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manency of principles actuating the minds of each party, can purity and permanency of affection be expected to exist. Where these principles are wanting, or where they are omitted to be called forth, when necessary, into active service, nothing less can be supposed to happen than that the ardour of youthful impetuosity, re gardless of rational decorum, and deaf to the voice of superior wisdom, will necessarily tri

ported by dignity and virtue. Such, indeed, is the infatuation of those who sacrifice judgment to inclination, that the violence of a passion they wish not, and consequently attempt not, to restrain, is the only apology they can make for a conduct in all respects highly reprehensible. Yet this violence of passion, wherever it exists, is always inimical to propriety and to virtue, and is consequently always of short duration. It is a temporary fever of the mind which is not unfrequently heightened by contradiction, and strengthened by disappointment. It is the common effect of imagination presiding over reason, experience, and common sense, indulged by the pleasing anticipation of happiness that never may be experienced, and of pleasures that never may be tasted.

another which we are entirely at liberty to cherish, to subdue, to discover, or conceal. If this regard should gradually grow into esteem, give birth to sentiments of tenderness, and upon reflection appear to be founded on principle, it may properly be styled love; professions and declarations || of which, whenever they are made or received, should be examined with the most scrutinizing impartiality. It is not any particular and superior excellency of mind, elegance of person, har-umph over all human exertions that are unsupmony of features, or accomplishments of art, than can produce the affection of love founded on principle. These, indeed, may contribute to awaken attention, command respect, inspire admiration, and excite desire; but they are insufficient to establish affection and secure happiness. They are unequal to the task of generating pure love. The charms, the graces, the accomplishments of the person, and the most valuable acquisitions and endowments of the mind, must give place to solid virtues, and an uniform propriety of conduct, of which we are incapable of forming any tolerably correct judgment, but by a series of social intercourse bordering on friend- || ship. Love at first sight is folly in extreme. The addresses and the declarations of strangers ought ever to be considered as founded on the impulses of the moment. Sudden personal preferences are no indications of sound judgment or pure affection. They ought to be received with the greatest possible circumspection and reserve; or treated with that sincerity which marks the character of an open, an ingenuous, and an enlightened mind. Preferences of this kind are altogether unworthy of the appellation of affection. They can neither be founded on a knowledge of the intrinsic worth and amiable character of the person addressed, nor on the conviction of moral propriety on the part of the addresser.

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The impressions of pure and disinterested affection are always accompanied with profound respect, unaffected generosity, and sympathetic tenderness. These qualities are inseparable from love; and however unsuccessful their influence may be, the effects they are peculiarly calculated to produce must ever be interesting.

Imagination is the court in which love principally plays the tyrant. Here apparent embarrassments of youthful modesty may furnish a cloak for intentional duplicity. Superior fortune may supersede the necessity of affection, and superior rank the propriety of sincerity; but preferences proposed or accepted with any other view than that of reciprocity of affection, are calculated to furnish ample materials for wretchedness and misery, from which no denomination of persons, under such circumstances, can reasonably expect to be exempt. Where the heart is unaffected on either side, the passions will be cold and unpleasing; the sentiments fluctuating and uninteresting, and the whole demeanour the very reverse of that which affection would wish to experience. For love can no more constitute happiness, unless it meets with a suitable return from the person beloved, than judgment can preside over conduct where the intellectual faculties are totally deranged. The heart can never be materially affected until the passions have been warmed and interested by the assist

Independent of imaginary ideas, the principle of love must be entire and uniform. To be real, it must rest on certain existing qualities which are not to be developed by the hasty and superficial glance of an enamoured candidate for favour. If these qualities have an existence only in the opinion of the partial adorer, how sincere soever his attachment may be, there is no reason to presume that his love can ever be permanent. Something more is requisite for the foundation of permanent and pure affection than a mere fanciful supposition, or a premature presumptive opinion, that real excellencies of character are usual and pecessary accompaniments of personal charms and accomplishments. The truth of a direct contrary inference is too often imperiously imposed upon us by the harsh, the impressive and unanswerable language of experience.➡ance of fancy; or the affections strengthened Only from similar known and established per- and confirmed by the convictions of judgment.

sider the number of good qualities that are necessary to form the desirable composition of conjugal felicity, and that the admission amongst these of only one disagreeable property, or unamiable disposition is fully sufficient to poison the whole mixture, we shall cease to wonder that the first influence of love is weakest in those who are most capable of feeling and enjoy

The order of nature is not to be reversed. True love is not, nor ever will be, the offspring of fancy. Esteem is its nursing father, and sincerity its nursing mother. In the conjugal state love is not an art but a duty. And when it is a duty that we cannot feel, it is a duty that we cannot discharge. Its offices are of the most delicate, the most refined, the most useful, and the most engaging nature. True love is never station-ing this most exquisite affection in its highest ary; it is always actively employed in promoting domestic felicity. Under the influence of this affection life is indescribably valuable. Home becomes a paradise. It is the bosom of happiIt has a magnetical power which at once possesses, admits, and communicates unspeakable felicity.

ness.

To prevent the existence, and consequently the influence, of love in the minds of either sex, nothing operates more powerfully on virtuous dispositions than the fear of being imposed upon by that duplicity of character which is common to ambitious, crafty, worthless, weak and vain minds; and which, for a time, is capable of being so disguised by artifice as almost to preclude the possibility of discovering the deformity. Add to this, that when we are disposed to con

purity, simplicity, and perfection; and in its most refined, exalted, and desirable state of excellence.

On a view of this interesting subject we cannot but sincerely and deeply feel for those who are already unequally united. Defalcations of affection bespeak prior defalcations of principle or of conduct. Let these, if possible, be corrected, and affection may yet happily supersede indifference and neglect. Hope should never be abandoned while virtue is within our reach. Past improprieties will readily be buried in oblivion when they are atoned for by reformation of character, and a solicitous disposition to become what, in such a state, we ought to be. L. C.

May 12, 1806.

ON COWARDICE.

MR. EDITOR,

I was at thirteen years of age, on my father's death, removed from school by my sympathetic mamma, who could not bear the idea of my aggravated sufferings. But my woes did not end here, for the nurse-maid, to whose care I was entrusted, found out my foible, and took every

for the trouble which I gave her, as she thought, unnecessarily. At eighteen I was removed from her tuition, not without considerable satisfaction at escaping from a tyranny which I durst not resist, and of which I was afraid to complain, lest more rigorous treatment should ensue.

I am one of those unfortunate men who are generally stigmatized by the world with the terrible title of "Coward." As soon as I was eleven years old, my father, very much against my mother's inclination, dispatched me to a boarding school, where, after hearing the usual inter- opportunity of beating me, in revenge, perhaps, rogatories of the boys, "What is your name? Who is your father? What is he? Does he keep a carriage? What book are you in?" and "Have you brought any prog with you?" I found myself kicked and cuffed on all sides by urchins of seven years old. I remonstrated, cried, and threatened to tell the master, but in vain ; nor could I for a considerable period understand the intention of this extraordinary discipline; but in process of time I discovered that the worrying of new boys was a general practice, and that no lad, who did not make a spirited defence against this treatment at the first attack, was received with the least consideration in the school. That, in short, all non-resistants were branded as cowards, and put at once to the only uses which cowards can be fit for, fagging for the big boys, writing out their exercises, and carrying them upon their backs. Having here for some time led a life of sorrow, mortification, and pain,

I was now introduced by my mother to balls, and parties of various kinds, through which 1 went on without any misfortunes much severer than a little neglect from men, and the giggling of girls in corners. There was, however, one circumstance which gave me some little uneasiness. I remarked that, till by the introduction of the volunteer system the character of an officer was degraded and vulgarized, almost all the women gave a decided preference to red coats. It was once said, that "he who conquers men is sure to conquer women;" and I suppose it must be the idea of slaughters to come that renders a trumpery Ensign more estimable in the eyes of

the fair than a gentleman of a thousand a year; though I own I have always thought it a whimsical paradox, that those whose natures are said to be so mild, nay, who are commonly denominated the softer sex, should take such delight in men of blood. Be that as it may, the officers always carried every thing before them at our country assemblies.

and the bursts of merriment which every now and then arose without any apparent cause, that my defeat was not a secret to the company at large. At nine we went up to the ball room, and on applying for the hand of the lady who was destined for my bride, I was not a little surprised to understand that she had engaged herself to my enemy. Then indeed I felt, in every sense, the truth of that old maxim, "Faint heart never won fair lady." The first two dances were at

by her partner to a seat. "Miss Maria," said he to her, with unparalleled effrontery, "I have reason to believe that the poltroon who has been chosen for your alliance," meaning me, Mr. Editor, "is not the object of your love, and I flatter myself, from the obliging manner in which you have received my attentions, that I myself am better suited to your inclination and to your dignity. Consider of my proposal to-night-tomorrow, at eleven o'clock, I shall pass your house; if you approve my offer, tie a white handkerchief to the window sash, and I will instantly apply to your guardians." Would you believe it, Mr. Editor, she did tie the white handkerchief to the window sash! my rival applied to the guardians; the guardians finding that, though a barrister, he was heir to a considerable fortune, consented to break off the alliance with me, and on Tuesday, the very day appointed for my own nuptials, I had the vexation to see a carriage at the door of the church with white favours in the servants' hats.

I was now two and twenty, and my mamnia though it a pity so pretty a person, and such fine parts as mine, should run to seed. She accord-length concluded, and my intended wife was led ingly pitched upon a young lady to whom she desired I should pay my addresses; and as I had plenty of gold in my pocket, though very little brass in my face, this young larly's guardians strongly recommended the alliance. She did not admire me at all, she declared, but was, by frequent remonstrances, and secret influence, prevailed on at last to consent. I should now have been soon settled in life, but for a very untoward Occurrence which happened a few days ago. Last Tuesday was fixed on as the day for our. wedding; and on the preceding Friday a dinner and ball were given at the assize town by a lady of fashion in the county. Among the company assembled on this occasion was a young barrister from town. This fellow after dinner sported a number of jests, and amused himself particularly with ridiculing me. The ladies enjoyed his jokes, and laughed at his drollery, but I was by no means so much entertained. As ill luck would have it, I was sitting by a sister of his, and took it into my head to revenge myself on the brother, by playing with her neck and hair. These agreeable little civilities on my part were not, however, relished by the sister, and she complained, in a tone very audible, to the whole company. The barrister interfered, and threatened to punish me. I told him that I knew he durst not touch me, for that if he meddled with a hair of any head, I would get constables, and have him sent to prison. He rose from his seat, and requested me in a whisper to step with him out of the room; I did not by any means guess, from his unembarrassed manner, the intention which he had in this request, and accordingly followed him to the antichamber. But how much was I astonished, when, without further ceremony, I found my nose within the grasp of a merciless fist, and, on disengaging myself from its hold to retreat, felt my rear on a sudden assailed with a shower of bruises and kicks! It was ten minutes before I sufficiently recovered from my alarm to venture on re-entering the dinner room. When I did so, I found my tormentor very quietly lolling on a couple of chairs, the ladies having just retired. No direct notice was taken by any one of the affair that had occurred; but I could see by the jests that were cracked,

Now all these mortifications and misfortunes, if indeed the missing of a wife may be called a misfortune, have arisen from a wish of mine to exercise only the better part of valour, discretion. And yet, when we come to consider this matter with any degree of philosophy, we shall all be convinced, that to despise a man for cowardice is as absurd as to despise him for sickness. It is all the fault of constitution; and if a man suffer for pusillanimity he suffers unjustly, and his nerves are more to blame than he. Metaphysicians assign us five causes of courage-ex|| ample, custom, folly, irascibility, and intoxication. A pretty virtue, truly, that may be produced by the rage of imitation, the fashion of the proud, the ignorance of a boy, a gust of ill humour, or a glass of brandy!!

It was said by the Duc de Rochefoucault, and I believe very truly, that "all men would be cowards if they durst." For that which is commonly called courage, is in most men only a great fear surmounting a little fear, the dread of dishonour conquering the dread of pain. If Aristotle's assertion be true, and a fellow who does not know the sensations of fear to be a fool; if philosophers, after the division of courage

into two kinds, the active and the passive, have been wise in preferring the latter:-then he, whom the world calls an unresenting coward, is in fact the bravest man: aye, and not only the bravest, but the wisest, since of two evils a man ought always to chuse the less; and a pull of the nose is undoubtedly an evil much lighter than a shot in the breast.

one occasion his squire, as he armed him, imagined that the king was in too great fear to conduct himself with propriety, and was endeavouring to encourage and animate him. "Poor man," said the king, "you know but little of Could my flesh be aware of the dangers to which my courage will this day expose me, this body of mine would not escape with so slight a

me.

A Polish Prince, whose name I do not remem-convulsion as that which you have witnessed."ber, but who, like the Stagerite, seems to have entertained a considerable contempt for your senseless valour, was going through a wood with a numerous retinue, when, by the side of their path,not twenty yards from the direction in which the Prince passed, a lion was observed in the act of tearing his prey. One of the guards, I suppose for the sake of displaying his bravery, stepped up to the hungry beast, and, grasping him by the throat, snatched away his banquet, and drove him backwards into the wood. The prince perceived the action; and though he thought it his duty to make the foolhardy fellow a present in compensation for the loss of his post in the guard, he banished him immediately, conceiving it unsafe to have so desperate a blockhead in attendance on his person. In the guard of that prince, perhaps, I should have cut a much more respectable figure than at present I appear to do,

Now, here's a strange mixture of bravery and
cowardice! Was this a hero or a poltroon, Mr.
Editor? And has any man a right after this to
despise me for cowardice? However, if any more
scandalous insinuations of any kind are sent forth
about me, I am determined to bring an action at
once against the utterer.
Our fear then, mixing
itself in this manner with our other qualities,
may descend to the humblest occurrences of life,
and ought to be the universally operating check
of all our actions, even the most minute. When
on the tomb of Martinus Barbuda, Charles the
Fifth perused the epitaph, which states that the
deceased was a stranger to fear—“ Aye, indeed!”
cried Charles gaily: "I'll warrant this brave
fellow never snuffed a candle with his fingers!"

However, Mr. Editor, notwithstanding all this, since it must be confessed that the prejudice goes strongly against pusillanimity, cannot help wishing I myself were brave, at least brave enough to deter people from saying that they thought me otherwise. But I have written thus much to prove, that fear does not deserve so much contempt as men suppose, and that, for my own part, if I cannot be a hero upon instinct, I at least can be a coward upon principle.

It seems, then, but reasonable and proper to believe, that fear not only is undeserving of contempt, but is one of our natural feelings, which ought, like all other passions, to exist in some measure within the breast of every individual: And, indeed, he who does not possess it in any degree, must be much more or much lees than human. The noblest men have at some moments shewn signs of fear. One of the Kings of Navarre, whose bravery was perfectly acknowledged, was surnamed the Trembler; for he never entered upon a battle without throbbings and Harewood, May, 1806. palpitations of the most violent description. On

I am, Sir,

Your most obsequiously devoted,
and very humble servant,
TIMOTHY TIMID.

AROKEE; OR, FEROCITY SUBDUED BY AFFLICTION.

IN one of the nations of North America, a young heroine lived named Arokee; of invincible courage, unwearied in fatigues, insensible to pain, and resistless in action, she was the admiration of the Indians for those qualities which they themselves possess in so extraordinary a degree. But amidst her good parts, there was an irreclaimable wildness, a savage unappeasable fierceness, which broke out in occasional excesses, and threw her into situations of difficulty and

sorrow.

Early in life, in a moment of thoughtless frolic, or sudden displeasure, she had shot an Indian

who passed unsuspectingly at a distance; and it was with no great facility her friends, by condolence with the family of the sufferer, and by numerous presents, were able to avert the effects of an act of such wanton atrocity.

A party being about the same time detached on a secret warlike expedition, Arokee soon seized an opportunity of pursuing them. She traced their footsteps for a considerable time, till all signs of their route failing her, she proceeded at hazard; sometimes in one direction, sometimes in another, she thus traversed an immense extent of country, unappalled by dangers, insensible to