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loquacity may be of singular utility. Disgusted, perhaps, with unprofitable prattle, or stimulated to reply by some severity, they soon discover the amiable virtues of their hearts, and the strength and beauty of their minds. If then loquacity would be silent and abashed, good sense and reason would triumph; but such men, neither admonition nor persuasion, neither reproof nor praise, neither de feat nor victory, can induce to restrain their disposition. To fetter their tongues would be severe torture, and were the legislative power to impose silence on persons of this description, it would be considered the most extreme punishment, the most tyrannical interdiction.

Mr. Loquax, by an indulgence in this particular habit, though a man of virtue, some information, and talent, often renders himself ridiculous and unpleasant. Destitute of judgment, he gives the reins to his tongue,-on all subjects, whether competent or not, he must speak,-not content with giving an opinion, he permits the most irrelavent ideas, that are jumbled together in his mind, freely to obtrude themselves.-Unacquainted with systems, without a perfect knowledge of any science, possessed only of miscellaneous intelligence, yet has a tolerable share of memory. Thus, as he thinks so he speaks, on every topic advanced, but like the mercenary troops of an enemy, his endowments seldom co-operate with each other-they do not support with energy the common cause, and every new accession of idea, for want of judgment, are like undisciplined recruits; they exhibit an appearance of power, without being formidable. Such is Loquax, a man, from his situation and age, entitled to respect, and were he possessed of discretion, would, doubtlessly, impart to every society pleasure, and be received as a welcome and respeetable guest.

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It appears, therefore, an indispensable duty on all heads of families, tutors, and friends, to inculcate modesty in the younger branches of society— teaching them, above all things, to love TRUTH. Satirical conceptions let them reject altogether, as pestilential to friendship and harmony, and let them repress a fulsome, unprofitable, and injudicious propensity to LOQUACITY.

Jan. 14, 1801.

THE REFLECTOR.

[No. XLIX.]

THE GARDEN.

BY WILLIAM COWPER, ESQ.

-The Garden, with its many cares,

J. 5.

All well repaid, demands him--he attends
The welcome call-conscious how much the hand
Of lúbbard labour needs his watchful eye,
Oft loitering lazily if not seen,

· Or misapplying his unskilful strength.

COWPER..

HE title of this third book of the TASK, indiTHE cates its contents, and boasts of a beautiful variety. In a garden, it is presumed, the poet passed much of his time-the scenes there presented to the eye, were in unison with the benevolence and sensibility of his heart. He, however, indulges himself in that wholesome satire on the vices and follies of men, which he reprobates with a masterly severity. He also lays open a few traits of his own history-an interesting melancholy characterises his retirement.

This his history we have in the following singular lines:

I was a stricken deer, that left the herd
Long since, with many an arrow deep fixt in
My panting side was charg'd, when I withdrew
To seek a tranquil death in distant shades,
There was I found by one, who had himself
Been hurt by the archers. In his sides he bore,
And in his hands and feet, the cruel scars.
With gentle force soliciting the darts,

He drew them forth, and heal'd, and bade me live,
Since then, with few associates, in remote
And silent woods I wander, far from those
My former partners of the peopled scene:
With few associates, and not wishing more.
Here much I ruminate, as much I may,
With other views of men and manners now
Than once, and others of a life to come!

He then animadverts on the indifference with which religion is treated by the generality of mankind-and forms this admirable apology for the concern which he himself had expressed :—

'Twere well, says one, sage erudite profound,
Terribly arch'd and aquiline his nose,

And over-built with most impending brows,
'Twere well, could you permit the world to live
As the world pleases. What's the world to you?
Much. I was born of woman, and drew milk
As sweet as charity from human breasts.
I think, articulate, I laugh and weep,
And exercise all functions of a man.
How then should I, and any man that lives,
Be strangers to each other? Pierce my vein,
Take of the crimson stream meandering there,
And catechise it well; apply thy glass,
Search it, and prove now if it be not blood
Congenial with thine own: and if it be,
What edge of subtlety canst thou suppose
Keen enough, wise and skilful as thou art,
To cut the link of brotherhood, by which
One common Maker bound me to the friend?
True; I am no proficient, I confess,

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In arts like your's. I cannot call the swift
And perilous lightnings from the angry clouds,
And bid them hide themselves in earth beneath :
I cannot analize the air, nor catch

The parallax of yonder luminous point,

That seems half-quench'd in the immense abyss.
Such pow'rs I boast not---neither can I rest
A silent witness of the headlong rage,

Or heedless folly, by which thousands die,
Bone of my bone, and kindred souts to mine!

The poet, in a few pages afterwards, speaks of the union of learning and piety in former daysthe compliments here passed on Newton, Milton, and Hale, possess equal truth and beauty—

-Philosophy baptiz'd, ·

In the pure fountain of eternal love,
Has eyes indeed, and viewing all she sees
As meant to indicate a God to man,

Gives him his praise, and forfeits not her own.
Learning has borne such fruit in other days
On all her branches---piety has found

Friends in the friends of science, and true pray'r
Has flow'd from lips wet with castalian dews.
Such was thy wisdom, Newton, childlike sage!
Sagacious reader of the works of God,
And in his word sagacious. Such, too, thine
Milton, whose genius had angelic wings,
And fed on manna! And such thine, in whom
Our British Themis gloried with just cause,
Immortal Hale! for deep discernment prais'd,
And sound integrity, not more than fam'd
For sanctity of manners undefil'd.

In this retirement, it appears that Mr. C. had an bare, which he thus mentions, after having condemned the savage pleasures of the chace :

Well, one at least is safe. One shelter'd hare
Has never heard the sanguinary yell
Of cruel man, exulting in her woes.
Innocent partner of my peaceful home,

Whom ten long years experience of my care,
Has made at least familiar; she has lost
Much of her vigilant instinctive dread,

Not needful here beneath a roof like mine.
Yes---thou mayst eat thy bread, and lick the hand
That feeds thee; thou mayst frolic on the floor,
At evening, and at night retire secure

To thy straw couch, and slumber unalarm'd;
For I have gain'd thy confidence, have pledg'd
All that is human in me to protect

Thine unsuspecting gratitude and love.
If I survive thee, I will dig thy grave;
And when I place thee in it, sighing say,
I knew at least one hare that had a FRIEND!

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There is a sweetness in this sketch of his favourite bare, which the reader of sensibility will feelit is honourable to the poet's humanity. Indeed all his writings are of this cast-and this amiable trait is deserving of particular commendation. The muse of Cowper is, on no occasion, boisterous and overbearing whilst, indeed, it lashes the vices and follies of man, it breathes a child-like tenderness towards every living thing capable of receiving fe licity.

The Cabinet of Mirth.

"Here let the jest and mirthful tale go round.”

FARMER, not accustomed to large dealings, A in the county of Chester, lately brought to

Stockport market a quantity of oatmeal to sell, and an article which forms a great part of the subsist-ence of the lower orders of society in that neighbourhood, soon found a purchaser. It being usual for the middle-man, as he is called, to pay in a good bill of two months, the bargain being struck,

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