same manner; and they reason differently, because the 'principles of truth are founded in nature, but the consequences which they deduce from these depend upon their own interest. It is with a single heart there fore that one ought to seek for truth: for a single heart never pretends to understand, or to believe what it does not. It never afsists to impose upon itself, nor afterwards to impose upon others; thus a single heart far from being weak, like that of most men seduced by their different interests, is strong, fitted to investigate truth, and to preserve it when found.' "You have expressed my idea much better than I could have done myself, replied the paria. Truth is like the dew of heaven, to preserve it pure, one must gather it with a pure cloth and put it in a clean vefsel."

1

• It is very well said, honest friend, replied the Englishman, but a' still more difficult question remains to be solved. Where must one seek truth? A single heart depends on ourselves, but truth depends on others. Where fhall we find it, if those who surround us are seduced by their prejudices, or corrupted by their interest, as they generally are? I have travelled among various nations; I have ransacked their libraries; I have consulted their learned men; and I have found no♬ thing but contradictions, doubts, and opinions, a thousand times more varied than their languages. If therefore truth is not to be found in the most celebrated depositaries of human knowledge, where shall we go to scek it? What purpose will it serve to have a single heart a mong men who have a false understanding and a corrupt heart? "I fhould suspect the truth itself, replied the paria, if it depended upon men, if I received it by their means only; it is not among them that one must seek it; it is in nature. Nature is the sourse of all that exists. Her language is not difficult to be understood, and variable, like that of men in their books. Men make books, but nature makes things. To rest the foundation of truth on a book is as if one founded it on a picture, or on a statue, which can prove interesting only to one country, and which the hand of time alters every day. Every book is the work of a man, but nature is the work of God." You are right, re plied the doctor; nature is the source of natural truths:`but where is for example, the source of historical truths, if it be not in books. How shall we do then to assure ourselves at present of the truth of an event that happened two thousand years ago? Those who have transmitted it to us, were they free from prejudice, and party spirit? Had they a single heart? Besides even the books that transmit them to us, do not they stand in need of transcribers, of printers, of commentators, of

translators? And these people, do they never alter the truth in a greater, or lefs degree? As you well observe, a book is only the work of a man. It is necefsary then to give up all historical truth, since it can reach us only by men liable to error.' "What connection, said the Indian, has the knowledge of past events with our happiness? The history of what is, is the history of what hath been, and of that which fhall be hereafter?"

It is true, replied the doctor

Very well said the Englishman, but you will grant that moral truths are necefsary to human happiness. How then fhall we find these in nature. There the animals make war upon, kill and devour each other; even the elements are at war with each other; will not men act in the same manner? Oh no! replied the good paria, but each man will find the rule of his conduct in his own heart, if his heart be single. Nature has there implanted this law, "Never do to others, what you would not wish them to do to you." she has regulated their interests with regard to each other; but religi ous truths, how shall we discover them among the different traditions, and the different modes of worship which divide the nations?" "In nature, too, replied the paria: if we consider her with a single heart, we will see God there, in his power, in his wisdom, and in his goodnefs; and as we are weak, ignorant, and miserable, we have here abundant reason to engage us to adore him, to pray to him, and to love him, during our whole life, without disputing.".

Admirable rejoined the Englishman; but, at the same time, tell me, when one has discovered the truth, ought it not to be imparted to others? If you publish it, you will be persecuted by a vast number of people who live by maintaining the contrary error, by maintaining that this error itself is the truth, and that whatever tends to des troy it is itself erroneous.'

"It is necessary, replied the paria, to impart the truth to those who have a single heart, that is to say, to the virtuous who are in quest of it, and not to the wicked who reject it. Truth is a choice pearl, and the wicked a crocodile who cannot admit it into his ears, because he has none. If you throw a pearl before a crocodile, instead of adorn ing himself with it, he will devour it, or he will break his teeth upon it, and through fury fall upon you." I have only one objection to make, said the Englishman: it follows as a consequence from what you have said, that men are condemned to error, though truth be ne cefsary to their happiness; for since they persecute those who tell it them, who is the teacher that will dare to instruct them?' "He

replied the paria, who himself persecutes men in order to instruct them; misfortune." Ha! for once, pupil of nature, replied the Englishman, I fancy you are mistaken. Misfortune throws men into superstition. It casts down the heart and spirit of a man. It renders 2nan unfeeling and mean spirited. Men are unhappy in proportion as they are low, credulous, and mean.' "Because they are not unhappy enough, replied the paria; misfortune resembles the black mountain of Bember in the confines of the burning kingdom of Lahore, while you ascend, you see before you barren rocks only; but when you are got to the summit you see the sky over your head, and at your feet the kingdom of Cachemire,"

Charming and just comparison, replied the doctor: in life indeed each has his mountain to climb. Yours, virtuous hermit, must have been very rugged, for you are raised to an elevation far above all the men I have ever known. You have then been very unhappy, have you?' (The philosopher then enquires why his cast was so much detested in India, and receives answers that show at once the extreme absurdity of the reason, and the misery to which the outcast parias are reduced in consequence of these groundless prejudices. He then thus proceeds.)

But, says the doctor, how did you find the means of subsistence, being thus rejected by all society?'" At first, said the Indian, I said to myself, if every body is thine enemy, be' thou thine own friend. Thy misfortune is not above the powers of man. However heavy be the rain, the little bird receives only one drop at a time. I strayed in the woods, and along the banks of rivers seeking food; but I there most frequently found nothing but some wild fruits, and I had reason to be afraid of ferocious beasts. Thus I became sensible that nature had made almost nothing for a solitary individual, and that she had connected my existence with that society which pushed me from its bosom.

"I then frequented the desolated plains, of which there are many in India, and I there always met with some vegetable or other, fit for food, that had survived the ruin of those who had cultivated it. I travelled, in this manner, from province to province, afsured of finding every where, from the wreck of agriculture, the means of subsistance. When I found the seeds of any useful plant, I sowed them again; saying, if it do not benefit me, it may be of service to others. I found myself lefs miserable, seeing I could do some good. There was however one thing that I pafsionately desired: that was to enter into some cities. I admired at a distance their ramparts and towers, the prodigious con course of vefsels in their rivers, and of caravans upon their high ways,

79 loaded with merchandize, which were always arriving from every point of the compass; the warlike troops which came from the farthest provinces to mount guard there, ambassadors with their numerous retinues, arriving from distant nations to notify happy events, or in order to form alliances. I drew as near as I was permitted their outlets, viewing with astonishment the columns of dust raised by so many travellers, and felt my heart thrill with desire, at hearing the con fused din of great cities, which in the neighbouring plains resembles the murmur of the waves breaking on the shore of the sea. I said to myself; an assemblage of men, from many different states, who have put into one common stock their industry, their riches, and their joy, must make a city a delightful abode. But if I may not enter it by day, what hinders me to enter it during the night? A weak silly mouse, who has so many enemies, goes and comes where the pleases, by the favour of the darkness: fhe passes from the hut of the cottager, to the palace of the prince. To enjoy life the light of the stars suffices lier; and why must I have that of the sun?"

To be continued.

INDEX, INDICATORIUS.
INDEX

Gabella,

A lady who designs herself Tsabella, sent to the Editor long as go a warm euligium on mifs Jean Wood, daughter of the late gover nor Wood of the isle of Man; an effusion which though highly beco ming in private, might not, the Editor supposed, have been altogether agreeable to the relations of the deceased lady. It is prefaced with this modest apology; nor will any one, I hope, be offended at a young woman, for being grateful to an amiable but deceased friend." She closes the character thus," At the age of 26 she died universally beloved. She was a dutiful daughter, an affectionate sister, a kind mistress, a faithful and unshaken friend, and as Dr Blacklock says,

66

Enough of life is given

When fame and virtue grace its close."

Scratch-Crown favours the Editor with an extract from the Lady's Magazine for 1785, giving an account of the origin of the ballad of Bessy Bell and Mary Gray; which as it is by no means authenticated and is contradicted by other accounts, could not be inserted.

He embraces the same opportunity of transmitting an oration in praise of benevolence-a subject on which so much has been said that little new can be expected. It is therefore better adapted to a

private circle of young persons than for the public. The following fhort extracts are given as a specimen.

"He (the benevolent man) hears of the distresses of others with a secret joy; but it is the "joy of grief." Or to speak without a figure his heart melts for their misfortunes, while his soul is enraptured at the glorious opportunity of relieving them, and he flies with an alaerity not to be described to pour the balm of relief and consolation into their wounds.

“It is not for those misfortunes alone which are in his power to alleviate that he feels; neither does he confine himself to one particular country, religion, or complection. He hears of the unjust imprisonments in despotic lands; of the cruel massacres committed by the ambitious Rufsian upon the followers of Mahomet; of the wretched slavery of the unfortunate Africans, and gives to their misery all he can, a tear."

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

The verses by a Constant Reader are received. In attempting to disguise a hand that probably would never have been recognised by the Editor, this communication is rendered nearly illegible. It is not certain if it can be all made out.

The Editor has received several very long papers on the subject of France, for which he considers himself as indebted to the writers for their kind intentions; but he would be much more obliged to them, if they would turn their thoughts to literary subjects instead of politics, which he believes to be the most unprofitable of all studies, in the way it is usually viewed by inexperienced writers. Could young men be persuaded that government is a practical art, of which no adequate knowledge can be obtained but by a painful ascertaining of innumerable facts, that are exceedingly intricate to be unravelled; and that all speculative theories on that subject, tend only to bewilder the imagination, confound the judgement, and lead to the most dangerous errors, they would then be exceedingly hy in offering the first thoughts that occur to them on this head to the public. Among 0ther good effects, it would save the editor of this miscellany a great deal of trouble in reading many papers which he must have the mortification to be obliged to reject; which he can assure his readers is a very painful part of his office. Wide is the field of science, and innumerable the opportunities of displaying talents in the augmentation of knowledge in its various departments, were we disposed to exercise them properly.

The Editor has also received several poems of considerable length and not destitute of merit, written in the Scottish dialect, of which he is sorry he cannot avail himself; for unless it be very short pieces, the respect he bears for those of his readers, who cannot understand that dialect, forbids him to insert them. He will try to make some fhort extracts from these in the index indicatorius.