physical doctrines in divinity; but it is our particular request, that he would take some notice of the malignant disposition discoverable, even in children, to insult and torment the deformed, the drunken, and insane, who occasionally appear in the streets of the city.

We have seen several hundred boys surround a wretched maniac, and torture him to a paroxysm of fury by their words and their actions. We have seen them follow a deformed little mortal, with shouts of reproach and every species of opprobrious language. We have seen them rejoice, "with exceeding great joy," at the discovery of a drunken pauper. The civilized alarm whoop was raised in a moment; and every polished little savage, within several squares, ran, exulting, to the en

tertainment.

Is this civilization? is it humanity? or do you call it a savage practice?-Such actions were never known among the savages of the wilderness. But, from second thoughts we believe the sermon should be addressed to the parents, and not to the children.

EATING.

PIOMINGO, the intention of this letter is to request you to inform the public what you mean by talking of a man "living that he may eat." I should like to know

what there is equally interesting that he could live for. I, for my own part, am inclined to believe that this is the design of his creation; and were I allowed to answer the question, "What is the chief end of man?" agreeably to my own private opinion, I would say, "To eat, drink, and sleep."

Men may affect to despise eating as much as they please; but I believe it has been their principal concern in all ages. Why do they tremble at the idea of poverty? Poverty is not a thing dreadful in itself; but alas! it includes the idea of hunger and starvation. Suppose a painter were to be employed to produce a picture of

poverty; would not want be discovered in the belly, and famine in the countenance?

However men may boast of intellectual enjoyments, it is plain they are only considered as things worthy of a secondary consideration; and when they attempt to describe those celestial delights, they do it by some image drawn from the science of cookery, or the important business of eating. What are we to understand by "the feast of reason and flow of soul," but that they enjoy a kind of pleasure, which, though infinitely inferior, bears some faint resemblance to the ineffable delights of eating and drinking. The most ardent desires of the mind are made known by comparing them to hunger and thirst, and the highest and most sublime mental gratification is likened to a spread table and an overflowing cup. When the wise king of Israel would sum up the felicities of life, he declares that "there is nothing better for a man than that he should eat and drink; and he adds, with rapturous exultation, "Who can eat or hasten hereunto more than I?"

A nice and accurate judge of literary works is said to be possessed of taste; and when the critic boasts of having a relish for the writings of the poets, he feasts his imagination with the sweet savor of viands, and smoking hot culinary similitudes.

The happines of the immortal gods was placed in nectar and ambrosia; and when we contemplate the fleeting nature of our own existence, we are ready to exclaim, "Let us eat and drink; for to morrow we must die!" I defy any one to think of the maxim of Horace, "enjoy the present moment," without referring immediately to the delights of the table and the ecstacies of deglutition.

As feasting with the gods was the reward bestowed upon heroes for their marvellous exploits; so the curse of hunger and thirst was the punishment inflicted upon the wicked for the most atrocious of crimes. O, unfortunate Tantalus! may I be turned on the wheel of torment, may vultures devour my liver, may I roll up

with anguish of heart the still revolving stone, rather than suffer the hundredth part of thy excruciating misery! I seem to see, even at this moment, thy parched lips within an inch of the cooling streams! I see misery inthroned on thy famine-stuck visage! I see thy hungry eyes turned up with unutterable longing to the fruit that hangs above thy head!

When the fertile fields of Canaan were promised to the Jews, they were described as "flowing with milk and honey" and abounding in "corn and wine."

"Bring it near to me saith the blind but venison-loving Isaac, "bring it near to me and I will eat of my sons' venison, that my soul may bless thee. And he brought it near to him, and he did eat; and he brought him wine, and he drank." What was the great blessing that Isaac had to bestow on Jacob:-"The dew of heaven, the fatness of the earth, and plenty of corn and wine." The wise old patriarchs had too much sense to prefer the hungry pleasures of the imagination to the "feast of fat things full of marrow." And although the art of eating has of late been carried to a pitch of perfection, of which the ancients had no idea; yet, they had a tolerable acquaintance with what have been emphatically styled the good things of life.

I will frankly acknowledge that eating is my principal concern: no other business occupies so much of my attention. The time that is spent at the table, and the knowledge that is displayed in the preparation of food, I conceive to be two things which, more than any other characteristics, distinguish civilized men from barbarians. To a savage, the sensation of hunger is disagreeable, and he endeavors to remove it as expeditiously as possible; but the man of refinement has reduced eating to a science: it is his business and his pleasure.

The only thing that gives me any uneasiness is that I cannot always continue the operation of eating. Why was not man so constituted that he might eat from the moment of his birth to the instant of his death? The only remedy I find for this evil is, to fill up the interval

that occurs between one meal and another, with sleep. And this answers the purpose tolerably well; for, as sleep is a kind of death, I seem to lose my existence when life would be a burden. The early Romans devoured their plain repast in ten or fifteen minutes; but their luxurious descendents, who enjoyed riches and leisure, lay whole nights round their table, feasting like heroes and drinking like gods. They were determined to partake of the pleasures of life in opposition to every obstacle: for, if their stomachs were replenished before the end of the entertainment, they hastened to discharge their contents by vomition, and returned with fresh ardor to the feast.

In fine, I conceive that the wise in all ages have placed the summum bonum in good eating: that, at least, is my philosophy. "Some people," says the great doctor Johnson, "have a foolish way of not minding, or pretending not to mind, what they eat. For my part, I mind my belly very studiously and very carefully; for I look upon it, that he who does not mind his belly will hardly mind any thing else."

This same doctor Johnson is said to have made many wise observations: but this, I suppose to be one of the wisest he ever uttered. What business can stand in competition with this? What pleasure has half the allurements? Were I in the paradise of Mohammed, I should find no other employment for the Houries, but to wait on my table.

But the hour of dinner approaches. Already the sweet odor of roastbeef assails my nostrils. Hark! I hear the rattling of the knives and soul-cheering jingle of the plates. The servants pass and repass in the busy haste of preparation. Farewell savage! by the life of Apicious, I would not wait a minute for all the barbarians in the universe. My whole frame trembles with the intensity of desire.

The world recedes; it disappears,

Heaven opens on my eyes. My ears

With sounds seraphic ring

JOHN GORMAND.

SOCIETY.

THAT man was not designed by nature for a solitary animal appears from that instinctive impulse which one in solitude discovers to seek the society of his species. A cynic, however morose in his disposition, ungracious in his deportment, and violent in his expressions, finds a strange satisfaction in mingling with the crowd.

Cynophilus, an ancient philosopher, felt no attachment for any creature in existence but his dog. He dwelt in the fields. His food consisted of roots and berries; and his drink was water. Every individual of the human race was an object of abhorrence and contempt; yet he frequently walked in the populous city, and pressed through the multitude assembled in the forum: what could be his motive for this extraordinary conduct?—He was governed by the same impulse which compels the sheep to feed in flocks: he was a gregarious animal.

The hermit, who fixes his residence in the desert far removed from the footsteps of men, feels this innate propensity so strong in his breast, that he finds it necessary to assemble around his rushy couch an innumerable multitude of visionary men, whom he dignifies with the appellation of angels. He holds imaginary communion with prophets and the apostles, and walks the streets of the New Jerusalem with myriads of saints clothed in white, singing songs of praise and exultation.

"You may drive back nature with violence," says Horace, "but she will continually return." The hermit has denied himself the pleasures of society in this miserable world, and among a degenerate people; but he promises himself the enjoyment of mingling in a crowd of better men beyond the grave.

THE GOLDEN AGE.

PROPERTIUS, a Roman elegiac poet who died a short time before the commencement of the christian era, contends that he lived in the golden age; and the reason he assigns for this opinion appears to be cogent:

Aurea nunc vere sunt sæcula; plurimus auro

Venit honos.