by the men, and regarded by the women with an eye of quizzing commiseration. I have a right to be heard! An ancient virgin has claims upon public justice, though perhaps not upon public gratitude. It is true I never added to the richness and dignity of the state by increasing population! It is also true that I never soothed the pillow of an expiring husband! But, with vestal purity and religious zeal, I have contributed to take away the preponderance of evil, and have, amidst scoffs and persecution, regularly performed the charitable duties of life. To the lower animals, dogs and cats, I have shewn unexampled marks of affection. The guinea-pig, now grunting about my chamber, is a particular object of my tender care; and that monkey, grinning in the corner, can bear ample witness to the ardor of my attachment. But why am I an old maid? And being an old maid, why am I to be despised? Know, Mr. Censor, I have rejected fifty noble offers in my time! but I then studied philosophy! I then sought for intellectual pre-eminence! At that time nothing could divert me from astronomy, logic and metaphysics! It is too late to think differently now! I am now an ancient virgin, and it is said, nothing can ever do away the odium attached to that unfortunate character. Yet, a life of celibacy has many advantages and many comforts unknown to the conjugal state. The chief advantage, liberty! had I been married to a sullen, speculative, jealous man, I should have been miserable! Had I married a drunken husband, I could have enjoyed no happiness. Had I been united to an old crazy grey-headed sinner, how could I have ever been comfortable? In the common run of husbands, it was a thousand to one against my getting one to my mind, and to be fastened till death, to a mortal of opposite habits, feelings and propensities, is worse, infinitely worse, than being the most wretched old maid in christendom! I am determined, in spite of the rebel feelings of my heart, to continue unmarried. No man, with seducing wiles and insinuating flatteries, shall move that determination. Though the roses yet bloom on my cheeks, and the fire of intelligence still sparkles in my eyes; though in form and feature I still have the power to charm; no man, |