St. Lambert is strengthened by Thomson. They are unques tionably right. The whole de scription of the former is full of morals and genuine poetry; and the passage in the latter my feeble pen shall not eulogize. I know not, that I can persuade the lovers of feasting and late revelry to stay at home, and relish the mighty masters of French and English literature. I fear that the women love cotillions and Pleyel, more than their own thoughts and Cowper's Task, and therefore my advice will be as "the idle wind"; but to my friend, who, I know, seeks for renown among generations to come, I will give this strong and sober counsel, to gain materials of work in spring and summer, and fashion them into form and proportion and adjustment, during the long hours of his evenings in winter. Far from the folly of ceremonial intercourse, or the bustling of a crowded drawing room, in his own snug chamber, by a pleasant fire he may consult books for authority, and his own mind for reflection. Thus, confirmed by the knowledge of others, and full of raciness from the deep, strong soil of his own powers, perhaps he may feel the solemn inspirations of Stewart, which breathe a consciousness, that his great secret work will be immortal; and perhaps he may revel in the strange raptures and holy meditations of Milton, and hereafter "produce something, which may be of use and honour to his country, and which it should not willingly let die."

To all, whether high or low, rich or poor, learned or ignorant, this month of winter must bring

one awful consideration, that they have been spared by a merciful Providence another year, and are the favoured monuments of his divine clemency. But while they have been thus protected, what homage have they made? Have they honoured the sanctuary of the Most High? Have they suc coured the wants, and alleviated the sorrows of his creatures in the past summer, the season of sick, ness and disease? Have they, according to their ability, relieved the necessities of the destitute widow and stranger in these cold months of dreariness and dismal existence? If they have done these and similar good acts of piety and charity, they may enter on the new year with joy and great rejoicing, making merry in their habitations, with lively dan ces and pleasant minstrelsy, with the oldest of choice wines and the best fruits of the earth. But for the great blessings of the Antjent of days, the bulk of mankind can make testimonials of gratitude only by soberness of devotion and cheerfulness of praise. Their situation excludes them from exerting the beneficence of wealth, the radiancy of power, and the be nignity of condescension. Their sincere prayers and humble songs will however be graciously ac cepted by the Divine Majesty Before him, excellence of intention, simple goodness, and devout humility are available to propi tiate his mercy and receive his smile; and these offerings he will take in lieu of that splendour of all-cheering charity, which opulence only can diffuse, and of that magnificence of good, which power alone can command into exist ence and exertion.

But, notwithstanding the humble praises of poverty and the bright deeds of beneficence, we are all wanting in that deep gratitude, that solemn thankfulness of the heart, which is due for innumerable and unmerited mercies. This reflection is affecting to a religious being. It should awaken our resolutions of piety, and our devout utterance to the Holy Spirit. Instead of courting the illusions of sense in musick,merriment,and dancing, we should employ much of our time in thinking on the love and mercies of our Maker. Let the new year be better, than the last. Let the devotee to dissipation break off in the midst of her career, for her evil days will come, and the evenings of cheerless reflection are hastening along. For the debauchee and the gamester

there is time for repentance, and there is yet mercy in heaven. May she, who has led the round of pleasure for unremembered years, think of her age and her Maker; and let the lovely being of retirement, who is consecrated to purity, as the willing nun to devotion, fortify well her mind before she commences the course, which leads to a life of pleasure, folly, and dissipation. For myself, I pray that my foes may forget their enmity, that my friends may continue their love and I finish in the language of Petrarch and piety,

Padre del Ciel, dopo i perduti giorni,
Dopo le notti vaneggiando spese
Con quel fero desio, ch'al cor s'accese
Mirando gli atti per mio mal sì adorni;
Piacciati omai, col tuo lume ch'io torni
Ad altra vita, ed a più belle imprese.
QUINTILIAN.

FOR THE ANTHOLOGY.

....ON the day previous to this event the heat was intense, though the atmosphere remained perfectly clear. Greater col umns of smoke however had been observed to rise from the crater of Vesuvius for several days; but as the mountain had not been in a state perfectly quiet since the last eruption, this circumstance excited little or no apprehensions. Beside this there was no other indication of the approaching earthquake. But on the evening of the 26th the first shock, which was by far the most severe and the longest in duration,

was felt at about twenty minutes after ten o'clock throughout the city. It lasted one minute and thirty-five seconds by the watch. The sensations on this occasion, exclusive of those arising from the violence of the motion itself, were distressing in the extreme; for the screeches and exclamations of the women and lazaroni, which instantly ensued, struck us with the greatest terror. The agitation at first, and the rumbling sound which accompanied it, was like that of heavily laded carriages passing along the streets, and we immediately ran

into the balcony to observe them. But before we had entered it the Neapolitans, who have so often experienced the dreadful effects of these convulsions of nature, and whose fears are ever excited by any symptom of their return, had mostly left their houses, fill ing the air with cries, crossing themselves, and calling on St. Genuario for protection. We now made all haste to get into the court yard, and if possible to secure a place in some of the publick squares to avoid being buried in the ruins of the houses. Before we had reached the yard the motion became more violent, and augmented cries of the women and children, together with the crashing of the walls and windows not a little contributed to increase our fears. When we had got into the street the crowd was immense, and although many voices were heard, some crying, "to the publick squares,” and others "to the country," the people seemed confounded, not knowing which way to run. It was with the greatest difficulty we reached the Largo di Castello, an open square, and when we had arrived, there was so great a concourse of the inhabitants that there was scarcely room enough for us to stand. We would even have endeavoured to reach some of the boats at the Mole and got on board a vessel in the harbour; but these we were informed were already filled with women and children. We were therefore under the necessity of remaining here through the night. Nothing was now heard but the murmuring of prayers to St.Genuario, and every one was occasionally kneeling before little pictures, or

images of him, round which they had placed small wax tapers.

At thirty-five minutes after eleven another shock was felt, which lasted nearly a minute. This was by no means so violent as the first, and the motion, which was altogether horizontal, was more regular. By this shock many of the houses, which before had been only disjointed, were now thrown down. The cries and shrieks of the populace at this moment were redoubled; they had been hitherto anxiously looking toward Vesuvius in expectation of an eruption, which in such times is always considered a favourable omen, and which they suppose terminates the earthquake. But nothing was seen there but volumes of thick smoke, at intervals illuminated by flashes from within the mountain.

At two o'clock the third shock was sustained; this though very considerable lasted only twentyeight seconds, after which nothing more was felt of it within the city. After the second shock I perceived the atmosphere to be tainted with a sulphurick smell, a circumstance which I did not remark at the first shock.

This earthquake, although it was by no means so violent as that which took place in the year 1538, which produced Monte Nuovo; or other earthquakes which Naples has sustained, has effected much damage in the buildings of the city and its vicinity. Many of the walls of the houses have been opened from three to four inches; the roofs have fallen in, and some few monuments thrown down. Portici, which is in the neighbour

hood of the mountain, has suffered most. The loss of property has been estimated from 12 to 15,000,000 dollars. The loss of lives is comparatively small; thirty-one people only were killed within the city. The first and second shocks of this earthquake were felt at Sienna and at Rome; but neither of these places have experienced any ill effects from it. It is now six days since this happened, and the inhabitants still continue to sleep in the streets and publick squares. The Toledo is every day crowded with processions of monks, friars, wo men and children, &c. who walk barefooted, with wreaths of pine and olive on their heads, to offer thanks to St. Genuario. The king and royal family, who were at Caserta during the earthquake, returned early the next morning to thank the saint for the safety of his kingdom.

The poor superstitious Neapolitans, who are as easily thrown into despair at the approach of calamity, as their spirits are exhilirated by any prosperous o

men, have never patience to endure affliction. At every turn of ill fortune they seem to lose all confidence in that innumerable train of saints, whose names lengthen out their kalendar; and the possession of the mildest climate, the most fertile soil, a haven as commodious for the purposes of commerce as it is elegant in appearance, and a country luxurious and delightful, where spring seems to overtake the harvest; are in a moment forgotten, and all is melancholy and despair.

I saw an Italian gazette, printed at Naples, of the 30th July, in which they say, "Il corriere venuto da Roma jiri sera, assicura che fino a Cisterna non udi parlare di terremoto; lo che con firma nostra suposizioni. Iddio abbia misericordia di noi, sospenda i suoi flagelli, accetti le nostre lacrime, e il nostro penitemento; funesti miniaccie, ci accordi il perdono de' nostri falli, e la grazia di amarlo, e di servirlo costantemente; rinunziando alle mondane follie e ritornando nel cammino del vero e del giusto."

No. 4.

tongue, and their productions, whether in poetry or prose, receive such lavish encomiums from the editors of our publick prints, that, were we to adopt the opinions of these gentlemen, we we might proudly proclaim, that we can write better verses, than Pope, and more elegant essays than Addison. 7

But when foreigners, excited

by our typographical puffers, interrogate us respecting the literary state of our country, and demand the names of our celebrated authors, we are unable to reply as satisfactorily as our vanity would wish. For notwithstanding the laudable partiality, which we feel for our native land, we should hesitate in preferring the Muses of Newengland to those of the Thames or Seine, and justice would hardly allow us to exalt the Gleaner above the Spectator or Rambler.

I am sensible of the danger, that I incur, of censure, for advancing so bold an opinion, since the profoundest criticks of our metropolis have considered the Gleaner as a chef-d'œuvre in essay-writing. But though I re luctantly dissent from these great authorities on this subject, yet I most willingly retract an erroneous assertion, into which I was inadvertently betrayed. I asserted that the Gleaner had departed this life. But as the author has corrected this mis-statement in the newspapers, by assuring the publick, that she is still living, I think it unfair to insist on the point, though I might plead the authority of Swift in my favour in the memorable case of Partridge. Be it known then, however extraordinary and incredible the intelligence may appear, that the Gleaner is still living, though, till lately, she had not been heard of for many years.

If we review our progress in science and literature, we shall have no reason, I fear, to be greatly elated with our success. Dr. Franklin, by his lucky discovery of the electrick fluid, has Vol. II. No. 12. 3I

done honour to his country, and probably immortalized himself. But the literary character of the doctor has no claim to admiration. He writes on useful topicks, with good sense, in a style simple and perspicuous, and though he may have few faults, he displays no striking beauties.

Mr. Rittenhouse has acquired considerable reputation, which we believe however is chiefly confined to his own country; nor can I indeed discover that it has any other foundation than the execution of an ingenious piece of mechanism.

In poets, however, such as they are, we abound. But where can we find a single poem of distinguishedexcellence, or one which will be read fifty years hence? McFingal is a happy imitation of Butler, but the original is now little read, and fast hastening to oblivion. Novelty constitutes the chief merit of hudibrastick verse, which consequently must be confined to the inventor. Any imitator,then, can expect only temporary fame, which may arise from the wit and personal satire, with which his performance may abound, and which will terminate with the interest and memory of the fleeting occurrences it celebrates.

Connecticut has proved the fruitful nurse of epick poets, and Barlow and Dwight started nearly at the same time for the prize in the Olympick contest. But what original beauties can be pointed out in either? What passages can be discovered eminently distinguished by justness of thoughts, liveliness of description, or elegance of language? But the greatest defect in these