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discourse of Judah. Little knowing to whom he spoke, he paints in all the colors of simple and natural eloquence, the distressed situation of the aged patriarch, hastening to the close of life; long afflicted for the loss of a favorite son, whom he supposed to have been torn in pieces by a beast of prey; laboring now under anxious concern about his youngest son, the child of his old age, who alone was left alive of his mother, and whom nothing but the salam. ities of severe famine could have moved a tender father to send from home, and expose to the dangers of a foreign land. "If we bring him not back with us, we shall bring down the grey hairs of thy servant, our father, with sorrow to the grave. I pray thee therefore let thy servant abide, instead of the young man, a bordman to our lord. For how shall I go up to my father, and Benjamin not with me? lest I see the evil that shall come on my father."

Upon this relation, Joseph could no longer restrain him. self. The tender ideas of his father and his father's house, of his ancient home, his country and his kindred, of the distress of his family, and his own exaltation, all rushed too strongly on his mind to bear any farther concealment."He cried, cause every man to go out from me; and he wept aloud." The tears which he shed were not the tears of grief. They were the burst of affection. They were the effusions of a heart overflowing with all the tender sensibilities of nature. Formerly he had been moved in the same manner, when he first saw his brethren before him. "His bowels yearned upon them; he sought for a place where to weep. He went into his chamber; and then washed his face and returned to them." At that period his generous plans were not completed. But now, when there was no farther occasion for constraining himself, he gave free vent to the strong emotions of his heart. The first minister to the king of Egypt was not ashamed to show, that he felt as a man, and a brother. "He wept aloud ; and the Egyptians, and the house of Pharaoh heard him."

The first words which his swelling heart allowed him to pronounce, are the most suitable to such an affecting situation that were ever uttered;" I am Joseph; doth my father yet live?"-What could he, what ought he, in that impassioned moment, to have said more? This is the voice of nature herself, speaking her own language; and it penetrates the heart; No pomp of expression; no parade of

kindness;

kindness; but strong affection hastening to utter what it strongly felt. "His brethren could not answer him; for they were troubled at his presence." Their silence is as expressive of those emotions of repentance and shame, which, on this amazing discovery, filled their breasts, and stopped their utterance, as the few words which Joseph speaks, are expressive of the generous agitations which struggled for vent within him. No painter could seize a more striking moment for displaying the characteristical features of the human heart, than what is here présented. Never was there a situation of more tender and virtuous joy, on the one hand; nor, on the other, of more overwhelming confusion and conscious guilt. In the simple narration of the sacred historian, it is set before us with greater energy and higher effect, than if it had been wrought up with all the coloring: of the most admired modern eloquence.

LESSON XLV.

DIALOGUES.

SECTION I.

BLAIR.

DIONYSIUS, PYTHIAS, AND DAMON.

Genuine Virtue commands respect, even from the Bad..
Dionysius. A
AMAZING! What do I see? It is Py-

thias just arrived.-It is indeed Pythias. I did not think it possible. He is come to die, and to redeem his friend!

Pythias. Yes, it is Pythias- I left the place of my con-finement, with no other views, than to pay to Heaven the vows I had made; to settle my family concerns according to the rules of justice; and to bid adieu to my children, that I might die tranquil and satisfied

Dio. But why dost thou return? Hast thou no fear of death? Is it not the character of a madman, to seek it thus voluntarily ?

Py. I return to suffer, though I have not deserved death Every principle of honor and goodness, forbids me to allow my friend to die for me.

Dio. Dost thou, then, love him better than thyself?

Pythias.

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Py. No I love him as myself. But am persuaded that I ought to suffer death, rather than my friend since it was me whom thou hadst decreed to die. It were not just that he should suffer, to deliver me from the death which was designed, not for hin, but for me only

Dio. But thou supposest, that it is as unjust to inflict death upon thee, as upon thy friend.

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Py. Very true; we are both entirely innocent and it is equally unjust to make either of us suffer.

Dio. Why dost thou then assert, that it were injustice to put him to death, instead of thee ?

Py. It is unjust, in the same degree, to inflict death either on Damon or on myself: but Pythias were highly culpable to let Damon suffer that death, which the tyrant had prepared for Pythias only.

Dio. Dost thou then return hither, on the day appointed, with no other view, than to save the life of a friend by los ing thy own?

Py. I return, in regard to thee, to suffer an act of injus tice which is common for tyrants to inflict; and, with res pect to Damon, to perform my duty, by rescuing him from the danger he incurred by his generosity to me.

Dio. And now, Damon, let me address myself to thee Didst thou not really fear, that Pythias would never return; and that thou wouldst be put to death on his account?

Damon. I was but too well assured, that Pythias would punctually return; and that he would be more solicitous to keep his promise, than to preserve his life. Would to hea ven, that his relations and friends had forcibly detained him! He would then have lived for the comfort and benefit of good men; and I should have the satisfaction of dying for him!

Dio. What Does life displease thee?

Damon. Yes; it displeases me when I see and feel the power of a tyrant.

Dio. It is well! Thou shalt see him no more. I will order thee to be put to death immediately.

Py. Pardon the feelings of a man who sympathises with his dying friend. But remember it was Pythias who was devoted by thee to destruction. I come to submit to it, that I may redeem my friend. Do not refuse me this consolation in my last hour.

Dio. I cannot endure men, who despise death, and set my power at defiance. Damon.

Damon. Thou canst not then endure virtue.

Dio. No: I cannot endure that proud, disdainful virtue, which contemns life; which dreads no punishment; and which is insensible to the charms of riches and pleasure.

Damon. Thou seest, however, that it is a virtue, which is not insensible to the dictates of honor, justice and friendship.

Dio. Guards, take Pythias to execution. We shall see whether Damon will continue to despise my authority.

Damon. Pythias, by returning to submit himself to thy pleasure, has merited his life, and deserved thy favor; but I have excited thy indignation, by resigning myself to thy power, in order to save him: Be satisfied, then, with this sacrifice, and put me to death.

Py. Hold, Dionysius! remember, it was Pythias alone who offended thee: Damon could not

Dio. Alas! what do I see and hear! where am I How miserable; and how worthy to be so I have hitherto known nothing of true virtue. I have spent my life in darkness and error. All my power and honors are insuffi. cient to produce love. I cannot boast of having acquired a single friend, in the course of a reign of thirty years. And yet these two persons, in a private condition, love one another tenderly, unreservedly confide in each other, are mutually happy, and ready to die for each other's preservation.

Py. How couldst thou, who hast never loved any person, expect to have friends? If thou hadst loved and respected men, thou wouldst have secured their love and respect. Thou hast feared mankind; and they fear thee; they detest thee.

Dio. Damon, Pythias, condescend to admit me as a third friend, in a connection so perfect. I give you your lives; and I will load you with riches.

Damon. We have no desire to be enriched by thee; and, in regard to thy friendship, we cannot accept or enjoy it, till thou become good and just. Without these qualities, thou canst be connected with none but trembling slaves, and base flatterers. To be loved and esteemed by men of free and generous minds, thou must be virtuous, affectionate, disinterested, beneficent; and know how to live in a sort of equality with those who share and deserve thy friendship. FENELON, Archbishop of Cambray.

SECTION

SECTION II.

LOCKE AND BAYLE.

Christianity defended against the cavils of Scepticism. Bayle. YES, we both were philosophers; but my philos. ophy was the deepest. You dogmatised: I doubted.

Locke. Do you make doubting a proof of depth in phi losophy? It may be a good beginning of it; but it is a bad end.

Bayle. No: The more profound our searches are into the nature of things, the more uncertainty we shall find; and the most subtle minds see objections and difficulties in every system, which are overlooked or undiscoverable by ordina ry understandings.

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Locke. It would be better then to be no philosopher, and to continue in the vulgar herd of mankind,that one may have the convenience of thinking that one knows something. I find that the eyes which nature has given me, see many things very clearly, though some are out of their reach, or discerned but dimly. What opinion ought I to have of a physician, who should offer me an eye water, the use of which would at first so sharpen my sight, as to carry farther than ordinary vision; but would in the, end put them out? Your philosophy is to the eyes of the mind, what I have supposed the doctor's nostrum to be to those of the body. It actually brought your own excellent understanding, which was by nature quicksighted, and rendered more so by art and a subtilty of logic peculiar to yourself; it brought, I say, your very acute understanding to see nothing clearly; and enveloped all the great truths of rea son and religion in mists of doubt.

Bayle. I own it did; but your comparison is not just. I did not see well before I used my philosophic eye water: I only supposed I saw well; but I was in an error, with all the rest of mankind. The blindness was real, the perceptions were imaginary. I cured myself first of those false imaginations, and then I laudibly endeavored to cure other

men.

Locke. A great cure indeed! and dont you think that, in return for the service you did them, they ought to erect you a statue ?

Bayle. Yes; it is good for human nature to know its own weakness. When we arrogantly presume on a strength we

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