affected distance, to make our friends feel their inferiority. I confider men like coins, which, becaufe stamped with men's heads, pafs for more than they are worth. And when the world is willing to treat a man better than he deferves, there is a meanness in endeavoring to extort more from them.

Tru.. But fhall a man fpeak without thinking? Did you ever read the old proverb, "Think twice, before you speak once?"

Steph. Yes, and a vile one it is. If a man fpeak from the impulfe of the moment, he'll speak the meaning of his heart; and will probably speak the truth. But if he mind your musty proverb, there will be more pros and cons in his head, more hams and haws in his delivery, than there are letters in his fentences. To your fly, fubtle, thinking fellows, we owe all the lies, cheating, hypocrify, and double dealing there is in the world.

Tru. But you know that every fubject has its fides; and we ought to examine, reflect, analyze, fift, confider, and determine, before we have a right to fpeak; for the world are entitled to the beft of our thoughts. What would you think of a tradefman, who should send home your coat, boots, or hat, half finished? You might think him a very honeft-hearted fellow; but you'd never employ him again.

Steph. Now, was there any need of bringing in tailors, cobblers, and hatters, to help you out? They have nothing to do with this fubject.

Tru. You don't understand me. I fay, if you would never employ fuch workmen a fecond time, why fhould you juftify a man for turning out his thoughts half finished? The mind labours as actually in thinking upon and maturing a fubject, as the body does in the field, or on the fhop-board. And, if the farmer knows when his grain is ready for the fickle, and the mechanic, when his work is ready for his cuftomer, the man, who is used to thinking knows when he is master of his

fubject, and the proper time to communicate his thoughts with eafe to himself and advantage to others.

Steph. All this is escaping the fubject. None of your figures, when the very original is before you. You talk about a man's mind, just as if it were a piece of ground, capable of bearing flax and hemp. You have fairly brought forward a fhop-board, and mounted your tailor upon it! Now I have no notion of any cross-legged work in my inner man. In fact, I don't understand all this procefs of thinking. My knowledge upon all fubjects is very near the root of my tongue, and I feel great relief, when it gets near the tip.

Tru. Depend on it, that thousands have loft fame and even life by too great freedom of fpeech. Treafons, murders, and robberies, have been generally dif covered by the imprudent boasting of the perpetrators.

Steph. Depend on it, that our world has fuffered far more by filent, than by prattling knaves. Suppose every man were to fpeak all his thoughts, relate all his actions, declare all his purposes, would the world be in danger of crimes? No; be affured, that magiftrates, bailiffs, thief-takers, prifons, halters, and gallows, all owe their dignity to the contrivance of your fly, plodding mutes..

Tru. You have let off from the tip of your tongue a picked company of dignified fubftantives; but take notice that my doctrine does not extend to the midnight filence of robbers; but to a due caution and referve in conveying our thoughts to the world. And this I hope ever to obferve. And if you determine on a different course, rest affured, that the confequences will not be very pleasant.

[Exit.

Steph. Confequences! That's counting chickens before they are hatched. Dignity of human nature! Pretty words! juft fit to be ranked. with the honor of thieves, and the courage of modern duellifts.

S1

AMERICAN SAGES.

EE on yon dark'ning height bold Franklin tread,
Heav'ns awful thunders rolling o'er his head;
Convolving clouds the billowy skies deform,
And forky flames emblaze the black'ning storm.
See the defcending streams around him burn,
Glance on his rod, and with his guidance turn;
He bids conflicting heav'ns their blafts expire,
Curbs the fierce blaze, and holds th' imprifon'd fire.
No more, when folding ftorms the vault o'erfpread,
The livid glare shall strike thy face with dread;
Nor tow'rs nor temples, fhudd'ring with the found,
Sink in the flames, and fpread deftruction round.
His daring toils, the threat'ning blasts that wait,
Shall teach mankind to ward the bolts of fate;
The pointed fteel, o'ertop th' afcending spire,
And lead o'er trembling walls the harmless fire;
In his glad fame while diftant worlds rejoice,
Far as the lightnings fhine, or thunders raise their voice.
See the fage Rittenhoufe, with ardent eye,
Lift the long tube and pierce the starry sky:
Clear in his view the circling fyftems roll,
And broader fplendors gild the central pole.
He marks what laws th' eccentric wand'rers bind,
Copies creation in his forming mind,

And bids, beneath his hand, in femblance rife,
With mimic orbs, the labours of the skies.
There wond'ring crowds, with raptur'd eye behold
The fpangled heav'ns their myftic maze unfold;
While each glad fage his fplendid hall fhall grace,
With all the fpheres that cleave th' etherial space.
To guide the failor in his wand'ring way,
See Godfrey's toils reverfe the beams of day.
His lifted quadrant to the eye difplays
From adverfe fkies the counteracting rays:
And marks, as devious fails bewilder'd roll,
Each nice gradation from the ftedfaft pole.

EXTRACT FROM MR. PITT'S SPEECH, Nov. 18, 1777, ON AMERICAN AFFAIRS.

I

RISE, my lords, to declare my fentiments on this most folemn aid ferious fubject. It has impofed a load upon my mind, which, I fear, nothing can remove; but which impels me to endeavor its alleviation, by a free and unreserved communication of my fentiments. In the first part of the address, I have the honor of heartily concurring with the noble Earl who moved it. No man feels fincerer joy than I do; none can offer more genuine congratulation on every acceffion of ftrength to the Proteftant fucceffion: I therefore join in every congratulation on the birth of another princess, and the happy recovery of her Majesty.

But I must stop here; my courtly complaifance will carry me no farther. I will not join in congratulation on misfortune and difgrace. I cannot concur in a blind and fervile address, which approves, and endeavours to fanctify, the monitrous meafures that have heaped difgrace and misfortune upon us; that have brought ruin to our doors. This, my lords, is a perilous and tremendous moment! It is not a time for adulation. The smoothness of flattery cannot now avail; cannot fave us in this rugged and awful crifis. It is now neceffary to inftruct the throne in the language of truth. We muft difpel the delufion and the darkness which envelope it; and display, in its full danger and true colours, the ruin that it has brought to our doors.

And who is the minifter; where is the minifter, who has dared to fuggeft to the throne the contrary, unconftitutional language, this day delivered from it? The accustomed language from the throne has been application to Parliament for advice, and a reliance on its conftitutional advice and affiftance. As it is the right of Parliament to give, fo it is the duty of the crown to afk it. But on this day, and in this extreme

momentous exigency, no reliance is repofed on our conftitutional counfels! no advice is asked from the fober and enlightened care of Parliament! But the crown, from itself, and by itself, declares an unalterable determination to purfue measures. And what measures my lords? The measures that have produced iminent perils that threaten us; the meafures that have brought ruin to our doors.

Can the minifter of the day now prefume to expect a continuance of fupport, in this ruinous infatuation? Can Parliament be fo dead to its dignity and its duty, as to be thus deluded into the lofs of the one, and the violation of the other? To give an unlimited credit and fupport for the perfeverance in measures, which have reduced this late flourishing empire to ruin and contempt! "But yefterday, and England might have stood against the world; now none fo poor to do her reverence." I use the words of a poet; but though it is poetry, it is no fiction. It is a fhameful truth, that not only the power and ftrength of this country are wafting away and expiring; but her well-earned glories, her true honors, and fubftantial dignity, are facrificed.

France, my lords, has infulted you; fhe has encouraged and fuftained America; and whether America be wrong or right, the dignity of this country ought to fpurn at the officious infult of French interference. The minifters and ambaffadors of thofe who are called rebels and enemies, are in Paris; in Paris they tranfact the reciprocal interefts of America and France. Can there be a more mortifying infult? Can even our ministers sustain a more humiliating difgrace? Do they dare to refent it? Do they prefume even to hint a vindication of their honor, and the dignity of the State, by requiring the difmiffal of the plenipotentiaries of America? Such is the degradation to which they have reduced the glories of England!

The people whom they affect to call contemptible rebels, but whofe growing power has at laft obtained