of so immense a height, that it reaches above the clouds. The wonderful structure of mount Torsburg, the horrid precipices of the rock Blakulla, in an island of that name, situated near Oeland, and that presents by its name, still used among the Sueogothic vulgar no less than by its dismal aspect, an idea of the stupidity, and superstition of that ancient people. Besides the wonderful vaults, and caverns of the Skiula mountains, the high plains of the island Carolina, the unusual form and structure of the Kierkersian fountains in Oeland; to pass over numberless other strange works of nature, the like to which perhaps are no where to be met with. Where can we have greater opportunities, than in this Sueogothic tract, of considering the intense rigour, and vehemence of winter, the incredible marble-like strength of ice. And yet in this inclement climate grain of all sorts is observed to spring forth sooner, grow quicker, and ripen in less time than in any other part of the world *. Whoever desires to contemplate the stupendous metamorphoses of sea and land, will scarcely find any where a more convenient opportunity, than in the south and east parts of Gothland; where the rock-giants, as they are called, seem to threaten heaven, and where the epochas of time, the ages, the years, if I may so say, are as it were carved out in a surprising series upon the sea shore, and the ground above the shore. The philosopher will find room to exercise his ingenuity sufficiently in the Oeland stone, by trying to discover how to overcome its moist nature, and quality, which whoever could accomplish would do no small service to his country, and above all would infinitely oblige the inhabitants of that place. I shall say no more than what is known, and confessedly by all the world, when I say that there is no country in the habitable part of the globe, where the mineralogist may make greater progress in his art, than in this country. Let any one, that can, tell me, and I shall esteem him no mean prophet, in what regions more rich, and ample mines of metal are found, than in Sweden, and where they dig deeper into the very bowels of the earth than here. Let the mines of Norburg, the ridge of Taberga, the pits of Dannemore, Bitsberg, Grengia, and lastly the immense treasures of Salbergen, and Fahluna, be my wite nesses, which exceed all in the known world. Where do the possessors suffer foreigners more freely to approach their furnaces, and observe their operations? where are there men more ready to communicate their knowledge? Strangers are received by us with civility, and even pressed to stay. Who would not shudder on beholding those forges, vomiting forth immense clouds of fire and Vid. a treatise concerning the foliation of trees published in this collection, and the prolegomena to the Flora Lapponica of this author, where he says that at Purkyar in Lapland, anno 1752, barley sown May 1751, was ripe in July 28, i. e. in 58 days; and rye sown May 31, was ripe, and cut Aug. 5, i, e. in 66 days. smoak, smoak, where our iron ores are melted? Who would not behold with pleasure the simple countrymen in the thick pine groves of Dalecarlia, without furnace, without any apparatus, extracting an iron so very hard, so fit for use, that it yields to no other, tho' prepared with the fiercest fires, and greatest expence ?" The history of Russelas, Prince of Abissinic, in two small pocket volumes. Printed for R. and J. Dodsley, and W. Johnston. TH HE instruction which is found in most works of this kind, when they convey any instruction at all, is not the predominant part, but arises accidentally in the course of a story planned only to please. But in this novel the moral is the principal object, and the story is a mere vehicle to convey the instruction. Accordingly the tale is not near so full of incidents, or so diverting in itself, as the ingenious author, if he had not had higher views, might easily have made it; neither is the distinction of character sufficiently attended to; but with these defects, perhaps no book ever inculcated a purer and sounder morality; no book ever made a more just estimate of human life, its pursuits, and its enjoyments. The descriptions are rich and luxuriant, and shew a poetic imagination not inferior to our best writers in verse. The style, which is peculiar and characteristical of the author, is lively, correct and harmonious. It has however in few places an air too exact and studied. The idea which travellers have given us of a mountain in which the branches of the royal family of Abissinia are confined, though it may not be very well founded in fact, affords a ground for the most striking description of à terrestrial paradise, which has ever been drawn; in this the author places the hero of his tale. "The place, which the wisdom or policy of antiquity had destined for the residence of the Abissinian princes, was a spacious valley in the kingdom of Amhara, surrounded on every side by mountains of which the summits overhang the middle part. The only passage by which it could be entered was a cavern that passed under a rock, of which it has been long disputed whether it was the work of nature or of human industry. The outlet of the cavern was concealed by a thick wood, and the mouth which opened into the valley was closed with gates of iron, forged by the artificers of ancient days, so massy that no man could, without the help of engines open or shut them. From the mountains on every side, rivulets descended that filled the valley with verdure and fertility, and formed a lake in the middle, inhabited by fish of every species, and frequented by every fowl whom nature has taught to dip the wing in water. This lake discharged its superfluities by a stream which entered a dark cleft of the mountain on the northern side, and fell with dreadful noise from precipice to precipice till it was heard no more. The sides of the mountains were covered with trees, the banks of the brooks were diversified with flowers; every blast shook spices from the rocks, and every month dropped dropped fruits upon the ground. All animals that bite the grass, or brouse the shrub, whether wild or tame, wandered in this extensive circuit, secured from beasts of prey by the mountains which confined them. On one part were flocks and herds feeding in the pastures, on another all the beasts of chace frisking in the lawns; the sprightly kid was bounding on the rocks, the subtle monkeys frolicking in the trees, and the solemn elephant reposing in the shade. All the diversities of the world were brought together, the blessings of nature were collected, and its evils extracted and excluded. The valley, wide and fruitful, supplied its inhabitants with the necessaries of life, and all delights and superfluities were added at the annual visit which the emperor paid his children, when the iron gate was opened to the sound of music; and during eight days every one that resided in the valley was required to propose whatever might contribute to make seclusion pleasant, to fill up the vacancies of attention, and lessen the tediousness of time. Every desire was immediately granted. All the artificers of pleasure were called to gladden the festivity; the musicians exerted their power of harmony, and the dancers shewed their activity before the princes, in hope that they should pass their lives in this blissful. captivity, to which those only were admitted whose performance was thought able to add novelty to luxury. Such was the appearance of security and delight which this retirement afforded, that they to whom it was new, always desired that it might be perpetual; and as those, on whom the iron gates had once closed, were never suffer. ed to return, the effect of longer experience could not be known. Thus every year produced new schemes of delight, and new competitors for imprisonment." In this delightful seclusion, nothing that art or nature could supply, was want, ing to solace and gladden its inhabitants; and the palace of the princes was decorated in the most sumptuous manner. "Here the sons and daughters of Abissinia lived only to know the soft vicissitudes of pleasure and repose, attended by all that were skilful to delight, and gratified with whatever the senses can enjoy. They wandered in gardens of fragrance, and slept in the fortresses of security. Every art was practised to make them pleased with their condition. The sages who instructed them, told them of nothing but the miseries of public life, and described all beyond the mountains as regions of calamity, where discord was always raging, and where man preyed upon man. To heighten their opinion of their own felicity, they were daily entertained with songs, the subject of which was the Happy Valley. Their appetites were excited by frequent enumerations of different enjoyments, and revelry and merriment was the business of every hour, from the dawn of morning to the close of evening. These methods were generally successful; few of the princes had ever wished to enlarge their bounds, but passed their lives in full conviction that they had all within their reach that art or nature could bestow, and pitied those whom fate had excluded from this tranquillity, as the sport of chance, aird the slaves of misery," Rasselas, Rasselas, in the 26th year of his age, began to be uneasy in his situation, and thus expressed the source of his grief. What said he, makes the difference between man and all the rest of the animal creation? Every beast that strays beside me has the same corporal necessities with myself; he is hungry and crops the grass, he is thirsty and drinks the stream, his thirst and hunger are appeased, he is satisfied, and sleeps: he rises again, and is hungry, he is again fed, and is at rest. I am hungry and thirsty, like him; but when thirst and hunger cease, I am not at rest: I am, like him, pained with want but am not, like him satisfied with fulness, The intermediate hours are tedious and gloomy; I long again to be hungry, that I may again quicken my attention. The birds peck the berries out of the corn, and fly away to the groves, where they sit in seeming happiness on the branches, and waste their lives in tuning one unvaried series of sounds. I likewise can call the lutenist and the singer; but the sounds that pleased me yesterday, weary me to-day, and will grow yet more wearisome to-morrow. I can discover within me no power of perception, which is not glutted with its proper pleasure; yet I do not feel myself delighted. Man has surely some latent sense for which this place affords no gratification; or he has some desires distinct from sense, which must be satisfied before he can be happy.". In consequence of these reflections, he contrives to escape out of the valley; but if the hero of the tale was not happy in this situation, we are not to be surprised, that he did not find happinesss in his excursion into the world at large. Though the author has not put his name to this work, there is no doubt that he is the same who has before done so much for the improvement of our taste and our morals, and employed a great part of his life in an astonishing work for the fixing the language of this nation; whilst this nation, which admires his works, and profits by them, has done nothing for the author. A letter from M. Rosseau of Geneva, to M. d'Alembert, of Paris, concerning the effects of theatrical entertainments on the manners of mankind. NONE of the present writers have a greater share of talents and learning than Rousseau; yet it has been his misfortune and that of the world, that those of his works which have made the greatest noise, and acquired to their author the highest reputation, have been of little real use or emolument to mankind. A tendency to paradox, which is always the bane of solid learning, and threatens now to destroy it, a splenetic disposition carried to misanthropy, and an austere virtue pursued to an unsociable fierceness, have prevented a great deal of the good effects which might be expected from such a genius. A satire upon civilized society, a satire upon learning, may make a tolerable sport for an ingenious fancy; but if carried farther it can do no more (and that in such a way is surely too much) thạn to unsettle our notions of right and wrong, and lead by degrees to uni versal versal scepticism. His having beføre attempted two such subjects, must make his attack upon the stage far less formidable than otherwise it would have been. This last subject has been often discussed before him; more good pieces have been written against the stage than in its favour; but this is by far the most ingenious, spirited, and philosophical performance that ever appeared on theatrical entertainments. The author has placed the matter in a light almost wholly new. So far as his remarks relate to small and indigent states in general, and to that of Geneva in particular, they are as just as they are ingenious; but with regard to the stage writers and performers in nations not so circumstanced, he seems to have pushed his objections much too far. There are certainly plays which shew, that the stage may at least be made as innocent as any other public entertainment; as innocent as his favourite entertainment of dancing; and there are actors of both sexes who (though it must be admitted their situation is a little dangerous) have proved by their conduct the injustice of his assertion, which makes vice inseparable from their profession, and its infamy not created, but only declared by the laws. We shall give two extracts, in order to convey to our readers an idea of his manner of writing; one with regard to plays, the other with regard to the actors, "Public entertainments are made for the people, and it is only by their effects on them that we can determine their absolute qualities. There may be an infinite variety of these entertainments, as there is an infinite variety of manners, constitutions, and characters of different nations. Nature is the same I ́allow; but nature, modified by religion, government, law, customs, prejudice, and climates, becomes so different from itself, that we must no longer enquire for what is suitable to man in general, but what is proper for him in such a place or country. Hence Menander's plays, which had been written for the Athenian stage, did not at all suit that of Rome; hence the shews of gladiators, which in the times of the republic used to inspire the Romans with courage, had no other effect, under the emperors, than to make those very Romans ferocious and cruel: from the same spectacle, exhibited at different times, the people learned at first to undervalue their own lives, and afterwards to sport with those of others. With regard to the species of public entertainments, this must be determined, by the pleasure they afford, and not by their utility. If there is any utility to be obtained by them, well and good: but the chief intent is to please; and provided the people are amused, this view is fulfilled. This alone will ever hinder these institutions from having all the advantages of which they are susceptible; and they must be greatly mistaken, who form an idea of perfection, which cannot be reduced to practice, without offending those whom we would willingly instruct. Hence ariseth the difference of entertainments, according to the different character of nations. A people of an intrepid spirit, but determined and cruel, will have spectacles full of danger, where valour and resolution are most cons spicuous. A hot fiery people are for bloodshed, for battles, for the indulging of sanguinary passions. A voluptuous |