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Eurthquake at CALABRIA, in the Year 1638. AN account of this dreadful earthquake, is given by the lebrated father Kircher. It happened whilst he was on s journey to visit Mount Ætna, and the rest of the wonr's that lie toward he sonth of Italy. Kircler is consid. ed by scholars, as one of the greatest prodigies of learning. 6. Having hired a boat, in company with four more, (two ars of the order of St. Francis, and two seoklars, we incheil from the harbour of Messina, in Sicily; and arriv. , the saine day, at tlie promontory of Pelorus. Our des ation was for the city of Euphænia, in Calabria; where e had some business to transact; and where we designed

tarry for some time. However, Providence seemed wil. g to cross our design ; for we were obliged to continue ree days at Pelorus on account of the weather; and though e often put out to sea, yet we were as often driven back. E length, we tried with the delay, we resolved to prosecute our yage ; and although the sea appeared to be uncommonly itated, we ventured forward. The gulf of Charybdis, sich we approached, seemed whirled round in such immer, as to form a vast hollow, verging to a point in the atre. Proceeding onward, and turning my eyes to Ætna, aw it cast forth large volumes of smoke, of mountainous es, which entirely covered the island, and blotted out the y shores from my view. This, together with the dreadnoise, and the sulphurous stench which was strongly ceived, filled me with apprehensions, that some more adrul calamity was impending. The sea itself seemed wear'a very unusual appearance : they who have seen a e in a violent shower of rain, covered all over with bub.

will conceive some idea of its agitations. My surprise pistill increased, by the ealinness and serenity of the weathr

not a breeze, not a cloud, which might be supposed to all nature thus into motion. I therefore warned my comions, that an earthquake was approaching; and, after e time, making for the shore with all possible diligence, triled at Tropea, happy and thankful for having escapbe createning dangers of the sea.

our triumplis at land were of short duratis

we had scarcely arrived at the Jesuit's College, in that city, when our ears were stunned with a horrid sound, resembling 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 scale of a balance that continued wavering. Tlus motion, however soon grew more violent; and being Úg longer able to keep my legs, I was thrown prestrate upon the ground. In the mean time, the universal ruin round me redoubled my amazement. The crash of falling houses, the tottering of towers, and the groans of the dying, all con tributed to increase my terror and despair. On every side of me, I saw nothing but a scene of ruin ; and danger threatening wherever I should fly. I commended myself to God, as my last great refuge. At that hour, O how vain was every sublunary happiness! Wealtli, honour, empire, wis. tlom, all mera useless sounds, and as empty as the bubbles of the deep! Just standing on the threshold of eternity, nothing bari God was my pleasure ; and the nearer 1 appronchi ed, I ly loved hjin the more. After some time however, finding that I remained unhurt, amidst the general cöncis eios. Y resolved to venture for safety; and running as fasa as I could, I reached the shore, but almost terrified out of my reason. I did not search long here till I found the boat in which I had landed ; and my companions also, whose terrors were even greater than mine. Our meeting was not ok that kind, where every one is desirous of telling his own liappy escape: it was all silence, and a gloomy dread of impending terrors.

“ Leaving this seat of desolation, we prosecuted our voy, age along the coast; and the next day came to Rocheita. where we landed, although the earth still continued in vius lent agitations. But we had scarcely arrived at our inn, when we were once more obliged to return to the boat; and, in about half an hour, we saw the greater part of the town. and the inn at which we had set up, dashed to the ground, and burying the inhabitants beneath the ruins.

“ In this manuer, proceeding onwarıl in our little vessel, finding no safety at land, and yet, from the smallness of our boat, laving but a very dangerous continuance at sea, we at length landed at Lopizium, a castle midway between Tropæa and Euphæmia, the city to which, as I said before, we were bound. Here, wherever I turned my eyes, nothing but scenes of ruin and horror appeared; towns and cas

tles levelled to the ground; Strombalo, though at sixty miles distance, belching forth flames in an unusual manner, and with a noise which I could distinetly hear. But my attention was quickly turned from more remote to contiguous danger. The rumbling sound of an approaching eartiyuuke, which we by this time were grown acquainted with, alarmed us for the consequences: it every moment seemed to grow louder, and to approach nearer. The place on which we stood now began to shake most dreadfúlly; so that being unable to stand, my companions and I caught hold of whatev. er shrub grey next to us, and supported ourselves in that manner.

"After some time, this violent pardagsm ceasing, we again stood up, in order to prosecute our voyage to Euphemia, which lay within sight. In the mean time, while we were preparing for this purpose, I turned my eyes towards the eity, but could see only a frightful dark cloud, that seemed to rest upon the place. This the more surprised us, at the weather was so very serene. We waited, therefore, till the cloud had passed away: then turning to look for the city, it was totally sunk. 'Wonderful to tell! nothir ; but a dismal and putridt lake was seen where it stood. We looked about to find some one that could tell us of its sad catastrophe, but could see no person. All was become a melaucholy solitude; a scene of hideous desolation. ceedling pensively along, in quest of some human being that could give us a little informatiou, we at length saw a boy sitting by the shore, and appearing stupified with terror. Of bin, therefore, we enquired concerning the fate of the city; but he could not be prevailed on to give us an answer. We entreated hiin, with every expression of tenderness and pily to tell us ; but his senses were quite wrapt up in the contem. plation of the danger he had escaped. We offered him some victuals but he seemed to loathe the sight. We still per. sisted in our offices of kindness; but he only pointed to the place of the city, like one out of his senses; and then rutining up into the woods, was never heard of after. Such was the rate of the city of Euphæmia. As we continued our melancholy course along the shore, the whole coast for the space of two hundred miles, presented nothing but the remains of cities; and men scattered without a habitation, over the fields. Proceeding thus along, we at length ended our distressful voyage by arriving at Naples, after having es. caped a thousand dangers both at sea and land."

, GOLDSMITH,

Thus pro

SECTION II.

Letter from Puișr to GeminiUS. Do we not sometimes observe à sort of people, who though they are themselves under the abjeet dominion o every vice, slow a kind of r:licious reseniment against th errors of others; and are most severe upon those whom the most resemble ? yet, surely, a lenity of disposition, even i persons who have the least occasion for clemency then selves, is of all virtues the most becoming. The highest o all characters, in my estimation, is his, who is as ready! parılan the errors of mankind, as if lie

were uvery da: guilty of some himself; a -il, at the same time, as cautiou of committing a fault, as if he never forgave one.

It is rule then which we should, upon all occasions, both privati and public, fost religiously observe; “to be inexorable 1 our own failings, while we treat those of the rest of th world with tenderness, not excepting even such as forgiv none but thenuselyes."

I shall, perhaps, be asked, wlio it is that has given occa sion to these reflections. Know then that a certain perso Iately—but of that when we meet-though, upon secon thoughts, not even then; lest, whilst I condemu and expos his conduct, I shall act counter to that maxim I particularl recomniend. Whoever therefore, and whatever he is, shal remain in silence : for though there may be some use, per haps, in setting a mark upon the man, for the sake of ex ample, there will be more, however, in sparing him, for th sake of Lunanity Farewell. MELMOTH'S PLINr.

SECTION III.

Letter from Plinr to MARCELLINUS, on the Death of air

miable yci!ng Woman. I WRITE this under the utmost oppression of sorrow: 1. youngest daughter of my friend Fundanus is dead! Neve surely was there a more agreeable, and more amiable youn person; or one who better deserved to have enjoyed a long I had almost said, an immortal life! She had all the wis dorn of age, and discretion of a matron, joined with youth ful sweetness and virgin modesty. With what an engagin fon:lness did she behave to her father! How kindly and re spectfully receive his friends! How affectionately treat al those who, in their respective offices, had the eare and edu cation of her! She employed much of her time in reading in which she discovered great strength of judgment; sh indulged herself in few diversions, and those with mue!

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