HUMAN CULTIVATION.

MR. ROLLIN, in his Belles Lettres, speaking of the difference study makes between men in regard to their improvement, after having shewn the proof of his assertion by instances from history, makes the following observations.—

"But, without recourse to history, let us only cast our eyes upon what ordinarily passes in nature. From thence we may learn what an infinite difference cultivation will make between two pieces of ground which are otherways very much alike. The one, if left to itself, remains rough, wild, and over-run with weeds and thorns. The other, laden with all sorts of grain and fruits, and set off with an agreeable variety of flowers, collects into a narrow compass whatever is most rare, wholesome, or delightful, and by the tiller's care becomes a pleasing epitome of all the beauties of different seasons and regions.

And thus it is with the mind, which always repays us with usury the care we take to cultivate it. That is the soil, which every man, who knows for what great ends he is designed, is obliged to manage to advantage; a soil which is rich and fruitful, capable of immortal productions, and alone worthy all his care.

SENTENCES

ON REPENTANCE.

I.

HE that keeps himself from great sins is as he that hath a prosperous voyage; he that repents, as he that saves himself upon a plank,

II.

Repentance begins in the humiliation of the heart, and ends in the reformation of the life,

III.

Defer not repentance till another day: he that hath promised pardon upon thy repentance, hath not promised life till thou repentest.

IV.

If we put off repentance another day, we have a day more to repent of, and a day less to repent in,

POETRY.

TO MY SISTERS,

On finding some of their School Copy Books among the Lumber in the

Garret.

September 3, 1789.

THE clock struck nine"--and breakfast o'er,
The attic story to explore,
Where lumber, canker'd o'er with rust,
And books, and files, begrim'd with dust,
In chaos state had long lain jumbled,
And like it's atoms, lost and tumbled
In dungeon dark-To save the best,
And to the fire condemn the rest-
I found, fulfilling this intent,

The inclos'd I now to you present,

To every tale, a moral is annex'd:

In fable, animals, birds, trees can preach;
Excuse my making ancient books a text-
That with my sisters, I myself may teach.

Few meditations will more profit yield,
Than deep reflections on the lapse of time :
They open to our views an ample field,

Replete with subjects, or of prose, or rhyme.

Then let us on these youthful times reflect,
And take a serious, retrospective view :-
No cares, no fears (save criminal neglect

Of learning) could their frowning aspect shew.

High health and spirits, class'd with sweet content,
And early tear of heaven and earth's Supreme;
Blessings of highest prize!-Yet only lent
To furnish riper age, a grateful theme.

In early life, how many joys abound!
Yet, were we happy?-Let reflection tell-
Unmix'd felicity was never found

In any state on earth, since Adam fell.

To mirth and play, our youth's supreme delight,
Knowledge and godly fear too often bent:
Or father, what we wish'd, we fancied right;
Free from suspicion, as from ill intent.

When riper age succeeded giddy youth,
And pleasure bow'd before reflection's shrine;
Enjoyment, balanc'd in the scale of truth,
Defective, oft compell'd us to repine.

Conscious of this, imagination lent

It's aid, and expectation bade us wait For that felicity, experience rent

From earthly bliss, in each succeeding state.

Hollow and piercing as a broken reed,

Terrestrial happiness-A phantom vain; Like will-o'-whisp, doth oft our steps mislead, And fills our disappointed hearts with pain.

Yet solid comfort may on earth be found,
If sold happiness alone we seek :

'To " precious faith," God's promises abound,
"Exceeding great and precious"-Hear HIM speak.

"To you that fear my name, the glorious sun
Of righteousness shall rise with healing wing"-
The earnest of eternal life begun,

That pard'ning love that covers all our sin.

Nor pard'ning love, shall be alone our boast: "My powerful grace, in every trying hour,

Shall overcome the fierce infernal host,

Detect their wiles, and trample on their power."

The world, the flesh, the devil, all shall yield
To that almighty spirit, who of old
The rude chaotic elements could wield,
And into paradisic order mould.

Oh what an ample field, a glorious scene,
Presents itself to my enraptur'd view!
"Behold (though many ages roll between)

I-'tis the saviour speaks-make all things new.

"These words are true and faithful"-Yet, if men
Dare doubt, oppose, or disbelieve his word-
His glorious word shall stand-shall sure remain;
The universe obey it's sovereign Lord.

Hail glorious time!-But oh! what dreadful scenes
Of wrath and punishment, must first befal
Those who prefer their sin; neglect the means,
Despise the mercy, offer'd free to all.

But I forbear-my sisters must excuse

A thought, promulg'd without a pre-intent.
Our first-born portion, inay we never lose,

Nor from the book of life our names be rent.

Happy and holy, are the souls who share

Bliss, the first glorious resurrection brings! First-fruits to God-children of faith and prayer, Wash'd in that blood that makes them priests and Kings.

"O'er these the second death, the fiery lake, That dismal state-no power shall assume".

In life's decline, what other view can make

The prospect clear and bright, thro' death's terrific gloom?

CASTLE STREET.

THOMAS DAY.

(A RECIPE

TO PROCURE CONNUBIAL HAPPINESS.

TAKE of beauty and wit what you happen to have,
Each as pure and as simple as nature first gave;
Mix them up with discretion, and stirring them well,
Add good humour two handfuls, for taste and for smell.
Throw in plenty of smiles, but of frowns very few,
For they injure each other as contaries do;

If the good man's within sit and chat by his side,
Lest your silence be construed to sourness, or pride;
But if ruffled abroad, in a pet he comes home,
To keep up decorum, your cue must be mum;
Let your reasoning be soft, if you mean to reform;
Reproaches won't mend but will kindle a storm;
With a smile bid him welcome, and part with a sigh;
It will make him love home, and add to your joy;
Let his friends be well treated with all due respect,
Lest he thinks himself glanc'd at by such a neglect.

To these you may add what affection you please;
But little of fondness, for of love 'tis the lees.
Let your inclination recede to his will,

And of all things avoid the genteel dishabille ;
Work this well together, in the manner of paste,

Candy'd o'er with good sense, and I'll warant 'twill last.

W.

AN EPIGRAM,

Which was put up at the Dock Yard Gate, Chatham, soon after the Decease of a certain Calvinist Preacher in that Town, who used bitterly, in his public Harangues, to inveigh against Mr. John Wesley, on account of his Belief in the Arminian Doctrines, and at last condemned him to endless Damnation.

SAYS Vy* to Wesley, "Pray how came you here?
To see you in heaven it makes me to stare.

Your sentence I passed some months since, you know,
And sent you post haste to the regions below."

Quoth John, "Brother V―y, 'twas love, boundless love,
That gave me a place in these mansions above.

1 pass'd through the portals with love on my ticket.
But you, I believe, crept in at the wicket."

The following Lines, accompanying the above, were wrote by another Hand.

Whether wicket or portal, there is but one door,
And he that some other way aims to get o'er,

A thief and a robber most justly is styl'd,

Which if they were such they're most sadly beguil'd.

But love and true charity hope for the best,

So e'en let those preachers in God's judgment rest.

* Vessey.