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a leaden bullet, which, when sleep had overcome him, would drop down of course into the basin, and by the sound thereof instantaneously awake him. Laertius assures us, that notwithstanding he had an effeminate voice, small eyes, and spindle shanks, yet he had a taste for dress; and, affected, whenever he went abroad, to make a grand appearance.

academist in his absence: whereupon, he said, that it would reflect on his character should he stand mute, whilst Zenocrates was talking. He instituted a new sect of philosophers, and maintained several tenets widely distant from those which he had learned of his master, Plato.

The universal character which Aristotle had obtained, of shining in a distinguished manner, in every branch of useful knowledge, but more particularly in politics, and experimental philosophy, induced Philip, king of Macedonia, to invite Aristotle to take upon him the important trust of the education of the

was at that time in his bloom, between 30 and 40 years of age.Aristotle accepted of that honourable, and royal offer, and acted ac

eight years successively, and communicated (as Plutarch assures us) to his young pupil, some particular points of learning, which he industriously concealed from all the world

Aristotle was a man of deep penetration, and comprehended at once, without the least hesitation, the most difficult and abstruse questions that could possibly be proposed to him. He soon became an adept, under the instructions of so able and experienced a master as Plato, and distin-young prince, his son. Aristotle guished himself by his surprising progress in learning, from all the rest of his brother pupils. There was no question, of what nature or kind soever, proposed in the acade-cordingly, in that high post for my, but Aristotle was always consulted, before the debate was ended; notwithstanding his sentiments were sometimes widely distant from those of Plato himself. All the pupils in general looked on him as an extra-besides. As the study of philosoordinary genius; and some of them were so prejudiced in his favour, that they would prefer his private opinion before that of their master. Aristotle at last withdrew from the academy; at which Plato was highly disgusted. He could not refrain from treating him as a truant, and a fugitive; and would frequently complain that his pupil was very undutiful, and flew in his face, like an insolent chicken, that pecks at her mother hen.

The Athenians pitched upon Aristotle to act as their ambassador to king Philip, the father of Alexander the Great. Aristotle accordingly resided for a considerable time in Macedonia, in order to discharge the important trust reposed in him. When he had concluded all his affairs to his satisfaction, he returned to Athens; where he perceived that Zenocrates had been substituted as

phy, and the other abstruse sciences, had no bad influence on his deportment, and had not rendered him in the least imperious or morose, he applied his mind very closely to the due administration of all public affairs; and nothing of moment was transacted at the Macedonian court, but what he had a principal band in its execution. King Philip, out of a peculiar regard and affection for Aristotle, rebuilt the city of Stagira, (which was the very spot whereon that great philosopher was born, and which had been laid in ruins by the then late wars) and for his sake, generously released all those who had been taken captives, as well as those who had fled for the preservation of their lives, and their liberties, to parts remote.

Aristotle, after he had faithfully discharged his duty to his royal pupil, and taken his leave in the most

affectionate manner, of that young, and hopeful prince, returned to Athens, where he was received with all the testimonials of the highest respect; because king Philip, out of gratitude, and love for his son's tutor, had conferred on the Athenians several very interesting, and important favours. He pitched upon a particular spot of ground in the Lyceum, to which there was a long avenue, or gravel walk, with a regular row of verdant trees on each side, for the place of his residence, and the establishment of his public school. And forasmuch as it was his constant custom to improve his young pupils, by way of familiar conversation, as they were walking backwards and forwards, the whole sect of Aristotelians were afterwards || distinguished by the name or title of the Peripatetic philosophers. The Lyceum soon became a place of public notice, on account of the vast concourse of people, both of learning, and of fashion, who resorted thither from all parts, for the pleasure, as well as advantage arising from his public lectures; for his fame was industriously spread all

over Greece.

Some time after his establishment

est man in the world, in all respects, was not only highly concerned, but even disgusted to find, that the profound knowledge of Aristotle was laid open, and made plain and obvious to common understanding ; and communicated his resentments on that account, in a concise epistle, which was couched in pretty warm terms, to the following effect: ALEXANDER TO Aristotle,

"You have acted very indiscreetly, in publishing your several treatises on all the speculative sciences; since, when the doctrines and precepts which you have communicated to us in private, are at once spread all over the world, we shall have no wisdom to boast of above the meanest of our subjects. I would have you to know, that I had much rather surpass all others in the knowledge of some hidden literary secrets, than to be the most powerful inonarch in the universe."

Aristotle, in order to pacify his ambitious pupil, and to vindicate his past conduct, returned him the following short, but artful answer :

“SIRE,

have cast such a dark veil over them, that not one eye in a thousand will ever be able to discover the literary beauties which lie concealed under them."

""Tis true, indeed, that I have exin this academy, his pupil Alexan-posed my works to public sale; but der, desired him to read public lectures on experimental philosophy; and for that purpose, gave orders that a great number of sportsmen, as well as fishermen, should wait on him from all parts, and furnish him with a profusion of the most curious materials for the objects of his observation; and sent him, at the same time, eight hundred talents, in order to defray that extraordinary

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By this artful answer, he plainly intimated, that he had rendered his doctrines so intricate and confused, that none but a few penetrating virtuosi would be capable of the least improvement from his elaborate and profound instructions.

Aristotle, at last, was not that favourite with Alexander, as he had been for many years. He fell out with him for espousing, with too much warmth, the interest of Calisthenes, the philosopher, who was a

Some historians his niece's son. Aristotle, it seems, assure us, that he carried his resenthad brought him up from his infan-ment to so high a pitch, as to becy, under his own roof, and had all come an actual party concerned, in along taken upon himself the care the conspiracy against him, formed and concern of his education.- by Antipater, and to give him priWhen Aristotle took his leave of vate instructions, how to prepare Alexander, and the Macedonian those poisonous ingredients which court, he recommended this favour-were suspected to be the cause of ite nephew of his, in the most san- Alexander's death. guiné manner, to be an attendant on that young prince in his future expeditions. Calisthenes spoke his mind too freely to his majesty, and did not act the part of a parasitical courtier with a good grace. It was through his persuasions, that the Macedonians absolutely refused to worship Alexander as a god, as was a customary piece of impious flattery among the Persians.

distant relation of Aristotles, and || vowed revenge.

Alexander, who had conceived an innate aversion to him, on account of his blunt deportment, and want of complaisance, was determined to get rid of this troublesome courtier at all events. Whereupon he involved him, as he was not sufficiently upon his guard, into a conspiracy which was first formed, and secretly carried on some time after, by one Hermolaus, a pupil of Calisthenes; and would never suffer him to urge one single word in his own vindication. In short, some insist, that Alexander caused him to be thrown into a lion's den; others, that he was executed by way of contempt, as a common malefactor, on a gibbet; and others again, are of opinion, that he died upon the rack.

Though Aristotle, 'tis true, in most respects, was a man of steadfastness and resolution, yet 'tis evident, from very authentic accounts of him, that he had his foibles, and infirmities of nature, as well as other men. Some short time after he had laid down his academy, he withdrew to the court of Hermias, the tyrant of Atarna. Some authors would insinuate that Aristotle was nearly related to that prince; but others scruple not to assert, that he was criminally enamoured with him, and that he had some view of interest and advantage, arising from the payment of that visit, and the gratification of that inordinate passion.

Some historians again assert, that, not long after his arrival at Atarna, he married the sister of that tyrant ; but others are of opinion, that his spouse was nothing more than one of his cast-off concubines.

But be that as it will, he was so far transported with the real, or imaginary charms of that young lady, that he actually offered up sacrifices to her, with all the pomp and solemnity imaginable, and paid her the same divine homage, as the Aristotle, ever after this ignomi- Athenians did to the Eleusinian nious treatment of his nephew, look-goddess Ceres; and moreover, comed on his royal pupil with an eye of posed several poetical and sublime contempt, and mortal hatred. Alex- panegyrics on his favourite Hermias, ander, on the other hand, studied for his sincere friendship, and conevery way he could possibly devise descending goodness, in bestowing to mortify his tutor, and make him on him such an angelic partner. uneasy. Accordingly, he promoted his rival Zenocrates, and sent him several very valuable presents. At this, Aristotle was nettled to the last degree; and prompted by jealousy,

Aristotle divided his philosophy into two parts only: namely, practice and theory. The former is that which lays down (as logic, or the art of thinking does), those certain

truths, which are best adapted to re- || neither its length, or its breadth; its form, its colour, its solidity, its weight, its hardness, its softness, its roughness, its smoothness, its aridity, or its moisture; its smell, nor, in a word, any one other accident whatever, that may possibly attend such

gulate and command the operations of the mind; or otherwise, such other rules and maxims for the conduct of human life, as are prescribed us by the best economists, and the most experienced politicians. The latter is that, which (like metaphy-matter of wood. sics, or natural philosophy), disco- His other definition is affirmative; vers to us such particular truths as but not in the least more satisfactory are merely speculative. According than the former. He insists, that to the tenets of this great philoso- mattèr is the subject whereof a new pher, there are three principles re-thing is composed, and wherein it is lative to all substantial things in na- at last resolved. Now, according to ture, viz. privation, matter, and his notion, we shall forever be at a form. loss to determine what the first sub

In order to demonstrate that pri-ject is, whereof all the works of navation ought to be deemed a princi- ture are composed.

ple, he maintains, that the matter whereof any new thing is composed, must have a privation of the form of such new intended thing. 'Tis absolutely requisite (for instance) says he, that the matter whereof any table is to be composed, should have a privation of the form of that same table; that is to say, in other terms, that before any table can be made, the matter whereof it is to be composed, be it what it will, cannot actually be a table.

(To be continued.)

A SINGULAR STORY.

From Madame du Montier's Letters.

While I was in the country last year, says madame du Montier, I chanced to fall into company with a || good friar, eighty years of age, who told me the following story:

About forty years ago, he was sent for to a highwayman, to preHe does not look upon privation pare him for death. They shut him as a principle, in regard to the com-up in a small chapel with the maleposition of bodies; but as an exter-factor, and while he was making nal principle only of their produc- every effort to excite him to repenttion, in such a manner, that the pro-ance, he perceived that the man was duction becomes a change, or varia- || absorbed in thought, and hardly attion, whereby such matter passes from that state and condition in which it ever was to another that it acquires, as in the before mentioned instance, a block, or plank of any kind of wood whatever, becomes a table from being nothing like a table before.

tended to his discourse. My dear friend, said he, do you reflect that in a few hours you must appear before a more awful tribunal than that which has lately condemned you? What can divert your attention from what is of such infinite importance? True, father, returned the malefactor; but I cannot divest myself of the idea that it is in your power to save my life. How can I possibly

Aristotle gives us two different definitions of matter. The first, according to his notion, is negative; that is, says he, 'tis neither sub-effect that? said the friar; and even stance, extension, or quality; nor existence, in short, of any kind whatever; so that according to his idea, the matter of wood, for instance, is

supposing I could, should I venture to do it, and thereby give you an opportunity, perhaps, of committing many more crimes? If that be all

that prevents you, replied the malefactor, you may rely on my word; I have beheld my fate too near, again to expose myself to what I have felt.

costed him, and, after examining him very attentively, asked him whither he was going, and told him the road he was travelling was a very dangerous one. If you will follow me, he added, I will conduct you to a farm at no great distance, where you may pass the night in safety. The friar was much embarrassed; the curiosity visible in the man's countenance excited his suspicions; but considering that if he had a bad design towards him it was impossible to escape, he followed him with trembling steps. His fear was not of long duration: he soon perceived the farm which the peasant had mentioned; and as they entered, the man, who was the proprietor of it, told his wife to kill a ca

The friar acted as you and I should have done: he yielded to the impulse of compassion; and it only remained to contrive the means of the man's escape. The chapel in which they were was lighted by one small window near the top, 15 feet from the ground. You have only, said the criminal to the friar, to set your chair on the altar, which we can remove to the foot of the wall, and, if you will get upon it, I can reach the window by the help of your shoulders. The friar consented to this manœuvre, and having replaced the altar, which was porta-pon, with some of the finest chickens ble, seated himself quietly in his chair. About three hours after, the executioner, who began to grow impatient, knocked at the door, and asked the friar what was become of the criminal. He must have been an angel, replied he coolly; for, by the faith of the priest, he went through the window. The executioner, who found himself a loser by this account, inquired if he were laughing at him, and ran to inform the judges. They repaired to the chapel where this good man was sitting, who, pointing to the window, assured them upon his conscience, that the malefactor flew out at it; and that supposing him an angel, he was going to recommend himself to his protection; that, moreover, if he were a criminal, which he could not suspect after what he had seen, he was not obliged to be his guardian. The magistrates could not preserve their gravity at this good man's sang froid, and, after wishing a pleasant journey to the culprit,

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in the poultry yard, and to welcome
his guest with the best cheer. While
supper was preparing the country-
man re-entered, followed by eight
children, whom he thus addressed :
My children, pour forth your grate-
ful thanks to this good friar. Had
it not been for him you would not
have been here, nor I either: he
saved my life. The friar instantly
recollected the features of the speak-
er, and recognised the thief whose
escape he had favoured. The whole
family loaded him with caresses and
kindness; and, when he was alone
with the man, he inquired how he
came to be so well provided for. I
kept my word with you, said the
thief, and, resolving to lead a good
life in future, I begged my way
hither, which is my native country,
and engaged in the service of the
master of this farm. Gaining his
favour by my fidelity and attach-
ment to his interest, he gave me his
only daughter in marriage.
has blessed my endeavours. I have
amassed a little wealth; and I beg
that you will dispose of me and all
that belongs to me. I shall now die
content, since I have been able to
see and testify my gratitude towards

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