star of night,--who, serene and calm as his heart, casts her gentle rays on him. At last he takes his lyre, he sings the praise of the almighty, and his accents spread afar, across the darknefs and the silence of the forests. A second time Doris comes to find him in the valley: calm as a fine evening, and serene as the summer's night, they return to their rural habitation and fall asleep in the midst of repose: Thus slept Adam in the arms of his innocent wife, whilst, guarded by angels, inhabited delicious Eden. Where fhall I find the plea

sures which I have been painting? Where is the wise man happy? and how long does his felicity endure? Alas! we may perhaps soon see him bathing, with his tears, thethe tomb of his beloved wife. Spring no longer flourishes for him; his lyre is become mute; he detests the light of day-the fhades of night increase his grief; he sighs, he wishes for the moment that will unite his ashes to those of his dear Doris.

But if heaven fhould spare him: if tears of sorrow never bath'd his eyes, would he be insensible to the misfortunes of others,-to the misfortunes of his friends? Would he see with an indifferent eye virtue in distress? Ah! if he has a feeling heart, how can he be happy here below? and if he has not, how can he take the name of wise. Alas! for one happy incident, how many scenes of sorrow there are in the stage of life! There a furious warrior destroys the master pieces of an artist, who thought to live to immortality: the villager sees all his hopes rise in the smoke of his consuming cabin. In vain in his despairdoes he raise his innocent hands to heaven... The timid virgin is cruelly snatched from the arms of her mother by, licentious soldiers; fhe implores the afsistance of her lover; but her lover is no more. He quitted her to seek glory in the fields of war. He has there fallen; and in dying be

She

still pronounced the loved name of his mistress. feels her heart inflamed by a sublime despair: a dagger snatches her soul from the earth, and her body from infamy. The soul darts to heaven; the body falls without being profaned; a peaceful tomb incloses it. In better worlds, her soul will find that of her young lo

ver.

But what pleasure hast thou, unhappy young man, in tracing this picture of crimes and of sorrows? Alas! hast thou not enough of evils of thine own? why increase them with foreign ills, which thy imagination still heightens ? What is become of those sweet and smiling images which youth and hope presented to you in an agreeable back ground! Those brilliant visions of a happy futurity have disappeared. The ideas which made thy happiness are difsipated like the dream of the summer's night. Thy youth passes: time will soon have devoured the last moment of it. Already thy days of sickness and distress are come. Thou wilt pafs the rest of thy days in a sad servitude; and thou wilt die unknown. Fools will pafs without emotion near the tomb where thou wilt repose.But when wilt thou repose? How many days poisoned with chagrin and melancholy await thee still! Who knows even, if fate in anger may not snatch thy lyre from thee thy lyre, the last and sweetest consolation of thy life.. Adieu, my friends! dont refuse me the last marks of friendship grant me a few tears.

Sweet, deceitful hope! Liberty which I have lost and which has cost me so many tears! Adieu.

Ye e groves who hear my plaints, if ever a young man of sensibility comes to wander under your fhades, tell him (whilst your silence will have thrown him into poetic reveries, and a secret emotion fhall have laid hold of his heart) tell him that a young man came also to repose and

O thou who walkest with

weep in these places. a slow pace, absorbed in deep thought, listen to the low voice that speaks to thee from afar. "On that tender moss which thou tramplest at present with thy foot, reposed, thought, and sighed, a young man, to whom nature had granted, as to thee, an upright tender soul, susceptible of the most sublime enthusiasm. If thou lovest virtue, thou art his friend give him your regret. His life pafsed here in silence and obscurity, as thou seest this rivulet flow. Now his spirit dwells in happier worlds." Ah! when thou halt occupy thyself with these thoughts, may a religious and compassionate tear run slowly down thy cheek! may thy heart, sensible and big with sighs, rise!—Ah,' mayest thou pofsefs his lyre and a better fortune!

'In the mean time glide on in a gentle languor, Q my hours! conduct soon this soul to the regions of blefsed spirits, among whom Serena is ready to receive me. O death, wifhed for end of human miseries, come!

But what voice rises in the bottom of my heart? "Banish the criminal withes of the impatience of mortals: thou complainest wretch, thou callest on death, and why ?" To be happy. It is the desire of nature!? "It is too great for the earth. Mortal! beyond the tomb be happy; but on this side, be wise. Thou seest millions of thy fellows suffer, and dost thou think thyself alone worthy to be happy? Thou shalt be so. 'Wait with patience. Let affliction correct thy heart. Cares are for vice. Suffer! Serena sees thee, and blefses thy sufferings."

Immortal voice of my concience, I will obey thee; 1 wish to feel and suffer my misfortune. Slavery reigns here below; liberty dwells in the regions of Serena.

6

I wish to repose here, where the noise of a profane people troubles me not. O solitudes, receive me into

Sept. 25. your bosom, that your profound calm may pafs into my soul! Here nature sleeps; all is calm except this spring which descends murmuring from the top of that savage rock. I will not disturb this vast repose by criminal complaints; I will be silent, but I will fhed tears. Ah! without tears where fhould I find a mitigation of my sorrows? Thus religious patience, peaceful in sadnefs, sits on a marble tomb, and supports the weight of grief!

NEW IMPROVEMENTS.

IMPROVE
I

By his last dispaches from Gothenburg, the Editor has received intelligence of some very important improvements there in domestic economy, chiefly respecting the saving of fuel in that northern climate. These are,

1. an improved kiln for drying malt, &c.

This kiln is so constructed as,

J. To save a great proportion of fuel: as not much more than half the quantity that is usually required will per form the same work.

2. There is no pofsibility of setting it on fire; so that all the houses connected with such a kiln are perfectly safe in this respect.

3. The malt, or any thing else thus dried cannot be affected with the smoke of fuel in the smallest degree; so that it is a matter of indifference whether that fuel be peat or coal, or wood, or brush of any kind; all of which may be used indifferently.

4. This kiln is so constructed as to act at the same time as a kind of stove at pleasure during cold weather, so as to prevent the cold from operating as a check to the progrefs of malting, &c. in cold regious.

5. It also admits of being loaded and unloaded at a smaller expence than in buildings of the usual construction.

My informant says this is not a mere theoretic idea; for he has seen it actually carried in part into execution, where it has been found to answer perfectly, in as far as has been tried; he has also seen the whole of the drawings, by means of which he understands the principle, and thinks when fully executed it is so simple as not to be liable to be put out of order, and must be very lasting; so that he conceives it to be a very material improvement.

2. An improved baker's oven.

This is merely an extention of the principle applied above, adapted to the form of an oven, and pofsefses all the advantages above stated; viz, saving of fuel; preservation of the bread pure and uncontaminated either by the smoke or afhes of the fuel. It admits moreover of having the heat raised or moderated at pleasure, so as to adapt it precisely to the purpose required at the time.

No contrivance, our informant thinks, has ever yet been evented equal to these two for drying all kinds of green vegetables, or evaporating moisture for any purpose in arts. In the kiln the evaporation can be carried on as slowly as may be wanted; and it may be easily so constructed as either to have the benefit of the rays of the sun, or the fhade, as may be most requisite ; and in the oven the exsiccation can be pushed as far as can be necessary for any purpose. In both cases a contrivance is adopted for carrying off the damp air as it arises from the substances drying

3. An economical chamber stove.

This is merely an improvement of the chamber stove already in universal use in Sweden, which, he thinks, might be introduced with great propriety among the poor in Britain, where much fuel is spent unnecessarily. These VOL. Xvii.