most all North America into the Atlantic Ocean, is here poured precipitately down a ledge of rocks, that rises, like a wall, across the whole bed of its stream. The river

a little above, is near three quarters of a mile broad; and the rocks, where it grows narrower, are four hundred yards over. Their direction is not straight across, but hollowing inwards like a horse shoe: so that the cataract, which bends to the shape of the obstacle, rounding inwards, presents a kind of theatre the most tremendous in nature. Just in the middle of this circular wall of waters, a little island that has braved the fury of the current, presents one of its points, and divides the stream at top into two parts; but they unite again long before they reach the bottom. The noise of the fall is heard at the distance of several leagues; and the fury of the waters at the termination of their fall, is inconceivable. The dashing produces a mist that rises to the very clouds; and which forms a most beautiful rainbow when the sun shines. It will readily be supposed, that such a cataract entirely destroys the navigation of the stream; and yet some Indians in their canoes, as it is said, have ventured down it with safety.

SECTION III.

THE GROTTO OF ANTIPAROS.

GULDSMITH.

Or all the subterraneous caverns now known, the grotto of Antiparos is the most remarkable, as well for its extent as for the beauty of its sparry incrustations. This celebrated caveru was first explored by one Magni, an Italian traveller, about one hundred years ago, at Antiparos, an inconsiderable island of the Archipelago./" Having been informed," says he, "by the natives of Paros, that, in the little island of Antiparos, which lies about two miles from the former, a gigantic statue was to be seen at the mouth of a cavern in that place, it was resolved that we (the French consul and himself) should pay it a visit. In pur suance of this resolution, after we had landed on the island, and walked about four miles through the midst of beautiful plains, and sloping woodlands, we at length came to a little hill, on the side of which yawned a most horrid cavern, that by its gloom at first struck us with horrog

and almost repressed curiosity. Recovering the first surprise, however, we entered boldly; and had not proceeded above twenty paces, when the supposed statue of the giant presented itself to our view. We quickly perceived that what the ignorant natives had been terrified at as a giant, was nothing more than a sparry concretion, formed by the water dropping from the roof of the cave, and by degrees hardening into a figure, which their fears had formed into a monster. Incited by this extraordinary appearance. we were induced to proceed still further, in quest of new adventures in this subterranean abode. As we proceeded, new wonders offered themselves; the spars formed into trees and shrubs, presented a kind of petrified grove; some white, some green; and all receding in due perspective. They struck us with the more amazement, as we knew them to be mere productions of nature, who hitherto in solitude, had, in her playful moments, dressed the scene, as if for her ownTM amusement."/

"We had as yet seen but a few of the wonders of the place; and we were introduced only into the portico of this amazing temple. In one corner of this half illuminated recess, there appeared an opening of about three feet wide, which seemed to lead to a place totally dark, and which one of the natives assured us contained nothing more than a reservoir of water. Upon this information, we made an experiment, by throwing down some stones, which rumbling along the sides of the descent for some time, the sound seemed at last quashed in a bed of water. In order however, to be more certain, we sent in a Levantine mariner, who by the promise of a good reward, ventured with a flambeau in his hand into this narrow aperture. After continuing within it for about a quarter of an hour, he returned, bearing in his hand some beautiful pieces of white spar, which art could neither equal nor imitate. Upon being informed by him that the place was full of these beautiful incrustations, I ventured in once more with him, about fifty paces, anxiously and cautiously descending, by a steep and dangerous way Finding however, that we came to a precipice which led into a spacious amphitheatre, (if I so may call it,) still deeper than any other part, we returned, and being provided with a ladder, flambeau, and other things to expedite our descent, our whole company, man by us ventured into the same opening; and descending one 12

another, we at last saw ourselves all together in the most magnificent part of the cavera

SECTION IV.

THE GROTTO OF ANTIPAROS CONTINUED.

"OUR candles being now all lighted up, and the whole place completely illuminated, never could the eye be pre- · sented with a more glittering, or a more magnificent scene. The whole roof hung with solid icicles, transparent as glass, yet solid as marble. The eye could scarcely reach the lofty and noble ceiling; the sides were regularly formed with spars; and the whole presented the idea of a magnificent theatre illuminated with an immense profusion of lights. / The floor consisted of solid marble; and, in several places, magnificent columos, thrones, altars, and other objects, appeared, as if nature had designed to mock the curiosities of art. Our voices, upon speaking, or singing, were redoubled to an astonishing loudness; and upon the firing of a gun, the noise and reverberations were almost deafening.--/ In the midst of this grand amphitheatre rose a concretion of about fifteen feet high, that, in some measure, resembled an altar; from which taking the hint, we caused mass to be celebrated there. The beautiful columns that shot up around the altar, appeared like candlesticks; and many other natural objects represented the customary ornaments of this rite. /

"Below even this spacious grotto there seemed another cavern; down which I ventured with my former mariner, and descended about fifty paces by means of a rope. I at last arrived at a small spot of level ground. where the bottom appeared different from that of the amphitheatre, being com posed of soft clay, yielding to the pressure, and in which I thrust a stick to the depth of six feet. In this, however, as above, the most beautiful chrystals were formed; one of which, particularly, resembled a table/ Upon our egress from this amazing cavern, we perceived a Greek inscription, upon a rock at the mouth, but so obliterated by time that we could not read it distinctly. It seemed to import that one Antipater, in the time of Alexander, had come hither; but whether he penetrated into the depths of the

cavern, he does not think fit to inform us. This account of so beautiful and striking a scene, may serve to give us some idea of the subterraneous wonders of nature.

on his

SECTION V.

EARTHQUAKE AT CATANA.

GOLDSMITH.

ONE of the earthquakes most particularly described in history, is that which happened in the year 1693; the damages of which were chiefly felt in Sicily, but its motion was perceived in Germany, France, and England. It extended to a circumference of two thousand six hundred leagues; chiefly affecting the seacoasts and great rivers; more perceivable also upon the mountains than in the vallies. Its motions were so rapid, that persons who lay at their length, were tossed from side to side, as upon a rolling billow. The walls were dashed from their foundations; and no fewer than fifty four cities, with an incredible number of villages, were either destroyed or greatly damaged. The city of Catana, in particular, was utterly overthrown. A trayeller, who was way thither, perceived at the distance of some miles, a black cloud, like night, hanging over the place. The sea," all of a sudden began to roar; Mount Etna to send forth great spires of flame; and soon after a shock ensued, with a noise as if all the artillery in the world had been at once dis charged. Our traveller, being obliged to alight instantly, felt himself raised a foot from the ground; and turning his eyes to the city, he with amazement saw nothing but a thick cloud of dust in the air. The birds flew about astonished; the sun was darkened; the beasts ran howling from the hills; and although the shock did not continue above three minutes, yet near nineteen thousand of the inhabitants of Sicily perished in the ruins. Catana, to which city the describer was travelling, seemed the principal scene of ruin; its place only. was to be found; and not a footstep of its former magnificence was to be seen remaining.,

SECTION VI.

CREATION.

GOLDSMITH.

In the progress of the Divine works and government, there arrived a period, in which this earth was to be called

were re

de

into existence. When the sigoal moment, predestined from all eternity, was come, the Deity arose in his might; and With a word created the world. What an illustrious moment was that, when, from nonexistence, their sprang at once into being, this nighty globe, on which so many millions of creatures now dweil No preparatory measures quired. No long circuit of means was employed. spake, and it was done; he commanded, and it stood fast.-The earth was at first without form, and void; and darkness was on the face of the deep." The Almighty surveyed the dark abyss; and fixed bounds to the several divisions of nature. He said, Let there be light; and there was light Then appeared the sea, and the dry land. The mountains rose; and the rivers flowed. t'he sun and moon began their course in the skies. Herbs and plants clothed the ground. 1 he air, the earth, and the waters, were stored with their respective inhabitants. At last, man was made after the image of God. He appeared walking with countenance erect and received his Creator's benediction, as the lord of this new world. The Almighty beheld his work when it was finished; and pronounced it GOOD. Superior beings saw with wonder this new accession to existence.The morning stars sang together; and all the suns of God shouted for joy."

BLAIR.

か

SECTION VII.

ON CHARITY.

CHARITY is the same with benevolence or love; and is the term uniformly employed in the New Testament, to denote all the good affections which we ought to bear towards one another. It consists not in speculative ideas of general benevolence, floating in the head, and leaving the heart, as speculations too often do, untouched and cold.Neither is it confined to that indolent good nature, which makes us rest satisfied with being free from inveterate malice, or ill will to our fellow creatures without prompting us to be of service to any True charity is an active principle. It is not properly a single virtue; hut a disposition residing in the heart, as a fountain whence all the virtues of benignity, candor, forbearance, generosity, compassion, and liberality, flow, as so many native streams. From general