Justly then, may we conclude all extremes are vicious; a medium is the road which virtue keeps. If we do not sufficiently exercise our passions, they will relax, become inactive, and lose their native springs! If we exercise them too much, we shall strain, and in time destroy their elasticity. But if we keep them in constant exercise, under the benign inspection of prudence and moderation, we shall steer our bark successfully through the rocks and syrtes of the present state, and at last anchor safely in the harbour of endless peace and felicity.

MORAL.

Prudence and moderation in the use of all present enjoyments, are productive of true peace, comfort, and tranquility:

THE HISTORY OF

DAMON AND PYTHIAS;

OR

True Friendship tried and Rewarded.

A FRIEND IN NEED IS A FRIEND INDEED.

PLEASURE is, itself, an effect, and cannot be the cause, principle, or motive

to any thing; it is an agreeable sensation that arises in a person's mind on its meeting with, or contemplating an object that is suited to its nature. As far as the nature of such a person is evil, evil objects can alone affect him with pleasure; as far as the nature of such a person is good, the objects must be good whereby his pleasure is excited.

When Damon was sentenced by Dionysius of Syracuse, to die on a certain day, he prayed permission, in the interim, to retire to his own country, to set the af fairs of his disconsolate family in order. This the tyrant intended most peremptorily to refuse, by granting it, as he conceived, on the impossible conditions of his procuring some one to remain as hos tage for his returu, under equal forfeiture of life. Pythias heard the conditions, and did not wait for an application on the part of Damon; he instantly offered himself to durance, in the place of his friend, and Damon was accordingly set at liberty.

The King and all his courtiers were astonished at this action, as they could

not account for it on any allowed principles. Self-interest, in their judgment, was the sole mover of all human affairs;* and they looked on virtue, friendship, benevolence, love of our country, and the like, as only terms invented by the wise, to impose upon the weak and ignorant. They therefore imputed this act of Pythias to the extravagance of his folly, to the defect of his head, merely, and no ways to any virtue, or good quality of his heart.

When the day of his destined execution drew near, the tyrant had the curiosity to visit Pythias in his dungeon. Having reproached him for the romantic stupidity of his conduct, and rallied him, some time for his madness, in presuming that Damon, by his return, would prove as great a fool as himself; My Lord,' said Pythias, with a firm voice and noble aspect, I would it were possible that I might suffer a thousand deaths, rather than my friend should fail in any article ' of his honour. He cannot fail therein, 'my Lord, I am as confident of his virtue as I am of my own existence. But,

* It is, Heaven knows, too much so in all.

pray,

I beseech the Gods to preserve the life and integrity of my Damon to'gether. Oppose him, ye winds! prevent 'the eagerness and impatience of his honourable endeavours! and suffer him 'not to arrive till, by my death, 1 have 'redeemed a life, a thousand times of more consequence, more estimation, than my own; more valuable to his lovely wife, to his precious little innocents, to his friends, to his country.'

Dionysius was confounded and awed by the dignity of these sentiments, and by the manner (still more sentimental) in which they were uttered; he felt his heart struck by a slight sense of invading truth, but it served rather to perplex than undeceive him. He hesitated, he would have spoken, but he looked down, and retired in silence.

The fatal day arrived. Pythias was brought forth, and walked, amidst the guard, with a serious but satisfied air, to the place of execution.

Dionysius was already there. He was exalted on a moving throne, that was drawn by six white horses, and sat peu

G

sive and attentive to the demeanour of

the prisoner.

Pythias came. He vaulted lightly on the scaffold; and beholding for some time the apparatus of his death, he turned with a pleased countenance, and addressed the assembly.

'My prayers are heard,' he cried;' the 'gods are propitious! you know, my friends, that the winds have been contrary till till yesterday. Damon could not come, he could not conquer impossibili'ties; he will be here to-morrow, and the • blood which is shed to day, shall have ' ransomed the blood of my friend. O, 'could I erase from your bosoms every doubt, every mean suspicion of the 'honor of the man for whom I am about to suffer, I should go to my death even as I would to my bridal. Be it sufficient, in the mean time, that my 'friend will be found noble, that his truth ' is unimpeachable, that he will speedily approve it, that he is now on his way, ' hurrying on, accusing himself, the ad'verse elements, and the gods. But f 'hasten to prevent his speed: Execu• tioner do your office.'