less search of extraordinary bliss, but the soul of his foot like that of Noah's dove, will find no rest until returned to the ark of domestic tranquillity. The peace he enjoys at home, entitle him to respect abroad, gives joy to his conversation, and adds vigor to his friendship. It is this also, which consoles in calamity, and plucks out the arrow of ill-natured censure. Happy the man who with cool, determined indifference, can withdraw from the world's applause, and the world's envy, meeting in the smiles of a wife, gratification which the former cannot abate by its subtilty, nor the latter embitter by its venom. A SENTIMENTAL FRAGMENT. THE tear of the morning hangs on the hawthorn, and impearls the rose. In the day of my joy, my cheek was likened to the blushing beauty of that lovely flower and though it has long since lost its crimson, it still retains a partial similitude-for the tear is on it. But, alas! no cheering sun exhales my sorrow; and the crystal that stole forth in the morning from my eye-lids holds its place in the midnight-hour. Thus answered Elvira. I went on-And is love, said I, the canker-worm that has preyed on thy beauty? Does that tottering passion make thee shed the ceaseless tear? No, replied Elvira, love gave me all its choicest blessings; during five years I rioted on its pleasures, and this world was a heaven to me. William, it is true, is no more! but he died in the field of honour; he is recorded with those heroes who fought and fell for their country-I bathed his wounds-his last words blessed me -and his expiring sigh was breathed forth in my bosom-I wept the briny tears of honest sorrow; but I had my consolation-my William loved none but me, and he still lived in the blessed image which he left me of himself. It was my duty, and it soon became my sole delight, to point out to the darling boy the path in which his sire had trod, and to instil to his expanding mind an emulation of parental virtue. His young breast felt the glowing dame, and he was wont to weep when I led him to the grave which glory had dug for his father. But he too is taken from me-he sleeps beneath this turf which I adorn with flowers. Here my fancy feeds my sorrow, and this sacred shrine of affection I shall daily visit till weary nature conducts me to my husband and my child. ANTALCIDAS, a Spartan, being about to enter into the Priesthood, was asked by the priest, what action worthy of renown he had performed during his life? He replied, " If I have performed any, the Gods themselves are acquainted with it."-How noble an instance of modesty! How exalted a notion of the Deity! and surely nothing can be more foolish than to imagine, by the commemoration of our actions, we recommend ourselves to the Deity, who, of whatever nature these actions may be, must have the clearest knowledge of their quality and worth. WHILST the Romans were beseiging the city of Falisca, a School Master contrived to lead the children of the principle men of the city into the Roman camp. The novelty of such a baseness surprized them, and they so much abhorred it, that immediately they ordered the arms of the traitor to be tied, gave each of the scholars rods, and bid them whip him back to the city, and return to their parents. They did so accordingly, and in so rigourous a manner, that the wretch died under their blows as they entered the city, The generosity of the Romans touched the Faliscans so sensibly, the next day, on honorable terms, they submitted themselves to the Romans. SELECT SENTENCES. Unforseen pleasures are the most agreeable. They are not anticipated by a hope that almost always falls short of its flattering ideas. Riches would be little esteemed, if they did not furnish vanity with the pleasure of having what others have not. Let us seek after our enemies in those with whom we live; others, with whom we have no acquaintance, do not think of doing us harm. We are fond of conversing with those we love, why therefore cannot man, who loves himself so well, remain a moment with himself? AMUSEMENT. A PROUD MAN Is a fool in fermentation, that swells and boils over like a porridge-pot. He sets out his feathers like an owl, to swell and seem bigger than he is. He is troubled with a tumour and inflammation of self-conceit, that renders every part of him stiff, and uneasy. He has given himself smpathetic love-powder, that works upon him to dotage, and has transformed him into his own mistress. He is his own gallant, and makes most passionate addresses to his own dear perfections. He commits idolatry to himself, and worships his own image; though there is no soul living of his church but himself, yet he believes as the church believes, and maintains his faith with the obstinacy of a fanatic. He is his own favourite, and advances himself not only above his merit, but all mankind; is both Damon and Pythias, to his own dear self, and values his crony above his soul. He gives place to no man but himself, and that with very great distance to all others, whom he esteems not worthy to approach him. He believes whatsoever he has receives a value in being his; as a horse in a nobleman's stable will bear a greater price than in a common market. He is so proud, that he is as hard to be acquainted with himself as with others; for he is very apt to forget who he is, and knows himself only superficially; therefore he treats himself civily as a stranger with ceremony and compliment but admits of no piracy. He strives to look bigger than himself, as well as others, and is no better than his own parasite and flatterer. A little flood will make a shallow torrent swell above its banks, and rage, and foam, and yield a roaring noise, while a deep silent stream glides quietly on. So a vain-glorious, insolent, proud man swells with a little frail prosperity, grows big and loud, and overflows his bounds, and when he sinks leaves mud and dirt behind him. His carriage is as glorious and haughty, as if he were advanced upon men's shoulders, or tumbled over their heads like Knipperdolling. 'He fancies himself a Colosse, and so he is, for his head holds no proportion to his body, and his foundation is lesser than his upper stories. We can naturally take no view of ourselves, unless we look downwards, to teach us how humble admirers we ought to be of our own value. The slighter and less solid his materials are, the more room they take up and make him swell the bigger; as feathers and cotton will stuff cushions better than things of more close and solid parts. A Roman being about to repudiate his wife, amongst a variety of other questions from her enraged kinsmen, was asked, Is not your wife a sensible woman? Is she not a handsome woman? Has she not borne you five children? In answer to all which questions, slipping off his shoe, he held it up, and interrogating them in nis turn, 'Is not this shoe,' said he, a very handsome one? Is it not quite new? Is it not extremely well made? How then is it that none of you can tell where it pinches ?" HYMENEAL AND OBITUARY. MARRIED.] In Lynn, Mr. Adanirom Beckford to Miss Susannah Chapman. In Providence, Shadrack Manton to Miss Amey Randall. In Edgefield Village, S. C. Mr. Hollis Dunton, formerly of Marlborough, Mass. to Miss Selime, daughter of Mr. Peter Laborde, of E. V. DIED.] In this town, Mr. Thomas Newcomb, aged 53; Mr. James Adams, aged 29; Charlotte Augusta, daughter of Mr. Thos. Leach; Caroline Cook, daughter of Mr. Phineas Capen; Sarah Elizabeth, daughter of Mr. Josiah Bumstead; Miss Sarah Tainter, aged 30; Worham, youngest son of Mr. Worham Priest, aged 1 year; Robert Lash Harris, aged 17 months; at sea, on board ship Marcellus, William Ward, aged 17, son of the late Capt. William W. of this town. In Cambridgeport, Lemuel J. Child, aged 18 months. In Dorchester, Miss Jane L. Inglee, aged 18. In Newton, Charles, Grafton Bacon, aged 2 years and 3 months. In New-Bedford Miss Sally Richardson, aged 17. In Louisville, (Kentucky) Mr. -William Hartley, formerly of Boston. POETRY. FRIENDSHIP. I SAW a flower unfold on Flora's breast, Ill fated man! in Folly's mazes led- Friendship! thou child of Eden! heav'nly maid! Should penury repress my love of ease, THE WEEKLY MONITOR, MORAL, ENTERTAINING AND INSTRUCTIVE. No. 10.] SATURDAY, AUGUST 30, 1817. [VOL. I. RELIGIOUS DEPARTMENT. SELECTED. PURE RELIGION AND GENUINE DEVOTION. THE great sentiment which, upon this subject, I wish to impress upon your mind, and which I seize every opportunity to inculcate, is this, that in whatever point of light you place religion, whether you consider it as an act, or an essence; morality, from a pure and a proper principle, comprises the whole of it. The spirit of religion is the love of recitude, recitude living and realized in the divine nature: the exercise of religon is the practice of that recitude. Justice and mercy are not the adjuncts of religion, but religion itself. In giving this account of it, I repeat the definition of it, which one of the apostles has left us. "Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father”—(the Father—beloved appellation! blessed clue! to lead bewildered man out of that deep maze of superstition, to the centre of which false guides have brought him; which conducts him not only to its outermost round, but accomplishes his complete extrication from it,)-" pure religion"--not only calls for, as its appendage, but "is this," this is its constituent substance," to visit the widows and the fatherless in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world." This, the exercise of humanity to the whole circle of its objects, from among whom the particular situations of distress, which are set before us in this passage, are selected by the scriptures, as being prominent figures in the group of human miseries, to express, in one word, the various objects of mercy, and to represent the sons and daughters of affliction ;-this discharge of the duties of humanity, to the complete fulfilment of which the preservation of sensual purity is necessary, in a variety of views this active service of God, this worship of the life, is all that, in itself considered, communicates any pleasure to the Almighty. In no other iight than that of being instrumental to the production of this, could the of |