public convenience, and palaces of private eafe, will naturally inquire for "the tomb of Washington, that illuftrious man, whom Heaven has given as its beft bleffing to a great nation, which has foftered his virtues, and knows fo well to form an eternal record of his patriotifm and glory." Judge of their aftonishment, should we lead them to fuch a cheap monument of departed greatnefs, as our thrifty statesmen devifed. They might well exclaim, "Foxes have holes, and birds have nefts, but the man, whom Heaven defigned the faviour of his country, has not where to lay his bones." As Congrefs undertook to pay a tribute of national gratitude, it was their duty to exprefs the feelings of the nation. Have they done it? Have they difcovered that ardent gratitude, which glowed with enthufiafm in their conftituents? Did they not talk, where the people would have acted; and calculate, where the people felt? Would to Heaven they had left the people in this cafe to have acted for themselves. Every patriot, every lover of excellence would have rejoiced to have made a perfonal expreffion of individual gratitude. Avarice would have rifled his bags, and poverty cheerfully beftowed her mite, and one Maufoleum on earth would witnefs the love of the people to their beft friend. But inftead of this, cold ftatefmen made fpeeches upon gratitude, our financiers tried by problems how it might be expreffed at the leaft expenfe, and for years Washington fleeps without a ftone to tell the pious pilgrim where he lies. It is unneceffary to enlarge on a fubject, on which every man's feeling and reflection will pronounce the fame judgment. National ingratitude is a thing of daily obfervation; but in the new world it exchanged the neutral garb of neglect for the form of farcaftic refpect. With us it has adopted the best plan for obliterating our national obligation to the father of our country. But this attempt difgraces us alone. It will not fnatch away a wreath from the brow of Washington. The good of all ages will be the guardians of his fame, while the memory of his virtues, and the fruits of his heroifm will give him a monument, wide as the world, and durable as time. Our children, we truft, will burn the journals, which record the difgrace of their fathers; and,by generous offerings of gratitude, make the earth forget the parfimony of men, who, forgetting the fervices of the living, deny honours to the dead. CENSOR. THE advantages of fincerity are so many and fo great, that it feems furprifing, it is not generally adopted, as a virtue equally useful and amiable. In our intercourse with the world, thefe advantages are not lefs valuable, though perhaps less obvious, than in the circle of domestic life, or even in communion with ourselves. Common prejudice, however, I am fenfible, ftrongly contradicts this opinion. Policy, interest, safety itself are generally thought to require affectation, if not deception. Bad men are interested in fupporting this opinion; and indeed their fyftem of morality, or rather immorality, alone requires the adoption of it in practice. Is a man envious and malignant? Then he must appear very benevolent, very kind, very charitable. Is he the flave of avarice? He muft exhort to almfgiving, pretend a marvellous affection for the poor, exhibit his name on fubfcriptions, and difplay his hand at public collections for their relief. Is he a venal office feeker? He must proclaim his patriotism at the corners of streets, and descant in tedious newfpaper effays on the incapacity and treachery of rulers and public minifters. This indeed deceives the ignorant and fuperficial for a time; but for the honour of mankind and the confolation of virtue it may be faid, and attentive obfervation will confirm the remark, that the world is feldom ultimately deceived by hypocrify. Sooner or later the veil is removed, and vice appears in native deformity; deformity doubly odious, becaufe unfeen and unfufpected. If I were to reafon with a vicious man, and he for once would lay afide his disguise, and disclose his thoughts, perhaps he would reason somewhat in this way: "Attached I must own I am to feveral vices, which to the world would appear enormous. If I indulge them without disguise, I must bid adieu to all, confidence, efteem, or friendship. Not only my station in fociety, but my very existence depends on concealment. My honours and all the fruits of studied circumfpection and hypocrify during my whole life, would at once be fnatched from me ; and by whom? by mifcreants as vile, but not so imprudent, as myfelf. The world would not give me credit for an ingenuous avowal; but, judging from the known deceptive arts of vice, would afcribe to me a heart hideously deformed in pro"While I portion to the sample disclosed." This reasoning is just, as far as it goes. He then ftates the other alternative. can continue to deceive the world, I fhall reap the rewards of genuine virtue. I confide in my own unremitting vigilance to protract the deception as long as I live. At worst, if detected, my punishment cannot be greater, than the confequence of a voluntary avowal would draw upon me." To confute the apparent inference from this dilemma is eafy; for it prefuppofes a continuance in vice. Thus it is, the votaries of criminal indulgence are accustomed to reafon. With their darling fins they 66 cannot, cannot part." Though it may shock them to propose so dear a facrifice, yet I cannot refrain from informing them, how they may escape the unavoidable evils of an avowal, and the irksome restraint, the mental imprisonment of hypocrify, and the painful apprehenfion of discovery. The fecret is unfolded in two words-----BE VIRTUOUS. Mr. PERSE, For the MONTHLY ANTHOLOGY. P. AS you have lately published fome letters, that were written to my friend STUDIOSUs, I wish you to publish the enclosed, which he addressed to me, at my entrance into life. It was dictated by friendship; and, I be lieve, may afford to others the advantage I received from it. The world is the fame in all its revolutions; and a few years have not swept away ALCANDER. Yours, those characters, which he has here so strongly depicted, as eafily to be re cognized in the round of life. FROM STUDIOSUS TO ALCANDER. N-, March 30, 18—. STOP, stop, ftop, my young friend; you are hurrying too fast In future from tranquil fcenes and rational pursuits, into the giddy and You have heretofore been a stranger to vice and to folly. Your friends have been selected from frank and congenial compan ions. They wore their natural faces; and when you hugged them to your bofom, and gave them your confidence, you were fafe, for they were good. Conduct was the index of the heart, and language was the open witnefs of feeling. But you are now adventuring on scenes, where all are players. The world is only a corps of actors, and you may be but a jeft in the great farce of "Who's the Dupe ?" Do not be alarmed at this; do not fufpect it. Quiet for a moment your indignation at what you confider the calumny of a mifanthrope. My retirement and gloom are not elected. I entered the scenes, with expectations of the end of adventures, as happy, as the closing narratives of a romance. I finished my part with the catastrophe of a wo-begone hero. You have just had a warm squeeze and hearty welcome from **. You have entered him on your lift of friends. From his knowledge of the world you have anticipated a thoufand advantages. Let me waken you from your delufive vifions. ***** has not thought of you fince you parted, nor will your image appear before him, till he fees you again. His heart is like a mirror, which only reflects the present object. ***** has learned the leffon you have not been taught, that the world is selfish, and has wifely refolved not to neglect himself, in expectation of the attention of others. With this refolve, he practises the courtefies of life from a regard to his own interest, and every thing he secures by it is clear gain in the calculations of this worldling. **** is a man of the fame caft, with the fame views. He has risen from mediocrity by a pleafing addrefs and perfe vering exertions. In him avarice and ambition share divided rule. He practised on you all the smiles of politeness, and difplayed all the warmth of hypocrify. If you had lefs modefty, you would have readily found another caufe for his proffers of kindness, than the fentiment of friendship. You have fome reputation in the world for talents, and more for integrity. Your praise is worth a hundred kind falutations. It will gain credit to his ardent profeffions of regard to the public interest. Your own vote has its value, and your eulogiums may gain many more. If nature had ftinted you in genius, the full growth of your virtues had never gained you his notice. But now you may be useful as well as graceful in his train; and while you are the inftrument of his fame and fortune, he can boaft of his friendly patronage. Vol. I. No. 6. Нн *** is a character, whom your ignorance alone fecured for a moment. You have heard of his riches, but you will die without being a witnefs to his prodigality. He has too much. art to appear in the character of Hunks, but he has not more generofity. He has grown rich by lucky wind-falls, and, in gathering his harvest, he has left nothing for the gleaner. He has an oftentation of benevolence, and was eager in promises of fupport. It was only a fpring breeze in March, and foon died away in the cold winter of his heart. He hates me, for my frequent introduction of objects of that charity, of which he fo piously prates. But it is idle to waste more upon a man, who, I conjecture, will never wafte another compliment on you. You can write your friends of his momentary, kind attention, and after the cold neglect of months, he will complain to the first one, that mentions you, of your not being the focial confidant, to whom he shall be ever happy to render every affiftance. The remembrance of you will end with this ftale repetition of his forced civility. This dejecting fketch of the men around you might drive you again into feclufion, if hope did not find ftrength in the vifions of youth. You expect exceptions, with a confidence founded on your experience, and if you should be deceived by one half of the world, you are ready to look for confolation from the other. Your pulfe beats high with youth and health, and you have painted woman, as lovely as Milton's Eve. But remember our favourite bard described our mother, as the was before the fall. She had never been contaminated by high life. She was the difciple of nature. Women now learn their leffons from art, and their proficiency is the beft proof of our lofs of Paradife. **** smiled upon you with complacency. She has fhowed the fame face, for these three years, to every new vifitant. Stifle your vanity therefore for a moment. A woman of taste and rank is as proud of a fplendid levee, as a new-made lord. You are fuch a kind of being, that your attentions are a compliment to her acquirements, and her praise of you is confidered by herself as evidence to the world of her difcernment and congeniality. Her flattery to you is therefore only furnishing fresh food to her vanity. She will whiftle you off with as much indifference as fhe whiftles to her Canary-bird, and one foft word would be treated as the madness of prefumption. Your cenfures will |