wouldst thou share alike, and take thy portion, or be as thou art?

Without ques

tion thou wouldst be as thou art. If some Jupiter should say, to give us all

content

Jam faciam quod vultis; eris tu, qui modò miles,
Mercator; tu, consultus modo, rusticus; hinc vos,
Vos hinc, mutatis discedite partibus; eia!

Quid statis? nolint.

Well, be 't so then: you, master soldier,
Shall be a merchant; you, sir lawyer,
A country gentleman; go you to this,

That side you; why stand ye? It's well as 'tis.

Every man knows his own but not others' defects and miseries; and 'tis the nature of all men still to reflect upon themselves, their own misfortunes, not to examine or consider other men's, not to confer themselves with others: to recount their miseries, but not their good gifts, fortunes, benefits, which they have; to ruminate on their adversity, but not once to think on their prosperity, not what they have, but what they want to look still on them that go before, but not on those infinite numbers that come after; whereas many a man would think himself in heaven, a petty prince, if he had but the least part of that fortune which thou so much repinest at, abhorrest, and accountest a most vile and wretched estate. How many thousands want that which thou hast? How many myriads of poor slaves, captives, of such as work day and night in coal-pits, tin-mines, with sore toil to maintain a poor living, of such as labour in body and mind, live in extreme anguish and pain, all which thou art free from? O fortunatos nimium bona si sua norînt ; thou art most happy if thou couldst be content, and acknowledge thy happiness; Rem carendo, non fruendo, cognoscimus; when thou shalt hereafter come to want that which thou now loathest, abhorrest, and art weary of, and tired with, when 'tis past, thou wilt say thou wast most happy: and, after a little miss, wish with all thine heart thou hadst the same content again, mightst lead but such a life, a world for such a life; the remembrance of it is pleasant. Be silent then, rest satisfied, desine, intuensque in aliorum infortunia, solare mentem; comfort thyself with other men's misfortunes, and as the moldiwarpe in Æsop told the fox complaining for want of a tail, and the rest of his companions, tacete, quando me oculis captum videtis; you complain of toys, but I am blind, be quiet. I say to thee be thou satisfied. It is recorded of the hares that with a general consent they went to drown themselves, out of a feeling of their misery; but when they saw a company of frogs more fearful than they were, they began to take courage and comfort again. Confer thine estate with others. Similes aliorum respice casus, mitius ista feres. Be content, and rest satisfied; for thou art well in respect of others; be thankful for that thou hast, that God hath done for thee, he hath not made thee a monster, a beast, a base creature, as he might, but a man, a Christian, such a man; consider aright of it, thou art full well as thou art. Quicquid vult, habere nemo potest, no man can have what he will: Illud potest nolle, quod non habet, he may choose whether he will desire that which he hath not: Thy lot is fallen, make the best of it. If we should all sleep at all times (as Endymion is said to have done), who then were happier than his fellow? Our life is but short, a very dream, and while we look about, immortalitas adest, eternity is at hand. Our life is a pilgrimage on earth, which wise men pass with great alacrity. If thou be in woe, sorrow, want, distress, in pain, or sickness, think of that of our apostle, God chastiseth them whom he loveth: They that sow in tears, shall reap in joy, Psal. cxxvi. 6. As the furnace proveth the potter's vessel, so doth témptation try men's thoughts, Eccl. xxv. 5. Tis for thy good: Periisses, nisi periisses: Hadst thou not been so visited thou hadst been utterly undone; as gol

in the fire, so men are tried in adversity. Tribulatio ditat: and, which Camerarius hath well shadowed in an emblem of a thresher and corn:

Si tritura absit, paleis sunt abdita grana,
Nos crux mundanis separat à paleis :

As threshing separates from straw the corn,
By crosses from the world's chaff are we born.

"Tis the very same which Chrysostome comments, Hom. 2, in 3 Mat. Corn is not separated but by threshing, nor men from worldly impediments but by tribulation. "Tis that which Cyprian ingeminates, Serm. 4, de Immort. "Tis that which Hierom, which all the Fathers inculcate, so we are catechised for eternity. 'Tis that which the proverb insinuates, Nocumentum documentum. "Tis that which all the world rings into our ears. Deus unicum habet filium sine peccato, nullum sine flagello: God, saith Austin, hath one son without sin, none without correction. An expert seaman is tried in a tempest, a runner in a race, a captain in a battle, a valiant man in adversity, a Christian in temptation and misery. Basil, Hom. 8. We are sent as so many soldiers into this world, to strive with it, the flesh, the devil; our life is a warfare, and who knows it not? Non est ac astra mollis è terris via: and therefore peradventure this world here is made troublesome unto us, that, as Gregory notes, we should not be delighted by the way, and forget whither we are going.

Ite, nunc fortes, ubi celsa magni

Ducit exempli via: cur inertes

Terga nudatis? superata tellus
Sidera donat.

Go on then merrily to heaven. If the way be troublesome, and you in misery, in many grievances; on the other side you have many pleasant sports, objects, sweet smells, delightsome tastes, music, meats, herbs, flowers, &c., to recreate your senses. Or put case, thou art now forsaken of the world, dejected, contemned, yet comfort thyself, as it was said to Agar in the wilderness, God sees thee; He takes notice of thee there is a God above that can vindicate thy cause, that can relieve thee. And surely, Seneca thinks, he takes delight in seeing thee. The gods are well pleased when they see great men contending with adversity, as we are to see men fight, or a man with a beast. But these are toys in respect, Behold, saith he, a spectacle worthy of God: a good man contented with his estate. A tyrant is the best sacrifice to Jupiter, as the ancients held, and his best object a contented mind. For thy part then rest satisfied, cast all thy care on him, thy burden on him, rely on him, trust in him, and he shall nourish thee, care for thee, give thee thine heart's desire; say with David, God is our hope and strength, in troubles ready to be found, Psal. xlvi. 1. For they that trust in the Lord shall be as Mount Sion, which cannot be removed, Psal. cxxiv. 1, 2. As the mountains are about Jerusalem, so is the Lord about his people, from henceforth and for ever.

249. THE GOOD PARSON.

A parish priest was of the pilgrim train;
An awful, reverend, and religious man.
His eyes diffused a venerable grace,
And charity itself was in his face.

Rich was his soul, though his attire was poor
(As God hath clothed his own ambassador);
For such, on earth, his bless'd Redeemer bore.
Of sixty years he seem'd; and well might last

DRYDAN.

To sixty more, but that he lived too fast;
Refined himself to soul, to curb the sense;
And made almost a sin of abstinence.
Yet, had his aspect nothing of severe,
But such a face as promised him sincere.
Nothing reserved or sullen was to see:
But sweet regards, and pleasing sanctity:
Mild was his accent, and his action free.
With eloquence innate his tongue was arm'd;
Though harsh the precept, yet the people charm'd ;
For, letting down the golden chain from high,
He drew his audience upward to the sky:
And oft with holy hymns he charm'd their ears
(A music more melodious than the spheres):
For David left him, when he went to rest,
His lyre; and after him he sung the best.
He bore his great commission in his look:

But sweetly temper'd awe; and soften'd all he spoke,
He preach'd the joys of heaven, and pains of hell,
And warn'd the sinner with becoming zeal;

But, on eternal mercy loved to dwell.

He taught the gospel rather than the law;
And forced himself to drive; but loved to draw.
For fear but freezes minds: but love, like heat,
Exhales the soul sublime, to seek her native scat,
To threats the stubborn sinner oft is hard,
Wrapp'd in his crimes, against the storm prepared;
But, when the milder beams of mercy play,
He melts, and throws his cumbrous cloak away.
Lightning and thunder (heaven's artillery)
As harbingers before th' Almighty fly:
Those but proclaim his style, and disappear;
The stiller sound succeeds, and God is therc.

The tithes, his parish freely paid, he took;
But never sued, or cursed with bell or book.
With patience bearing wrong, but offering none;
Since every man is free to lose his own.

The country churls, according to their kind
(Who grudge their dues, and love to be behind),
The less he sought his offerings, pinch'd the more,
And praised a priest contented to be poor.

Yet of his little he had some to spare,

To feed the famish'd, and to clothe the bare;
For mortified he was to that degree,

A poorer than himself he would not see.

"True priests," he said, "and preachers of the word,

Were only stewards of their sovereign Lord;
Nothing was theirs; but all the public store;
Intrusted riches, to relieve the poor.

Who, should they steal, for want of his relief,
He judged himself accomplice with the thief."

Wide was his parish; not contracted close
In streets, but here and there a straggling house;
Yet still he was at hand, without request,

To serve the sick, to succour the distress'd:
Tempting, on foot, alone, without affright,
The dangers of a dark tempestuous night.

All this, the good old man perform'd alone,
Nor spared his pains; for curate he had none.
Nor durst he trust another with his care;
Nor rode himself to Paul's, the public fair,

To chaffer for preferment with his gold,
Where bishoprics and sinecures are sold;
But duly watch'd his flock, by night and day;
And from the prowling wolf redeem'd the prey :
And hungry sent the wily fox away.

The proud he tamed, the penitent he cheer'd :
Nor to rebuke the rich offender fear'd.

His preaching much, but more his practice wrought
(A living sermon of the truths he taught ;)
For this by rules severe his life he squared;
That all might see the doctrine which they heard :
For priests, he said, are patterns for the rest.
(The gold of heaven, who bear the God impress'd :)
For, when the precious coin is kept unclean,
The sovereign's image is no longer seen.
If they be foul on whom the people trust,
Well may the baser brass contract a rust.

The prelate for his holy life he prized ;
The worldly pomp of prelacy despised.
His Saviour come not with a gaudy show :
Nor was his kingdom of the world below.
Patience in want, and poverty of mind,

These marks of church and churchmen he design'd,
And living taught, and dying left behind.

The crown he wore was of the pointed thorn;

In purple he was crucified, not born.

They who contend for place and high degree,

Are not his sons, but those of Zebedee.

Not but he knew the signs of earthly power Might well become Saint Peter's successor;

The holy father holds a double reign,

The prince may keep his pomp, the fisher must be plain. Such was the saint; who shone with every grace,

Reflecting, Moses like, his Maker's face.

God saw his image lively was express'd ;

And his own work, as in creation bless'd.

The tempter saw him too with envious eye; And, as on Job, demanded leave to try.

He took the time when Richard was deposed,
And high and low with happy Harry closed.

This prince, though great in arms, the priest withstood:
Near though he was, yet not the next in blood.
Had Richard unconstrain'd resign'd the throne,
A king can give no more than is his own:
The title stood entail'd, had Richard had a son.

Conquest, an odious name, was laid aside,
Where all submitted, none the battle tried.
The senseless plea of right by providence
Was, by a flattering priest, invented since;
And lasts no longer than the present sway;
But justifies the next who comes in play

The people's right remains; let those who dare
Dispute their power, when they the judges are.

He join'd not in their choice, because he knew
Worse might, and often did, from change ensue :
Much to himself he thought; but little spoke ;
And, undeprived, his benefice forsook.

Now, through the land, his care of souls he stretch'd
And like a primitive apostle preach'd.

Still cheerful; ever constant to his call;

By many follow'd; loved by most, admired by all,
With what he begg'd, his brethren he relieved,
And gave the charities himself received.
Gave, while he taught; and edified the more,
Because he shew'd, by proof, 'twas easy to be poor.

He went not with the crowd to see a shrine ;
But fed us by the way with food divine.

In deference to his virtues, I forbear
To shew you what the rest in orders were:
This brilliant is so spotless, and so bright,

He needs no foil, but shines by his own proper light.

[JOHN JAMES AUDUBON, the great American Naturalist, was born about 1782. He is still labouring as a draughtsman and a writer upon the zoology of his country. Beautifully has he described the scenes of his labours, "amid the tall grass of the far extended prairies of the west, in the solemn forests of the north, on the heights of midland mountains, by the shores of the boundless ocean, and on the bosoms of our vast bays, lakes, and rivers,-searching for things hidden since the creation of this wondrous world from all but the Indian who has roamed in the gorgeous but melancholy wilderness."]

Various portions of our country have, at different periods, suffered severely from the influence of violent storms of wind, some of which have been known to traverse nearly the whole extent of the United States, and to leave such deep impressions in their wake as will not easily be forgotten. Having witnessed one of these awful phenomena, in all its grandeur, I will attempt to describe it. The recollection of