into a grotto, hung with creeping plants, and Morpheus then closed her eye-lids. Near the couch of Beauty, the Hours of Night collected light and lovely dreams. Cypria in the midst of her court, young, tender, beautiful, and innocent, dreamed that she had but one lover, and dreamed that she was fithful. After some years of this education, the pupil of the Hours found herself so thoroughly accomplished, that the Gods desired to see her, to assure themselves of the truth of all that which fame had published. Envious sou's soon asseried that there were several Venuses whose different graces were unfairly attributed but to one; and this error obtained such credit, that it has been transmitted to us by Cicero six thousand years after✩ards. | We must pardon it, however; a perfect woman would make as many unbelievers in our day as she did then.-Adieu. LETTER XVII. VENUS had scarcely attained her fourteenth year, when she was demanded at the celestial court. Her presentation did not in the least resemble that of our Duchesses, and the preparations for it were very different. Nature alone presided there; but art with us-That impostor art had no existence in the first ages of the world. A young virgin presented herself at the divine assembly with her own features and her owu complexion. They could not change in one day, as they do now, the colour, the hair, and the shape; the art of pleasing was the only art of growing young again; it was the only cosmetic then in fashion; it disguised no age; but it embellished all. In those times of truth, when a Goddess appeared at the court of Cybele, an admirer felt assured of the reality of what he admired. Aurora having begun the day on which Venus was to be presented, the Goddess gently awaked on the bank of a clear rivulet; before that tranquil mirror she confined with a wreath of myrtle the floating ringlets of her hair. Many writers assert that she was fair; others pretend that she was a brunette; but for my part I am tempted to believe that these 1 two complexions mingled in her beauty, and formed a shade of tint which united all that brunettes have of the brilliant, and fair women have of the voluptuous; and that she inspired alternately, like you, my Emilia, the becoming transports of love, and the soft tenderness of melancholy. It was at this period that nature presented the Goddess with that mysterious cestus, which soon turned all the Gods' heads, and has often since then, turned so many wits fools. No sooner was Venus invested with this celestial ornament, than the Graces refused to add any further decoration, persuaded that at the age of the Goddess, the most seducing attire is always the most simple. Ifthere be any age in which simplicity gives its full value to beauty, it is that which glides from childhood into adolescence; that artless air of candour, that modesty so rare and so touching, that smiling mouth which knows not yet to disguise truth, that colour like the opening rose, that whiteness and velvet softness; all seduces, all ravishes, all enchants us. You, my Emilia, who are scarcely beyond that delightful period, do you not behold your own image in this delightful picture?-Novice that I am, sometimes in tracing your charms, I feared to alter a feature; sometimes iu retouching my work, to be accused of flattering my portraits. Of flattering! Pardon my muse this movement of pure vanity. If in beholding her ravishing work, it appears to her impossible to be otherwise than exaggerated, the original alone may serve to excuse her. The celestial court were assembled to receive the daughter of the Ocean. The Goddesses with a smile half-disturbed, murmurred amongst themselves—“ She is quite a child, is she not? Is she pretty?-Very well for her age.-Her eyes?-Blue; country colour. Her heart as simple as her head; a rustic air, a chi dish smile; but we shall form ber by degrees ” They were speaking thus, when Venus appeared. Her divine shape, her noble and modest carriage; her large blue eyes, darkenedTM by lashes of ebony; her auburn hair, floating over her alabaster shoulders; ber round and lovely limbs, the perfection of nature; freshness! what bloom!-Does truth distress those lillies, covered with the roses of you, lovely creature?-Ah! how exquisitely modesty, that tender embarrassment, those delicate! what new attractions! what nobleautaught graces; that voluptuous tranquil-ness!-This sweet thief of hearts seems to lity, enchanted the Gods and disconcerted the Goddesses. Smiling with affection, Jupiter embraced her, and said :—“Come, my dear daughter, come and take the crown which is destined for you; Juno partakes with me the throne of Heaven; Pallas occupies that of wisdom; that of beauty awaits you." 1 At these words you might have seen the blood rush to the faces of all the Goddesses. They regarded her with a bitter smile, shrugging up their shoulders and twisting their fingers if these heavenly ladies had carried fans, they would all bave been snapped. Meanwhile Jupiter placed upon the head of Venus a crown of myrtle, and then, whether with good will or ill will, every one was forced to applaud; it was necessary eveu to play off an air of extreme satisfaction. The Goddesses acquitted themselves to a marvel. Cypria confused, saw herself surrounded by women who smiled upon her, exclaiming, as they held her in their arms"How beautiful she is! what an air! what have a brow formed expressly to wear a crown." Then they whispered to each other"In spite of her bashful look, I see she is vain; the poor little simpleton smiles and believes every thing; let us save her from being ridiculous." Alarmed at these suspected confidences, Venus followed them with a disturbed glance; but soon the Goddesses banished her suspicions by renewing their caresses, and adding— "Oh! you listen to us? Do no fly into a passion; embrace us, dear beauty, we were saying many fine things of you." After this marked malice of the immortal ladies, you will not be surprised, my Emilia, to hear that Cypria soon made a conquest of all the Gods. In truth, she became the only object of their love and their rivalry. Mars and Vulcan placed themselves in the same lists; the last was not the most charming, but he was the most fortunate.-Fortunate! I injure the term; for what is the possession of the loved without the heart of her we love.-Adieu. (To be continued.) ON CURIOSITY CONCERNING THE AFFAIRS OF OTHERS, CONSIDERED AS A GREAT EVIL. WERE I to offer an advice to those I regard with feelings of affection and esteem, it would be, to avoid on all occasions idle curiosity respecting the affairs of others; an inquisitive meddling habit, which " grows by what it feeds on," prompts men to interfere in the concerns of their neighbours, breaks down the barrier of order in society, disturbs the peace of unoffending mortals, gives birth to mean and despicable passions in their own bosoms, withdraws them from nobler, worthier pursuits, and prevents the discharge of duty, either in a moral or religious point, of view... Linked as we are together by innumerable ties, which notwithstanding all that modern philosophers have asserted to the contrary, it is for the general happiness of mankind to preserve; we are bound by an indispensible duty to perform species of friendship towards each other, and to avoid all unnecessary interferences in matters which, if not imme diately connected with our interest, or welfare, we have neither a right to scrutinize, nor title to expose to public andimadversion, to the satire of the malicious, or the ridicule of the vain and foolish. Study to be quiet, and do your own duty,” is one of the wise counsels of the Apostolic Ruler, in his address to the Thessalonians, and it would be fortunate for many an hopeless victim of insatiable curiosity, if his advice was more strictly attended to; while it would" spare an infinite load of anguish and regret from weighing on the hearts of sensibility, which shrinks from the idea of their weaknesses or misfortunes becoming “the tale of fools," and prove the means of preserving a much greater share of harmony in society, than, it is to be lamented, at present exists amongst the sous and daughters of humanity. But alas! what earthly power can stem the impetuous torrent of prying curiosity. Where is the mortal who can hope to escape the active exertions of persons, who either from mere idleness, or with a view to gratify an insatiable thirst for diving into the private histories and concerns of their neighbours, pry into circumstance swith which they have no manner of business; decide on characters of whom they can only form a judgment from appearances (very often deceitful), or found opinions from the mangled statements gained from the most imperfect sources of information, and drawing inferences and conclusions the most unjust and illiberal, sow feuds and dissensions where peace and harmony might still have held their empire, and created mischiefs no time nor future endeavours can repair. written upon sand, and their opposite qualitics engraven upon brass. But to return to the inquiry into what is gained by such species of information, as these hunters after news and scandalous anecdotes usually acquire:-What is in general the reward of their labours?Why, nothing-literally nothing, save the gratification of mean and idle curiosity; a manifest statement of facts and circumstances, gleaned from the reports of low and vulgar-minded gossips, invested perhaps by malice, and propagated by idle. ness and credulity; yet thus qualified to decide on characters, and censure the conduct of which they know so little, conclusions are drawn, and comments are passed, which lead to the destruction of the peace and ruin of the fame of many an individual, whose actions and their motives, if published to the world, would not improbably be found far to ex cel the virtues of those very persons who have taken such infinite pains to cover them with obloquy and shame. Blush then ye, who are in other respects entitled to be ranked amongst the respectable and deserving part of mankind; blush for the littleness of soul which has prompted you to pry thus into And what, after all, it may be asked, 'do affairs in which you can have no real insuch inquisitive mortals usually gain by their terest, and which you were only anxious to indefatigable researches, their mean and illibecome acquainted with for the gratification beral attempts to acquire a knowledge of the of a despicable passion, and the mean Triumph private histories of their acquaintance. Do of being among the foremost to disseminate a they ever seek to discover acts of goodness tale of scandal, an instance of foily, or of inand benevolence, by imitating which they discretion, of which, could you with equal might be benefited, or which can tend to facility obtain a true knowledge of the feelthrow a lustre on the character of their felings of the person who committed the im low being? Do they ever hasten to publish the acts of virtue and benevolence, the amiable traits observable in the characters of their friends, or add a single syllable to prove how their neighbour merits commendation? No, no; on the contrary, they carefully guard within their own bosoms, whatever can lead to the exaltation of others; "damn with faint praise," and so completely mutilate and alter circumstances, that actions which merit the highest praise, are deemed of no importauce; are past over as trivial instances, heard without interest, and forgotten almost as soon as heard. Thus it is, men's virtues are prudence, you would find they had most truly repented, and have wept tears of blood in vainly striving to forget, or expiate.—“ Judge not therefore, least ye be judged." Think not ye whiten by comparing the faults" and errors of others by your own; seek not to discover the flaw which renders the character of others imperfect. Remember charity is one of the most amiable of the virtues.-That "charity thinketh no evil ;"-" rejoiceth not in iniquity." Triumph not in the real, or supposed degrada tion of a fellow-mortal, ner ever seek to add a darkening gloom to the shade which obscures the character of your acquaintance; shades, ་་ which if justly reflected upon, might be found to proceed more from the prevalence of examp'e, or a wrong-turned education, than from any defect in the heart of the unfortunate object of severity and censure That most perfect of characters. Bauish from your bosoms all the unworthy passions of envy, maliguity, uncharitableness, and rivalry. Where you discover faults and frailties, seek not to drag them to the light of general observation. Be merciful, as ye exp et mercy. Let the errors thus discovered, prove the means of bettering your own lives, and teaching you to avoid the rocks on which others have been shipwrecked. Recal to mind how beautiful, how pleasing in the sight of Heaven is Christian charity and brotherly love. Extend the hand of pity to the fallen, penitent wanderer, from the paths of right; or if the sinner lays too low to be again restored to former respectability of station, add not insult to misery; pass by upon the other side;" bestow a sigh of compassion on the wretchedness of a fellow-mortal; depart in peace, and as ye bid adieu to idle curiosity and interference in the concerns of others, ask pardon of your heavenly Father, for your past ini But if curiosity is so closely interwoven with the disposition, as to be wholly "unrestrainable, surely there are many ways by which it may be gratified, independent of the des- || picable employment of prying into private histories, and seeking to discover blemishes in the characters of others. Many are the laudable and praise-worthy pursuits by which time may be usefully and agreeably passed over; pursuits which improve the understanding, liberalize the sentiments, exalt the mind, and add lustre to the talents which nature has bestowed with an unsparing hand. Blush, therefore, I repeat; blush for the misapplication of abilities, the misuse of time of which you have been guilty. Strive to amend your own conduct, ere you arraign tha! of others. Reflect upon the humility, meek-quities, and "sin no more." ness, and benevolence of our blessed Saviour's disposition. Strive to imitate the virtues of M. BITE OF A MAD DOG. THE following ideas seem naturally to arise out of the contemplations of the disease termed hydrophobia, and which may be justly deemed of national importance,are respectfully submitted to the consideration of all medical || professors, &c. as they tend to calm the mind of the afflicted, to satisfy the scruples of the sceptic, and to afford solid comfort and consolation to the whole human race. A summer is seldom known to pass during which this country is not visited by that dreadful calamity, mad dogs! The idea of dread spreads with pestilential rapidity, and infests almost every rank of people! The epidemic terror of madness prevails beyond all former example. The whole country groans under the maliguity of its bancful influence; and it appears unaccountably strange that mankind, subject as they are to external injury and internal decay, sh uld add to the already sufficiently numerous afflictions, com plaints which appear never to have had existence but in the imagination! That the economy and formation of all animals are different may be denied, but cannot be refuted by any who have investigated the immutable laws of nature; and, as far as we are capable of judging from finite to infinite Being, it appears to be the eternal order of nature that radical causes should exist in the seed of all animals and vegetables, and that when placed in congenial soils they are enabled to attract principles peculiar to themselves; and it is only from the radical cause being thus affixed that animals and vegetables are enabled to produce and extend their species. From the same (and no other) principle of affinity are all granivorous animals capable of extracting from the herbage on which they feed (although many different classes feed upon the same) principles peculiar to each. The difference of the radical cause which exists in every genus of animals and vegetables, constitutes a different formation and economy. Man is not subject to the diseases of animals when uncompounded with his own species: instance, if you please, the disease termed cow-pox, it appears to be a milder state of small-pox, arising from, and possessing the same original radical cause; shewing, at the same time, the neces sity of there being compounded in a preternatural state the juices of three different spe cies of animals, prior to constitutional affection iu man.—Now if cow-pox be not a milder state of small-pox, why should a disease possessing a totally different radical cause, not render man iucapable of being affected with any other of those diseases which human nature is subject to? Or why do small-pox, measles, scarlet fever, and typhus fever arise from and possess different radical causes? Or, why small-pox was never found to render mankind incapable of an attack from measles, or measles that of scarlet fever? &c. (though all these belong to the same class of disease.) If, therefore, these, as well as all other diseases with which we are acquaint. ed, invariably produce their own likeness, cowpox must, from its being a prevention of small-pox, arise from aud possess the same radical cause as small-pox itself: and let those who think otherwise prove, by those immutable laws which govern all productions, that nature ever varied lower than the in stance of a mule. so, why are the appearances dissimilar? Why should hydrophobia appear in man, and not madness, until produ‹ed by mental and bodily exhaustion? It appears from nature's laws, that, for the preservation and protection of one genus of animals from the diseases of another, they have each been furnished with a peculiar radical cause in the formation of their own compounded bodies, which renders one genus proper food for another, thereby tending to prevent the existence of putrefaction upon the face of the earth. Now if it should be said that the economy and formation of every genus of animals is not different, how will it be accounted for that the dog, and every other carnivorous ani. mal is found capable of feeding upon the bodies of every other genus, when even in the highest state of putrefaction, and of converting those compounds formed during such state into compounds proper for the support of life; while, if the body were placed among living ani. mais of its own class, it would, from those invariable laws in nature, find its own likeness produce the same preternatural state, and, finally the destruction of life. A most dreadful and convincing proof of this assertion arises out of the contemplation of the dysentery in maukind; it shews the existence of a peculiar radi. cal cause even in the formation of every minute part of the compounded viscera of the human frame; for the compound is evolved and inhaled, like all other infectious disease; it circulates, and is repelled; producing not the smallest preternatural state in any part, from a want of affinity, until brought into the sphere of attraction of that particular part of the viscera in whcih the disease did ori The qualities of different natures are known not to produce the same similitude. The diseases of animals too, are known, when un- | compounded with others, to be as distinct as❘ginate. Another proof may be added, viz. The their species. Therefore the idea of oue genus of animals being subject to the diseases of another, must be falacious, since it is contrary to all the known laws by which nature is invariably governed, and has been from all eternity: No contagious disease ever producing other than its own determined like Dess. Should, therefore, hydrophobia be supposed to arise from a virus secreted by any rabid animal, does it not follow that it must be, either infectious or contagious? and, if dog, though he is known to devour the excrement ofman, containing the compounds formed during the state above described, yet has he never been subject to, or attacked by, the said disease. The reason is, the radical cause; it is different, and the disease not finding the same attractive power, consequently cannot find a seat. Such demonstration is, in my mind, suffi ciently powerful to prove to all rational beings that the economy and formation of every genus of animals must be different. If, then, |