putation, in every branch of fair and useful business; with diftinction, in every public station. The vigour which it gives the mind, and the weight which it adds to character; the generous fentiments which it breathes; the undaunted spirit which it inspires; the ardour of diligence which it quickens; the freedom which it procures from pernicious and dishonourable avocations; are the foundations of all that is highly honourable, or greatly fuccefsful among men.

Whatever ornamental or engaging endowments you now possess, virtue is a necessary requifite, in order to their shining with proper luftre. Feeble are the attractions of the fairest form, if it be fufpected that nothing within corresponds to the pleasing appearance without. Short are the triumphs of wit, when it is supposed to be the vehicle of malice. By whatever means you may at first attract the attention, you can hold the esteem, and fecure the hearts of others, only by amiable dispositions, and the accomplishments of the mind. These are the qualities whose influence will last, when the luftre of all that once fparkled and dazzled has passed away.

Let not then the season of youth be barren of improvements, fo essential to your future felicity and honour. Now is the feed-time of life; and according to "what you fow, you shall reap." Your character is now, under Divine assistance, of your own forming; your fate is, in some measure, put into your own hands. Your nature is as yet pliant and foft. Habits have not established their dominion. Prejudices have not pre-occupied your understanding. The world has not had time to contract and debase your affections. All your powers are more vigorous, dissembarrassed, and free, than they will be at any future period. Whatever impulse you now give to your defires and pafsions, the direction is likely to continue. It will form the channel in which your life is to run; nay, it may determine its everlasting issue. Confider then the employment of this important period, as the highest truft which shall ever be committed to you; as in a great meafure, decifive of your happiness, in time, and in eternity. As in the succession of the seasons, each, by the invariable laws of Nature, affects the productions of what is next in course; fo, in human life, every period of our age, according as it is well or ill fpent, influences the happiness of that which is to follow. Virtuous youth gradually brings forward accomplished and flourishing manhood; and fuch manhood passes of itself, without uneasiness, into respectable and tranquil old age. But when nature is turned out of its regular course, diforder takes place in the moral, just as in the vegetable world. If the Spring put forth no blossoms, in Summer there will be no beauty, and in Autumn, no fruit. So, if youth be trifled away without improvement, manhood will probably be contemptible, and old age miferable. If the beginnings of life have been "vanity," its latter end can scarcely be any other than " vexation of spirit."

I shall finish this address, with calling your attention to that dependence on the blessing of Heaven, which, amidst all your endeavours after improvement, you ought continually to preserve. It is too common with the young, even when they refolve to tread the path of virtue and honour, to fet out with presumptuous confidence in themselves. Trusting to their own abilities for carrying them fuccefsfully through life, they

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are careless of applying to God, or of deriving any assistance from what they are apt to reckon the gloomy difcipline of religion. Alas! how little do they know the dangers which await them? Neither human wifdom, nor human virtue, unsupported by religion, is equal to the trying fituations which often occur in life. By the shock of temptation, how frequently have the most virtuous intentions been overthrown? Under the pressure of disafter, how often has the greatest conftancy funk? "every good, and every perfect gift, is from above." Wisdom and virtue, as well as " riches and honour, come from God." Deftitute of his favour, you are in no better fituation, with all your boafted abilities, than orphans left to wander in a tracklefs defert, without any guide to conduct them, or any shelter to cover them from the gathering ftorm. Correct, then, this ill-founded arrogance. Expect not, that your happiness can be independent of him who made youth. By faith and repentance, apply to the Redeemer of the world. By piety and prayer, feek the protection of the God of heaven. I conclude with the folemn words, in which a great prince delivered his dying charge to his fon; words, which every young perfon ought to confider as addressed to himself, and to engrave deeply on his heart: "Solo_ mon, my fon, know thou the God of thy fathers; and serve him with a perfect heart, and with a willing mind. For the Lord searcheth all hearts, and understandeth all the imaginations of the thoughts. If thou feek him, he will be found of thee; but if thou forfake him, he will cast thee off for ever."

BLAIR.

CHAPTER IX.

PROMISCUOUS AND MIXED PIECES.

SECTION I.

Earthquake at Calabria, in the Year 1638.

An account of this dreadful earthquake, is given by the celebrated Father Kircher. It happened whilst he was on his journey to vifit Mount Etna, and the rest of the wonders that lie towards the south of Italy. Kircher is confidered, by scholars, as one of the greatest prodigies of learning.

"Having hired a boat, in company with four more, (two friars of the order of St. Francis, and two feculars,) we launched, from the harbour of Messina, in Sicily; and arrived, the fame day, at the promontory of Pelorus. Our destination was for the city of Euphæmia, in Calabria; where we had some business to tranfact; and where we designed to tarry for fome time. However, Providence feemed willing to cross our design; for we were obliged to continue three days at Pelorus, on account of the weather; and though we often put out to fea, yet we were as often driven back. At length, wearied with the delay, we resolved to profecute our voyage; and, although the fea seemed more than usually agitated, we ventured forward. The gulph of Charybdis, which we approached, feemed whirled round in fuch a manner, as to form a vast hollow, verging to a point in the centre. Proceeding onward, and turning my eyes to Ætna, I saw it cast forth large volumes of smoke, of mountainous fizes, which entirely covered the island, and blotted out the very shores from my view. This, together with the dreadful noise, and the fulphurous stench which was strongly perceived, filled me with apprehenfions, that fome more dreadful calamity was impending. The fea itself seemed to wear a very unusual appearance: they who have seen a lake in a violent shower of rain, covered all over with bubbles, will conceive fome idea. of its agitations. My surprise was still inoreafed, by the calmness and ferenity of the weather; not a breeze, not a cloud, which might be supposed to put all Nature thus into motion. I therefore warned my companions, that an earthquake was approaching; and, after some time, making for the shore with all possible diligence, we landed at Tropea, happy and thankful for having escaped the threatening dangers of thes fea."

"But our triumphs at land were of short duration; for we had fcarcely arrived at the Jesuits' College, in that city, when our ears were stunned with a horrid found, refembling that of an infinite number of chariots, driven fiercely forward; the wheels rattling, and the thongs cracking. Soon after this, a most dreadful earthquake ensued; so that the whole tract upon which we stood, seemed to vibrate, as if we were in the fcale of a balance, that continued wavering. This motion, however, foon grew more violent; and being no longer able to keep my legs, I was thrown proftrate upon theground. In the mean time, the universal ruin round?