tinued gravity. This difficulty is abundantly felt in the grave and learned professions of law, physic and divinity; and the individuals who have been most successful in surmounting it, and who never deviate from the solemnity of established forms, have not been always the most distinguished for real knowledge or genius; though generally they are most admired by the multitude, who are very apt to mistake that gravity for wisdom, which proceeds from a literal weight of brain, and muddiness of understanding. Mistakes of the same kind are frequently made in forming a judgment of books, as well as men. Those which profess a formal design to instruct and reform, and carry on the work methodically, till the reader is lulled into repose, have passed for deep and useful performances: while others, replete with original observations and real instruction, have been treated as frivolous, because they are written in a familiar style, and the precepts conveyed in a sprightly and indi

rect manner.

BRITISH EDUCATION.

I AM of opinion that no country but Great Britain is proper for the education of a British subject who proposes to pass his life in his own country.

He will there acquire those sentiments, that particular turn and taste of mind, which will make him prefer the government, and relish the manners, the diversions, and general way of living which prevail in England.

He will there acquire that character which distinguishes Englishmen from the natives of all the other countries of Europe, and which once attained, however it may be afterwards embellished or deformed, can never be entirely effaced.

It is thought that by an early foreign education, all ridiculous English prejudices will be avoided. This may be true; but other prejudices, perhaps as ridiculous, and much more detrimental, will be formed;-prejudices which may render the young people unhappy in their own country, and disagreeable to their countrymen all the rest of their lives.

Popularity in England is of real importance; and the higher a man's rank is, the more he feels the loss of it. It may be lost by the affectation of French manners. The prejudice against them is not confined to the lower ranks, but diffused over the whole nation. Therefore, the earliest period of every Englisman's education ought to be in England.

MARIE ANTOINETTE, QUEEN OF FRANCE.

*

SHE loved to descend from the throne, that she might enjoy the comforts of society. Her natural impressions as a woman had more influence on her conduct than the artificial deportment dictated to her as a queen. However necessary the pomp of etiquette and the frigidity of reserve may be to high-born dulness and insipid vanity, they were tasteless and fatiguing to a beautiful and lively woman, inspired with the desire, and conscious of the power of pleasing. Her heart delighted in the confidence of friendship, and preferred that style of society where there was at least an appearance of equality. She distinguished people not so much by the various gradations and shades of heraldry, but as they seemed more or less accomplished or amiable; and by this means mortally offended many illustrious persons of both sexes who had no pretensions of that nature.

Fonder of entertainments than her husband, she had often private suppers, where the usual topics of Parisian conversation, with all the vivacity and freedom of the Parisian societies, took place.

It is scarcely necessary to observe that this article was written during the imprisonment of that unfortunate princess in the Temple.

This did not exist long without malignant interpretation. The prudes and duennas of the court, left out of the queen's parties, were offended. Had she been better able to support the languor of pomp and the slavery of etiquette, the eye of suspicion would have been lulled, or kept at a distance, the tongue of slander ever awed, and the gloom of formality removing all idea of pleasure, would have given the court the appearance of mere righteousness by being less gay.

In a beautiful, sprightly, and unguarded woman calumny found an easy prey, and afterwards united with sedition, made a joint attack on the queen. She who seemed destined to give lasting peace and prosperity to France, was by malignity represented as the cause of public misery, and the determined enemy of the country.

She fell at last the unfortunate and deeply lamented victim of seditious assassins; but a generous firmness never forsook her in her last moments, as well as in the most trying occasion; of that firmness she gave a strong proof, when advised to withdraw some time from Versailles, she answered, "I am determined never to forsake my husband: : if the Parisians are bent upon murdering me, I will die at the feet of the king!"

The annals of the unfortunate do not record any situation more dreadful than that of the unhappy Queen of France.

The daughter of an empress, the sister of emperors, the wife of a king lately considered as the most powerful in Europe, seems now more pre-eminent in wretchedness than ever she was in rank and splendor.

She was not only a queen, but a beautiful woman; not only accustomed to the interested and ostentatious submission that attends power, but to that more pleasing attention and obedience which are paid to beauty. Fortune accompanied her friendship, and happiness her smiles. She found her wishes anticipated, and saw her very looks obeyed. How painful must now be the dreadful reverse! Shut up in a prison, surrounded with barbarians, wretches who rejoice in her calamity, and insult her sorrow!

What has this most unfortunate of women already suffered? What is yet reserved for her to endure ? She has been shocked by the cruel murder of her most faithful servants and friends. She now suffers all the agonies of suspense-her heart throbbing from recent wounds, and her mind terrified, not for her own fate only, but for those of her sister, her husband, and her children. No; the annals of the unfortunate do not record, nor has the imagination of the tragic poet invented any thing more dreadfully affecting than the misfortunes and sufferings of Marie Antoinette, Queen of France; and for ages to come, her name will never be pronounc