Truth is always confiftent with itself, and needs nothing to help it out: it is always near at hand, and fits upon our lips, and is ready to drop out before we are aware, whereas a lye is troublefome, and fets a man's invention upon the rack.

Truth, in every thing, is ftill the fame, and, like its great Author, can be but one; and the fentence of reafon ftands as firm as the foundation of the earth.

Truth is born with us, and we must do violence to our nature, to shake off our veracity.

Now by the Gods, it is not in the pow'r
Of painting or of sculpture to express,
Aught fo divine as the fair form of Truth!
The creatures of their art may catch the eye,
But her fweet nature captivates the foul.

EXTRACT

EXTRACT OF A LETTER

WROTE BY THE

EARL OF ESSEX,

TO HIS PARTICULAR FRIEND THE EARL

OF SOUTHAMPTON,

SOMETIME BEFORE HIS DEATH.

ITH respect to your natural gifts and abi̟lities, remember, Firft, that you have nothing which you have not received. Secondly, that you poffefs them, not as a Lord over them, but as one who must give an account for them. Thirdly, if you employ them to ferve this world, or your own worldly delight, which the Prince of this world will feek to entertain you with; it is ingratitude, it is injuftice, yca, it is perfidious treachery. For what would you think of fuch a fervant of your's, who fhould convert your goods committed to his charge, to the advantage or fervice of your greatest enemy? And what do you lefs than this with God; fince you have all from him, and know that the world, and the Princes thereof, are at continual enmity with him? Therefore, if ever the admonition of your trueft friend fhall be heard by you; or, if your country, which you may ferve in fo great and many things, be dear

unto

unto you;

any

if your God, whom you must (if you deal truly with yourself) acknowledge to be powerful over all, and just in all, be feared by you; yea, if you be dear unto yourself, and prefer an everlafting happiness before a pleasant dream, out of which you must shortly awake, and then repent in the bitterness of your foul; if of these things be regarded by you, then, I fay, call yourself to account for what is paft, cancel all the leagues you have made without the warrant of a religious confcience; make a regular covenant with your God to ferve him with all your natural and fpiritual, inward and outward gifts and abilities: and then he, who is faithful and cannot lie, and hath promised to honour those who honour him, will. give you that inward peace of foul, and true joy of heart, which, till you have, you will never reft; and which, when you have, you shall never be fhaken; and which you can never attain to any other way!

ANEC

ANECDOTE

OF

AN INDIAN WOMAN.

OME hiftorians have lately afferted, that the

SOME

custom of widows burning themselves on the funeral pile of their husbands, no longer exifts. There are fome recent infances of it tranfmitted by Europeans, who were witneffes of the tranfactions they related.

Not many years ago died Rham-Chund, pundit of the Mahratta tribe. His widow, aged feventeen or eighteen years, as foon as he expired, immediately declared to the bramins, and witnesses prefent, her refolution to burn. As the family were of great importance, all her relations and friends left no arguments unattempted to diffuade her from her purpose.

The ftate of her infant children, the terrors and pangs of the death the afpired after, were painted to her in the ftrongest and moft lively colours; but the was deaf to all. Her children, indeed, the feemed to leave with fome regret. But when the terrors of burning were mentioned to her,

with a countenance calm and refolved, she put one of her fingers into the fire, and held it there a confiderable time. Then, with one of her hands, fhe put fire into the palm of the other, fprinkled incenfe upon it, and fumigated the attending bramins or priests. Being given to understand that she should not obtain permiffion to burn, she fell immediately into deep affliction. But foon recollecting herself, the answered, "that death would still be in her power; and that if she were not allowed to make her exit according to the principles of her caft, flie would ftarve herself.” Finding her thus refolved, her friends were, at last, obliged to confent to her propofal.

Early on the following morning, the body of the deceased was carried down to the waterfide. The widow followed about ten o'clock, accompanied by the principal bramins, her children, relations, and a numerous crowd of fpectators As the order for her burning did not arrive til

after one o'clock, the interval was employed in praying with the bramins, and washing in the Ganges. As foon as it arrived, she retired, and ftaid about half an hour in the midst of her female relations. She then divefted herself of her bracelets, and other ornaments; and having tied them in a kind of apron, which hung before her, was

H

con