LITERARY OLLA. No. x For the Bee. Gray the Poet,-A dialogue concerning Youth. To D***d M*****u E*****c. The insect youth are on the wing, 'To contemplation's sober eye, And they that creep and they that fly, Alike the busy and the gay, But flutter thro' life's little day, In fortune's varying colours drest: Brush'd by the hand of rough mischance, Or chill'd by age their airy dance, These, (nephew!) with other charming lines of the excellent GRAY, were sent inclosed in a letter to his accomplished and beloved young friend WEST, the son of the lord chancellor of Ireland. But his sun was set," his spring was gone, before the letter arrived at his residence in Hertfordshire; and he died I believe on the first of June, the same day that brought me into the world; so that if I believed in the metempsychosis, I might be foolish enough to imagine that I am the very person to whom this pretty little copy of verses was addressed. When I was sitting in my garden under the fhade of a weeping beech of singular beauty, which spreads its foliage over an area of near four hundred feet in circumference, admitting the light agreeably without the scorching or glaring rays of the sun, I had in my hand the life and the letters of the elegant author of the immortal eAh! said I, happy Wal legy in a country church yard. pole, happy West, to have had such a man for your fellow traveller, friend, and preceptor; but I also had a Gray for mine. Then I thought of the dear and amiable young man whom duty had pointed out to my attention, and I conceived the design of writing a treatise concerning the nurture and legitimate happiness of youth: and I resolved to send it to you, on account of your age, and destination, your love and respect for me, and on account of your excellent father. I have cast it in the mould of a dialogue, is what I wish to make a chaste imitation of the ancients; and I have made Gray the chief speaker, and Walpole and West (the admirers of Gray,) the prolocutors in dialogue with the poet. Figure them then to yourself as walking together in the garden of Walpole, the young men ardent in argument, and the sentimental poet hovering over their debate, moderating it by his philosophy, and firing it with the sacred flame of his towering genius. West. How delightful is this vernal day and sweet retirement on the banks of the imperial Thames; "Tho' deep yet clear, tho' gentle yet not dull; I imagine Gray, by tuning his pipe to it so often, has been afsimulated to it, as we generally are to what we admire. Walpole. Sentimental young rogue: I see what kind of sport you are thinking of on the margin of this river. You are fifbing for a compliment in immortal verse from Gray, when he shall have finished his apprenticeship to the muse on the Thames, and set up in business for himself. West. By no means, Horace, and to give you the reply valiant, I super-add in the words of the same poet of the Thames, that I was thinking of our placid and agreeable situation here, while Stanhope is thundering in the senate, and Spain trembling through all her borders. Oh happiness of sweet retir'd content! To be at once secure and innocent. Gray. Bravo! young courtiers: but as the morning is yet early, what would ye think of resuming the conversation of yesterday, on the proper training and employment of youth; and how they lead to honourable manhood, and venerable old age? Walpole and West. With all our hearts; we only wished to play a little prelude to your pleasing solo. Gray. In spite of your merriment gentlemen I will be serious. We had determined yesterday, as you may remember, by an unanimous opinion, that the capital end of a good education was to form a reasonable, useful, and benevolent man; and that the most proper and efficatious method of leading young people to what is reasonable, useful, and benevolent, was to inspire them with confidence and awe towards the great intelligent author of nature. Walpole. We did so; but you must also recollect that I entertained some doubt concerning the means to avoid chatechistical rote, metaphysics, or superstition, in beginning too early with the grand foundation of religion. West. My fears do not lye upon that side, but rather upon the other. Gray. I would have children gradually and familiarly, *Stanhope earl of Chesterfield (April 1739) agitating, the house of lords. > 181. and endearingly induced to draw consequences from analogy, favourable to the fear of God, and the admiration of his wisdom and goodness. A child knows that a house, a statue, a picture,, or a piece of furniture, did not make itself: he knows it from observation; and let us fhow him what we will, if he remarks uniformity and regularity in it, he will not fail to afk who made that? This disposition is natural to all children, and this disposition, judiciously cherished, and improved will naturally open their minds to as rational and extensive a knowledge of God as it is possible for weak mortals to obtain. Notwithstanding the pride and nonsense of false philosophy, and scholastic theology, I maintain that in this respect young people are more upon a par with their elders than we are willing to allow. It appears also to me, that the only way by which we can exclude that superstition or personification of unknown causes, to which mankind, from the powers of reflection co-operating with fear, are so subject, is by substituting the first principle of rational religion in its stead. I say If we say, that such a notion is too sublime for a child, it is too sublime for him to whom Sir Isaac Newton were as a little child. But the early imprefsion being properly made, it will always carry along with it the af、sociate idea of divine intelligence, and will lay a foundation for the unfolding understanding to receive proper instruction, and for the inquisitive youth, to direct his attention more to the ultimate properties of nature by observation, and experiment than by theorising on secondary causes; and thus he will be early taught to set his foot upon the first step of the ladder of the illustrious Lord Ba con. To be continued, AN ANECDOTE. A FEW years ago, a woman who rented a snug house in Dublin, alarmed the neighbourhood with a strange story of a ghost, dressed as a female in black robes, that opened the curtains of her bed, surrounded by an illumination like lightening, and with a countenance labouring under some heavy burden, beckoned the woman to follow her. The person haunted, called in two relations to sleep with her next night; but they were also equally frightened with groans and an uncommon noise, and left the house next day. The occupier of the house still persisted that she was not only haunted, but threatened by the ghost; and to this she made the most solemn oaths, as well as imprecations, and accordingly took lodgings in a neighbouring street. The story having gone abroad, hundreds were daily 1 drawn by curiosity into the street where the haunted house was and it becoming the subject of conversation every where, Mr Nolan, so well known for his poetical and political abilities, took up a sporting bet, that he would suffer himself to be locked up in the house one whole night, without the company of any human being. About nine o'clock he went, and was shut up; but for the sake of defence againat any improper practices, he took with him a dog and a case of loaded pistols, and was not released till six o'clock next morning, when he was found by his companions-fast asleep. The following elegant stanzas will best fhow the situa tion of his mind during the time of his vigils. Suffice it to say, he saw no ghost, though he heard a great deal of noise; and loudly threatened to shoot the first one who |