a considerable length of time before he was first taken. Hence some have supposed he was really an idiot, although he had by no means tite countenance of one; and Lord MONBODDO affures us that he knew an officer, a man of very good sense, who was quartered where PETER lived for fome months, and faw him almoft every day, and who affirmed, that he was no idiot, but shewed marks of common understanding, which was all that could be expected from one in his state. Ву order of the Queen he was put under the care of Dr. ARBUTHNOT, with proper masters to attend him. But notwithitanding there seemed to be no natural defect in his organs of speech, after all the pains that had been taken with him, he could never be brought to say more than Peter and King GEORGE, and proved incapable of receiving instruction. Peter could therefore never be more than tamed, fo weakened were the powers of his understanding for want of its proper and early culture.

SECT.

SECT. LVI.

ON THE PLEASURES OF THE POOR MAN.

-Turn we to survey
where rougher climes a nobler race display,
where the bleak Swiss their stormy mansions tread,
and force a churlish foil for scanty bread.
No product here the barren hills afford,
but man and feel, the soldier and his sword.
No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array,
but winter lingering chills the lap of May;
no zephyr fondly sues the mountain's breast,
but meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest.

Yet still, e'en here, CONTENT can spread a charm, redress the clime, and all its rage difarm. Cheerful at morn, he wakes from short repose, breathes the keen air, and carols as he goes ; with patient angle trolls the finny deep, or drives his vent'rous plough-Share to the steep; or seeks the den where snow-tracks mark the way, and drags the struggling savage into day. At night returning, every labour sped, he fits him down the monarch of a thed; smiles by his cheerful fire, and round surveys his childrens' looks, that brighten at the blaze; while his lov'd partner, boastful of her hoard, displays her cleanly platter on the board : and haply too some pilgrim, thither led, with many a tale repays the nightly bed,

Vol. IV.

4 Q

SECT. SECT. LVII.

ON THE PLEASURES OF A CULTIVATED MIND.

1

Such are the charms to barren states assign'd.
Their wants but few, their wishes all confin'd.
Yet let them only řare the praises due ;
if few their wants, their pleasures are but fewo;
for every want that stimulates the breast
becomes a source of pleasure when redrest.
Whence from such lands each pleasing science flies,
that first excites defire, and then supplies ;
unknown to them, when sensual pleasures cloy,
to fill the languid pause with finer joy ;
unknown those powers that raise the foul to flame,
catch every nerve and vibrate through the frame.
Their level life is but a mouldring fire,
unquench'd by want, unfan'd by strong de fire;
unfit for raptures; or, if raptures cheer
on some high festival of once a year,
in wild excess the vulgar breast takes fire,
till, buried in debauch, the bliss expire.

There is not, says Dr. John Brown, a finer stimulus, than the pleasurable feeling proceeding from a happy train or flow of thinking; hence the delight, that arises from a flight of wit, or from a pleasant vein of humour; hence all the fine feelirgs of the belles lettres ; hence in youth, the enthusiasm, so natural to the human feelings, to out-strip all others in every mental excel

lency. lency. The arts, the sciences, every department of human knowledge, are all the effects of that intellectual propensity. How happy would it be for mankind were this noble stimulus duly cherished! What benefits, which society is deprived of, would not accrue from a proper cultivation of it! What must have been the delight of PYTHAGORAS, when he found out the forty-seventh proposition ! He jumped about in an ecstasy, crying out Evpurce ; and was so much more substantial than his other few brother discoverers, as to possess the means of offering a sacrifice of an hundred fat bullocks to the gods! How delightful must the feelings of Milton have been, in whose works every page is an effort of the most beautiful, and of the most fublime, conceptions of human genius!

What were the lively sensations of Pope, Cowley, and Darwin, whose sportive imaginations called at will myriads of beautiful scenes! How delightful the emotions of those orators, whose eloquence hath saved their respective countries ; of those preachers, who have rooted out the malignant passions, and implanted in their room the most perfect philanthropy; and lastly, of that physician, from whose philosophy a NEW MEDICINE hath arisen with healing on her wings.

4 Q2

SECT.

SECT. LVIII.

ON EDUCATION.

Would NEWTON, had he been born in the most remote part of California of barbarous parents, have discovered the system of the world ?

BONNET.

An human soul without education is like marble in the quarry, which shews none of its inherent beauties, until the skill of the polisher fetches out the colours, makes the surface shine, and discovers every ornamental cloud, spot, and vein, that runs through the body of it. Education, after the same manner, when it works upon a noble mind, draws out to view every latent virtue and perfection, which, without such helps, are never able to make their appearance.

If the reader will give me leave to change the allusion so soon upon him, I shall make use of the fame instance to illustrate the force of education, which ARISTOTLE has brought to explain his doctrine of substantial forms, when he tells us, that a statue lies hid in a block of marble, and that the art of the statuary only 7