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affection for them; and though I think it no shame to own I have a wonderful delight in my nephew, whom I have, in a manner, brought up, I should be very absurd to expect other people should take more pleasure in my nephew, than I do in their nephews: nor do I think the conversation of mixed society very good for children. Things are often thrown out in a careless imperfect manner, so as to be very dangerous to young minds as indigested food fills the body, indigested opinions do the mind, with crudities and flatulencies; and perhaps there is not any place where a young person could be in more danger of being hurt by society than at Paris. Till I had conversed so intimately with the French,I did not imagine they were so different from us in their opinions, sentiments, manners, and modes of life as I find them. In every thing they seem to think perfection and excellence to be that, which is at the greatest distance from simplicity. I verily believe, that if they had the ambrosia of the gods served at their table, they would perfume it, and they would make a ragout sauce to nectar : we know very well they would put rouge on the cheek of Hebe. If an orator here delivers a very highly adorned period he is clapt at the academy where some verses were read, which were a translation of Homer, the more the translator deviated from the simplicity of Homer, the more loud the applause at their tragedies an extravagant verse of the poets and an outrageous action of the actor is clapped. The Corinthian architecture is too plain, and they add ornaments of fancy. The fine Grecian forms of vases and tripods they say are triste, and therefore they adorn them. It would be ve

ry dangerous to inspire young persons with this contempt of simplicity, before experience taught choice or discretion. The business of the toilette is here brought to an art and a science. Whatever is supposed to add to the charm of society and conversation is cultivated with the utmost attention. That mode of life is thought most eligible, that does not leave one moment vacant from amusement : That style of writing or conversation the best, that is always the most brilliant. This kind of high colouring gives a splendour to every thing which is pleasing to a stranger, who considers every object that presents itself as a sight and as a spectacle; but I think would grow painful if perpetual. I do not mean to say, that there are not some persons and some authors, who, in their conversation and writings, have a noble simplicity; but in general there is too little of it. This taste of decoration makes every thing pretty, but leaves nothing great. I like my present way of life so well, I should be glad to stay here two months longer; but to avoid the danger of a winter sea and land journey I shall return, as I intended, the first week in October.

I had a very agreeable French lady to dine with me to-day, and am to dine with her at Versailles` on Sunday. As she is a woman of the bed-chamber to the Queen, she was obliged (being now in waiting) to ask leave to come to me; the queen, with her leave, said something very gracious concerning the character of your humble servant. The French say so many civil things from the highest of them to the lowest, I am glad I did not come to Paris when I was young enough to have my head turned.

We are going to sup with a most charming Marquise de Dufants, who, being blind and upwards of four score, is polite and gay, and I suppose we shall stay till after midnight with her. I hope to contrive to get a peep at you in my journey through Kent. Miss G desires her best compliments. I have sent you a copy of Voltaire's saucy letter on a translator of Shakspeare's appearing at Paris: he was very wrath. Mr. Le Tourneur, whom he abuses, is a very modest ingen

ious man. Voltaire is vexed that the French will see how he has of ten stolen from Shakspeare. I could have sent you some very pretty verses that were made on your humble servant and Miss G; but I think satire is always more poignant than praise, and the verses on us were high panegyrick.

I am, Dear Madam,

Your affectionate Sister and
Friend,

and faithful humble Servant,
E. MONTAGU.

For the Anthology.
OBITUARY.

In the decease of the aged we see nothing peculiarly alarming. It awakens indeed a sentiment of melancholy, and induces a train of serious meditations. We deplore the vanity of our nature at its best estate, and the rapidity with which its glory declines, though shining to the age of fourscore years. When idleness, dulness, and ignorance are carried to the place where there is no work, device, nor knowledge, we submit without a sigh. Or when ambition and vice, those scourges and scorpions of the earth, are palsied by the coldness of death, we exult in the decrees of a righteous God. But resignation to the will of heaven is mixed with far different sensations, when youth, and beauty, and talents, and virtue are consigned to the tomb. It is, therefore, with no common regrets, that we here record the death of WINTHROP SARGENT,A.B. which happened on the 11. inst. in the 25th year of his age. He had those advantages of person and education, which were suited to attract the notice and conciliate the kindness of the

world. He was young, and he had all the ardour,enterprize, and hope, which the young naturally possess. He had wit, which made him terrible to dunces; but as it was seldom barbed with the severity of ridicule, and as it never was indiscriminately hurled, it endeared him to the lovers of humour. He had fancy and taste, of which his poem, entitled Boston,' is no unfavourable specimen : it was published in 1803, when he left the University, and has received the commendation of respectable criticks. He had learning; and his habits of diligence promised richly to increase his stock. He had travelled, not to partake of the corruptions of foreign countries, or imitate their follies, but to improve the health as well of his mind, as of his body, and to render himself a more enlightened and useful being in his native community. He had morals, without which the strongest intellects and the most splendid acquisitions, instead of diffusing light and comfort around them, cause nothing but darkness and distress. He had benevolence,

and, it was in an overplied exertion of generous sympathy that he laid the foundation of that disease, which long wasted and finally consumed him. He was, lastly, happy in the midst of affluent friends, and on the eve of an union with whatever can impart a charm to prosperity and consolation in sorrow.

In penning this tribute to the worth of an amiable young man, and in expressing the various grief which his loss occasions, we are impelled by something more than motives of ordinary justice. For nearly two years past, the deceased was an associate in the literary toil of maintaining this publication. Previously, indeed, to this period, he had not unfrequently contributed to its support; and his sprightly and elegant aids were the more valuable, as they were always undertaken without apology, and furnished without delay.

We bid him adieu with a mix

ture of tranquil and painful reflections. We reflect with gratitude that he lived not in vain; that he gave somewhat to the illumination of the publick and the refinement of his age, more to the emulation and improvement of his coevals, and most of all to the joy and satisfaction of those, with whom he was connected by bands of consanguinity and love." But the scholar laments, that such a portion of mind, in such a friend of the Muses, is thus early extinguished. Fraternal affection has received a wound, not easily to be staunched. A parent mourns the loss of much filial tenderness, and a thousand blasted expectations. And more afflicted than these is the widowed heart, which, with unutterable anguish, though with pious submission, remonstrates to its Maker, 'Lover and friend hast thou put far from me, and mine acquaintance into darkness.'

POETRY.

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Whose nest had been taken out of the author's garden, where it had been accustomed to build. SPARE thy reproach, thou more than tongue,

That little, lively eye!

It was not I that stole thy young;
Indeed it was not I.

With pleasure equal to thine own,
I've watch'd thy tender brood;
And mark'd how fondly thou hast flown
To bear them daily food.

Nor e'en than thine with less delight,
I look'd and long'd to see
The first attempts of infant flight,
With patience taught by thee.
And now that restless thou dost rove,
And with sad note repine,
Think not, lorn mourner, that I prove
A pang less keen than thine.
Ah, base were he, whose hand could
Fair hospitality,
[stain
With act so foul as thus to pain
An harmless guest like thee.

Pursue me not from spray to spray :
How shall I teach my tongue
Some sound that may to thee convey,
I did not do thee wrong?
Oh, that I knew, sweet innocent,
The language of thy kind;
Or could some lucid sign invent,
Fitting thy feeble mind!

This spot indignant do not quit :
Thy confidence replace;
And here with generous trust commit,
Once more, thy tender race.

For here thy young have oft before

Securely spread the wing;

Oh grant my shades one trial more,
Here pass one other spring.
Meanwhile this comfort I will take,
Not long thy woes shall last:
All hearts but man's soon cease to ache:
Thy griefs shall soon be past

For him, whose hand hath broke thy rest,

Be this his curse through life; A mind, by the mild muse unblest, Base care and vulgar strife.

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Librum tuum legi & quam diligentissime potur annotavi, quæ commutanda, quæ eximenda, arbitrarer. Nam ego dicere verum assuevi. Neque ulli patientius reprehenduntur, quam qui maxime laudari merentur.

PLIN.

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THE HE close of one year, and commencement of another should remind us of all omissions and delinquencies, as well in fulfilling our dues, as in performing our duties. The enforcing of those moral obligations, which the season suggests to us, as immortals, or of those pecuniary adjustments, which it recommends to us in the relative concerns of business, belong not to this department of our miscellany. As reviewers we may just remark, that it was our purpose to have terminated the last volume of our labours with clearing off all arrearages, to have balanced all accounts current, and to have commenced a new scries of articles, with a new ledger. This we now effect with the society, whose publication is under review. In the progress of our four years' business, we have disposed of eight parts of their consignment, in some good measure to the approbation of our own consciences for integrity, however we may have dissatisfied them, for a want of punctuality, or a too moderate estimate of their commodities. We can only add, that

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The first article of the Collections, now under review, is a continuation of the Ecclesiastical history of Massachusetts.' This most interesting subject is here pursued with great candour, with much deep attention to facts and principles, and the inferences are just and useful. The manner has an originality, peculiarly apposite to the narrative of such times, and the biography of such men. Many passages are interspersed of truly classick elegance. A more methodical arrangement, and a stricter attention to chronological order, would help the memory, and make it more convenient for a book of reference. A copious index will remedy the inconvenience, if any arise to readers in general, from a too desultory collocation. The period, embraced in this section of our ecclesiastical history, may be stated as about twenty years, say from 1629 to 1648 or 50. Within this space were included the settlement of churches at Dorchester, Boston, Charlestown, Newtown, Salem, Watertown, Glouces

ter, and Woburn; the famous controversies with Roger Williams and Mrs. Hutchinson; and the two first synods. These, together with incidental difficulties and occurrences, form the ground-work of this paper; and the curious inquirer will find in most of them, satisfactory information, and on all, the best and completest which can be obtained, from any one publication. A few extracts will at once afford a sample of the enter tainment to be found here, and we doubt not excite an eager desire and quick relish for a full repast.

The fathers of Massachusetts, Winthrop, Dudley, Johnson, and others, who came over in the Arabella, will not be denominated very rigid puritans by those, who read their address upon leaving their native country. In this they show their affection and esteem for the Church of England. We must suppose they were upright; and that they did not contemplate making such a separation, as took place when they reached these shores, and joined their brethren, who had been laying out the settlement. The words of their letter evidently mark their resolution never more to be under the galling yoke of Episcopacy; still they had a great respect for the doctrines of the church, nor did they make particular exceptions to their manner of worship.' p. 10.

'Our fathers were the offspring of the old non-conformists, such as did not deny the Church of England to be the true church; but that they retained the essentials of faith and order; yet they could not content themselves to live under the wing of the Episcopal government. When they came to America they only complained of the ceremonies; but very soon after they cherished prejudices against the discipline and government thereof; and attempted to form churches according to their ideas of the primitive method, or the pattern described in the word of God, and practised by the apostles, evangelists, pastors, and teachers, mentioned in the sacred history. Their intentions were good, though they might be mistaken in some points. "We of the congrega

tion kept a fast,* (says governour Winthrop,) and chose Mr. Wilson teacher, Mr. Nowel elder, Mr. Gager and Mr. Aspinwall deacons. We used imposition of hands, but with this protestation by all, that it was only as a sign of election and confirmation, not of any intent that Mr. Wilson should renounce his ministry he received in England." Mr. Neal of London, who is another

of our historians, says, that Mr. White preached the sermon at Mr. Wilson's ordination; that Mr. Wilson was then chosen pastor, who, though ordained minister of the church of England, submitted to a re-ordination by the imposition of hands, such as the church invited to pray for a blessing on his labours.'

p.12.

The church of Charlestown divided the latter part of this year, and a part settled Shawmut. Particularly Mr. Isaac Johnson, who built a house on a spot, which is now considered as a most eligible situation, and then was called Tremontaine, from three hills approxi mating each other. It retains the name of Tremont-street, and is an elevation which commands very beautiful surrounding prospects. Mr. Johnson was the husband of the lady Arabella, who died at Salem, and was doubtless one of the most amiable of women. He was a very popular character, of a generous, noble spirit, much interested in the settlement of the country, and, on his death-bed, rejoiced that his eyes had seen the promised land. He was buried in the ground, since called the Chapel burial-place; and as others died, they desired their bodies might be laid near him. It is naturai to wish that the kindred dust may mingle, though many think it a weakness, who are very rational and cold in their conceptions; but it is something like a sentiment of the heart, and must certainly influence where there is a glow of the social affections.' p. 19.

Many of the present generation with justice smile at the absurd account of Mrs. Hutchinson, related in Winthrop's Journal; but the report at the time obtained general credit. It came from a distance, and there were none to contradict it. The prodigies and strange events, mentioned by ancient historians of the first name, do not des

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