of copying, written by a person who removed from the country, and has lived in town about a year.

subjoined.

DEAR FRIEND,

A copy is here

Not having written to you since I came to this place, you will pardon me if I trouble you with a few lines. The manners of the place are generally pleasing. Nothing has yet occurred very offensive, except what I have met with from my servant girls. These impudent wenches think they are made of as good flesh and bloed as I am, or any of the gen try in town. If they are set to pick the bones and eat the offals left on our table, they think themselves hardly used; and even have the boldness to tell me they ought to eat as good victuals as I do. Don't you think they wish to set in the parlor with me; and even pretend it is a high disgrace for them to be found in the kitchen among the pots and kettles, as they phrase it; and have been known to run like sheep chased by a wolf, when they saw some of their acquaintance coming. In the afternoon they must be drest in fine calicoes, or rich cambrics, and sit with their fine needle work; which has occasioned me to be taken for the maid, and my female servant has been, more than once, addressed by strangers as the mistress of the house. This is a mortification beyond endurance.

Could I have my will, they should know their place bet ter. They should never set foot out of the kitchen, except to wait on me; and should always appear in the habit of ser- ́ vants, and be made to know that the leavings of the table are as good as they deserve. I would teach them also, always to behave towards me with the most servile submission; and to address me in a language at once expressive of their meanness, and my greatness. The gentry can never enjoy the dignity which belongs to them, till their servants lay aside their impudence and assumed equality. I long to see the time when WE GENTRY shall be able to say to the rich, sit here in a good place,' and to these mean creatures, who work for us, ' stand there, or sit under our footstool.' But if things go on as they have done, we must work ourselves, which you know is a great disgrace to people in high life. On the whole, I am so vexed I know not what to do; a little advice will be gratefully received, from your friend

Front-Street, 1814.

6

SHADOW DASHAWAY.

I am rich. I am a GOOD Christian. But u must hide himself in the presence of I, as a small star is hid in the presence of the sun.

This view of characters, said Charles, reminded me of the two organists, one of whom worked the keys the other the bellows. The former said to the other, as they returned from meeting, I think I played on the organ extremely well to day. You played on the organ, said his fellow, We played very well. What did u do towards playing, replied the other? An old, ignorant negro might have worked the bellows as well as u. It was I that played.

The next sabbath, after the Psalm was read, GREAT I began to work the keys, but the organ gave no sound; he said to little u blow, blow. Little u said, shall it be We then? Great I made no answer, but began a second time to move the keys, and a second time the organ was silent. Again he whispers with more than common vehemence-why don't you blow ! why don't you blow! Shall it be We then, said little u again? This kind of dialogue was several times repeated, till at last great I was obliged to say it shall be We.

This kind of pride is called egotism, and those who are guilty of it, suppose it a mark of great dignity; and expect that I will be applauded. I holds a man by the sleeve, to tell great and marvellous things, and if he attempts to move, it is I, and said I, and I told him, and I tell you, and you must stop, I'll tell you all about it. Thus I swells, and puffs up, and becomes an italic I, and leans a little the other way.

The above remarks were scarcely finished when an insect began to buzz about the candle; here, said Charles, is another kind of great I.

Clarissa was beautiful and had more fine clothes than A-melia; she would not associate with Amelia, but looked down with contempt and scorn, from the very top of GREAT I, to the bottom of little u, Amelia. Clarissa had more suitors than Amelia, attended more balls, and fancied she kept much better company. At twenty she became a mother without being married, and few pitied her, because she had been so proud and insolent. At thirty she married to a poor old widower with seven children, and scratched her head with vexation from morning till night. But Amelia married an industrious farmer; she loves her husband and is beloved; is the mother of several fine children, and lives independently and cheerfully.

Jack Upstart drew a thousand dollar prize and set up merchandizing. He despised farmer A's boys, and would stick up his nose at them with disdain. He looked on their frocks and home-made dress as badges of meanness; and thought his long watch-chain and wide ruffle, authorized him to call them mean dogs. In five years he had spent his thousand dollars and was another thousand in debt, and now walks the jail-yard ragged and dirty. But farmer A's boys are thriving in the world, beloved and respected, and are likely to die rich.

Matilda married a young lawyer. She thought him a gentleman and would maintain her without work. She was -forever laughing about Eliza's suitor, because he was a tiller of the ground. I'll be hanged, said she, if I would not die an old maid, before I'd have him. But Matilda's husband did not understand his profession, he got no employment, he is too idle to work; and she has found out, that lawyers are not always gentlemen. Eliza's husband treats her kindly and maintains her handsomely.

Poor insects, said Charles, they have all three burnt their wings, and cannot fly.

Charles intent on his future prospects of marriage, could not long refrain from writing to the dear object of his unfeigned affections. Having a convenient conveyance by a trusty hand, he wrote as follows:

For such, in affection at least, I may now be permitted to call you. My experience thus far tells me, that the true friendship of the heart, is neither diminished nor destroyed, by absence or distance from the object in which it centers. I do not say, others are not beautiful, sensible, and deserving; or, that I have no eyes to see their commendable, female qualifications; but I say, without fear of contradiction or guilt, no one has found or ever shall find a peaceful place in my heart, but the person to whom I now write.

But still, I would not insinuate, that I love the creature more than the Creator. To a mind like yours, which has been so long accustomed to love and reverence God, it would be a daring and shocking impiety; and were I to be guilty of it, and especially of expressing it, when writing to you, I might expect to be addressed under the title of wretch, rather than that of friend or lover. But sensible as I am, that God

is the supreme good of man, I desire always to have a deep sense of his gracious presence, and of my obligations to love and serve him; and have an equal desire, that this temper may reign in us and abide with us, through all our future years. Thus living, and thus dying, we shall receive a crown of glory, which fadeth not away. That this may be our final reward, is the prayer of him, whose attachment to your person is as sincere as it is ardent.

P. PHILANTHROPOS,

Mount Hope, Nov. 1814.

C. OBSERVATOR.

About this time, Charles received another letter from his father, which added to his stock of materials.

MY DEAR SON,

Legalio works hard, but contracts a great number of debts, which he never pays, but at the end of an execution. He loves law-suits, and spends a great part of his earnings to fee lawyers. It is not uncommon for him to stand trial on a fair note of hand, under a hope he shall throw his creditor out of the debt. It is so common for him to quarrel with his neighbors, whenever he settles a book account with them, that they dread a settlement, as much as a thief does the whipping post.

Complainus is equally fond of law; but never pays executions, nor quarrels with his neighbours about book accounts. He got himself appointed tythingman, that he might complain of others for breaches of law, and get half the fines. No man can be more diligent in his business, than he is to find occasion against some one, that he may be brought to the tribunal of justice. He has no regard for religion, or for the good of society, and his neighbors might swear, fight, and break the sabbath, till they grew old in their crimes, and he would neither sigh nor weep; but when there is any prospect of getting the complainants fees; he will talk as gravely of morality as a minister; and break the sabbath from worning till night, to keep others from breaking it. He may be seen all day walking the streets, and quarrelling with his neighbors, if they set foot out of door, unless to go to meeting; and dragging travellers before magistrates, to force them to pay him the money for their sins. Though he seldom

appears in the house of God himself, and loves the money he gets, a thousand times better than he does the gospel or its ordinances; yet he is almost sainted by a set of long-faced professors, for his extraordinary zeal for the holy keeping of the sabbath day. But there can be no doubt, he would be as truly sorry if all men were to keep that day holy, as a litigious lawyer would, never to have another law-suit. And yet, when he gets a swearer or sabbath breaker before the tribunal of justice, he can lengthen out his face with an uncomdegree of sanctity; and weep over the offender with as much sincerity, as the crocodile weeps over the prey he immediately devours.

I need not tell you, my son, that Legalio and Complainus are both detested, and reckoned, by all sober people, as nuisances to society. When an irreligious man violates the law of God and men, under the pretext of bringing others to justice; and with a manifest design to empty their purses to fill his own, he cannot fail to be the execration of all who know him.

I hasten to subscribe myself your very affectionate father, and to convey to you the good will of a tender mother, and your loving brothers and sisters. L. OBSERVATOR.

CHARLES OBSERVATOR.

Pleasant Vale, 1814.

Charles on receiving the above, returned the following an

swer.

HONORED FATHER,

The characters you sent me in your last, had escaped my notice; but there can be no doubt of their real existence. Having noticed so many characters on the side of vice, I have a mind to pass over to that of virtue.

In the place from whence I write, there was, some years ago, a great and gracious revival of religion. Some, who were subjects of the work, were, before, notorious offenders against God; but have since given satisfactory evidence of a work of grace. The case of one man in particular is related to me, which you will be pleased to hear.

He had been very intemperate in the use of ardent spirits; and in his fits of intoxication, was extremely cross to his wife and family. In his sober moments he was ashamed of him