father, formerly the greatest miser in the city, as by such an event they should be reduced to the utmost indigence. They offered him the fee of sixty louis, but the doctor shook his head in doubtful compliance.

Scarcely had they retired, when a young widow, on the eve of matrimony, threw herself at the doctor's feet, and with sobs and sighs implored his mercy. In a word, from morning to night, the doctor received letters, visits, presents, fees, to an excess that absolutely overwhelmed him. The minds of the citizens were so variously and violently agitated, some by fear, others by curiosity, that the chief magistrate waited upon this wonderful physician, and thus addressed him:

"Sir, from my experience of your rare talents, I have not the least doubt of your ability to accomplish the resurrection in our church-yard, the day after to-morrow, according to your promise: but I pray you to observe, that our city is in the utmost confusion, the uproar is universal, and I entreat you to consider the dreadful revolution which the success of your experiment must produce in every family. I therefore farther entreat you not to attempt it, but to go away, and thus restore the tranquillity of the citizens. In justice, however, to your rare and divine talents, I shall give you an attestation, in due form, sanctioned by our great seal, that you can revive the dead, and that it was our own faults that we were not eye-witnesses of your power."

The certificate was sealed, signed, and delivered; and Doctor Montaccini went to work new miracles in some other city. In a short time, he made his appearance in Paris, loaded with gold, laughed at popular credulity, and spent immense sums in luxury and extravagance. A lady, who was a downright charlatan in love, assisted in reducing him to poverty; but by another provincial tour, he acquired another fortune.

SOCIAL ANIMALS.

DURING my abode in Paris, in my youth, there was a lady who, by perseverance and the force of instruction, had taught a dog, a cat, a sparrow, and a mouse, to live together like brothers and sisters. I do not pretend to say that they were cordial in their affections; but these four animals slept on the same bed, and ate out of the same plate. The dog, it is true, helped himself first, and

took the largest share; but he did not forget the cat, who also had the civility to leave some delicate bits for the mouse, as well as some crumbs of bread for the sparrow, which its comrades did not grudge it.

After the repast the dance commenced. The dog licked the cat, and the cat fleaed the dog. The mouse played with the paws of the cat, who was taught to draw in her nails, and let the mouse only feel the velvet of her feet. As for the sparrow, he flew about, and sometimes pecked one, and sometimes another, without having the smallest feather displaced. In short, there was so strict a union among the members of this fraternity, their habits were so much alike, and they had so much confidence in the good faith of each other, that there never was the least suspicion or ill conduct among them. It is impossible to say which was the most wonderful, the docility of the animals, or the industry of their mistress, who, with such talents for conciliating discordant inclinations, and opposite interests, would have cut an excellent figure at the Diet of Ratisbon.

MR. WHITFIELD'S ELOQUENCE.

Mr. WHITFIELD's eloquence was of a peculiar cast, and well adapted to his auditory, as his figures were drawn from sources within the reach of their understanding, and frequently from the circumstances of the moment. The application was often very happy, and sometimes rose to the true sublime; for he was a man of warm imagination, and not wholly devoid of taste. On his first visit to Scotland, he was received in Edinburgh with a kind of frantic joy by a large body of the citizens. An unhappy man, who had forfeited his life to the offended laws of his country, was to be executed the day after his arrival. Mr. Whitfield mingled with the throng, and seemed highly pleased with the solemnity and decorum with which the most awful scene in human nature was conducted. His appearance, however, drew the eyes of all around him, and raised a variety of opinions as to the motives which led him to join in the crowd. The next day, being Sunday, he preached to a large body of men, women, and children, in a field near the city. In the course of his sermon, he adverted to the execution which had taken place the preceding day. " I know," said he, "that many of VOL. IV. 21

you will find it difficult to reconcile my appearance yesterday with my character. Many of you, I know, will say, that my moments would have been better employed in praying with the unhappy man than in attending him to the fatal tree; and that, perhaps, curiosity was the only cause that converted me into a spectator on that occasion: but those who ascribe that uncharitable motive to me are under a mistake.-I witnessed the conduct of almost every one present on that awful occasion, and I was highly pleased therewith. It has given me a very favourable impression of the Scottish nation. Your sympathy was visible on your countenance, and reflected the greatest credit on your hearts; particularly when the moment arrived that your unhappy fellow creature was to close his eyes on this world forever, you all, as if moved by one impulse, turned your heads aside, and wept. Those tears were precious, and will be held in remembrance.-How different was this, when the Saviour of mankind was extended on the cross! The Jews, instead of sympathizing in his sorrows, triumphed in them. They reviled him with bitter expression, with words even more bitter than the gall and vinegar which they handed him to drink; not one of them all that witnessed his pains turned the head aside, even in the last pang. Yes, there was one-that glorious luminary (pointing to the sun,) veiled his bright face, and sailed on in tenfold night."

LINES WRITTEN IN Mrs. GRELAUD'S ACADEMY.

A gentleman of this city, going in September last to visit Mrs. Grelaud's academy, at Germantown, and finding himself alone, in consequence of the family having gone to the Wisahicken falls, took a pen he found on a desk in the school-room, and wrote the following lines, which he left behind him for the perusal of the young ladies on their return.

REFLECT! ye roseate, radiant, giddy fair,
Who daily sullen to this desk repair,
To various tasks reluctantly assign'd,
And term it cruel to be thus confin'd,
Reflect! what ties caressing parents break,
By duty forc'd the sacrifice to make;
Who mind nor cost, nor trouble, nor distress,
Bent to promote their daughters' happiness.
Reflect! how secret sorrow burst in sighs,
And glist'ning tear-drops trembled in their eyes,

When they were forc'd departing pangs to bear, And yield their darling to another's care. Struggling each sweet endearment they withstood, In resignation for your future good;

Your parents' fond solicitude repay,

Nor frown nor prattle precious time away.
Reflect! that learning will confer the pow'r
At will t'illuminate the gloomy hour.
Wisdom's a treasure of exhaustless joy,

Which thieves can't rob, and fortune can't destroy; 'Tis self-replenish'd as you daily use,

A gift from heaven, like the widow's cruise;*
'Tis a rich fountain, flowing without end,
In company a zest, in solitude a friend.
Reflect! how every acquisition here

Fits you for woman's most important sphere:
To scatter roses o'er the path of life,
And bless a husband with a virtuous wife.
Reflect! from you the infant mind in turn
Must goodness, knowledge, and affection learn;
Pleasure round social circles to create,
Perhaps by wisdom to uphold the state.

But why to distant prospects turn your eager eyes.
Why raise exertions by a selfish prize?
Sure 't were an ample stimulus to know
That you domestic happiness bestow:
For as each day you more and more improve,
You cause the transports of parental love.
Enchanting thought! languor is put to flight,
And each is emulous to give delight;
Noble emotions every task beguile,
Each bosom pants t'excite a parent's smile.
Cornelia, when requested to display
Her richest jewels, whil'd the time away
Until her children from the school repair,
Their mother's precepts and her kiss to share;
And then with exultation she replied,
“Behold my greatest ornaments and pride!"+
Oh! may your merits, thus inspir'd, impart
An equal triumph to a parent's heart.

* 1 Kings, x. 10.

† Ecce hæc mea ornamenta sunt.

LOGIC, OR THE ART OF REASONING.

LOGIC, or (as it may be called) the art of disputing sophistically, makes a considerable part of our academical education: yet Gassendus, who was a very great reasoner, has attempted to prove that it is, in truth, neither necessary nor useful. He thinks that reason, or innate force and energy of understanding, is sufficient of itself; that its own natural movements, without any discipline from art, are equal to the investigation and settling of truth; that it no more wants the assistance of logic, to conduct to this, than the eye wants a lanthorn to enable it to see the sun; and however he might admit as curious, he would doubtless reject as useless, all such productions as Quillet's Callipædia, Thevenot on the Art of Swimming, or Borelli de Motu Animalium; upon the firmest persuasion that the innate force and energy of nature, when instinct honestly does her best, is sure to attain those several objects, without any didactic rules or precepts.

If logic, therefore, be not necessary, it is probably of no great use; and it has been deemed not only an impertinent but a pernicious science." Logic," says lord Bacon, "is usually taught too early in life. That minds, raw and unfurnished with matter, should begin their cultivation from such a science, is just like learning to weigh or measure the wind. Hence, what in young men should be manly reasoning, often degenerates into ridiculous affectation and childish sophistry. Certainly where materials are wanting, the dispute must run altogether upon words; and the whole will be conducted with the slight and legerdemain of sophistry." We have a pleasant instance upon record of this school errantry-this trick of seeming to prove something, when in reality you prove nothing. A countryman, for the entertainment of his son when returned from the university, ordered six eggs to be boiled: two for him, two for his mother, and two for himself:— but the son, itching to give a specimen of his newly acquired science, boiled only three. To the father, asking the reason of this, "why," says the son," there are six." "How so?" says the father, "I can make but three.". "No!" replies the young sophister, "is not here one? (counting them out) is not there two? and is not there three? and do not one, two and three make six?"—" Well, then," says the father, " I'll take two, your mother shall have one, and you shall have the other three!"