much surpassing paint as the artificial flower is exceeded by the natural rose. We would on this account prefer it to rouge, though a correspondent has considered the latter as the best substitute for that bashful tinge, which so seldom suffuses the cheeks of our ladies. || It may perhaps be said, "we confess that a morning walk is a means of obtaining health, and of promoting beauty, but how can a custom so dull and so antiquated, be attended, as you affirm it is, with delight." If you acknowledge, my dear ladies, that it gives health, you must allow that it excites pleasure, since pleasure cannot exist without health; and if you own it increases beauty, you must confess it gives happiness, since a lady considers her beauty as her greatest happiness. But early rising, followed by a ramble in the country, not only bestows this kind of habitual enjoyment, it not only yields a constant flow of spirits, but it likewise affords the highest gratification to all who love the fine arts, or who admire the beauties of nature. Where will the amateur of painting find a more delicate subject for his pencil, than the tints of the new-born day? What theme can be more pleasing to the poet, than describing the rosy hours opening the magnificent portals of the East? It may be said, that these pleasures cannot be sufficiently varied; and though they amuse for a short time, they will give no delight when oft repeated. From this opinion, I beg leave to differ, as it is well known the more nature is investigated, the more || she is admired. If, however, these simple gratifications should become tiresome, the mind may be relieved by chearful reading; and, indeed, there cannot be a more favourable opportunity for study than in the morning, when the body is recruited with repose, and the breast free from anxiety and care. This promenade may be frequently diversified: a walk to the aviary, a tour through the park, tracing the meanders of a rivulet, a visit to a neighbouring cottage, a view of the rising sun from a hill, and a thousand other well-judged circumstances, would furnish an iminense and almost boundless variety of amusement, so that no contemplative person would ever feel the least satiety. Ever charming, ever new, When will the landscape tire the view! Now, ev'n now, my joys run high, DYER. To make these pleasures more sensibly felt, it would be proper for some person of intelligence to accompany the lady in her early ramble. Private governesses in great and wealthy houses naturally occur as most fit to be entrusted with this amusing office;, but I am afraid that, in ge neral, this class is not composed of women of much intelligence, but rather of such as having received a common education, without the means of supporting it, are too proud to be mantuamakers or milliners, and too ignorant to be teachers. It would be no absurd plan to erect a col. lege for the instruction of a number of clever young women, who might be calculated to instruct the daughters of our nobility, as well in the paths of science as in the steps of virtue, With one of this description, who has a taste for the charms of nature, and abilities to expand those beauties to her blooming charge, a morning walk might be rendered healthful, pleasant, interesting, and agreeable, especially if disguised under the name of an amusement. There is another argument which should be of importance to the modest lady,-that a morning walk would not cause those reflections on her reputation, which evening promenades too often occasion. Should any one who has hitherto spent her nights in the ball-room, and her mornings on the couch, be inclined to try this experiment, I request her to recollect that a better opportunity cannot present itself. She is at her country seat; the mornings are warm, gay, and beautiful; fashion is not near to censure the innovation; and should she dislike the custom, she may discontinue it at her return to the emporium of pleasure. "Things change their titles as our manners turn." FRIENDS IN A FUTURE STATE. An Inquiry whether there is any ground to believe that Friends can know each other in a Future State. THE circumstance that first induced me to turn my thoughts on the following subject, was a conversation I once had with a friend, who upon the death of an intimate and revered acquaintance asked my opinion as to the probability of recognizing in a future state those whom we knew in this life; and hoped, from my opinion, to have received some consolation which might soothe the anguish which so irreparable a loss had occasioned. At this time I was tinctured with the pedantry of a college, and the prejudices of education, which rendered me almost dogmatical and seeptical in all my opinions; and therefore more de. sirous of gratifying my own vanity, than the feelings of my benevolent friend, I at once denied the truth of such an opinion, and ridiculed its absurdity. 1 principally maintained, that as the only way we had of knowing each other in this world, was by the impression which external objects made on our organs of sensation; when these were all removed by the dissolution of the body, every source or recollection was consequently destroyed. Besides, the soul which received its ideas of things on earth, only through that body with which it was connected, could not, after a separation from it, have any notion or retrospect of those transactions in which they were conversant during their union. The soul and body united made one being; the soul afterwards removed from its corporeal prison became another and a distinct being. How could it then reflect on bodies, from which, according to their very nature, it was incapable of receiving any impression ! powers of thinking and acting in different de. grees. Of all these God is the Supreme. Spirits having a power then of ac.ing and thinking, must necessarily have a consciousness of their own existence, and consequently of the existence of other spirits-If then they know that other spirits do exist, and it is reasonable to suppose that God, from his infinite power, has furnished them with organs whereby that knowledge is reciprocally conveyed, I say they must have a power of holding society and converse with each other. Nor should we reject such a fair and reasonable conclusion, because our narrow limited imagination is not able to conceive the nature or properties of those beings, whose existence we cannot deny. God, as the supreme spirit, knows all things; and the subordinate spirits, who are of the same, though of an inferior nature, must of course know all those things that are within the compass of their power. This point being thus established, that spirits are capable of knowing, associating, and holding converse with each other, it remains to prove, that the spirits which formerly animated human bodies, have a recollection of what passed while they were in this world. And this we must be convinced is the case if we believe there is such a thing as a distribution of future rewards and punishments; and if we do not, we impeach the justice of God. For, can we suppose that the soul of the wicked should be rendered equally happy with that of the good man. If then the souls of men, after their departure from the body, experience different degrees of pleasure and pain, according to their good and bad actions in this life, must they not know for what it is they are made happy or suffer? Most undoubtedly; and it is the very consciousness of these good or bad actions in life that forms the source of their hap But specious as these arguments then appeared, and indeed I believed them to be true, yet I have been able to detect their fallacy. In order therefore to prove the affirmative of this question, which I shall now undertake to do, it is first ne-piness or misery. cessary to lay down as a datum that universal truth, which all nature demonstrates, that there is a God-a supreme infinite existence, directing every thing, and comprehending in one idea all the substances of the universe, both spiritual and corporal; and possessing likewise infinite power, wisdom and goodness. The next proposition to be admitted, and which I think no one bat a desperate Atheist can deny, is, that our souls shall have a future and immortal existence. It follows then from these premises, that spiritual beings, of different orders, do exist, with No. VI. Vol. I. Then, beyond a question, they must remember what passed in life; and if they can remember one thing, they can remember all that they once knew; and, therefore, they must remember those friends whom they loved and whose souls were congenial with their own. But it may be objected, that, admitting every thing which has been said, yet if two friends should die, their souls may know each other, but one may not know that the other was the soul which animated the same body. This objection will at once fall to the ground, if we observe from what has already been proved, Тт towards your other subjects, when he treats me thus; me, whom he knows to have access to your majesty." The king directed Talpon to preserve the most perfect silence on the affair, promising to do him justice. He sent immedi ately for the intendant of his roads; and though he was a brother-in-law of the Count de Bogin, he charged him to inquire into the truth of the matter. This man knew that it was the king's custom, on such occasions, to inform himself privately of the circumstances, that he might be sure his ministers did not impose on him: he did not dare, therefore, to disguise the truth; but some days after, reported to the king, that the relation which Talpon had given of his rights, and of the affront he had received, was a faithful account. The king then directed, that without speaking to his brother-in-law, he should set a hundred men to work the next day, to restore the former road to Talpon's house, which was done. Judge of the astonishment of the minister when, walking in the morning, he saw a hundred men digging in his garden. Full of surprise and anger, he sent to demand the reason of so strange an appearance: they replied, "that it was by order of the king, and this was all they knew about the affair." He set off to town, and found his brother-in-law, who soon explained the whole mystery. The minister felt that it would be most prudent to submit in silence, and therefore said nothing: the king, on his part, never mentioned the subject; and Talpon was put in possession THE Count de Bogin had served the King for twenty years with the greatest success; and enjoyed an influence which extended even to the|| other departments. The severity of his character inade him hated by the nobility as much as he was feared. The king was accused of placing || too much confidence in him, and even of allowing himself to be governed by him, when the event which I am going to mention occurred very opportunely to prove the contrary. The count had purchased a small villa, two leagues from Turin, to which he frequently retired. He had for a long time wished to enlarge the gardens of this estate; but a road which led to the house of a man named Talpon, one of the king's valets, and which divided some meadows that he was desirous of obtaining, opposed his design. He requested Talpon to part with this road, which he agreed to; reserving to himself, however, the right of passing through the estate of the count whenever another road which led to his house should be rendered impassable by the snow, which was sometimes the case. Two or three years had elapsed without Talpon's having any occasion to avail himself of this right, when it happened that his own road became wholly obstructed by the snows. Conceiving he might avail himself of the privilege which he had reserved for himself, he rode through the count's estate on horseback; but the minister, perceiving him at a distance sent to forbid his passage. Talpon desired the minister might be informed who it was; and that, by virtue of their agree-of his former road. I saw him some days after, ment he was travelling through the old road, be cause the other was impassable: but the count persisted in his refusal and Talpon was obliged to return to Turin, burning with rage. He repaired instantly to the king, related to him the injustice and the ingratitude of the count, and concluded by saying: "Judge, sire, how he acts quite proud of the victory which he had gained over a minister so high in favour. The nobility, delighted at the mortification which the Count de Bogin had received, considering it as a presage of his disgrace; but they were deceived. The king, who knew his ability, continued to treat him as before and was satisfied to give him this lesson of moderation. After the death of King Charles, || Bristol, Mr. Mackenzie's predecessor at the the Count de Bogin withdrew from public business, and I often visited him in his retreat. I scarcely ever saw a man more engaging and more polite, and whose conversation was more interesting. To a profound knowledge of the affairs of Europe, he joined the greatest clearness in his ideas and in his expressions; he was also a good husband, and a good friend, upright in his conduct, and loved best by those who knew him most intimately so that, if his administration did not generally please, it must be attributed more to the necessity of circumstances, than to the natural disposition of the minister. : CHAP. III. court of Turin. This man had a handsome wife, whose expences obliged him to seek for some means of supporting them; and one of the most effectual that he employed, was selling the secrets of his master. The reversion of the duchies of Placentia and Guastella to the King of Sardinia on the demise of the King of Spain, had been guaranteed to him by the treaties of Utrecht and Aix-la-Chapelle. The death of the Spanish monarch had just then happened, and the subject of the reversion was in discussion. The courts of Versailles and Madrid entertained the project of breaking those treaties, and of retaining the possessions for the Duke of Parma. The dispatches which the Neapolitan minister wrote to his own court and to the court of Madrid, as well as those which he received, frequently entered into that subject; and the secretary of the marquis communicated them to Mr. Mackenzie through me, for a proportionate reward. This treachery was, at last, discovered: his master disinissed him without making any noise about the matter, and did not in the least alter his conduct towards me; he only requested me to point out to him which of his dispatches I had read. I agreed to do so with pleasure; and as the best means of being accurate, I desired him to shew me all his correspondence. This he did; and from this gene wise I should never have known. I now found myself in a world very different from that in which I had hitherto lived? instead of the simplicity of Mr. Wyche, the plain and innocent manners of his family and his friends, I was incessantly listening to the intrigues of courts; and witnessing the manners of people of fashion, the overstrained compliments of great men, the duplicity of courtiers, and the pride of nobility. Unaccustomed to such scenes, I was astonished at every thing, and exclaimed against every thing. Mr. Mackenzie and his friends amused themselves with my surprise: they asked whence I came, where I had passed my youth, and whether I wished for the return of the goldenral inspection, I learnt many things which otherage? Such pleasantries were the only answer I obtained to all my reasoning. I perceived, however, that my surprize gave them a good opinion of my morals; and that Mr. Mackenzie was not sorry to have a secretary upon whose probity he might rely. But there was one point of my morality which he did not laugh it; and that was, the rigorous system of truth which I had adopted.ceived, drop from his pocket, as he was going It was in vain that he addressed me most seriously away after a visit to Mr. Mackenzie. He obupon the subject: I was immoveable; and de- served them a moment after; and in spite of the fended my resolution so sternly, that he at last temptation of the circumstances of the time, ran reproached me with being too dangerous a secre- after his excellency, and gave them to him upon tary for a foreign minister; and added, that he the stairs. The Spanish ambassador, affected by should not venture to entrust me with the secrets this proceeding, came back with him, overwhelmof his negociations. I removed his fears, how-ing him with thanks, and extolling to excess the ever, by convincing him that, with a little ad- generosity of his conduct. This circumstance dress, a man might meet the most adroit politi-introduced some anecdotes of the same kind; cian, and keep his own secret without doing violence to the truth; and finally persuaded him that probity, combined with firmness, might even in politics be compatible with the strictest truth. We had then before our eyes a striking example of the confidence which virtue, even carried to an extreme, can inspire; in preference to the maxims of the world, which are founded upon no principle. The Marquis de Carraccioli, Neapolitan minister at the Court of Turin, had a secretary who had been formerly corrupted by Lord A still better opportunity presented itself of knowing the secrets of the court of Spain, if the delicacy of Mr. Mackenzie had suffered him to take advantage of it. The Count de Torre Palina, ambassador from that court to Turin, let a packet of dispatches which he had that day re among which the ambassador related, in my hear ing, an affair which had happened to himself at Vienna. He thought he had discovered, while at that court, that his dispatches were intercepted. One 'day particularly he remarked to his secretary, that such a packet must have been opened; and he was convinced of it a moment afterwards, by finding a dispatch which was not signed, the hand-writing of which his secretary knew to be German and not Spanish, and which he declared was written by one of the clerks in the office of foreign affairs. He even produced some papers that had been given in reply to some of their memorials, which left no doubt of the fact; and they naturally imagined that, in the hurry with which these things are generally done at the offices, the copy of the dispatch had been put into the envelope instead of the original. The ambassador, without loss of time, waited immediately upon the Prince de Kaunitz. He was admitted. "I have to request, Sir," said he, "that you will order your clerks to restore my dispatch, of which they have only sent me the copy, and have kept the original." "Sir," replied the Prince, without appearing at all embarrassed, "I beg a thousand pardons for the trouble you have had; these careless fellows are making such blunders every day." Then ringing the bell, and calling one of his secretaries : Go, and fetch the ambassador's dispatch, Sir, of which he has only received the copy, and learn not to commit such blunders another time." When the dispatch was produced, "Sir," said the Prince, as he restored it to him, "I am mortified that their stupidity should have occa. sioned you so much trouble:" and conducted him very politely to the door, without appearing to attach any importance to the mistake which had produced the visit. [To be continued.] STATE OF SOCIETY AND MANNERS. Mr. EDITOR, DESCRIPTION OF CROMER in ruins, betrays evident marks of its former magnificent and Gothic origin. The western entrance is a good specimen of Gothic architec AS this is the season of the year in which the rich, the idle, and the gay rush in swarms from the metropolis, and scize upon every vil-ture, but the inside of the church very much dislage and hamlet upon the borders of the coas', in appoints those who are captivated by the exter order to enjoy the fancied advantages of sea- nal appearance. There are no monuments. In bathing, I am to inform you that I am one among the area is a triple row of pews, and some the flight of these summer swallows, and that benches; there is no gallery, and the whole has the course of my emigration has lead me to the an appearance extremely desolate and mean. Eastern shore of Norfolk, and I am for the pre-At about a third part of the height of the stairsent enjoying the salubrity of the air, and the comforts of mingled society, at the wellknown town of Cromer. I shall not, Mr. Editor, enter into any lengthened local description of this summer retreat, because the subject has already exercised the pens of many wandering geniuses, who, in gratitude, perhaps, for the benefits they have derived from the spot, have celebrated its praises in poetry and prose, and, as if they were taking their farewell of another Grand Chatreuse, have generally thought it incumbent upon them, when they discharged their tavern bill, to leave an ode or a copy of verses with their landlady. case which leads up the steeple (which is about 165 feet high), is a door which opens upon the leads of a small turret, communicating with the stairs, from which, some few years since, a boy of the name of Yoxley fell into the churchyard, without receiving any other hurt than a few slight bruises. This boy is now a sailor in his Majesty's navy. Cromer is situated on the Eastern coast of Norfolk, about 130 miles distant from London, and 22 from Norwich; it is nearly midway between Yarmouth to the south, and Lynn to the north, and almost in a direct line with Norwich. It is a larger kind of fishing town, for it scarcely meit is so close to the shore that, during the spring rits any other name, and is situated in a valley, tides, and in boisterous weather, the waves would It will probably not be inconsistent with your almost break into the streets, were they not dri plan if I give some description of Cromer and ven back by the loftiness of the cliffs. The sta the neighbourhood, in as brief and popular a is here much bolder, and has a greater violence manner as I am able. The first object to be re- of tide and current than in almost any other harmarked in Cromer is the church, which, thoughbour in England, Indeed a story, tolerably well "For here the muse so oft the harp has strung, "That not a mountain lifts its head unsung." |