cations is what chiefly distinguishes man from other animals. What was luxury in savage life becomes convenience in the first stages of improvement, and seems absolutely necessary in more cultivated society. Barbarism is content with the lowest enjoyments; but after industry is excited, uneasiness awakens more refined desires, and the mind is occupied with designating improvements in the delights of sense. The useful arts are then soon transplanted into all countries, and are perpetuated in all. Before the knowledge of commerce a season of drought or of mildew was invariably followed by a season of famine, while regions at a distance of less than two days sail might be blessed with unusual fertility; but an Egyptian barrenness of seven years continuance may now be mitigated, under the ordinary government of Providence, by the art, which supplies the wants of one nation by the superfluities of another.

The gradations in the advancement of society are almost innumerable, and the progress is slow,and sometimes imperceptible. When a people, proud of their present attainments, resolve to rest satisfied, and permit their competitors to outstrip them in refinement, contempt, no less than wonder, will arise at such conceited impolicy and contented ignorance. China, though instructed in many of the most noble arts, we cannot consider more than half civilized, because her notions of religion and maxims of government, her contempt of commerce and ignorance of philosophy, have encouraged the folly of thinking herself superiour to all other nations. That most stupendous monument of human labour, the wall of fifteen hundred miles, proves the Chinese

only to be patient of toil, and cowardly in spirit. It prohibits all intercourse with their neighbours, but is a feeble barrier against the barbarians.

As in the prime of manhood we look back with wonder on the carelessness and ignorance of youth, with the same emotions may we reflect, that though six thousand years have rolled over us since the creation, only three hundred have added half of our globe to the intercourse of the rest. With pity, almost approaching to contempt, we regard such caution and timidity in former ages. To the invention of printing has often been ascribed the transformation of society; but to another art we think may be attributed most of the change in the moral habitudes of man, produced by touching the chief springs in the machine. The experience and reflection of all preceding ages had never supplied such improvement to political science, as it gained in the fifteenth century from the enterprises of

ulation need be employed in agriculture to raise sufficient for the sustenance of the whole. If foreign commerce were interdicted, we should have an immense surplus of useless commodities, and most of the incitements of industry would be lost. The whole time of half our citizens might then be wasted in the indolence of independence, or all of them might waste half of it. But if all are constrained to daily labour with their hands, there can be no cultivation of mind and without intelligence there will be few delights of society and little interchange of benevolence. Man in such a state ceases to be sociable, and becomes only gregarious. So that from gradual degeneration to barbarism we shall best be preserved by

commerce.

To declaim in general terms against luxury, and against trade, as the parent of luxury, has been a favourite employment of poets. With equal ardour they have praised the days of happy ignorance and simple manners. Fancy has lavished on the description of an age, known only to fancy, her gaudy hyperboles and incongruous fictions. Disgusted for a moment with the artificial modes of modern life, one cries the state of nature was the reign of God,' and his brother bards unite in the exclamation with careless credulity and incurable infatuation. But who has marked the distinction between an age of ignorance and an age of ferocity? Which of these same poets has willingly foregone his warm raiment and his delicate viands for the shivering nakedness of an Indian with his meagre meal of hips and haws? By their own example they would best persuade us to exchange our subordinations of

society for ferocious independence in a floorless cabin, and to enjoy true luxury by throwing away our downy pillows to rest our heads upon a rock till morn.'

In coincidence with these vain lectures against individual luxury, the poetical politicians, who build their system on a surer foundation than experience, alarm us by representations of the instability of national grandeur, supported only by wealth. That by commerce a people are not unfitted for war is however hardly necessary to be proved to any, who can weigh the evidence from history. Switzerland has lost her independence as well as Holland.

Cicero informs us it was a maxim of Themistocles, one of the most profound statesmen of antiquity, that the nation, which possessed the sea, must enjoy every thing. The polished Athenians were not less brave, than the barbarous subjects of Sparta. these were too poor, as they boasted, to tempt an enemy, riches and arts rendered Athens too powerful to be subdued, except by faction.

If

districts; so that nothing appears but a noble and elegant simplicity. My road from Glasgow for Inverary lay by the side of the famous lake called Lough-Lomond. Never did I see the sublime and beautiful so united. The lake is in some places eight miles broad, in others less; adorned with many islands, of which some rise in a conical figure, and are covered with fir-trees up to the summit. Other islands are flatter; and deer are feeding in their green meadows in the Lontananza rise the 'Mountains, on whose barren breast The labouring clouds do seem to rest.” The lake is bright as crystal, and the shore consists of alabaster peb

bles.

Thus I travelled near twenty miles, till I came to the village of Luss, where I lay at an inn, there being no gentleman's house near it. The next morning I began to ascend the Highland mountains. I got out of my chaise to climb to the top of one, to take leave of the beautiful lake. The sun had not been long up, its beams danced on the lake; and we saw this lovely water meandring for twentyfive miles.

Immediately after I returned to my chaise I began to be enclosed in a deep valley between vast mountains, down whose furrowed cheeks torrents rushed impetuously and united in the vale below. Winter's rains had so washed away the soil from some of the steep mountains, there appeared little but the rocks, which, like the skeleton of a giant, appeared more terrible than the perfect form.

Other mountains were covered with a dark brown moss; the shaggy goats were browzing on their sides; here and there appeared a

storm-struck tree or blasted shrub, from whence no lark ever saluted the morn with joyous hymn, or Philomel soothed the dull ear of night: but from thence the eagle gave the first lessons of flight to her young, and taught them to make war on the kids.

In the vale of Glencirow we stopped to dine by the stream of Cona, so celebrated by Ossian. I chose to dine amid the rude magnificence of Nature, rather than in the meanest of the works of Art; so did not enter the cottage, which called itself an inn. From thence my servants brought me fresh herrings and trout; and my lord provost's wife had filled my maid's chaise with good things; so very luxuriously we feasted.

I wished Ossian would have come to us, and told us a tale of other times.' However imagination and memory assisted; and we recollected many passages in the very places that inspired them. I stayed three hours, listening to the roaring stream, and hoped some ghost would come on the blast of the mountain, and shew us where three grey stones were erected to his memory.

After dinner we went on about fourteen miles, still in the valley, mountain rising above mountain, till we ascended to Inverary. There at once we entered the vale, where lies the vast lake called Lough-Fine; of whose dignity I cannot give you a better notion, than by telling you the great leviathan had taken his pastime therein the night before I was there. Though it is forty miles from the sea, whales come up there often in the herring season. At Inverary, I was lodged at a gentleman's house; invited to another's in the neighbourhood; and attended round the Duke of Argyle's Poli

cy; (such are called the grounds dedicated to beauty and ornament.) I went also to see the castle built by the late Duke. It appears small by the vast objects near it; this great lake before; a vast mountain, covered with fir and beech, behind it; so that relatively the castle is little.

I was obliged to return back to Glasgow the same way, not having time to make the tour of the Highlands. Lord Provost had an excellent dinner, and good company ready for us. The next day I went to Lord Kames's near Stirling, where I had promised to stay a day. I passed a day very agreeably there, but could not comply with their obliging entreaties to stay a longer time; but was obliged to return to Edinburgh. Lord Kames attended me to Stirling Castle; and thence to the Iron Works at Carron: there again I was on classick ground.

At

I dined at Mr. Dundas's. night I got back to Edinburgh, where I rested myself three days; and then on my road lay at Sir Gilbert Elliot's; and spent a day with him and Lady Elliot. They facilitated my journey by lending me relays, which the route did not always furnish: so I sent my own horses a stage forward. I crossed the Tweed again; dined and lay at the Bishop of Carlisle's at Rose Castle, and then came home, much pleased with the expedition, and grateful for the infinite civilities I had received.

My evenings at Edinburgh passed very agreeably with Dr. Robertson, Dr.Blair, Lord Kames, and divers ingenious and agreeable persons. My friend Dr. Gregory, who was my fellow-traveller, though he is a mathematician, has a fine imagination, an elegant taste, and every quality to make an

agreeable companion. He came back to Denton with me ; but soon left us. I detained his two daughters; who are still with me. They are most amiable children; they will return to their papa a few days before I leave this place.

I was told Mr. Gray was rather reserved, when he was in Scotland; though they were disposed to pay him great respect. I agree perfectly with him, that to endeavour to shine in conversation, and to lay out for admiration is very paltry; the wit of the company, next to the butt of the company is the meanest person in it; but at the same time, when a man of celebrated talents disdains to mix in common conversation, or refuses to talk on ordinary subjects, it betrays a latent pride. There is a much higher character, than that of a wit, or a poet, or a savant; which is that of a rational and sociable being, willing to carry on the commerce of life with all the sweetness, and condescension, decency and virtue will permit. The great duty of conversation is to follow suit as you do at whist: if the eldest hand plays the deuce of diamonds, let not his next neighbour dash down the king of hearts, because his hand is full of honours. I do not love to see a man of wit win all the tricks in conversation; nor yet to see him sullenly pass. I speak not this of Mr. Gray in particular; but it is the common failing of men of genius, to exert a proud superiority, or maintain a prouder indolence. I shall be very glad to see Mr. Gray, whenever he will please to do me the favour. I think he is the first poet of the age; but if he comes to my fire-side, I will teach him not only to speak prose, but to talk nonsense, if occasion be. I would not have a poet always sit on the