This piece of geography is handsomely executed; and is, doubtless, the most correct and instructive display, that has ever been made of those regions. We announce it, therefore, with pleasure; but at the same time, with an expression of our regret, that it is not accompanied with sufficient explanation of their physical geography, nor of their statistical condition.

PRICE AND STROTHER'S MAP OF
NORTH-CAROLINA.

The year 1807 has added another important map to our geography. By the labours of Jonathan Price and John Strother, a map of the state of North Carolina has been compiled, the first, it is said, from actual survey. It includes the whole of its extensive and peculiar coast on the Atlantick ocean, from the Virginian line, a little north of Currituck inlet, to the South Carolina boundary, at Little River inlet. But the new discoveries, made under the auspices of the national government, which have been published by virtue of a resolve of Congress, dated 2d of March, 1807, seem not to be comprehended in it. This is probably owing to their having been made after the map was put into the engraver's hands.

From its extreme point of east-longitude at Cape Hatteras, in about 75 50 W. from Greenwich, this commonwealth extends to the 84th, or thereabout, on the westernmost part of its supposed junction with Tennessee, beyond the Iron, Bald, Walnut, and Smoaky mountains, in which the territorial line is not fully ascertained. The civil divisions into counties are distinctly marked,

and coloured. And the roads, rivers, towns, places of publick worship, villas, hills, and swamps, are

so minutely marked, that the map
may be deservedly ranked among
the most instructive publications of
The engraving and
this class.
printing was performed by the Har-
risons of Philadelphia.

SOUTHERN SHRUBS BECOMING AC-
CLIMATED TO NORTHERN SITU-
ATIONS.

William Bartram, who in 1798 published Travels made through North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, East and West Florida, the Cherokee, Creek, and Chactaw Countries, in 1773, added thereby much to our knowledge of the plants and animals of North America. This man of original observation, of modest merit, and unaffected manners, cultivates at his beautiful villa, on the western banks of the Schuylkill, near Philadelphia, a number of the vegetables which he found during his southern excursions. Among others, he may be considered as having already naturalized the superb Franklinia, a native of the country near the Altamaha, to the severity of a Pennsylvania winter. The cucumber tree too, a fine species of magnolia, grows to a stately size in his grounds. This interesting man is

Bartram, who contributed much to the scientifick character of his country, by the collections in natural history which he made, and by his correspondence with Peter Collinson and Charles Linnæus. The present proprietor now inhabits the house built by his father, over one of the windows of which is this inscription, expressive of the sense of devotion, which was felt by that zealous cultivator of natural history.

son to the celebrated botanist, John

His God alone Almighty Lord,
The only one by him ador'd, 1770.

HAYLEY, in his life of Cowper, and actions was necessary to constihas introduced a beautiful poem on tute this virtue. They supposed -Friendship by that moral bard: it that two friends were to be intimateis written with all the simplicity and ly acquainted with all the virtues natural elegance, which characterise and vices, and opinions and failings him; and as his constitutional fee- of each other; otherwise the pasbleness and religious despondency sion could not subsist in vigour, frequently required and always re- or be long continued. They also ceived the tenderest assistance of said, that there must be a coincifriendly affection, he knew from ex- dence of sentiment, as to any thing, perience, as also from moral reason- which was wished for or disliked. ing, the necessary qualities to create The Idem velle atque idem nolle of and continue this greatest of human Horace is well known; and in Cicero, delights. Accordingly, he has de- there are many passages of the same scribed it with such artlessness and nature and tendency. Indeed, in force of sentiment, with such vigour former times, the most romantick and extent of view, that he has con- ideas were entertained of this virtue. densed, in a short poem, the es- Epithets of enthusiasm and sublimisence of what has been so largely ty were lavished on it, as if friendwritten on the subject by the best ship were the most holy gift of the authors, ancient and modern. He gods, the proper object of prayer, has indeed added nothing new to and the noblest cause of piety and what was already known; for gratitude. A serious reader might Tully had before the christian almost suppose, that in the works of era, treated the topick with all the classicks. he was reading the the acute knowledge, which read- compositions of modern writers, ing or reflection could supply, and such is their flow of sentiment, and had adorned it with all the graces their flight of romance; in many is of eloquence and fancy. But how-to be found all the eloquence of Rousever splendidly decorated, or phi- seau, and in some the fanciful doclosophically investigated by Hayley trines of Zimmerman. or Tully, the ancients considered that a perfect union of sentiments Vol. V. No. V. 2 E

I certainly do not mean to censure the ancient moralists. They have

often avowed the most just reflections on life and manners; and the elegance of their stile has added every attraction to the truth of their opinions. Yet I cannot but observe with Dr. Johnson, we know little about the ancients. If what they have written and said be the real dictates of their understanding; if their accounts of friendship be not visionary, but practical; if the portraits, which they have drawn, are not merely the ideal beings of the brain, but the true representations of existing characters, we may conclude that Grecian and Roman friends were different from the French or English. In the stores of modern literature, I can find accounts of virtuous friendships, reasonable in their nature, founded in esteem, and durable in operation; but in vain do I search for the inviolable union of Castor and Pollux, the eternal affection of Pylades and Orestes, and the wonderful constancy of Damon and Pythias.

But, without attempting to injure the sentiments of the ancients on this head, it may be reasonably observed, that they endeavoured to write eloquently, rather than accurately; that they were more anxious to show what friendship should be, than to exhibit it as what they had seen or experienced. This was a favourite mode of instruction, as it might induce any one to rise above the common level of virtue, to the most sublime excellence; and it was recommended to the poet or orator for another reason, for in that when they used it, they might give perfect freedom to their imagination; they might array the friend, the philosopher, and the wise man in all the charms of possible perfection, while the sober historian was confined to the truth of testimony and the accuracy of fact. That

the ancients had much romance in their descriptions of virtue, is probable from an accurate view of human nature in relation to the necessary requisites of friendship. If they considered that a thorough acquaintance with each other's views, failings, virtues, and vices, was essential to a perfect, friendly union between two persons, as really seems to have been an idea entertained by some of the old moralists, we may safely affirm, that a complete friendship was never formed among men, and that all descriptions of its existence are unfounded and erroneous.

Such are the infirmity and wickedness of human nature, that no person was ever free from follies and crimes; and such is its prudence or pride, that they are never disclosed. In the awful period of prayer, no doubt some men have confessed all their sins, and humbly have requested pardon for their acknowledged transgressions. But this breathing out of wickedness has been caused by a conviction, that the Omniscient God was already acquainted with them, and by a hope that a devout acknowledgement might propitiate his judgment, and promote a reconciliation between an offended Deity and a vile conceiver or actual perpetrator of crimes. Similar reasons may have operated to induce many of the Roman Catholick church, to pour forth all their sorrows and sins into the hearts of the confessors; as their religion had declared this to be one source of consolation, and, perhaps, one means of salvation. But, independently of such circumstances and reasons, where is the man whose heart has been perfectly known? Where is the tongue, which has proclaimed all the wickedness, which the mind had ever conceived? Where is the friend, who has ever laid open

his whole soul to the inspection of another? The thing is morally impossible. There is always some folly unrevealed, some failing, which as it may be vicious, will not be discovered. Let any one ask himself candidly, whether he have not, at some moment of his life thought of some crime, or actually committed it, which he would be ashamed to acknowledge; which, when recollected, pains him, and would, if published even to a friend, at the hcur of midnight, in the secrecy of solitude, distract him. The heart is never pure.

It is often clouded

with sorrow because of its follies, and sometimes blackened with despair, because of its crimes. When man is born, sin also is engendered; it progresses in extent or enormity during the course of existence, and, though frequently baffled by virtuous resolution, or repented of in contrite humiliation, is never eradicated from the soul, till death drives it from its retreat, and leaves the man to his Maker.

If this be a true statement of the guilt of human nature, we can never believe, that the friendships of the ancient world were founded on a perfect knowledge of the characters, who formed the union of hearts. It may perhaps be thought that I have stated the opinions of heathen moralists too largely; that they never intended that the whole system of intentions and actions in one person should be laid bare to the scrutinizing view of another; and that I have in fact raised a hideous phantom, only to destroy it.

This may possibly be the case; but when one writer tells me, that friends should have the same desires and aversions; when a philospher, like Tully, says, that in friendship one soul should animate two bodies; and when the general opinions on the subject in the

old world are acknowledged to be extravagant, I cannot think that what I have stated is much farther

from the truth than the inaccuracy of a copy wanders from the exactness of an original.

Should it however be supposed, that in the treatises of antiquity, true friendship is described, rather as what it should be than what it has been; and that the heroes of this virtue are more wonderful in the page of the moralist, than they were by their conduct in life; that a knowledge of each other's whole nature and a perfect coincidence in sentiments is to be desired rather than expected; it may then be a matter of much doubt, whether the speculations are not too highly coloured, and consequently distrustful, and whether if carried into practice, they might not produce harm, instead of advantage.

Every foolish boy and romantick girl have learned and believed such beautiful opinions of friendship, that it may not be pleasant to destroy the illusion; yet they should know, that errour always leads to evil; that truth should be the object of every pursuit; that practical good is better than speculative felicity. I do not mean to destroy friendly affection; I intend to cherish it by sobriety and care. I am no wild destroyer, who would root out the charities of life, but I would prune them with care, and water them with diligence. The friendship of the ancients is extravagant and useless; it is like an old oak towering in the inaccessible rocks of a lofty mountain, never invigorated by the mellow breezes of spring, but always exposed to the lightnings and shattered by the blast.

For the ordinary purposes of life, there is .o necessity of unveiling to a friend all the secrets of the mind.