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TO

THE PEOPLE OF NEW-YORK.

I HAD almost concluded to issue this Triangle, which the reader will perceive is the true and real Triangle, without any address, advertisement, ad lectorem, or preface; but I feared it would resemble a door without a threshold, or a building without a courtyard or portico. It is not worth while for a writer to say much about his motives in his preface. It would be like a man who was conducting you into a Museum, who should stop you at the door to tell you what was to be seen: it would be quicker work to let you in. And Johnson's saying, that a book will fix its own age and country, is generally

true.

This book is not a "Habeas corpus ad respondendum," but rather a Habebunt corpora ad vivendum. I fear the lawyers will not comprehend this phrase, but the divines will," and that will do," as the great Wellington said when he laid his hands on the pommel of his saddle. The Hopkinsians are a very clever set of men; all they want is to live, and "let live." They are disinterestedly benevolent. They

wish people to know the truth, merely for the truth's sake. They, to be sure, do not wish all their necks to be made into one, and that put at the option of Nero. A Dey of Algiers once put the Spanish Ambassador into a great mortar, and shot him away at the Spanish fleet. Now, no man likes to be sent out of a city in this style. I use these little metaphors to convey my ideas: nobody believes that we have a Nero or the Dey of Algiers to contend with; but we perceive they aim at thorough work, and that in a summary way; we must, therefore, do a littlehence the TRIANGLE.

I.

THE TRIANGLE.

SECOND SERIES.

No. I.

I FEEL a conscious pleasure in addressing the people of this noble and flourishing city-the first in the New World, and the fairest on the globe. And let it not be understood that I consider myself as environed with cross-eyed selfishness; as immured in a region of gloomy prejudice; as condemned to wear the galling chains forged by iron-hearted intolerance, and riveted by the hand of sturdy ignorance. Of these imperious and unsightly demons I feel no fear; yet I revere and admire the varied talents I see conspicuous in every profession and calling, in every art and science, both liberal and mechanical

"Where Liberty dwells there is my country."

There is not wanting liberality of sentiment, magnanimity of character; nor is this city wanting in its portion-nor is it a scanted and measured portion of intellect, adorned with the beauty of virtue, enlightened with the glory of benevolence, and fairly loosened from the gordian knot of interest and selfish consideration. And I rejoice to say, that many whose theory allows them but a cable's length of range, are, nevertheless, in heart and practice, floating at large on the main ocean of real benevolence.

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Else why do I see these asylums for the sons and daughters of affliction-these grand and extensive hospitals, alms-houses, and receptacles for every class of the wretched from the keen and blighting storm of misfortune, whose extended and lofty walls might vie with the palace of a monarch? whose numerous apartments, and ample provisions, seem to promise repose and comfort to all that need? Else why do I see long ranks of poor children, of helpless orphans, enfilading the streets, to be instructed on the sabbath; and that by gentlemen, and even ladies, of rank and fortune, whose only remuneration is the pleasing consciousness of benefiting such as, by their tender and helpless years, can have no knowledge of the extent of the benefit intended?

There is a nobleness of soul, a grandeur of sentiment, a disinterestedness of heart, which soars as far above all consideration of self as the heavens are above the earth. An hour's enjoyment of that sublime pleasure is worth more than a Roman triumph-more than all the years through which ambition toils and climbs, even though it gain the summit. There is such a

thing as doing good for the sake of the pleasure it brings; and be who knows not what that means is a stranger to pleasure. Let me here, for the sake of those who have never read it, repeat the story of Carazan; and which, though I cannot reach the style of its author, and may give it but imperfectly, (having no book before me,) may furnish a useful lesson to some who may read it.

Carazan was the richest merchant in Bagdat, with no children or dependants; his expenses had been small, and, with a prosperous run of business in the silk and diamond trade of India for many years, he had amassed immense treasures. He met with no losses, his caravans were expeditious, traded with success, and returned in safety. One enterprise made way for another; every successive project was formed on a greater scale, and all were terminated with success. Business was swayed by his influence; merchants depended on his will; nobles and princes envied his magnificence, and even the caliph feared his power.

But Carazan lived only for himself. His maxim was never to move but with a prospect of advantage. He never gave to the poor; he never listened to the cries of distress; calls on his beneficence were repelled with a frown, and the poor had long learned to shun his dwelling.

But the city was suddenly surprised with a great change in his conduct. He removed to a principal square, in the centre of the city, and made proclamation to all the poor to resort to his palace. They flocked together by hundreds, and by thousands; and what was their surprise to find his halls set out with tables loaded with provisions; and such things as were most needed were dispersed in his porches and courtyards, and in the adjoining streets. People of all ranks were astonished, but could form no estimate of the motive of all this liberality and profusion.

On the second day Carazan made his appearance, and mounting a scaffold, raised for the purpose, he beckoned with his hand, and the murmur of applause and admiration suddenly ceased.

"People of Bagdat,” said he, “ I have hitherto lived to my. self, henceforth I intend to live for the good of others. Listen attentively to the cause of the change you see. As I was sitting in my counting room, and meditating on future schemes of accumulating more wealth, I fell asleep; immediately I saw the angel of death approaching me like a whirlwind, and, ere I had time for recollection, he struck me with his dart. My soul instantly forsook my body, and I found myself at the bar of the Almighty. A dreadful voice from the judgment seat addressed me thus; You have lived entirely for yourself; you have done no good to others, and, for your punishment, God ordains that you be eternally banished from all society.' By a resistless power I felt myself driven from the throne, and carried, with inconceivable swiftness, through the heavens. Suns and systems passed me, and in a moment I was on the borders of creation. The shadows of boundless vacuity began to frown and deepen before a dreadful region of eternal silence, solitude, and darkness. In another moment the faintest ray of creation expired, and I was lost for ever.

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