so exquisitely attractive, so inexpressibly amiable, and incalculably estimable to the man of worth. The frippery and impertinence of fops would also give place to manly plainness of garb and manners. Instead of the competitions of vanity in a public display on a coach-box, or the front box of a theatre, we should behold the opulent employed in the alleviation of pain, the consolation of the unfortunate, and the relief of the destitute.

As for the science of music, its charming and delightful influence cheers and elevates the mind in private parties, in public theatres, in the court, in the camp, and even in the temple of the Deity. The great and unalterable defect of music, is that indistinctness with which it communicates ideas of the passions and sentiments of which it is intended to be the medium. Like the phantoms of a vision its images vanish as soon as they appear, leaving an undefinable sensation on the nerves, which no language can describe. Thus the love expressed by music is not the passion, but rather an incitement to love; and hence the dangerous and seductive influence of amatory airs on susceptible hearts. But when music is combined with poetry expressive of tenderness, its influence is increased to such a degree, that it often is made a dangerous instrument of seduction. The modifications of other passions and

affections, as expressed by music alone, are also indistinct. Music has frequently been called in as the auxiliary of valour, but the musician may "beat the doubling drum with furious heat," without being able to conjure up a single spirit. The momentary elevation and vivacity inspired by martial sounds will subside on the approach of danger; and if warriors have no better incentive than music, their courage will expire with the last sound of the instrument, like that of Captain Macheath when he exhausted the contents of his bottle.

MILTON, an enthusiastic admirer of music, has described devotional harmony as bringing "all heaven before his eyes;" but what rational religionist has ever been able to realize this poetic vision? The solemnity of sacred music, as it is called, may prepare some minds for the awful acts of supplication, thanksgiving, and adoration, but can impart no feeling of gratitude for blessings received from the Universal Benefactor, nor elevate the imagination to a nearer contemplation of the ineffable glory of God. Every aspiration of human art, however sublime, must fail and prove inefficient in a communion with the Deity; and like the loftiest flights of the eagle towards the noonday sun, must flag, flutter, and sink, overcome by surrounding glory.

Whatever refinement, grace, or elegance, the

other fine arts have introduced among us, they seem to have operated with a pernicious influence on our morals. Instead of that simplicity, sincerity, and purity of manners, for which our forefathers were celebrated, a certain exotic tinsel has been substituted for our sterling gold.

PUBLIC AMUSEMENTS.

Dare to have sense yourselves; assert the stage,
Be justly warm'd with your own native rage:
Such plays alone should win a British ear,

As Cato's self had not disdain'd to hear.-POPE.

Public amusements, especially those of the Drama, are peculiarly calculated to give us an insight into the manners and taste of a nation; as comedies are often satires on existing follies, and from the tenor of popular tragedies we may trace the refinement of the passions. Even farces and pantomimes are not to be overlooked, as they generally exhibit caricatures of the fashionable frivolities of the day.

Theatric exhibitions present so many gratifi cations to the mind, that they will ever be favourites with a polished people. The eye is de lighted with a variety of graceful forms, decorated in characteristic dresses, and displaying the affecting gestures of passion, or the more pleas ing agility and grace of motion in the sprightly

dance; the ear is charmed with the harmony of vocal and instrumental music; the magic influence of sympathy pervades the mind in unison with the dignified woe of the tragic muse, or the animating sallies of Thalia provoke irresistible mirth. To these charms may be superadded the interesting variety of graceful forms and animated countenances of the audience; while appropriate scenery, and the splendour of taperlight, give the whole an air of gaiety and plea

sure.

With all these attractions, however, it is questionable whether the stage has not contributed to immorality. Under proper regulations it would, as the poet has described it, be a powerful monitor

"To wake the soul by tender strokes of art,
To mend the genius, and inform the heart;
To make mankind in conscious virtue bold,
Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold."

But a candid inquiry will convince us that our most popular plays have a pernicious effect on the mind. Shakspeare's tragedies, Othello, Macbeth, Hamlet, and Richard the Third, contain several indecent passages and allusions, at once puerile and obscene. Those productions of lewd genius were written to gratify the infant taste of the English nation; but now, when it.

has confessedly attained maturity, let us reject such passages, which have a much greater affinity to dulness than the idolizers of the Avonian bard would admit.

The introduction of the German drama, in the beginning of the present century, may be considered as a phenomenon in the world of dissipation. That the good sense of the English nation should tamely submit to this revolution of taste, is altogether inexplicable.

When the Stranger was introduced to the public, many of our fair dames welcomed him to this hospitable metropolis. Their sympathy for the poor adultress, so ably defended by KOTZEBUE, was a striking proof of their sensibility:"a fellow-feeling makes one wondrous kind:" yet from the disrepute into which conjugal infidelity has since fallen, the system of our male and female misogynists does not obtain new proselytes!

As KOTZEBUE eloquently pleaded the cause of adultery in The Stranger, so in his Natural Son (or as it has been styled by an English playwright, his Lovers' Vows) he has placed a kind, unwedded fair-one, in an equally affecting and amiable point of view. The Noble Lie, written by the same dramatist, is another proof of the felicity of his invention in the extenuation of guilt.