my word for it, that fits are the true aposiopesis of modern tragedy.

The fifth act began, and a busy piece it was. Scenes shifting, trumpets sounding, mobs hallooing, carpets spreading, guards bustling from one door to another; gods, demons, daggers, racks and ratsbane. But whether the king was killed, or the queen was drowned, or the son was poisoned, I have absolutely forgotten.

When the play was over, I could not avoid observing, that the persons of the drama appeared in as much distress in the first act as the last. How is it possible, said I, to sympathize with them through five long acts! Pity is but a short-lived pas sion; I hate to hear an actor mouthing trifles; neither startings, strainings, nor attitudes affect me, unless there be cause after I have been once or twice deceived by those unmeaning alarms, my heart sleeps in peace, probably unaffected by the principal distress. There should be one great passion aimed at by the actor as well as the poet; all the rest should be subordinate, and only contribute to make that the greater if the actor, therefore, exclaims upon every occasion in the tones of despair, he attempts to move us too soon; he anticipates the blow, he ceases to affect, though he gains our applause.

I scarcely perceived that the audience were almost all departed, wherefore, mixing with the crowd, my companion and I got into the street; where, essaying a hundred obstacles from coach-wheels and palanquin poles, like birds in their flight through the branches of a forest, after various turnings, we both at length got home in safety. Adieu.*

*The following description of our theatres is from " London, a poem in ten stanzas," composed by a Chinese who visited England in 1813, and translated by Mr. Davis:

["The towering edifices rise story above story,

In all the stateliness of splendid mansions;

LETTER XXII.

THE CHINESE PHILOSOPHER'S SON MADE A SLAVE IN PERSIA.

To the same.

The letter which came by the way of Smyrna, and which you sent me unopened, was from my son. As I have permitted you to take copies of all those I sent to China, you might have made no ceremony in opening those directed to me. Either in joy or sorrow, my friend shall participate in my feelings. It would give pleasure to see a good man pleased at my success; it would give almost equal pleasure to see him sympathize at my disappointment.

Every account I receive from the East seems to come loaded with some new affliction. My wife and daughter were taken from me, and yet I sustained the loss with intrepidity; my son is made a slave among the barbarians, which was the only blow that could have reached my heart: yes, I will indulge the transports of nature for a little, in order to show I can overcome them in the end. True magnanimity consists not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.

When our mighty emperor had published his displeasure at my departure, and seized upon all that was mine, my son was privately secreted from his resentment. Under the protection

Through the windows of glass appear the scarlet hangings,
And in the street itself is presented a beautiful scene,

The congregated buildings have all the aspect of a picture:

Their theatres are closed during the long days;

It is after dark that the painted scenes are displayed:

The faces of the actors are handsome to behold,

And their dresses are composed of silk and satin:

Their songs resound in unison with stringed and wind instruments,

And they dance to the inspiring note of drums and flutes;

It constitutes the perfection of harmonious delight,

Every one retires with a laughing countenance."

Royal Asiatic Soc. Transactions, vol. ii. p. 446.]

and guardianship of Fum Hoam, the best and the wisest of all the inhabitants of China, he was for some time instructed in the learning of the missionaries, and the wisdom of the East. But hearing of my adventures, and incited by filial piety, he was resolved to follow my fortunes, and share my distress.

He passed the confines of China in disguise, hired himself as a camel-driver to a caravan that was crossing the deserts of Thibet, and was within one day's journey of the river Laur, which divides that country from India, when a body of wandering Tartars falling unexpectedly upon the caravan, plundered it, and made those who escaped their first fury slaves. By those he was led into the extensive and desolate regions that border on the shores of the Aral lake.

Here he lived by hunting; and was obliged to supply every day a certain proportion of the spoil, to regale his savage masters. His learning, his virtues, and even his beauty, were qualifications that no way served to recommend him; they knew no merit but that of providing large quantities of milk and raw flesh; and were sensible of no happiness but that of rioting on the undressed meal.

He

Some merchants from Mesched, however, coming to trade with the Tartars for slaves, he was sold among the number, and led into the kingdom of Persia, where he is now detained. is there obliged to watch the looks of a voluptuous and cruel master, a man fond of pleasure yet incapable of refinement, whom many years' service in war has taught pride but not bravery.

That treasure which I still keep within my bosom, my child, my all that was left to me, is now a slave.* Good heavens, why was this? Why have I been introduced into this mortal apartment, to be a spectator of my own misfortunes, and the misfor

*This whole apostrophe seems most literally translated from Ambulaao. hamed, the Arabian poet.

tunes of my fellow-creatures? Wherever I turn, what a labyrinth of doubt, error, and disappointment appears! Why was I brought into being; for what purposes made; from whence have I come? whither strayed; or to what regions am I hastening? Reason cannot resolve. It lends a ray to show the horrors of my prison, but not a light to guide me to escape them. Ye boasted revelations of the earth, how little do you aid the inquiry!

How am I surprised at the inconsistency of the magi! their two principles of good and evil affright me. The Indian who bathes his visage in urine and calls it piety, strikes me with astonishment. The Christian who believes in three gods is highly absurd. The Jews who pretend that Deity is pleased with the effusion of blood, are not less displeasing. I am equally surprised, that rational beings can come from the extremities of the earth in order to kiss a stone,* or scatter pebbles. How contrary to reason are those! and yet all pretend to teach me to be happy.

Surely all men are blind and ignorant of truth. Mankind wanders, unknowing his way, from morning till evening. Where shall we turn after happiness; or is it wisest to desist from the pursuit? Like reptiles in a corner of some stupendous palace, we peep from our holes, look about us, wonder at all we see, but are ignorant of the great architect's design. O, for a revelation. of himself, for a plan of his universal system! O, for the reasons of our creation; or why were we created to be thus unhappy? If we are to experience no other felicity but what this life affords, then are we miserable indeed: if we are born only to look about us,† repine and die, then has Heaven been guilty of injustice.

*[The Black Stone at Mecca, which, according to tradition, fell from heaven during the life of Adam, and was restored to Paradise at the time of the deluge, but was brought to Abraham at the building of the Caaba.]

["Let us, since life can little more supply

Than just to look about us and to die, &c."-POPE.]

If this life terminates my existence, I despise the blessings of Providence, and the wisdom of the giver: if this life be my all, let the following epitaph be written on the tomb of Altangi: "By my father's crimes I received this; by my own crimes I bequeath it to posterity!"

LETTER XXIII.

THE ENGLISH SUBSCRIPTION IN FAVOR OF THE FRENCH

PRISONERS COMMENDED.

To the same.

Yet, while I sometimes lament the cause of humanity, and the depravity of human nature, there now and then appear gleams of greatness that serve to relieve the eye, oppressed with the hideous prospects, and resemble those cultivated spots that are sometimes found in the midst of an Asiatic wilderness. I see many superior excellencies among the English, which it is not in the power of all their follies to hide : I see virtues, which in other countries are known only to a few, practised here by every rank of people.

I know not whether it proceeds from their superior opulence that the English are more charitable than the rest of mankind; whether by being possessed of all the conveniences of life themselves, they have more leisure to perceive the uneasy situation of the distressed; whatever be the motive, they are not only the most charitable of any other nation, but most judicious in distinguishing the properest objects of compassion.

In other countries, the giver is generally influenced by the immediate impulse of pity; his generosity is exerted as much to relieve his own uneasy sensations, as to comfort the object in dis