Charles now thought proper to use the liberty granted him, by writing to Prudentia.

MISS PHILANTHROPOS,

The indulgence with which you were pleased to favor me, of writing during my absence, shall neither be slighted nor abused. To neglect writing, would be a mark of disesteem; to deal in fulsome flattery, would not only be an abuse, of the favor granted, but foreign to my own inclination, and an offence against your known humility. Were I a doating, whining lover, or did I suspect your piety and good sense, I would whiningly tell you of your pretty, ruby lips, of your eyes, that look like stars in the night, of your rosy cheeks, your lilly white hands and delicate fingers; and twenty times call you, my dear angel: But I know your mind soars above such sickening trifles. Nor is it necessary to look downward after inferior objects of commendation, when the noble endowments of the mind would make a deformed body, itself, beautiful and desirable.

It will not, however, be understood, that the Creator has suffered any visible defect or deformity in your person; I mean, therefore, to be understood, that no external appearance; be it ever so beautiful and attracting, shall ever make me overlook the better qualifications of an informed understanding and a virtuous heart, Were I to do this, you might justly deem me unworthy of the favor granted, and hereafter refuse all further continuance of it.

But do not suppose, I have already fallen into the evil disclaimed; but believe me when I say, though I admire your person, your virtuous disposition, and most amiable life; yet I would point you to the Creator and Redeemer, that you may bow with deep humility at the foot of the eternal throne and acknowledge the goodness which has made you such. There, at some future period, I hope to bow with you, and join in acknowledging the same; and to acknowledge for myself the gift of your person, as the highest of earthly enjoyments.

But as all earthly things are uncertain, I desire not to place my mind too much on any thing future; but to order my expectations in such a way, that if death prevent the accom plishment of my hopes, I may bow with submission to the

righteous will of Jehovah. state, to cultivate this temper.

It becomes us, in this uncertain

Give my respects to your parents, and write me at Industry village.

-C. O.

CHAPTER XLII.

HONORED FATHER :

SINCE I left home, my attention has repeatedly been called to the behaviour of the living towards the dead. In some instances I have discovered a violence of passion, which did little honor to human nature. It was the impulse of the moment, and subsided as suddenly as it rose. On other occasions, an apparent apathy of soul, almost made me wish to see the violence of passion re-acted. Although I am no friend to extremes, it offends against all the tender sympa thies of my heart, to see surviving relatives committing to the house of death the remains of their nearest relations, with less signs of sorrow than a hunter would bury a favorite dog,

It is true I have not witnessed these extremes on all occasions; but a deep and well regulated sorrow has evidenced how sincerely they loved, and how painfully they felt the separating stroke.

But all these characters appear in the same habiliments; and were one to take his evidence of sorrow from these only, he would rank them all in the same class. But it requires no great discernment to say, that a black dress is not always a sign of true sorrow. Both my education and feelings prompt me to pay respect to the deceased, and to shed the tear of sorrow over a departed relative or friend; but when I see the abominable hypocrisy practised under a veil, &c. I have been on the point of reprobating every thing of the kind.

The practise of dressing in black at funerals, and for some time after the death of a relation, has grown into such repute, that the dress itself is called mourning. Hence, it is common to hear people talk about buying mourning; as if mourning for a deceased friend could be purchased for money at a retailer's shop. There can be no doubt, however, but this is all the mourning many have-and yet they would think them

selves unpardonable, and be thought so by others if they should neglect this.

But true sorrow for the loss of a dear relation is not to be purchased for silver nor gold. He only, who knows the refinements of friendship, can estimate his loss---and such an one will mourn, whether he be dressed in black or white. But if he be a stranger to these, he would feel no sorrow, though he were habited in a dress as black as the curtains of midnight. And the more pains he takes to hang out the signs of sorrow, when he feels none, the greater are his bypocrisy and guilt.

The poor will not be exempt from this expensive pageantry. A widow who wants bread for her children, will run in debt fifty or an hundred dollars, to buy what is fashionably called mourning; and much of the expense is incurred for gauzes or crapes, which serve only for a show.

If a great man dies, the parade at his funeral is expensive, pompous, foolish and disgusting. The galleries and pulpit must be hung in black, and the whole congregation dress in mourning, a gilded coffin, and otherwise vastly ornamented, must enclose the putrifying body; and he be interred with all the pomp that human ingenuity can invent.

Why should such deference be paid to the rich? Will corruption and worms treat them with the same deference? Nay, they shall rot in the tomb like other men; nor shall any of that senseless pageantry descend with them to the darksome vault.

But you will not suppose I am an enemy to any thing like a decent respect for the dead. We, who profess to believe in a resurrection of the body, ought to commit it decently to the grave, in hope that it shall burst the bonds of corruption. Nor would I say, that some decent badge of sorrow is improper on funeral occasions. It may serve to distinguish the afflicted, to remind the living that they must 'die; it may give notice to a sympathetic friend,that such are the subjects of sympathy and condolence. But the present extravagance appears to be borrowed from heathenism, and not to be allowable under the Gospel.

Your dutiful son,

C. O.

HONOURED FATHER,

In my last I made several remarks on the different characters of mourners and funerals; but I was not able to bring

all my reflections into the compass of a single letter. You will excuse me if I enter again on this subject.

Madam Marion was a widow of large estate, she died lately at ninety years of age. Her estate had been secured to her, during her natural life; but was to descend to certain heirs at law, at her decease. These heirs had wished her death for twenty years, that they might come into possession. The joyful news of her death at last arrived—but they must buy mourning for the death of so near and so beloved a relation; try to look sorry, and force out a few crocodile tears. The minister prayed them out of all patience, and they could hardly endure the tardy pace, custom obliged them to take to the grave.

When they returned to the house, the will was the first object, on reading which they found a great deal of property conveyed, but no method of dividing it described. This become a subject of warm dispute, and their mourning dress covered the most angry passions; and though they were not ashamed to quarrel like Bedlamites, they would not have appeared in any thing but black for the world.

Tipleus lost his wife; he was a poor man; but he bought mourning! As strange as it may seem, he was sober the day she was buried, and tried to look sorry. After prayer, when the funeral undertaker had called on the mourners to form in procession, he went to the table, took up a bottle of wine, and turning out a glass, turned to those in the room and said, here is good luck to us. All this I witnessed-it struck my soul with horror. Surely said I, it is quite novel for a man to drink a health at his wife's funeral-yet he was drest in black! Triandre buried three husbands-and bought mourning each time. For the two first, she went crying to the grave, but came smiling back-but contrary to ther former practise, she returned crying from the grave of the third. On being asked the reason of this difference, she said: when I buried my other husbands, I had a new suitor and had made a new promise of marriage before I got home; but now I have no such offer, and know not what I am to do for another husband.

Maria lost an affectionate mother. She was at her funeral as black as a raven, and almost croaked despair in the agony of grief-the next week, she was at a ball drest in white!

I need go no further-these will give you a sufficient idea -I subscribe myself as ever yours. C. Q.

Charles having arrived at the village, to which he had directed Prudentia to write, found the expected letter. To give the reader a view of it, an extract is subjoined.

MR. OBSERVATOR,

Yours came safely to hand. I rejoice to find you averse to flattery, and disposed to direct me to give God the glory for all that is good. I have adopted this sentiment from education and Christian experience. After such advantages, were I proud of my favours, 1 should forfeit them; and might justly expect, to have them taken from me. But while I live, I hope to adore, with unutterable thankfulness, that providence and grace, which have made me what I am.

Concerning the future hopes and prospects of which you speak, I can only say, you are at liberty to make such proposals as your prudence may dictate; and, that no earthly consideration will induce me to hang out false colours; or to say your hopes are not mine.

But convinced as I am of the uncertainty of all human events, I desire to join with you in reposing a confidence in God, which will fit the mind for all disappointments; that our very afflictions may work for our good.

You will not forget me at the throne of grace-and till we meet to enjoy a personal interview, may that providence, which has hitherto been our shield, guard us still. In the mean time, I subscribe myself a friend without guile.

P. P.

The following letter, which Charles wrote to his uncle, will give us another view of the character of man.

RESPECTED UNCLE,

I have several times written to my father, and have received letters from you, but have neglected to return the kindness. Two characters which I have lately become acquainted, may not be unentertaining.

Kosmou possesses a great landed estate with all necessary appendages. He loves to lay up money, to gratify this taste, he sells his tallow, and burns a pitch pine splinter stuck in the jamb;-he carries his butter and cheese to market and eats none himself,-sells the best of his meat and cats the offals; burns brush and every kind of litter, because his wood