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DUKE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 Treasure %oom 
 
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INTERESTING 
 
 ANECDOTES, MEMOIRS, 
 
 ALLEGORIES, ESSAYS, 
 
 AND 
 
 POETICAL FRAGMENTS 
 
 TENDING 
 
 TO AMUSE THE FANCY, AND INCULCATE 
 
 MORALITY. 
 
 By Mr. ADDISON, 
 
 London : 
 
 PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR. 
 1795, 
 

 -.—— 
 
 COLLECTION 
 
 OF INTERESTING 
 
 Anecdotes, Memoirs, &c. 
 
 ANECDOTE OF MILTON. 
 
 IT is well known that, in the bloom of youth, 
 and when he purfued his ftudies at Cam- 
 bridge, this poet was extremely beautiful. Wan- 
 dering one day, during the fummer, far beyond 
 the precincts of the Univerfity, into the country, 
 he became fo heated and fatigued, that, reclining 
 himfelf at the foot of a tree to reft, he fliortly 
 fell afleep. Before he awoke, two ladies, who 
 were foreigners, paffed by in a carriage. Agree- 
 ably aftoniihed at the lovelinefs of his appearance, 
 they alighted, and having admired him (as they 
 thought) unperceived, for fome time, the young- 
 eft, who was very handfome, drew a pencil from 
 
 B her 
 
( 2 ) 
 
 her pocket, and having written fome lines upon a 
 piece of paper, put it with trembling hand into 
 his own. Immediately afterwards they pro- 
 ceeded on their journey. 
 
 Some of his acquaintance, who were in fearch 
 of him,- had obferved this filent adventure, but 
 at too great a diftance to difcover that the 
 highly favoured party in it was our illuftrious 
 bard. Approaching nearer, they faw their friend, 
 to whom, being awakened, they mentioned what 
 had happened. Milton opened the paper, and ? 
 with furprize, read thefe verfes from Guariru\ 
 
 " Occhi, flelle mortali, 
 " Miniftri de mici rnali, 
 " Se chiufi m' accidete, 
 " Apperti che farete ?" 
 
 " Ye eyes ! ye human flars ! ye authors of my 
 tovelieft pangs! If thus, when fhut, ye wound 
 me, what muft have proved the confequence had 
 ye been open ?" 
 
 Eager, from this moment, to find out the fair in- 
 cognita, Milton travelled, but in vain, through every 
 part of Italy. His poetic fervor became inceffantly 
 more and more heated by the idea which he had 
 
 formed 
 
( 3 ) 
 
 formed of his unknown admirer ; and it is, in 
 fome degree, to her, that his own times, the pre- 
 fent times, and the lateft pofterity muft feel them- 
 felves indebted for feveral of the moft impaffioned 
 and charming compofitions of the Paradife Loft. 
 
 REMARKABLE ANECDOTE 
 
 RELATING TO 
 
 fETER THE GREAT, 
 
 EMPEROR OF RUSSIA. 
 
 MISS Hambleton, a maid of honour to the 
 Emprefs Catherine, had an amour which, 
 at different times, produced three children. She 
 had always pleaded ficknefs, but Peter, being 
 fufpicious, ordered his phyfician to attend her, 
 who foon made the difcovery. It alfo appeared 
 that a fenfe of lhame had triumphed over her 
 humanity, and that the children h*d been put to 
 fleath as foon as bom. 
 
 B 2 Peter 
 
( 4 ) 
 
 Peter enquired if the father of them was privy 
 to the murder: the lady infifted that he was in- 
 nocent; for (lie had always deceived him, by 
 pretending that they were fent to nurfe. 
 
 Juftice now called upon the Emperor to punifh 
 the offence. The lady was much beloved by the 
 Emprefs; who pleaded for her; the amour was 
 pardonable, but not the murder. 
 
 Peter fent her to the caftle, and went himfelf to 
 vifit her; and the fa£t being confefTed, he pro- 
 nounced her fentence with tears; telling her, 
 that his duty as a Prince, and God's vice-gerent, 
 called on him for that juftice which her crime 
 had rendered indifpenfably necefTary; and, that 
 fhe mult therefore prepare for death. He at- 
 tended her alfo on the fcaffold, where he em- 
 braced her with the utmoft tendernefs, mixed 
 withforrow: and fome fay, when the head was 
 ftruck off, he took it up by the ear, whilft the lips 
 were ftill trembling, and kiffed them : — a circum- 
 ftance of an extraordinary nature, and yet not 
 incredible, confidering the peculiarities of his. 
 character. 
 
 IDLENESS 
 
( 5 ) 
 
 IDLENESS AN ANXIOUS AND 
 MISERABLE STATE. 
 
 THE folly of allowing ourfelves to delay what 
 we know cannot be finally escaped, is one 
 of the general weaknefTes, which, in fpite of the 
 inftru&ion of moralifts, and the remonftrances of 
 reafon, prevail to a greater or lefs degree in every 
 mind: even they who moft (readily with (land it, 
 find it, if not the moft violent, the moft pertina- 
 cious of their palTions, always renewing its at- 
 tacks, and though often vanquished, never 
 jdeftroyed. 
 
 It is indeed natural to have particular regard 
 to the time prefent, and to be moft folicitous for 
 that which is by its nearnefs enabled to make the 
 ftrongeft imprelhons. When therefore any fharp 
 pain is to be fuffered, or any formidable danger 
 to be incurred, we can fcarely exempt ourfelves 
 wholly from the feducements of imagination ; we 
 readily believe that another day will bring fome 
 fupport or advantage which we now want; and 
 are eafily perfuaded, that the moment of necef- 
 fity, which we defire never to arrive, is at a great 
 diftance from us. 
 
 Thus 
 
( 6 ) 
 
 Thus life is languished away in the gloom of 
 anxiety, and continued in collecting refoiution 
 which the next morning dilTipates, in forming pur- 
 pofes which we fcarceiy hope to keep, and recon- 
 ciling ourfelves to our own cowardice by excufes, 
 which, while we admit them, we know to be 
 abfurd. Our firmnefs is by the continual con- 
 templation of mifery hourly impaired ; every fub- 
 miffion to our fear enlarges its dominions ; we not 
 only wafle that time in which the evil we dread 
 might have been fufFered and furmounted, but 
 even where procraflination produces no abfolute 
 increafe of our difficulties, make them lefs fu- 
 perable to ourfelves by habitual terrors. When 
 evils cannot be avoided, it is wife to contract the 
 interval of expectation ; to meet the mifchiefs 
 which will overtake us if we fly ; and fuffer only 
 their real malignity without the conflicts of doubt 
 and anguiih of anticipation. 
 
 To acl is far eafier than to fuffer ; yet we every 
 day fee the progrefs of life retarded by the vis 
 inertia?, the mere repugnance to motion, and find 
 multitudes repining at the want of that which 
 nothing but idlenefs hinders them from enjoying. 
 The cafe of Tantalus, in the region of poetick 
 punifh merit, was fomewhat to be pitied, becaufe 
 the fruits that hung about him retired from his 
 
 hand - y 
 
( » ) 
 
 hand ; but what tendernefs can be claimed by 
 thofe who, though perhaps they differ the pains 
 of Tantalus, will never lift their hands for their 
 own relief. 
 
 There is nothing more common among this 
 torpid generation than murmurs and complaints ; 
 murmurs at uneafinefs which only vacancy and 
 fufpicion expofe them to feel, and complaints of 
 diitreffes which it is in their own power to 
 remove. 
 
 Lazinefs is commonly aflbciated with timidity. 
 Either fear originally prohibits endeavours by in- 
 fufing defpair of fuccefs ; or the frequent failure 
 oi irrefolute ftruggles, and the comtant defire of 
 avoiding labour, imprefs by degrees falfe terrors 
 on the mind. But fear, whether natural or ac- 
 quired, when once it has full poifeilion of the 
 fancy, never fails to employ it upon vifions or 
 calamity ; fuch as, if they are not ditfipated by 
 ufeful employment, will foon overcaft it with 
 horrors, and imbitter life not only with thofe mi- 
 feries by which all earthly beings are really more 
 or lefs tormented, but with thofe which do not 
 yet exift, and which can only be difcerned by 
 the perfpicacity of cowardice. 
 
 Among 
 
( 8 ) 
 
 Among all who facrifice future advantage to' 
 prefent inclination, fcarcely any gain fo little as 
 thofe that fuffer themfclvcs to freeze in idlenefs. 
 Others are corrupted by fome enjoyment of more 
 or lefs power to gratify the paflions ; but to ne- 
 gleft our duties, merely to avoid the labour of 
 performing them, a labour which is always punc- 
 tually rewarded, is furely to fink under weak 
 temptations. 
 
 Idlenefs never can fecure tranquillity ; the call 
 of reafon and of confcience will pierce the clofeft 
 pavilion of the fluggard, and, though it may not 
 have force to drive him from his down, will be 
 loud enough to hinder him from fleep. Thofe 
 moments which he cannot refolve to make ufeful 
 by devoting them to the great bufinefs of his be- 
 ing, will ftill be ufurped by powers that will not 
 leave them to his difpofal ; remorfe and vexation 
 will feize upon them, and forbid him to enjoy 
 what he is fo defirous to appropriate. 
 
 There are other caufes of inactivity incident to 
 more active faculties and more acute difcernment. 
 I le to whom many objects of purfuit arife at the 
 fame time, will frequently hefitate between dif" 
 ferent defires, till a rival has precluded him, or 
 change his courfe as new attractions prevail, and 
 
 harafs 
 
( 9 ) 
 
 harafs himfelf without advancing. He who fees 
 different ways to the fame end, will, unlefs he 
 watches carefully over his own conduct, lay out 
 too much of his attention upon the comparifon of 
 probabilities and the adjuftment of expedients, 
 and paufe in the choice of his road, till fome ac- 
 cident intercepts his journey. He whofe pene- 
 tration extends to remote confequences, and who, 
 whenever he applies his attention to any defign, 
 difcovers new profpecls of advantage and poflibi- 
 lities of improvement, will not eafily be perfuaded 
 that his project is ripe for execution j but will fu- 
 peradd one contrivance to another, endeavour to 
 unite various purpofes in one operation, multiply 
 complications, and refine niceties, till he is en- 
 tangled in his own fcheme, and bewildered in the 
 perplexity of various intentions. He that refolves 
 to unite all the beauties of fituation in a new pur- 
 chafe, mull: wafle his life in roving to no purpofe, 
 from province to province. He that hopes in the 
 fame houfe to obtain every convenience, may 
 draw plans and ftudy Palladio, but will never Jay 
 a ftone. He will attempt a treatife on fome im- 
 portant fubje£r, and amafs materials, confult au- 
 thors, and lludy ail the dependent and collateral 
 parts of learning., but never conclude himfelf 
 qualified to write. He that has abilities to con- 
 ceive perfections, will not eafilv be content with- 
 
 C out 
 
( 10 ) 
 
 out k ; and fince perfection cannot be reached, 
 will Iofe the opportunity of doing well in the 
 vain hope of unattainable excellence. 
 
 The certainty that life cannot be long, and the 
 probability that it wfti be much fhorter than na- 
 ture allows, ought to awaken every man to the 
 a£tive profecution of whatever he is defirous to- 
 perform. It is true, that no diligence can afcer- 
 tain fuccefs ; death may intercept the fwifteft ca- 
 reer ; but he who is cut off in the execution of 
 an honeft undertaking, has at Jeaft the honour of 
 falling in his rank, and has fought the battle, 
 though he miffed the victory. 
 
 ANECDOTE 
 
 CONCERNING 
 
 MR. DRY DEN' s ODE, 
 
 RELATED BY MR.WARTON. 
 
 DRYDEX's Ode on the Power of Mufic is 
 the molt unrivalled of his compofitions. Lord 
 Bolingbroke, happening to pay a morning vifit t<> 
 JDryden, whom he always refpecled, found him 
 
 in 
 
( II ) 
 
 in an unufual agitation of fpirits even to a 
 trembling. On enquiring the caufe, " I have 
 been up all night," replied the old bard : " my 
 mufical friends made me promife to write them 
 an ode for their feaft of St Cecilia. I have been 
 fo (truck with the fubjecl: which occurred to me, 
 that I could not leave it till I had completed it. 
 Here it is finished at one fitting." And imme- 
 diately he fhewed him the ode, which places the 
 jBritilh lyric poetry above that of any other nation. 
 
 This anecdote, as true as it is curious, was 
 imparted by Lord Bolingbroke to Pope ; by Pope 
 to Mr. Gilbert Weft, and by him to the ingenious 
 friend who communicated it to me. 
 
 The rapidity, and yet the perfpicuity of the 
 thoughts, the glory and expreflivenefs of the 
 images, thofe certain marks of the firft Iketch of 
 a mafter, confpire to corroborate the truth of 
 the fad. 
 
 C 2 EPILOGUE 
 
( 12 ) 
 
 EPILOGUE 
 
 TO 
 
 IGNORAMUS, 
 
 Aaedat WESTMINSTER SCHOOL, in Dec. 1747. 
 SPOKEN BY 
 
 IGNORAMUS & MUSCEUS. 
 
 Jgn. "TJEACE, bookworm ! blefs me, what a 
 
 X clerk have I ! 
 
 A ft range place fure — this univerfity ! 
 What's learning, virtue, modefty, or fenfe ? 
 Fine words to hear — but will they turn the pence? 
 Thefe ftiff pedantic notions — far outweighs 
 That one fhort, comprehenfive thing — a face. 
 Go, match it if you can with all your rules 
 Of Greek or Roman, old or modern fchools : 
 The total this of Ignoramus' (kill, 
 To carve his fortune — place him where you will, 
 For not in law alone could I appear ; 
 My parts would mine alike in any fphere. 
 You've heard my fong in Rofabella's praife : 
 And would I try the loftier ode to raife, 
 You'd fee me foon — a rival for the bays. 
 
 ! 
 
 Or I could turn a Journalift, and write 
 With little wit, but large recruits of fnite ; 
 
 Abufe- 
 
( 13 } 
 
 Abufe and blacken — juft as party fwavs — . 
 And lam my betters — thefe are thriving ways, 
 
 ' My mind to graver phyfic would I bend, 
 
 Think you I'd ftudy Greek, like Mead or Friend ? 
 
 No — with fome noftrum I'd enfure my fees, 
 
 Without the help of learning or degrees : 
 
 On drop or pill fecurely I'd rely, 
 
 And (hake my head at the whole faculty. 
 
 Or would I take to orders 
 
 Muf- Orders ! how ? 
 
 Ign. One not too fcrupulousa way might know : 
 'Twere but the forging of a hand — or fo. 
 In orders to my purpofes I'd ferve; 
 And if I could not rife I would not ftarve. 
 With lungs and face I'd make my butcher Hare, 
 Or publifh — that I'd marry at May-fair. 
 Thefe, thefe are maxims, that will Hand the teft : 
 But Univerfities — are all a jeft. 
 
 Muf I grant, a prodigy we fometimes view, 
 W T hom neither of our feats of learning knew. 
 Yet fure none mine more eminently great, 
 In law or phyfic, in the church or Hate, 
 Than thofe who early drank the love of fame 
 
 At 
 
{ 14 ) 
 
 At Cam's fair bank, or Ifis' filver ftream. 
 
 Look round-here's proof enough this point to clear. 
 
 Ign. Blefs me ! — What — not one Ignoramus 
 here ? 
 I {land convicted — what can I fay more ? 
 See — my face fails, which never fail'd before. 
 How great foe'er I feem'd in Dulman's eye, 
 Yet Ignorance mull blufh — when Learning's by. 
 
 ANECDOTE 
 
 OF 
 
 VOLTAIRE & LORD CHESTERFIELD, 
 
 THE late Lord Cheflerfield happened to be 
 at a route in France, where Voltaire was 
 one of the guells. Cheflerfield feemed to be 
 gazing about the brilliant circle of ladies, when, 
 Voltaire thus accofled him : — " My Lord, I know 
 you are a judge ; which are more beautiful, the 
 Engliih or French ladies ?"■ — " Upon my word," 
 replied his Lordihip, with his ufual prefence of 
 mind, " I am no connoiffeur in paintings." 
 
 In 
 
( 15 ) 
 
 Some time after this, Voltaire being in London, 
 happened to be at a Nobleman's route with Lord 
 Chefterneld. A lady in company, prodigioufly 
 painted, directed her whole difcourfe to Voltaire, 
 and entirely engrofled his converfation. Chefter- 
 field came up, and tapped him on the ihoulder, 
 faying, u Sir," take care you are not captivated.'* 
 " My Lord," replied the French wit, " I fcorn 
 to be taken by an Englifli bottom under French 
 colours." 
 
 A 
 
 REMARKABLE ANECDOTE 
 
 RELATING TO 
 
 CAMILLA DE TURINGE, 
 
 AN ITALIAN LADY. 
 
 CAMILLA DE TURINGE, a rich and hand- 
 fome lady of Medina, deferves to be placed 
 in the rank of illuicrious women. Roland, natu 
 ral brother of Don Pedro, King of Sicily, to 
 whom he had given the command of a fleet to 
 oppofe the enterprifes of Robert, King of Naples, 
 was defeated at fea, and made prifoner. For want 
 
 of 
 
( 16 ) 
 
 of power, or out of refentment, the King of 
 Sicily did not redeem his brother, whofe ranfom 
 amounted to twelve thoufand florins. The hand- 
 fome Meffmian offered the fum to Roland, on 
 condition that he fhould efpoufe her. Seeing no 
 other means of efcaping from his captivity, he 
 willingly promifed to marry his benefa6trefs, as 
 foon as he arrived at Meflina. 
 
 By the payment of the twelve thoufand florins, 
 which he immediately received, Roland obtained 
 his liberty, fet fail, arrived, and thought but little 
 of performing his promife, alledging the extreme 
 difparity of their conditions. Camilla, who was 
 determined to have juftice, produced the promife 
 figned by himfeJf. The magiflrates, (truck at the 
 uneafmefs of the King, and fearing to lofe his 
 confidence, judged with rigour, and condemned 
 Roland to keep his promife. Several of the 
 Lords exhorted, encouraged, and accompanied 
 him to Camilla, whofe houfe was fet out with 
 the utmoft magnificence, and who was drefled 
 herfelf in the richeft manner. Roland entreated 
 her to foigQt the injurious refinance he had made, 
 and declared that he was ready. " Stop," re- 
 plied Camilla, " I am fatisfied : I wiflied for a 
 hufband of royal blood, but you degraded your- 
 felf from your rank the moment you fallified your 
 
 word, 
 
( n ) 
 
 word, and I have fworn never to be your's. I have 
 profecuted you in a court of juftice only to load you 
 with difhonour. — Adieu J offer to fome other fe- 
 male your diflionourable hand ; I free you from 
 your promife : keep the price of your ranfom, 1 
 make you a prefent of it." Then leaving Roland 
 dumb, and overwhelmed with confulion, (he made 
 her way through the afloniihed crowd, and retired 
 to a convent, on which fhe bellowed the remain- 
 der of her fortune. 
 
 ANECDOTE 
 
 OF THE 
 
 FAMOUS NED SHUTER, 
 
 THE COMEDIAN. 
 
 IT is w r ell known that this celebrated Come- 
 dian, in the very early part ot his life, was 
 ♦apiter at a public-lioufe in the neighbourhood ot 
 Covent-Garden. A gentleman one day ordered 
 him to call a hackney coach, which he accord- 
 ingly did, and attended the gentleman at his 
 getting in. It fo happened that the gentleman 
 left his gold-headed cane in the coach, and miffing 
 it the next morning, went immediately to the 
 public-houfe, to enquire of the boy Ned (who 
 D called 
 
( is ) 
 
 called the coach), whether he could tell the num- 
 ber. Shuter, who was then no great adept in 
 figures, except in his own way of (coring up a 
 reckoning, immediately replied, — " It was two 
 pots of porter, a millingfworth of punch, and a 
 paper of tobacco." The gentleman upon this was 
 as much at a lofs as ever, till Ned whipped out 
 his chalk, and thus fcored the reckoning — 4 4 
 for two pots of porter, for a millingfworth of 
 punch, and a line acrofs the two pots of porter, 
 for a paper of tobacco, which formed the num- 
 ber 440. The gentleman in confequence reco- 
 vered his cane ; and thinking it a pity fuch acute- 
 nefs of genius mould be buried in an alehoufe, 
 took him away, and put him to fchool, and thereby 
 enabled him to fhine as the firft comedian of his 
 time ! 
 
 ANECDOTE 
 
 OF 
 
 KING PEPIN. 
 
 KING PEPIN of France, who flourlihed in 
 the year 750, was furnamed the Short, 
 from his low ftature, which forae courtiers ufed 
 
 to- 
 
( 19 ) 
 
 to make a fubje£r. of ridicule. Thefe freedoms 
 reaching his ears, he determined to eftablifh his 
 authority by fome extraordinary feat j and an op- 
 portunity foon prefented itfelf. 
 
 In an entertainment which he gave of a fight 
 between a bull and a lion, the latter had got his 
 antagonift under ; when Pepin, turning towards 
 his nobility faid, " Which of you will dare to 
 go, and part or kill thofe furious hearts ?" The 
 bare propofal fet them a fhuddering; nobody made 
 anfwer. * Then I'll be the man," replied the 
 monarch. Upon which, drawing his fabre, he 
 leapt down into the arena, made up to the lion, 
 killed him — and, without delay, discharged fuch 
 a ftroke on the bull, as left his head hanging 
 by the upper part of its neck. The courtiers 
 were equally amazed at fuch courage and 
 ftrength ; and the King, with an heroic loftinefs, 
 faid to them, " David was a little man ; yet he 
 laid low the infolent giant, who had dared to 
 defu'^'"' b'* v ' 
 
 D 2 ANEC- 
 
( 20 ) 
 
 ANECDOTE 
 
 OF 
 
 QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 WHEN Queen Elizabeth was at Ofterly, the 
 feat of Sir Thomas Grefham, who built 
 the Royal Exchange, me obferved to him a wall 
 at one fide of the garden, which confined, in 
 fome refpect, the profpe£t, Sir Thomas feemed 
 to take no further notice of her Majefty's remark 
 at that time than to coincide in it ; but as foon 
 as ever fhe retired to her chamber, he had pre- 
 pared a number of workmen, in readinefs, who 
 had the wall entirely pulled down by morning. 
 The Queen upon her walking the gardens, was 
 furprized at the alteration > but, turning about to 
 Sir Thomas, with great readinefs obferved, " me 
 did not wonder that he that could build a 
 'Change, could fo readily change a building. v 
 
 ILL 
 
( 21 ) 
 ILL CONSEQUENCES 
 
 OF 
 
 TERRIFYING YOUNG MINDS BY DISMAL 
 NARRATIONS. 
 
 LET not any perfon that arc near them ter- 
 rify their tender minds with difmal ftories of 
 witches and ghofts, of devils and evil fpirits, of 
 fairies and bugbears in the dark. This hath had 
 a mod mifchievous effect on fome children, and 
 hath fixed in their conftitutions fuch a rooted fla- 
 very and fear, that they have fcarce dared to be 
 left alone all their lives, efpecially in the night- 
 Thefe ftories "have made fuch a deep and frightful 
 imprefiion on their tender fancies, that it hath 
 enervated their fouls ; it hath broken their fpirits 
 early ; it hath grown up with them, and mingled 
 with their religion ; it hath laid a wretched found- 
 ation for melancholy and diftra&ing: forrows. 
 
 Let thefe fort of informations be referred for 
 their firmer years, and let them not be told in 
 their hearing till they can better judge what truth 
 or reality there is in them, and be made fenfible 
 how much is owing to romance and fiction. Nor 
 Jet their little hearts be frighted at three or four 
 
 years 
 
( 22 ) 
 
 years old, with fhoeking and bloody hiftories, with 
 maflacres and martyrdoms, with cuttings an$ 
 burnings, with the images of horrible and bar- 
 barous murders, with racks and red hot pincers, 
 with engines of torment and cruelty ; withmangled 
 limbs, and carcafes drenched in gore. It is time 
 enough, when their fpirits are grown a little 
 firmer, to acquaint them with thefe madneffes 
 and miferies of human nature. There is no need 
 that the hiftory of the holy confeflbrs and martyrs 
 ihould be fet before their thoughts fo early in all 
 their moft ghaftly fhapes and colours. Thefe 
 things, when they are older, may be of excellent 
 life to difcover to them the wicked and bloody 
 principles of perfecution,both among the Heathens 
 and Papifts ; and to teach them the power of the 
 grace of Chrift, in fupporting thefe poor fufferers 
 under all the torments which they fuftained for the, 
 love of God and the truth. 
 
 ANECDOTE 
 
 OF 
 
 HENRY IV. KING OF FRANCE, 
 
 KING Henry would have his children call 
 him Papa, or Father, and not Sir, which 
 was the new faihion introduced by Catherine de 
 
 Medicis, 
 
( 23 ) 
 
 Medicis. He ufed frequently to join in their 
 amufements ; and one day that this leftover of 
 France, and peace-maker of all Europe, was 
 going on all-fours with the Dauphin, his fon, on 
 his back, an AmbafTador fuddenly entered the 
 apartment, and furprifed him in this attitude. 
 The Monarch, without moving from it, faid to 
 him, " Monfieur lAmbaJfadeur, have you any chil- 
 dren?" " Yes, Sire," replied he. " Very well, then -, 
 T (hall finilh my race round my chamber." 
 
 ANECDOTE 
 
 OF 
 
 LEWIS XI. 
 
 LEWIS XL was ufually attended by Triftan 
 the hermit, his grand Provoft, a barbarous 
 Minifter, and blind to all his mafter's caprices. 
 Being one day at dinner, he perceived, by the 
 fide of a monk, who had the curiofity to fee the 
 King dine, a Captain of Ficardy, whom the Mo- 
 narch detefted. He gave a wink to the Provoft 
 Triftan, who, being accuftomed to this kind of 
 language, and thinking that his mafter wanted 
 to have the monk difpatched, had him feized, 
 
 upon 
 
( 2+ ) 
 
 upon his retiring, by the Satellites, who tied him 
 up in a fack, and threw him into the Seine. This 
 was the method whereby Triftan ufed to get rid 
 of thofe the King chofe to deftroy. The officer^ 
 who obferved the fign given by Lewis, and knew 
 his meaning, took horfe and efcaped with all pof- 
 fible fpeed. This the King was informed of, and 
 afked Triftan the next day, why he had not ex- 
 ecuted his orders ? " Sire," replied Triftan, te our 
 man has got a good way before this time !" "A 
 good way !" faid the King ; " he was feen yefter- 
 day at Amiens." " It is a miftake," replied Trif- 
 tan boldly ; " I'll warrant he is at Rouen, and not 
 at Amiens, if he has been fwimming ever fince." 
 " Who do you mean ?" refumed the Monarch. 
 " Why, the monk," anfwered Triftan, " whom 
 you pointed to yefterday : he was immediately tied 
 up in a fack, and thrown into the river !" " How, 
 the monk !" faid Lewis, " Good God ! what haft 
 thou done ? He was the worthieft monk in my 
 whole kingdom. A dozen maiTes of requiem mult 
 be faid for him to-morrow, which will clear our 
 conferences. I wanted only to have the Picardy 
 Captain difpatched." 
 
 ANEC- 
 
( 25 ) 
 
 ANECDOTE 
 
 OF 
 
 Dr. WALLIS. 
 
 IN the reign of that unfortunate Monarch, 
 whofe abdication put a period to the regal 
 honours of the houfe of Stuart, Dr. Wallis was then 
 Dean of Waterford, in Ireland ; and, during the 
 troubles of that unhappy country at that period, 
 fufFered greatly in his private fortune, from his 
 ftrong attachment to the Proteftant faith. 
 
 After peace was reftored, and our religion firmly 
 eftablifhed by the accelfion of King William, 
 Wallis was prefented to the Court of London, 
 as a gentleman who had well merited the royal 
 patronage : the King had before heard the ftory 
 of his fufferings, and therefore immediately turn- 
 ing to the Dean, defired him to chufe any church 
 preferment then vacant. Wallis (with all the 
 modefty incident to men of real worth), after 
 a due acknowledgement of the royal favour, rc- 
 quefted the Deanery of Derry ! . " How," replied 
 the King, in a tranfport of furprize, a(k the 
 Deanery, when you mult know the Bifhoprick of 
 
 E that 
 
( 26 ) 
 
 that very place is alfo vacant!" " True, my Liege," 
 replied Wallis, " I do know it, but could not in 
 honefty demand (o great a benefice ; confcious 
 there are many other gentlemen who have fuffered 
 more than my (elf, and deierved better at your 
 Majefty's hands ; I therefore prefume to repeat 
 my former requeft." It is needlefs to add his re- 
 queft was granted. They parted : the Dean 
 highly fatisfkd with his vifit, and the King afto- 
 ni(hed at the noble inftance of difintereftednefs 
 he had juft been a witnefs of. 
 
 What a mind did this man poflefs ! How praife- 
 worthy ! How laudable an example to his cloth ! 
 How different from the greedy Piuralifts of this 
 age ! How many of our dignified clergy can lay 
 their hands upon their hearts, and fay with the 
 Dean of Deny, " I am fatisfied !" 
 
 GENUINE ANECDOTE. 
 
 Nobleman, who had lately, for the fecond 
 time, entered into the holy ftate of matri- 
 mony, with a lady of great accomplifliments and 
 fortune, has'-given the following remarkable proofs 
 of his ingenuity and gallantry, 
 
 An 
 
( 37 ) 
 
 An artlft has for fome time been employed by 
 his Lordfhip on two pictures, one of them was 
 the picture of his Lordship's late wife ; the artiil 
 lias very carefully removed the lady's head, and 
 upon the old Jkoulders fkilfulry placed the head 
 of the new married Jady. The other picture is 
 ftill more extraordinary. — His Lordfhip is fituated 
 in the midft of the fire of his regiment, breathing 
 all the terrible fpirit of a general officer ; and at 
 a little diftance from the fcene of action, in a 
 phaeton, is feated his Lordfliip's new wife, moft 
 affectionately by the fide of his old one. Thefe 
 pictures were very lately at an artift's in Pall- 
 mall. 
 
 ANECDOTE 
 
 OF 
 
 CHARLEMAGNE. 
 
 SEVERAL boys had their education at the 
 great fchool in Paris, by particular warrant 
 from Charlemagne. This Prince, returning into 
 France after a long abfence, ordered thofe chil- 
 dren to be brought to him, to produce profc and 
 E 2 v crfe 
 
( 28 ) 
 
 verfe ccmpofitions. It appeared that the per- 
 formances of thofe of a middling and obfcure daft 
 greatly excelled thofe of higher birth ; on which 
 that wife Prince, feparating the diligent from the 
 remifs, and caufing the former to be placed at his 
 right hand, thus addreffed them : 
 
 " Beloved children, as you have feduloufly ap- 
 plied yourfelves to anfwer the end of my putting 
 you to fchool, and have made proficiency in fuch 
 ftudies as will be ufeful to you in the courfe of 
 your life, you may be allured of my favour and 
 good-will. Go on, exert your genius, carry your 
 improvements to the higheft pitch, and I will 
 ever have a value for you, and reward you with 
 bijhcpricks and abbies. Then turning to the left, 
 with a ftern countenance and contemptuous ac- 
 cent, he faid ; " And as for you idlers of a noble 
 blood, unworthy children of the mod eminent 
 familes in my kingdom, male lilies, delicate puppets, 
 taken up with beautifying yourfelves, becaufe titles 
 and lands will fall to your fhare -, you, forfooth, 
 have made no account of my orders ; but, inftead 
 of walking in the path to true honour, and mind- 
 ing your ftudies, you have given yourfelves up to 
 play and idlenefs. I declare, however, upon my 
 honour, that all your nobility and girlifh pretty faces, 
 
 an4 
 
( 29 ) 
 
 and fine clothes, are of no weight with me ; and de- 
 pend on it, unlefs you turn over a new leaf, and 
 by unwearied dib'gence recover your loft time, 
 you are never to expect any thing from Charles. 
 
 THE BLESSINGS OF PEACE. 
 
 o 
 
 BEAUTEOUS Peace ! [thou 
 
 Sweet union of a ftate ! what elfe, but 
 Gives fafety, ftrength, and glory to a people ! 
 I bow, Lord Conftable, beneath the fnow 
 Of many years ; yet in my breaft revives 
 A youthful flame. Methinks, I fee again 
 Thofe gentle days rencw'd, that blefs'd our iflc, 
 Ere by this wafteful fury of divifion, 
 Worfe than our ^Etna's mod deftruclive fires, 
 It defolated funk. I fee our plains 
 Unbounded waving with the gifts of harveft; 
 Our feas with commerce throng'd, our bufy ports 
 With chearful toil. Our Enna blooms afrefh ; 
 Afrefh the fweets of thymy Hybla blow. 
 Our nymphs and fhepherds, fporting in each vale, 
 Jnfpire new fong, and wake the paftoral reed. 
 
 ON 
 
( 30 ) 
 
 ON 
 
 INTELLECTUAL EXERCISE. 
 
 EXERCISE is no lefs eflential to the mind than 
 to the body. The reafoning faculty, for 
 example, without conftant and varied exercife, 
 will remain weak and undiflinguiming to the end 
 of life. By what means does a man acquire pru- 
 dence and forefight, but by experience ? In this 
 refpe£t, the mind refembles the body, Deprive 
 a child of motion, and it will never acquire any 
 ilrength of limbs. The many difficulties that 
 men encounter, and their various objects of pur-r 
 fuit, roufe the understanding and fet the reafon-r 
 ing faculty at work for means to accomplish de-> 
 fire. The mind, by continual exercife, ripens to 
 its perfection ; and by the fame means, is pre- 
 ferved in vigour. It would have no fuch exercife 
 in a State of uniform peace and tranquillity. Se- 
 veral of our mental faculties would be dormant ; 
 and we fhould even remain ignorant that we have 
 fuch faculties. 
 
 The people of Paraguay are defcribed as mere 
 children in understanding. What wonder, con- 
 fidering their condition under Jefuit government, 
 
 without 
 
( si ) 
 
 without ambition, without property, without fear 
 of want, and without defires. 
 
 The wants of thofe who inhabit the torrid zone 
 are eafily fupplied. They need no clothing, fcarce 
 any habitations ; and fruits, which ripen there to 
 perfection, give them food without labour. Need 
 we any other caufe for their inferiority of under- 
 Handing, compared with the inhabitants of other 
 climates, where the mind, as w r ell as body, are 
 conftantly at work for procuring neceflaries ? 
 
 The bleflings of eafe and inaction are moft 
 poetically difplayed in the following defcription. 
 " O happy Laplander," fays Linnze-us, " who, 
 on the utmoft verge of the habitable earth, thus 
 liveft obfcure, in reft, content, and innocence. 
 Thou feared not the fcanty crop, nor ravages of 
 war; and thofe calamities, which w r afte pro- 
 vinces and towns, can never reach thy peaceful 
 fhores. Wrapt in thy covering of fur, thou 
 canft fecurely fleep, ■ — a ftrang^r to each tu- 
 multuous care, — unenvying, and unenvied. — 
 " Thou feareft no danger but from the thunder 
 of heaven. Thy harmlefs days Aide on in in- 
 nocence beyond the period of a century. Thy 
 health is firm, and thy declining age is tranquil. 
 Millions of difeafes, which ravage the reft of the 
 
 world. 
 
( 32 ) 
 
 world, have never reached thy happy climate, 
 Thou lived as the birds of the wood. Thou 
 careft not to fow nor reap, for bounteous Provi- 
 dence has fupplied thee in all thy wants." 
 
 So eloquent a panegyrift upon the Lapland life 
 would make a capital figure upon an oyfter. 
 
 No creature is freer from want, no creature 
 freer from war, and, probably no creature is 
 freer from fear j which, alas! is not the cafe of 
 the Laplander. 
 
 RESIGNATION, 
 
 THOU Power Supreme, by whofe command 
 I live, 
 The grateful tribute of my praife receive j 
 To thy indulgence,. I my being owe, 
 And all the joys which from that being flow ; 
 Scarce eighteen funs have form'd the rolling year, 
 And run their deftin'd courfes round the fphere, 
 Since thou my undiftinguiuYd form furvey'd, 
 Among the lifelefs heaps of matter laid. 
 
 Thy 
 
( 33 ) 
 
 Thy (kill my elemental clay refin'd, 
 
 The ftraggling parts in beauteous order join'd , 
 
 With perfect fymmetry compos'd the whole, 
 
 And flampt thy facred image on my foul •> 
 
 A foul, fufceptible of endlefsjoy! 
 
 Whofe frame, nor force, nor time, can e'er deftroy ; 
 
 But (hall fubfift, when nature claims my breath, 
 
 And bid defiance to the power of death ; 
 
 To realms of blifs, with active freedom foar, 
 
 And live when earth and hell fhall be no more. 
 
 Indulgent God, in vain my tongue aflays, 
 
 For this immortal gift to fpeak thv praife ! 
 
 How mail my heart, its grateful fenfe reveal, 
 
 When all the energy of words mud fail ? 
 
 Oh ! may its influence in my life appear, 
 
 And every action, prove mv thanks fincere. 
 
 Grant me, great God ! a heart to thee inclin'd, 
 
 Increafe my faith, and rectify mv mind : 
 
 Teach me betimes to tread thy facred ways, 
 
 And to thy fervice confecratc my days ; 
 
 Still as thro' life's uncertain maze I flray, 
 
 Be thou the guiding-flar to mark my way ; 
 
 Conduct the (reps of my unguarded youth, 
 
 And point their motions to the paths of truth. 
 
 Protect me by thy providential care, 
 
 And teach my foul t' avoid the tempter's fnare. 
 
 Thro' all the various fcenes of human life, 
 
 In calms of eafe, or bluftring ftorms of ftrife, 
 
 F Thro' 
 
( 9* ) 
 
 Thro' every turn of this inconflant ftate, 
 
 Preferve my temper, equal and fedate. 
 
 Give me a mind that bravely does defpife, 
 
 The low defigns of artifice and lies. 
 
 Be my religion, fuch as taught by thee, 
 
 Alike from pride and fuperftition free. 
 
 Inform my judgment, rectify my will, 
 
 Confirm my reafon, and my paffions ftill. 
 
 To gain thy favour be my only end, 
 
 And to that fcope may every action tend. 
 Amidfi: the pleafures of a profperous ftate, 
 Whofe flatt'ring charms too oft the mind elate, 
 Still may I think to whom thefe joys I owe, 
 And blefs the bounteous hand from whence they 
 
 flow: 
 Or if an adverfe fortune be my fhare, 
 Let not its terrors tempt me to defpair, 
 But bravely arm'd, a Heady faith maintain, 
 And own all beft which thy decrees ordain r 
 On thy Almighty Providence depend, 
 The bell: protector, and the fureft friend. 
 Thus on life's ftage may I my part maintain, 
 And at my exit thy applaufes gain ; 
 When thy pale herald fummons me away, 
 Support me in that great cataftrophe ; 
 In that laft conflict guard me from alarms, 
 And take my foul, expiring, to thy arms. 
 
 MORAD 
 
( 35 )] 
 
 MORAD AND ABIMA, 
 
 AN ORIENTAL TALE. 
 
 IBRAHIM the Second, reigned over the empire 
 of Perfia ; the lultre of whofe virtues was 
 refplendent as the burning luminary of the heavens, 
 and the mildnefs of his reign inoffenfive as the 
 nocturnal refleclorof its beams. 
 
 Nezam, the Beglerbeg of Curdiftan, attended 
 his royal mafter in the city of Ifpahan : his fword 
 had formerly fupported him in his pretenfions to 
 the throne ; and his counfels now guided him in 
 the paths of juftice, and rendered him beloved 
 and revered by his fubjecls, whilft his name was 
 held in refpecl by the moll powerful nations of 
 the ea(l p 
 
 Abima, the daughter of Nezam, was beautiful 
 as the damfels of Paradife. Her fkin rivalled the, 
 whitenefs of the fnow on the mountains of Kir- 
 van ; her eyes were bright as the morning ftar, 
 and her trefles vied in colour and gloflinefs with 
 the fleeces of Aftracan. When fhe fmiled the 
 dimples of the Houri adorned her cheek ; and 
 when fhe fpoke, her voice was like the mufic in 
 F 2 the. 
 
( 36 ) 
 
 the gardens of eternal delight, and her breath as 
 fragrant as the breeze which gather perfumes in 
 the vallies of Arabia. 
 
 But the gentle Abima had a heart fufceptible 
 of love ; and while Nezam, to fecure to his 
 daughter wealth, grandeur, and rank, engaged 
 her hand to the rich and powerful Abubekar, fhe 
 fecretly plighted her faith to the brave, the gene- 
 rous, the youthful Morad. Nor was Nezam un- 
 fufpicious of his daughter's engagements, he 
 knew and honoured the virtues of Morad -, but 
 his poffeffions were unequal to. the exteniive do- 
 mains of Abubekar, whofe camels were counted 
 by thoufands, and whofe flocks and herds were 
 as innumerable as the fandson the fea ihore. 
 
 Yet not the diamonds of the royal turban, o\ 
 the rubies which glittered in the throne of Ibra- 
 him, could have purchafed the chafte affections 
 of the faithful Abima. The heart fhe had fur- 
 rendered to Morad was incapable of change; nor 
 did the hefitate to comply with his intreaties, to 
 bind herfelf by thofe indiflbluhle ties which trans- 
 fer the rights of the parent to a prote&or of ano- 
 ther name : and influenced by a paffion as pure 
 as the light which iffues from the third heaven, 
 
 &9 
 
i 37 ) 
 
 Xht abandoned the fplendid manfions of Nezam, 
 and fiedto the humble dwelling of Morad. 
 
 No fooner was the flight of Abima difcovercd 
 by- her ambitious father, than he purfued her to 
 the habitation of Morad ; and with all the autho- 
 rity of a parent and all the pride of offended dig- 
 nity, demanded at his hands the treafure which 
 he fufpe&ed to be in his poiTeffion. 
 
 But the happy, the enraptured Morad, though 
 gentle as the doves of Circaflia, and humble as 
 the Faquir who traverfes the approaches of the 
 facred temple of Mecca j in the defence of his 
 Jove, was fierce as the lion of mount Caucafus : 
 and of his honour, as the tyger which hunts the 
 banks of the Ganges. Equally above deceit and 
 fear, he avowed the poffellion of his adored, his 
 faithful Abima ; and his intentions to retain the 
 glorious prize in his hands, at the rifque of 
 what he efteemed far lefs valuable, that life, 
 which, without her, would ceafe to be the object 
 of his care. 
 
 Enraged at the bold determination of the in- 
 trepid Morad, the father of the fair fugitive re- 
 tired to the houfe of the enamoured Abubekar-; 
 ajod having communicated the intelligence fo fatal 
 
 to 
 
( 38 ) 
 
 to his hopes, they proceeded together to the 
 Divan, and waited with impatience the appear- 
 ance of the fovereign of Perfia. 
 
 No fooner did the trumpets proclaim the ap- 
 proach of the monarch, than the trembling Ne- 
 zam having thrice prGftrated himfelf before the 
 throne, and thrice invoked the propher he adored, 
 to render his fovereign propitious to his prayer, 
 he thus laid before him the fouree of his griefs, 
 and demanded redrefs for injuries which he re* 
 prefented as unequalled. 
 
 cv Father of thy people ! light of the fun ! 
 friend of Ali ! prince of the faithful ! governor of 
 the world ! at whofe frown all the nations of the 
 earth tremble, at whofe fmile the three known 
 quarters of the terreftrial globe rejoice ! thou 
 who affertelt the rights of all true believers, and 
 puniiheft thofe who offend, without regard to 
 power or condition ! if the fword of Nezam 
 hath ever been drawn in thy defence, if his arm 
 hath ever been extended fuccefsfully againft thine 
 enemies ! if thou haft ever profited by his councils, 
 or his friendly fuggeftions have ihieided thee from 
 impending danger, attend to my complaints, and 
 aiford to the wretched Nezam, that juitice for 
 
 which, 
 
< 39 ) 
 
 which the meaneft of thy fubje&s have never fued 
 in vain. 
 
 " Morad, the perfidious Morad ! hath invaded 
 the manfions of happinefs and peace : he hath 
 raviihed from me the delight ot my eve, and the 
 comfort of my age ; he hath covered mv head 
 with diferace, and filled mine eves with forrovv — 
 Oh ! Abima, Abima ! loll, deluded Abiina !" 
 
 Paflion had now overwhelmed the difappointeti 
 Nezam, and flopped the utterance of words. 
 
 When Ibrahim, adorned with all the dignity 
 of fovereignty, and all the grace of confeious 
 virtue, arofe from his throne, and thus addreiTed 
 his agitated fupplicant : 
 
 " Nezam, if thy complaint is as unfounded as 
 thy fufpieions of Abrahim, thou feekelt. notjuftice, 
 but partial favour ; which thou malt never re- 
 ceive at the hands of the humble vice-gercnt of 
 Heaven, who hath armed his fervant with autho- 
 rity for purpofes in which friendfhip hath no in- 
 tereft, nor favour the fmallelt lhare ; but if thou 
 haft, indeed, received injury from Morad j if he 
 has defrauded thee of thy parental rights, and pof- 
 fefles, without thy coniuit, the child of thy bo- 
 
( 40 ) 
 
 fom ; were he as dear to my heart as Mirza, the 
 heir of my throne, juflice fhould tear him from 
 my affections, and the fentence of my lips decree 
 him to make reftitution. 
 
 Abubekar now approached the throne; and 
 having confirmed the charge of Nezam, and 
 claimed the intereft of an affianced hufband in 
 Abima, the officers of juftice were difpatched to 
 bring the delinquent into the royal prefence : and 
 to conduct thither, alfo, the partner of his heart, 
 the fair object of contention, the gentle Abima, 
 In a very few minutes a general murmur, which 
 tan through the affembly, announced the entrance 
 of the faithful lovers. 
 
 Morad, with a manly and modeft air, led the 
 trembling and weeping Abima to the foot of the 
 throne ; and the charge of Nezam and the claim 
 of Abubekar, having been ftated to him, the 
 monarch of Perfia called on him for a defence ; 
 and admonifhed him to beware how he trefpaffed 
 the bounds of truth, or attempted an excufd 
 founded in the flighteft impoiiticn. 
 
 But the virtuous Morad needed no fuch cau- 
 tion : he fcorned to purchafe even happinefs at 
 the price of diihonour ; and though he held his 
 
 Abima 
 
( 41 ) 
 
 Abiam dearer than his life, yet he would much 
 rather abandon both than retain them at the ex- 
 pence of falfhood. He acknowledged, and he 
 gloried in his love ; he confeued his having pre- 
 vailed on the fair Abima to prefer him to her more 
 wealthy lover, and he juflified her choice, by a 
 fair and candid comparifon between his own age, 
 perfon, and qualifications, and thole of the re- 
 jected Abubekar. 
 
 But the declarations of Morad amounted ra- 
 ther to a confeffion than an extenuation of his 
 guilt ; and Ibrahim, though his heart acknow- 
 ledged the truth and felt the force of his excufes, 
 found himfelf compelled to render the juftice he 
 had promifed to Nezam, and to condemn the un- 
 fortunate Morad to the fevereft of all punifh- 
 ments, the parting with his adored Abima ! but 
 like a gracious judge, he tempered the rigid let- 
 ter of the law, with the mildeft interpofition of 
 humanity ; and whilft he pronounced the follow- 
 ing fentence, the foft tear of pity reflected more 
 luftre on his cheek than all the diamonds in his 
 crown. 
 
 " Morad, thy condemnation proceeds from 
 
 thine own mouth ! Thou haft taken the daughter 
 
 of Nezam, without the confent of her father ; 
 
 O and 
 
( 42 ) 
 
 and the contracted wife of Abubekar, without 
 his permiflion. Reftore, then, to the parent his 
 child, and to the lover his miftrefs : and to con- 
 fole thee for thy lofs, Ibrahim will advance thy 
 fortune, and raife thee to fuch dignities and ho- 
 nours, that the chiefs of the empire lhall court 
 thy alliance, and thou fhalt chufe a reprefentative 
 for the fair Abima, among the choiceft beauties 
 of Ifpahan." 
 
 " Father of the faithful," replied the unfortunate 
 Morad, u thy fervant bows down in humble and 
 fubmiffive gratitude before the juft and gracious 
 minifter of Heaven ! The favours thy goodnefs 
 would extend to the meaneft of thy fubj eels, beftow 
 on fome more worthy and more fortunate object,. 
 The wretched Morad murmurs not at thy decree, 
 but he has loft his Abima ; the world has no charms 
 for him ; and he will court death as a relief from 
 pain, and feek it as the only fhelter from his for- 
 rows !" 
 
 Morad, having pronounced thefe words, quitted 
 the hand of Abima ; and whilft every heart melted 
 at his diflrefs, bowed in filence to the throne, and 
 prepared to quit the affembly. 
 
 At 
 
( « ) 
 
 At this inftarit Abubekar made his way through 
 the crowd which furrounded the weeping fair ; 
 and having feized the hand which had juft been 
 grafped by her more favoured lover, he befought 
 the Monarch to acknowledge his claim to Abi- 
 ma before Morad mould be fufFered to depart ; 
 and this requeft having been complied with, he 
 thus addreffed the difconfolate lover : 
 
 " Morad, thou haft reafon to complain that the 
 wealth of Abubekar hath proved a bar to thy 
 happinefs ; but the gracious Being who diftributes 
 profperity and adverfitv, frames alfo the minds of 
 his creatures, and endows them with faculties to 
 enjoy, and patience to endure. On me the Al- 
 mighty power hath lavilhed in abundance the 
 bounties of his hand, and he hath alfo blefled 
 me with defire to enjoy ; but he hath tempered 
 my enjoyments with prudence to controul my 
 palhons, and he hath reftrained my inclinations, 
 by reafon, within the bounds of temperance and 
 moderation. 
 
 " Thinkeft thou, Morad, that my enjoyments 
 confift in gratifications purchafed at the expence 
 of mifery to my fellow creatures ? or that the 
 foft fenfations which move the mind of the mag- 
 nanimous Ibrahim, are ftrangers to the breaft 
 
 G 2 of 
 
( 44 )' 
 
 of the lefs diftinguifhed Abubekar ? Thinkeft 
 thou, that whilft the fountain of his humanity 
 flows with oil to pour into the wounds of afflic- 
 tion, the fources of Abubekar's pity are dried 
 up, and his heart ftecled againft the noble feelings 
 of humanity? At my hands, deferving Morad, 
 accept the choiceft of earthly bleffings, a beautiful 
 and virtuous wife ; may Ali, the friend of our 
 prophet, crown thy union with unfading felicity ; 
 and Ibrahim, his lieutenant, difpenfe to thee, and 
 the fair and faithful Abima, the full meafure of thy 
 deferts in power, riches, and honour." 
 
 TRUTH. 
 
 NOTHING appears fo low and mean as lying 
 and diflimulation ; and it is obfervablej 
 that only weak animals endeavour to fupply by 
 craft, the defects of ftrength, which nature has 
 not given them. 
 
 Nothing is fo delightful as the hearing or fpeak- 
 ing of truth : for this reafon, there is no conveiv 
 fation fo agreeable as that of the man of integrity, 
 w r ho hears without any defign to betray, and 
 fpeaks without any intention to 4eceive. 
 
 Truth 
 
( *5 ) 
 
 Truth is always confiftent with itfelf, and needs 
 nothing to help it out : it is always near at hand, 
 and (its upon our lips, and is ready to drop out 
 before we are aware, whereas a lye is trouble- 
 fome, and fets a man's invention upon the rack. 
 
 Truth, in every thing, is flill the fame, and, 
 like its great Author, can be but one ; and the 
 fentence of reafon Hands as firm as the foundation 
 of the earth. 
 
 Truth is born with us, and we mull do violence 
 to our nature, to make off our veracity. 
 
 Now by the Gods, it is not in the pow'r 
 Of painting or of fculpture to exprefs, 
 Aught fo divine as the fair form of Truth ! 
 The creatures of their art may catch the eye, 
 But her fweet nature captivates the foul. 
 
 EXTRACT 
 
( 46 ) 
 EXTRACT OF A LETTER 
 
 WROTE RY IHC 
 
 EARL OF ESSEX, 
 
 TO HIS PARTICULAR FRIEND THE EARL 
 OF SOUTHAMPTON, 
 
 SOMETIME BEFORE HIS DEATH. 
 
 WITH refpect to your natural gifts and abi- 
 lities, remember, Firlt, that you have 
 nothing which you have not received. Secondly, 
 that you poffefs them, not as a Lord over them, 
 but as one who muft give an account for them. 
 Thirdly, if you employ them to ferve this world, 
 or your own worldly delight, which the Prince of 
 this world will feek to entertain vou with : it is 
 ingratitude, it is injuftice, yea, it is perfidious 
 treachery. For what would you think of fuch a 
 fervant of your's, who mould convert your goods 
 committed to his charge, to the advantage or fer- 
 vice of your greateft enemy ? And what do you 
 lefs than this with God ; fince you have all from 
 him, and know that the world, and the Princes 
 thereof, are at continual enmity with him ? There- 
 fore, if ever the admonition of your trueft friend 
 fhall be heard by you ; or, if your country, which 
 vou may ferve in fo great and many things, be dear 
 
 unto 
 
I 47 ) 
 
 unto you ; If your God, whom you muft (if you deal 
 truly with yourfelf) acknowledge to be powerful 
 over all, and juft in all, be feared by you ; yea, if 
 you be dear unto yourfelf, and prefer an ever- 
 lafting happinefs before a pleafant dream, out of 
 which you muft fhortly awake, and then repent in 
 the bitternefs of your foul ; if any of thefe thing's 
 be regarded by you, then, I fay, call yourfelf to 
 account for what is paft, cancel all the leagues 
 you have made without the warrant of a religious 
 confcience ; make a regular covenant with your 
 God to ferve him with all your natural and fpiri- 
 tual, inward and outward gifts and abilities : and 
 then he, who is faithful and cannot lie, and hath 
 promifed to honour thofe who honour him, will 
 give you that inward peace of foul, and true joy 
 of heart, which, till you have, you will never 
 reft ; and which, when you have, you (hall never 
 be fhaken ; and w r hich you can never attain to 
 any other wav ! 
 
 \Ni.< 
 
( 48 ) 
 ANECDOTE 
 
 OF 
 
 AN INDIAN WOMAN. 
 
 SOME hiflorians have lately afferted, that the 
 cuftom of widows burning themfelves on 
 the funeral pile of their hufbands, no longer exifts. 
 There are fome recent inftances of it tranfmitted 
 by Europeans, who were witneffes of the trans- 
 actions they related. 
 
 Not many years ago died Rham-Chund, pun- 
 dit of the Mahratta tribe. His widow, aged feven- 
 teen or eighteen years, as foon as he expired, 
 immediately declared to the bramins, and witneffes 
 prefent, her refolution to burn. As the family 
 were of great importance, all her relations and 
 friends left no arguments unattempted to diffuade 
 her from her purpofe. 
 
 The ftate of her infant children, the terrors and 
 pangs of the death me afpirecf after, were painted 
 to her in the ftrongeft and mo ft lively colours ; 
 but (he was deaf to all. Her children, indeed, 
 ihe feemed to leave with fome regret. But when 
 the terrors of burning were mentioned to her, 
 
 with 
 
( 49 ) 
 
 with a countenance calm and refolved, fhe put 
 one of her fingers into the fire, and held it there 
 a confiderable time. Then, with one of her hands, 
 the put fire into the palm of the other, fprinkled 
 incenfe upon it, and fumigated the attending 
 bramins or priefts. Being given to underftand 
 that the fhould not obtain permiflion to burn, flie 
 fell immediately into deep affliction. But foon 
 recollecting herfelf, fhe anfwered, " that death 
 would ftill be in her power ; and that if fhe were 
 not allowed to make her exit according to the 
 principles of her caft, flie would flarve herfelf." 
 Finding her thus refolved, her friends were, at laft, 
 obliged to confent to her propofal. 
 
 Early on the following morning, the body of 
 the deceafed was carried down to the water- 
 fide. The widow followed about ten o'clock, ac- 
 companied by the principal bramins, her children, 
 relations, and a numerous crowd of fpe£lators 
 As the order for her burning did not arrive till 
 after one o'clock, the interval was employed in 
 praying with the bramins, and wafliing iiwthe 
 Ganges. As foon as it arrived, flie retired, and 
 fluid about half an hour in the midft of her female 
 relations. She then diverted herfelf of her brace- 
 lets, and other ornaments ; and having tied them 
 in a kind of apron, which hung before her, was 
 
 H con- 
 
( ™ I 
 
 conduced by the females to a corner of the pile. 
 On the pile was an arched arbour, formed of dry 
 flicks, boughs, and leaves ; and open at one end 
 to admit her entrance. In this was depofited the 
 body of the deceafed ; his head at the end, oppo- 
 fite the opening. 
 
 At that corner of the pile to which (he had 
 been conducted, a bramin had made a fmall fire, 
 round which me and three bramins fat for a few mi- 
 nutes. One of them then put into her hand a leaf 
 of the bale-tree, of the wood of which a part. of 
 the funeral pile is alwaysconftrucled. She threw 
 the leaf into the fire, and one of the others gave 
 her a fecond leaf, which he held over the flame, 
 whilfl he three times dropped fome ghee on it, 
 which melted and fell into the fire. 
 
 Whilft thefe things were doing, a third bramin 
 read to her fome portions of the Aughtorrah Beid, 
 and alked her fome queflions, which fhe anfwered 
 with a Heady and ferene countenance. Thefe be- 
 ing over, fhe was led with great folemnity three 
 times round the pile, the bramins reading before 
 her. 
 
 When fhe came the third time to the fmall fire* 
 ihe flopped, took her rings off hertoes and fingers* 
 
 and 
 
( 51 ) 
 
 and put them to her other ornaments ; then taking 
 a folemn and majeftic leave of her children, pa- 
 rents and relations, one of the bramins dipped a 
 large wick of cotton in fome ghee, and giving it 
 lighted into her hand, led her to the open fide of 
 the arbour, where all the bramins fell at her feet. 
 She blefled them, and they retired weeping. 
 
 She then afcended the pile, and entered the ar- 
 bour, making a profound reverence at the feet 
 of the deceafed, and then, advancing, feated her- 
 felf by his head. In filent meditation fhe looked 
 on his face for the fpace of a minute. She then 
 fet fire to the arbour in three places. But foon 
 obferving that (lie had kindled it to leeward, and 
 that the wind blew the flames from her, flic arofe, 
 fet fire to the windward fide, and placidly renam- 
 ing her ftation, fat there with a dignity and com- 
 pofure which no words can convey an idea of. 
 
 The pile-being of combuftible matter, the fup- 
 porters of the roof were foon confumed, and the 
 whole tumbled in upon her, putting an end at 
 once to her courage and her life, 
 
 H 2 A REi 
 
( 52 ) 
 
 REMARKABLE ANECDOTE 
 
 OF A 
 
 DECAYED GENTLEMAN. 
 
 THE confcioufnefs of being beloved, foftens 
 our chagrins, and enables a great part of 
 mankind to fupport the mifery of exiftence. The 
 affections muft be exercifed upon fomething ; for 
 not to love is to be miferable. " Were I in a de- 
 fert," fays Sterne, " I would find fomething in it 
 to call forth my affections. If I could not do bet- 
 ter, I would faften them upon fome fweet myrtle, 
 or feek fome melancholy cyprefs to connect myfelf 
 to. I would court their made, and greet them 
 kindly for their protection. I would cut my 
 name upon them, and fwear they were the 
 lovelieft trees throughout the defert; If their 
 leaves withered, I would teach myfelf to mourn ; 
 and when they rejoiced, I would rejoice with 
 them." But the following anecdote will illuftxate 
 this reafoning better than the moft beautiful 
 reflections. 
 
 A re^ 
 
( 53 ) 
 
 A refpeclable character, after having long 
 figured away in the gay world at Paris, was 
 at length compelled to live in an obfcure retreat 
 in that city, the victim of fevere and unforcfeen 
 misfortunes. He was fo indigent, that he fub- 
 fifted only on an allowance from the parifh. Every 
 week a quantity of bread was fent to him fuffi- 
 cient for his fupport ; and yet, at length, he de- 
 manded more. On this, the curate fent for him. 
 He went. <£ Do you live alone r" faid the curate. 
 " With whom, Sir," anfwered the unfortunate 
 man, " is it poffible that I mould live ? I am 
 wretched. You fee that I am, fince I thus folicit 
 charity, and am abandoned by all the world." 
 " But, Sir," continued the curate, " if you live 
 alone, why do you afk for more bread than is fuf- 
 ficient for yourfelf ?" The other was quite difcon- 
 ccrted, and, at laft, with great reluctance con- 
 ferred that he had a dog. The curate did not 
 'drop the fubjecl. He delired him to obferve that 
 he was only the diftributor of the bread that be- 
 longed to the poor, and, that it was abfolutely 
 neceflary that he mould difpofe of his dog." — 
 f Ah ! Sir," exclaimed the poor man, weeping, 
 " and if I lofe my dog, who is there then to love 
 me ?" — The good pallor, melting into tears, took 
 his purfe, and giving it to him,. " Take this, Sir," 
 (aid he ; — " this is mine — this I can give." 
 
 ELEGY 
 
( 54 } 
 ELEGY 
 
 WRITTEN AT THE 
 
 APPROACH OF SPRING, 
 
 STERN winter hence with all his train removes, 
 And chearful fides and limpid dreams are 
 feen ; 
 Thick-fprouting foliage decorates the groves ; 
 Reviving herbage robes the fields in green. 
 
 Yet lovelier fcenes mail crown th'advancing year, 
 When blooming fpring's full bounty is difplay'd; 
 The fmiie of beauty ev'ry vale mall wear ; 
 The voice of fong enliven ev'ry lliade, 
 
 O fancy, paint not coming days too fair f 
 Oft for the profpects fprightly May mould yield. 
 Rain-pouring clouds have darken'd all the air, 
 Or fnows untimely wiiiten'd o'er the field : 
 
 But mould kind fpring her wonted bounty fhowYj 
 The fmile of beauty and the voice of fong j 
 If gloomy thought the human mind o'erpow'r, 
 Ev'n vernal hours glide unenjoy'd along. 
 
 I mm; 
 
( o5 ) 
 
 I lliun the fcenes where madd'ning paffion raves, 
 Where pride and folly high dominion hold j 
 And unrelenting av'rice drives her flaves 
 O'er proftrate virtue in purfuit of gold : 
 
 The graffy lane, the wood-furrounded field, 
 The rude flone fence with fragrant wall-flow'rs gay, 
 The clay-built cot, to me more pleafure yield 
 Than all the pomp imperial domes difplay. 
 
 And yet ev'n here amid thefe fecret fliades, 
 Thefe fim pie fcenes of unreprov'd delight, 
 Affliction's iron hand my bread invades, 
 And death's dread dart is ever in my fight. 
 
 While genial funs to genial flfbw'rs fucceed, 
 (The air all mildnefs, and the earth all bloom ;) 
 While herds and flocks range fportive o'er trre 
 
 mead, 
 Crop the fw^et herb, and fnuff the rich perfume* 
 
 O why alone to haplcfs man deny'd, 
 To tafte the blifs inferior beings boaft ? 
 O why this fate that fear and pain divide 
 His few ihort hours on earth's delightful coaft ? 
 
 o 
 
 Ah ! ceafe — no more of Providence complain 
 'Tis fenfe of guilt that wakes the mind to woe, 
 Gives force to fear, adds energy to pain, 
 An'd'palls each joy by heav'n indulged below. 
 
 Why 
 
( 56 ) 
 
 Why clfe the fmiling Infant-train fo bleft, 
 Ere dear-bought knowledge ends the peace within, 
 Or wild dcfire inflames the youthful bread, 
 Or ill propenfion ripens into fin ? 
 
 As to the bleating tenants of the field, 
 
 As to the fportive warblers on the trees, 
 
 To them their joys fincere the feafon yields, 
 
 And all their days and all their profpetts pleafe ; 
 
 Such joys were mine when from the peopl'd ftrects, 
 Where on Thamefis' banks I liv'd immur'd ; 
 The new-blown fields that breath'd a thoufand 
 
 fwects, 
 To Surry's wood-crown'd hills my Heps allur'd. 
 
 O happy hours, beyond recov'ry fled ! 
 
 What fhare I now " that can your lofs repay,'* 
 
 While o'er my mind thefe glooms of thought arc 
 
 * fpread, 
 And veil the light of life's meridian ray ? 
 
 Is there no pow'r this darknefs to remove ? 
 
 The long-lolt joys of Eden to reftore ? 
 
 Or raife our views to happier feats above, 
 
 \\ here fear, and pain, and death mall be no more? 
 
 Yes, 
 
( an ) 
 
 Ves, thofe there are who know a Saviour's love, 
 The long-loft joys of Eden can reftore ; 
 And raife their views to happier feats above, 
 Where fear, and pain, and death fhall be no more- 
 
 Thofe grateful fhare the gift of nature's hand, 
 And in the vari'd fcenes that round them mine j 
 The fair, the rich, the awful, and the grand, 
 Admire th'amazing workmanfhip divine. 
 
 Blows not a flow'ret in th' cnamell'd vale, 
 Shines not a pebble where the riv'let ftrays ; 
 Sports not an infe£t on the fpicv gale, 
 But claims their wonder and excites their praife ! 
 
 For them ev'n vernal nature looks more gay, 
 For them more lively hues the fields adorn j 
 To them more fair the faireft fmile of day, 
 To them more fweet the fweeteft breath of morn. 
 
 They feel the blifs that hope and faith fupply, 
 They pafs ferene th 'appointed hours that bring, 
 The day that wafts them to the realms on high, 
 The day that centres in eternal fpring. 
 
 DORI- 
 
( 58 ) 
 DORILACIA ; 
 
 OR, THE 
 
 FAIR CAPTIVE. 
 
 AN ANECDOTE OF ANCIENT CHIVALRY. 
 
 IN the line of crufadoes every woman was a 
 beauty, every man was an hero. The virtues 
 of the female were then unfufpected ; the courage 
 of the hero was to be proof againft any antago- 
 nist, and he was, at the hazard of his life, to 
 evince, that his precieuse was both more beau- 
 tiful and more virtuous than any other of the 
 fex. — Where is there a knight adventurer now 
 who would undertake either? 
 
 Dorilacia, though unfeeking, was fought for 
 by the King of ****. The fame of her perfonal 
 charms were great ; that of her virtues, were 
 ftill greater. — The Prince of **** fued for her : 
 his martial virtues recommended him to the 
 choice of her father. Martial virtues in a man, 
 were, in the time of the crufadoes, of the greateft 
 eitimation. — She was promifed to the Prince — 
 but promifes before marriage are generally fruf- 
 trated. A parent will frequently fet himfelf 
 againft the obligation entered into by his daughter. 
 
 A rival 
 
( 59 ) 
 
 A rival will fometimes fruftrate the promife, the 
 obligation, by the death of the rival.. 
 
 Betrothed, as it were, to Prince Rhadamont, 
 Dorilacia was to experience a different fate, a fate 
 unforeseen, a fate too cruel for one who left it to 
 tier father to choofe her a partner for life. 
 
 The object of her father's choice, after the molt 
 affectionate adieu, parted from her to encounter 
 the Saracens. 
 
 In the interim, the Saracen Prince burft into 
 the facred inclofure wherein flie was — faw her 
 charms — faw, was inflamed, and was determined 
 to make her his own. 
 
 He forced her upon a palfry, and obliged hejr 
 domeftic, her favourite female to attend her. 
 
 Her agitations were great for many a mile. 
 The courtefies of the Saracen were not lefs, which 
 was an unufual phenomenon. 
 
 Arriving at a retired place, and finding her ra- 
 ther worn out with fatigue, he carried her to the 
 umbrageous retirement of a wood; there he 
 breathed the fofteft vows, the fofteft accents of 
 J 2 inflame4 
 
( 60 ) 
 
 inflamed love ; but he breathed them in vain. 
 Virtue eftablifhed on the rock of religion, very 
 feldom totters, if eftablifhed in infancy. 
 
 The. foes of virtue, when repulfed, general- 
 ly exercife revenge, generally give themfelves 
 up to the mitigation of malice. As Dorilacia 
 would not comply with the whifpers of an illicit 
 paffion, the Prince threatened her with the pu- 
 niihment of being tied hand and foot, and caft into 
 the waves of the inexorable ocean. She braved 
 his threats, me fubmitted to be bound. She was, 
 by the order of the Prince, caft into the devouring 
 waves : but Providence, which watches over the 
 paths of unfhaken innocence and chaftity, or- 
 dered the wave on which fhe floated to leave her 
 on the crumbling ftrand. Her fituation had be- 
 fore left "her on the margin of the fea. 
 
 Her intended hufband fortunately arrived in his 
 veflel on the ftrand. The firft object he faw was Do- 
 riJccia. His domeftics likevvifc defcried her, and 
 with uplifted arms, and all the outrages of grief, 
 teftified their lamentations forherfeeminglofs.The 
 cords with which fhe was bound were unloofed, 
 and when the meafures lately revived for the re- 
 covery of drowned perfons were made ufe of, 
 me returned to life, and fhe lived to blefs the 
 world with a numerous race of heroes. 
 
 CHARITY. 
 
( 61 ) 
 
 REMARKABLE DECISION 
 
 IN A CASE OF 
 
 VANITY. 
 
 HISTORY has preferred the memory of an 
 Emperor, perhaps equal to any of anti- 
 quity, for his abhorrence to the partial diftin&ion 
 of birth. He knew wherein true glory con- 
 fifted, and could diftinguifh it from that which 
 was only fo in appearance. He proved the truth 
 of that excellent faying of Tacitus, " Thofe who 
 know how properly to govern an Empire, throw 
 off its formalities." 
 
 To comprehend this action of Charles the Fifth 
 in its fullefl extent, we mult confider the incom- 
 parable luftre and magnificence of the Court of 
 that Emperor at BrulTels, which was at that time 
 the moft polite, free, and populace, and the 
 center of power; here Germans, Spaniards, and 
 Jtajians, were treated with equal refpecl, and 
 
 merit 
 
( 6-2 | 
 
 merit only was fuffered to claim a fuperior con- 
 fideration. 
 
 In this Court, which was filled with perfons 
 of the moft illuftrious rank, who boafted of Ro- 
 man Kings for their ancestors, were ty'O ladies of 
 the firft quality. A difpute had arifen between 
 them, which, in point of pre-eminence, had a 
 right to enter the church firft. The Emperor, in 
 order to put a ftop to all future contefts of fupe^ 
 riority of birth, determined to be himfelf arbiter 
 in this caufe. 
 
 We may figure to ourfelves the intrigues, ca- 
 bals, folicitations, recommendations, long lifts of 
 illuftrious anceftors, fupported by indubitable au- 
 thorities, that were formed on this occa/ion ; in- 
 deed, all BriuTels was in alarm, and refembled 
 England in the time of a general election. AH 
 this while the Emperor, who viewed this buftle 
 with a fmile, was not in the leaft arTe&ed by this 
 parade of falfe glory ; but remained fixed to his 
 deiign, immoveable as a rock. 
 
 The day at laft approached, in which this 
 weighty and momentous affair was to be decided. 
 Had the fate of Kings and Empires been atftake, 
 
 th<i 
 
{ 63 ) 
 
 the general attention of people of all ranks could 
 not have been more attracted, than it was upon 
 this idle difpute about nothing. The hopes and 
 fears of oppofite parties, the wagers of fools, the 
 predictions of pretended fages, the folemnity of 
 the place, the brilliancy of the affembly, and the 
 gravity of the Emperor, are all much cafier to be 
 imagined than exprefled. 
 
 Surely the confternation, mame, and confufion 
 of both parties, muft be great indeed, when they 
 heard the Emperor pronounce thefe words as^a 
 final decree : " Let the moft foolilh of the two 
 have the preference." 
 
 AN ARABIAN ANECDOTE, 
 
 AN Arab going to complain to the Sultan of 
 fome depredations committed in his houfe 
 by two unknown perfons, the Sultan inftantly re- 
 paired thither, and caufmg the light to be ex- 
 tinguifhed, feized the criminals, had their heads 
 enveloped in a cloak, and gave orders that they 
 Ihould be flabbed. The execution being thus 
 . performed, 
 
( 64 ) 
 
 performed, he ordered the flambeaux brought 
 with him to be again lighted ; and, having ex- 
 amined the body of the criminals, lifted up his 
 hands, and returned thanks to God. 
 
 cc What favour," faid the Vifier, " have you 
 then received from heaven ?" 
 
 " Vifier," replied the Sultan, " I thought my 
 fon had been the author of thefe crimes ; there- 
 fore I ordered the lights to be put out, and the 
 faces of thefe unhappy wretches to be covered 
 with a cloak. 1 was fearful, left paternal ten* 
 dernefs fliould induce me to fail in juftice which I 
 owe to my fubjecls. Judge whether I ou-ght not 
 to thank heaven, when I find myfelf juft, with- 
 out taking away the life of my fon !" 
 
 ANECDOTE 
 
 OF 
 
 DEAN SWIFT. 
 
 
 IT has not been remarked by any of his hifto- 
 rians, but the Dean entertained a molt violent 
 hatred to the memory of William III. which he 
 
 often 
 
{ 65 ) 
 
 often expreffed in very bitter terms when in the 
 company of his intimates. He was aceuftomed 
 to (tile that Monarch a bloody and remorfclefs 
 tyrant, and would commonly add, that " fo far 
 from this country receiving any benefit from him, 
 he and his favourites only were the gainers." 
 
 Swrft dined one day with feveral friends of 
 both parties in Crow-nreet, when the convcrfa- 
 tion turned upon a paraphrafe Concanuon had 
 lately made of Prior's celebrated epitaph. It was 
 as follows ; 
 
 Hold Matthew Prior, by your leave, 
 Your epitaph is fomewhat odd ; 
 Bourbon and you were fons of Eve, 
 Nassau the offspring of a God. 
 
 The Dean, (halting his head, faid, " Let us fee 
 whether a man, who is neither a fool nor apara- 
 fite, cannot write four lines that will found as well 
 as thofe," and taking Doctor Sheridan's pencil 
 wrote the following : 
 
 Hold friend Co nc ann on, by your leave, 
 Your paraphrafe is rather civil ; 
 Bourbon and Mat were fons of Eve, 
 X a s s a u the offspring of a D e v i l . 
 
 K AN 
 
( <x ) 
 
 AN ODE 
 
 TO 
 
 N ARC ISS A. 
 
 THY fatal (hafts unerring move.; 
 I bow before thine altar, Love ! 
 I feel thy foft, refiftlefs flame 
 Glide fwift through all my vital frame! 
 
 For while I gaze my bofom glows, 
 My blood in tides impetuous flows ; 
 Hope, fear, and joy alternate roll, 
 And floods of tranfport whelm my foul ' 
 
 My fault'ring tongue attempts in vain 
 In foothing murmurs to complain; 
 My tongue fome fecret magic ties, 
 My murmurs fink in broken fighs 1 
 
 Condemn'd to nurfe eternal care, 
 And ever drop the filent tear ; 
 Unheard I mourn, unknown I figh. 
 Unfriended live, unpitied die ! 
 
 SINGULAR 
 
( <* ) 
 
 SINGULAR ACT OF GENEROSITY 
 AND CONTINENCE. 
 
 THE Marquis dc Breze, Admiral of France, 
 fon to a Marihal and Duke of the fame 
 name, had a vifit paid him at Paris by a widow 
 and her daughter, of a neighbouring province to 
 that of his family ; the daughter was of a comely 
 Mature, her features regular, her complexion ad- 
 mirable, and about fix years younger than the 
 Admiral, who was then of much the fame age 
 with Scipio, wjien he conquered Carthage. 
 
 The mother began firft to tell him her name, 
 by which it appeared ilie was one of the bed fa- 
 milies in Anjou, and then declared to him, that 
 the was engaged in a troublefome fuit at law, 
 which Endangered her whole, and that a fmall, 
 eftate; that me had borrowed of all her friends ; 
 £hat a wicked and cheating lawyer was fully re- 
 folved to reduce her to a mod lhamcfiu 1 poverty, 
 and without powerful fupport would carry his point. 
 
 The Admiral prayed her to accept of three 
 
 hundred louis d'ors to carry on her fuit, and gave 
 
 prders for a coach to be fent to her every morn.- 
 
 K 2 ing, 
 
( <58 ) 
 
 ing, in which fhe might go and fee her judges : 
 He himfelf became her folicitor, and managed 
 the bufinefs fo well, that (lie carried the caufe, 
 and recovered full cofts againft her adverfary. 
 
 When, after all this, the Lady went to thank 
 the young Admiral for all the favours he had 
 been pleafed to heap upon her, flie gave him to 
 underftand that the could not exprefs how much 
 fhe was indebted to him, and that fhe had nothing 
 but her daughter, then prefent, that could make 
 him fatisfaciion for his kindnefs to her. 
 
 The Admiral being furprized with an offer fo 
 little expected, took afide the young lady, in the 
 prefence of her mother, to a corner of the cham- 
 ber, declared to her in what manner her honour 
 and falvation were in danger, and advifed her to 
 give herfelf to none but God; and becaufe he 
 found flie was already in the fame opinion with 
 him, he took both mother and daughter into the 
 coach, and carried them to a convent, where he 
 left the young lady. 
 
 When he had paid the penfion due for the fir ft 
 vcar, a day or two before fhe was profeffed, he 
 gave the Abbefs of the Monaftery eight hundred 
 piftoles, and caufed an Acl: to be palled in the 
 
 name 
 
( 69 ) 
 
 name of the young lady, without mentioning his 
 own name in it. There could be nothing (al- 
 lowing for the fuperftition of the times) more ge- 
 nerous, or more heroic, than this. 
 
 ANECDOTE 
 OF THE EARL OF STAIR, 
 
 AMBASSADOR AT THE COURT OF VERSAILLES, 
 
 IN THE REIGN OF GEORGE I. 
 
 ONE day the Regent of France, attended 
 with a moil fplendid retinue, went in his 
 coach to .pay the Britifh Ambaflador (the Earl of 
 Stair) a viiit ; which his Excellency being in- 
 formed of, prepared for his reception. The coach 
 halted at the gate ; and when the Earl of Stair 
 came out of his apartment, the Regent rofe up, 
 partly alighted from his coach, fet one foot on 
 the ground, and kept the other fixed on the ftep. 
 His Excellencv, in the mean time, was advancing 
 out ot the gate ; but obferving the pofture the 
 Regent was in, he flopped fliort, then turned 
 about, and walked three or four times backward 
 
 and 
 
( "0 ) 
 
 and forward, and at lall afkcd one of the Re- 
 gent's attendants, " Whether his Royal Highnefs 
 was conie to vifit him as his Britannic Majefty's 
 Ambaflador, or as Earl of jStair r" 
 
 To which receiving no anfwer. he replied, " If 
 he comes to fee my Lord Stair, I thai 1 reckon it 
 my greateft honour to receive any o.ie officer of 
 the Crown, much more the Duke-Regent, at the 
 door of his coach ; but if he comes to vifit the 
 AmbafTador of my Royal Mafter, i think I ihould 
 bq unworthy the truft repofed in me, if I went a 
 ftep further than I have done." 
 
 Tli is being told to the Regent, he re-entered the 
 coach, and afterwards caufed fignification to be 
 made to his Excellency, that he was not defirous 
 ©f feeing him at Court, and for fome months the 
 Earl actually withdrew. 
 
 This was intended by the Regent as a flight on 
 the Britiih Ambafiador ; but the wan- and vigi- 
 lant Stair knew the etiquette of Courts too well, 
 and had too much the honour of his Royal Matter 
 at heart, and the dignity of his country to be en- 
 trapped by him. 
 
 EQUA* 
 
( 71 ) 
 
 EQUANIMITY. 
 
 EVIL is uncertain, in the lame degree, as 
 good , and for the reafon we ought not to 
 hope too fecurely, we ought not to fear with too- 
 much dejection. The ftate of the world is con- 
 tinually changing, and none can tell the refuli 
 of the next viciflitude. Whatever is afloat in the 
 itream of time, may, when it is very near us, be 
 driven away by an accidental blart, which fhall 
 happen to 0ofs the general courfc ot the cur- 
 rent. The fudden accidents by winch the pow 
 trial are depreffed, may fall upon thofe whole 
 malice we fear ; and the greatnefs by which We 
 expe£t to be overborne, may become another proof 
 of the talfe flatteries of fortune. Our enemies may 
 become weak, or we grow ftrong, before our en- 
 counter,; or we may advance againfl each other 
 without ever meeting. There are indeed natural 
 evils, which we can flatter ourfelvcs with no hopes 
 of efeaping, and with little of delaying ; but of 
 the ills which are apprehended from human ma- 
 lignity, or the oppolition of rival interefts, we 
 may always alleviate the terror, by confidering 
 that our perfecutors are weak., ignorant, and mor- 
 tal, like ourfelvcs. 
 
 , ANEC- 
 
( <2 ) 
 ANECDOTE 
 
 OF 
 
 SIR RICHARD STEELE. 
 
 FEW people were greater admirers of pru- 
 dence and ceconomy than Sir Richard Steele 
 was in precept ; yet nothing could be more dif- 
 agreeable "To his temper than the practice of 
 either. A turn naturally gay and expenfive, fre- 
 quently reduced him to difficulties, and expofed 
 him to fome circumftances rather painful to a dif- 
 pofition fo delicate and refined. 
 
 Among the number of people who were highly 
 charmed with his converfation and writings, none 
 profeffed a greater admiration of both than a Lin- 
 golnfhire Baronet, who ufually fat at Button's. 
 This gentleman pofieife*d a very large fortune, 
 had great intereft, and more than once folicited 
 Sir Richard Steele to command his utmoft ability, 
 and he lhould think himfelf under rro little obliga- 
 tion. Thefe offers, though made with the mod 
 feeming cordiality, Sir Richard, however, declined, 
 with a grateful politenefs peculiar to himfelf, &§ 
 at that time he flood in no need of the gentle- 
 man's aihftance. But fome inftance of extrava- 
 gance 
 
( 73 } 
 
 gance having once reduced him to the neceffity 
 of borrowing a fum of money to fatisfy an 
 importunate creditor, he thought this a very 
 proper opportunity of calling on his friend, and 
 requefting the loan of a hundred pounds For a 
 few days. 
 
 The gentleman received him with much civility 
 and refpe£t, began to renew his offers of fervice, 
 and begged Sir Richard would give him an occa- 
 Hon to (hew his friendship and regard. 
 
 n Why, Sir," faid Sir Richard," I came for that 
 very purpofe ; and if you can lend me an hun- 
 dred pounds for a few days, I fhall confider it as 
 a lingular favour." 
 
 Had Sir Richard clapped a piflol to his bread, 
 and made a peremptory demand of his money, 
 the gentleman could not have appeared in a 
 greater furprize than at this unexpected requeft. 
 His offers of friendfhip had only been made on a. 
 fuppofition of their never being accepted, and in- 
 tended only as fo many baits for Sir Richard's 
 intimacy and acquaintance, of which the gentle- 
 man, whilft it coil him nothing, was particularly 
 proud. Recovering, however, from his furprize, 
 he ftammered out : " Why, really Sir Richard, 
 
 L I would 
 
( 74 ) 
 
 I would ferve you to the utmoft of my power ; but 
 at prefent I have not twenty guineas in the houfe." 
 
 Sir Richard, who faw through the pitiful eva- 
 fion, was heartily vexed at the meannefs and ex- 
 cufe. " And fo, Sir," faid he, " you have drawn 
 me in to expofe the fituation of my affairs, with 
 a promife of affiftance, and now refufe any mark 
 of your friendfhip or efteem ! A disappointment 
 I can bear, but mufl not put up with an infult ; 
 therefore, be fo obliging as to confider whether 
 it is more agreeable to comply with the terms of 
 my requeft, or to fubmit to the confequences of 
 my refentment." 
 
 Sir Richard fpoke this in fo determined a tone, 
 that the Baronet w T as ftartled ; and faid, (feeming 
 to recollect himfelf) — " Lord, my dear Sir Richard! 
 I beg ten thoufand pardons ; upon my honour I 
 did not remember. Blefs me ! I have a hundred 
 pound note in my pocket, which is entirely at 
 your fervice !" So faying, he produced the note, 
 which Sir Richard immediately put up j and then 
 addreffed him in the following manner : 
 
 " Though I defpife an obligation from a perfon 
 of fo mean a call as I am fatisfied you are ; yet, 
 rather than be made a fool, I chofe to accept of 
 
 this 
 
( 75 ) 
 
 this hundred pounds, which I fhall return when 
 it fuits my conveniency. But, that the next fa- 
 vour you confer may be done with a better grace, 
 I muft take the liberty of pulling you by the nofe, 
 as a proper expedient to preferve your recollec- 
 tion ; which Sir Richard accordingly did, and 
 then took his leave of the poor Baronet, who was 
 not a little furprifed at the oddity of his behaviour. 
 
 ON A 
 
 PASSION FOR RETIREMENT: 
 
 A DIALOGUE BETWEEN 
 HORTENSIUS, COLUMELLA, & ATTICUS. 
 
 t( ^X^HIS paffion (fays Hortenfius) is become a 
 JL prevailing evil in the world. We are all 
 for quitting the ftage before we have performed 
 our parts. Every little clerk in office muft have 
 his villa, and every tradefman his country-houfe. 
 A cheefemonger retires to his little pafteboard 
 edifice on Turnham-Green, and, when fmoking 
 his pipe under his codling-hedge on his gravel- 
 walk made of coal allies, fancies himfelf a fecond 
 Scinio or Cincinnatus in his retreat, and returns 
 L 2 with 
 
( 76 ) 
 
 with reluctance to town on Monday night, or 
 perhaps deferts it till Tuefday morning, regard- 
 lefs of his fhop, and his inquifitive and difgufted 
 cuftomers." 
 
 <c Yes, (fays Atticus), and I remember, even in 
 Oxford, my old barber cut my face once or twice, 
 while he was haranguing upon the felicity, and 
 venting his wifhes for a fnug rural retreat. All 
 his ambition was to retire into fome country town, 
 where there was a good ring of bells, and two 
 fermons on a Sunday. " 
 
 " And yet (fays Hortenfius) thefe fanclifred re- 
 clufes are generally difappointed of their promifed 
 felicity in a country life ; and either contrive to 
 bring down their town friends to vifit them daily 
 in their folitude, or elfe foon return to the place 
 from whence they came. Some indeed quite dif- 
 gufted, or not being able to breathe in the fmoke 
 of the town, yet not finding that happinefs which 
 they expected in the country, fhift the fcene from 
 one place to another, till death overtakes them. 
 in the career, and lodges them quietly in their 
 grave ; entitled to the well-known epitaph, 
 
 ri Hie quiefcit, qui nunquam quievit :" 
 '-' Here refts the man, who never was at reft." 
 
 (t In 
 
( <7 ) 
 
 ** In fhort, thefe reftlefs, unfettled fearchers 
 after happinefs, are not unlike the ungodly in 
 King David's time, whom he had feen flourishing 
 like the green bay-tree. — * But I went by, (fays 
 he) and lo, he was gone : I fought him, and his 
 place could no where be found.' His place is no 
 where to be found; that is, his Chinefe rails are 
 demolished by a perfon of an higher and more 
 exquifite tafte : a blank wall is ereeled to conceal 
 the houfe from the gaping traveller ; and, in fhort, 
 his place is fo entirely new modelled by fome new 
 candidate for retired happinefs, that it hath loft 
 its identity : we feek for it in vain, and it is no 
 where to be found." 
 
 Columella fmiled at his friend's vehemence, and 
 owned he himfelf had obferved one remarkable 
 inftance of this inconstancy of mankind in their 
 refearches after happinefs. " A fellow (fays he) 
 who kept a little ale-houfe in the fuburbs of Bath, 
 where I have found it convenient to put my horfe 
 thefe ten years, whenever I go thither ; this man, 
 having a well-accuflomed houfe, had made a tole- 
 rable competence by the time he was fifty : and 
 being an old bachelor, retired to a neat box 
 which he had bought, about half a mile out 
 of town, on the moft dufty part of the Briftol road. 
 Here, by gaping about and fmoking his pipe all 
 
 day, 
 
( 78 ) 
 
 clay, he contrived to pafs one fummer in tolera- 
 ble fpirits ; but on the approach of winter, he 
 grew dull and melancholy, and before Chriftmas 
 took a lodging at a girgerbread (hop in thefuburbs, 
 next door to his own ale-houfe ; and by looking 
 out of his window during the winter, and fitting 
 at the door in the fummer, he feems again to en- 
 joy a tolerable exigence. 
 
 ff However, (adds Columella, with a more fe^ 
 rious air,) I hope you would not draw any argu- 
 ment againft an elegant and philofophical retire- 
 ment, from fuch inilances as thefe ; from people 
 that are incapable of thinking, or perhaps of 
 reading, and fupplying the wants of company 
 with the converfation of poets and philofophers, 
 and the greatefi men of antiquity." 
 
 u Why (fays Atticus) this philofophical retire- 
 ment appears plaufible enough in fpeculation ; but 
 I am afraid you have found it very unfatisfaclory 
 in practice. You fancy yourfelf an hermit and a 
 philofopher ; but I am afraid your vulgar neigh-, 
 hours look upon you as an enthufiaft at leaf]:, it 
 not a madman." 
 
 " Yes (fays Hortenfius) people may talk of their 
 Arcadias and their Elyfian fields, — I am fure we 
 
 have 
 
( 79 ) 
 
 have fpent a very happy fortnight in Columella's 
 delightful retreat, and I mould wilh to fpend a 
 few months every Cummer in the country ; but 
 rather than be confined the whole winter in Co 
 abfolute a folitude, I had rather live inWapping, 
 or in Petticoat-lane, and dine every day at the 
 threepenny ordinary, where the knives and forks 
 are chained to the table, and the ladder removed 
 for fear the Caturated guelt Ihould make his efcape 
 without paying his reckoning." 
 
 EPITAPH 
 
 ON A 
 
 YOUNG LADY. 
 
 THIS humble grave tho' no proud ftrutture 
 grace, 
 Yet truth and goodnefs Canclify the place : 
 Yet blamelefs virtue that adorn'd thy bloom, 
 Lamented maid ! now weeps upon thy tomb : 
 ECcap'd from death, O Cafe on that calm more, 
 Where fin, and pain, and paffion are no more ! 
 What never wealth could buy, nor pow'r decree. 
 Regard and pity wait iincere on thee ! 
 Lo ! Coft remembrance drops a pious tear, 
 And holy Criendlhip Cits a mourner here. 
 
 TEM- 
 
( 80 ) 
 
 TEMPERANCE. 
 
 TEMPERANCE In pleafure is eflentially ne- 
 ceffary to be obferved, particularly by youth, 
 that they may beware of that rock ori which 
 thoufands, from race to race, continue to fplit. 
 The love of pleafure, natural to man in every" 
 period of his life, glows at this age with exceffive 
 ardour. 
 
 Novelty adds frem charms, as yet, to every gra- 
 tification. The world appears to fpread a con- 
 tinual feaft ; and health, vigour, and high fpirits, 
 invite them to partake of it without reftraint. In 
 vain are they warned of the latent danger. The 
 old, when they offer their admonitions, are up- 
 braided, wirh having forget that they once were 
 young. And yet, to what do the counfels of age, 
 with refpeel to pleafure, amount ? They may all 
 be comprized in a few words, — Not to hurt our- 
 felves, and not to hurt others, by our purfuit of 
 pleafure, and thofe will be fully effected by tem- 
 perance. Within thefe bounds, pleafure is law- 
 ful; beyond them it becomes criminal, becaufe it 
 is ruinous. 
 
 I fence 
 
( 81 ) 
 
 Hence by this virtue we are not called to re- 
 nounce pleafure, but to enjoy it in fatety. Inftead 
 of abridging it, we are exhorted to purfue it on 
 an cxtenfive plan ; we have meafures propofed 
 for fecuring its poffeffion, and for prolonging its 
 duration. As we conlider ourfelves not only as 
 fenfitive, but as rational beings ; — not only as ra- 
 tional, but focial ; — not only as focial, but immor- 
 tal ; whatever violates our nature in any of thefe 
 refpe&s, cannot afford true pleafure. 
 
 Have we not found that in the courfe of 
 criminal excefs, pleafure was more than com- 
 penfated by fucceeding pain ? Have we not from 
 every habit, at leaft, of unlawful gratification, 
 found fome thorn fpring to wound us ; fome 
 confequence to make us repent of it in the 
 illue ? 
 
 We fliould therefore avoid temptations, for 
 which we have found ourfelves unequal, with as 
 much care as we ihould fhun peftilential infec- 
 tion. 
 
 M ANEO 
 
( 82 ) 
 
 ANECDOTE 
 
 OF THE LATE 
 
 GUSTAVUS BRANDER, Esq^ 
 
 OF 
 
 CHR1STCHURCH, in HANTS. 
 
 THIS gentleman had a mind ftrongly tinc- 
 tured with literary propenfities, and a heart 
 which was always molt gratified in employing his 
 great fortune in a6ls of beneficence. 
 
 A fingular accident happened to him in the 
 war 1768, which had fb ftrong an effect upon 
 his mind, that it influenced his character ever 
 after with an ardent fenfe of piety, and a peculiar 
 reliance upon the fuperintendence of Providence. 
 
 As his carrriage was pafling down Temple-lane, 
 London, the horfes fuddenly took fright, and run 
 with the mod violent rapidity down three flights 
 of fteps into the Thames, and would have pro- 
 ceeded into the middle of it, if the wheels had 
 not been fo clogged by the mud that the horfes 
 could not drag them any further. The fervant 
 behind was fo abforbed in terror, that he was un- 
 able 
 
( 83 ) 
 
 able to throw himfelf from the carriage ; but as 
 foon as it flopped he jumped off, and procured 
 fome afliftance from a neighbouring public-houfc, 
 and who, after difengaging the horfes, pulled 
 the carriage on fhore. 
 
 In confequence of the above circumftance, the 
 prefent gateway at the Temple-Hairs was erected 
 to prevent any future accident of the fame kind. 
 
 Mr. Brander, from a fenfe of this lingular fa- 
 tality, that marked his prefervation, made the 
 following bequeft : — " Two guineas to the Vicar, 
 ten millings to the Clerk, and five to the Sexton 
 of the parifh of Chriftchurch, for a commemo- 
 ration fermon on the third Sunday in Auguft, as 
 an everlafting memorial, and as expreflive of my 
 gratitude to the fupreme Being for my fignal pre- 
 fervation in the year 1768, when my horfes ran 
 violently down the Temple-lane, in London, and 
 down three flights of fteps into the Thames in a 
 dark night ; and yet neither horfes nor carriage, 
 myfelf, or fervants received the leaft injury ; it 
 was fortunately at low water." 
 
 M ? DEATH 
 
( 84 ) 
 
 BON MOT 
 
 OF 
 
 DOCTOR JOHNSON. 
 
 I Remember, fays the Do£tor, to have given a 
 JJiilling to a peafant in the Ifle of Skey, for half 
 a clay's attendance on me, and he was fo ftruck 
 with the liberality of the reward, that he afked 
 with fome furprize, whether I meant it all for him ? 
 
 This raifing the laugh againft Mr. Bofwell, who 
 was the only Scotchman in company, — the Doctor 
 went on, — " I mentioned this circumfrance to 
 fhew the humility of the man's mind ; but had it 
 happened to a peafant of your country, (turning 
 round to an Irifh gentleman who fat next him) 
 the probability is, that he would not know what a 
 Jhilling was." 
 
 DEATH. 
 
{ *5 ) 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 PREPARE to part with life willingly ; ftudy 
 more how to die than to live j if you would 
 live till you are old, live as if you were to die 
 when you are young. In fome cafes it requires 
 more courage to live than to die. He that is not 
 prepared for death, fhall be perpetually troubled, 
 as well with vain apprehenfions, as with real 
 dangers ; but the important point is, to fecure a 
 well grounded hope of a bleffed immortality. 
 
 "When the good Mufculus drew near his death, 
 how fweet and pleafant was this meditation of 
 his foul. 
 
 Cold death my heart invades, my life doth fly, 
 O Chrijl my everlafling life, draw nigh, 
 Why quiv'reft thou my foul, within my breaft ? 
 Thine Angel's come, to lead thee to thy reft. 
 Quit chearfully this dropping houfe of clay, 
 God will reftore it in th' appointed day. 
 Haft finn'd ? I know it, let not that be urg'd, 
 For Chrift thy fins with his own blood hath purg'd. 
 Is death affrighting? True, but yet withal, 
 Confider Chrift thro' death to life doth call. 
 
 He 
 
( 86 ) 
 
 He triumph 'd over Satan, fin, and death, 
 Therefore with joy refign thy dying breath. 
 
 Deftinv has decreed all men to die ; but to die 
 well is the particular privilege of the virtuous and 
 good. 
 
 As there is no covenant to be made with death, 
 fo, no agreement for the arreft and flay of time : 
 It keeps its pace, whether we redeem and ufe it 
 well, or not. 
 
 He that hath given God his worfhip., and man 
 his due, is entertained with comfortable prefages, 
 wears off fmoothly, and expires in pleafure. 
 
 Death is no more than a turning us from time 
 to eternity. It leads to immortality, and that is 
 recompence enough for fuffering it. 
 
 Death is the crown of life, was death denied 
 Poor man had liv'd in vain. 
 
 The way to bring ourfelves with eafe to a con- 
 tempt of this world, is to think daily of leaving 
 it. They who die well have lived long enough ; 
 as foon as death enters upon the ftage, the tragedy 
 of life is done. 
 
 There 
 
. < 87 ) 
 
 There are a great many miferies which nothing 1 
 but death can give relief to. This puts an end to 
 the forrows of the afflicted and diftreflfed. It fets 
 prifoncrs at liberty ; it dries up the tears of the 
 widows and the fatherlefs, it eafes the complaints 
 of the hungry and naked , it tames the proudeft 
 tyrants, and puts an end to all our labours: And 
 the contemplation on it, fupports men under their 
 prefent adverfities, efpecially when they have a 
 profpe£t of a better life after this. 
 
 Learn to live well, that thou may 'ft die fo too ; 
 To live and die is all we have to do. 
 
 Have we fo often fecn ourfelves die in our 
 friends, and fhall we fhrink at our own change ? 
 Hath our Maker fent for us, and we are loth to 
 go ? It was for us our Saviour triumphed over 
 death. Is there then any fear of a foiled adverfarv ? 
 
 The grave lies between us and the objeft we 
 reach after. Where one lives to enjoy whatever 
 he has in view, ten thoufand are cut off in the 
 purfuit of it. 
 
 Many are the fliapes of death, 
 And many are the ways that lead 
 
 To 
 
( 58 ) 
 
 To his grim cave, all difmal ! yet to trie fenfc 
 More terrible at the entrance than within. 
 
 All our knowledge, our employments, our 
 riches, and our honours, muft end in death ; fo 
 that we mull feek a fancluary of happinefs fome 
 where elfe. 
 
 When the fcene of life is fhut up, the flave 
 will be above his mailer, if he has acted a better 
 part ; thus nature and condition are once more 
 brought to a balance. 
 
 How poor will power, wealth, honour, fame, 
 and titles feem at our laffc hour? and how joyful 
 will that man be, who hath led an honeft virtu- 
 ous life, and travelled to heaven, through the 
 rougher! ways of poverty, affliction and contempt. 
 
 That life is long which anfwers life's great end. 
 One eye on death, and one full fix'd on heav'n, 
 Becomes a mortal, and immortal man. 
 
 The young may die fhortly, but the aged can- 
 not live long. Green fruit maybe plucked off, 
 or lhaken down ; but the ripe will fall of itfelf. 
 
 Death 
 

 ( 89 ) 
 
 Death is the privilege of human nature, 
 
 And life — without it, were not worth our taking. 
 
 There is nothing in hiftory, which is fo im- 
 proving to the reader, as thofe accounts which 
 we meet with of the death of eminent perfons, 
 and of their behaviour in that dreadful fcafon. 
 
 Tis a great pitv that men know not to what 
 end they were born in this world, till they are 
 ready to go out of it. 
 
 Life glides away, Lorenzo like a brook, 
 For ever changing, unperceiv'd the change. 
 
 Our lives are ever in the power of death. 
 
 I Was wonderfully affected (fays a worthy Chrif- 
 iian), with a difcourfe I had lately with a clergy- 
 man of my acquaintance upon this head, which 
 was to this effect:. 
 
 The confideration (faid the good man) that my 
 being is precarious, moved me many years ago, 
 to make a refolution, which I have diligently 
 kept, and, to which I owe the greateft fatisfac- 
 tion that mortal man can enjoy. Every night be- 
 fore I addrefs myfelf to my Creator, I lay my 
 hand upon my heart, and afk myfelf, whether, if 
 N God 
 
( 90 ) 
 
 God fhould require my foul of me this night, I 
 could hope for mercy from him. The bitter ago- 
 nies I underwent in this my firft acquaintance with 
 myfelf, were fo far from throwing- me into defpair 
 of that mercy which is over all God's works, that 
 it proved motives of greater circumfpeclion in my 
 future conduct. The oftner I exercifed myfelf in 
 meditations of this kind, the lefs was my anxiety; 
 and by making the thoughts of death familiar, 
 what was at firft fo terrible and (hocking, is now 
 become the fweeteft of my enjoyments. Thefe 
 contemplations have indeed made me ferious, but 
 not fullen ; nay, they are fo far from having four- 
 ed my temper, that I have a mind perfectly com- 
 pofed, and a fecret fpring of joy in my heart ;— I 
 tafte all the innocent fatisfaclions of life pure, as 
 I have no mare in pleafures that leave a fting be- 
 hind them. 
 
 Man but dives in death, 
 
 Dives from the fun in fairer day to rife ; 
 The grave his fubterranean road to blifs. 
 
 Death is only terrible to us as a change of 
 ftate. — Let us then live fo, as to make it only a 
 continuation of it, by the uniform practice of 
 charity, benevolence, and religion, which are 
 to be the exercifes of the next life. 
 
 Fond 
 
( 91 ) 
 
 Fond foolifh man would fain thefe thoughts de- 
 cline, 
 And lofe them in his bus'nefs, fports, and wine ; 
 But canjl thou lofe them ? Se'ft thou not each hour 
 Age drop like Autumn leaves, youth like a flow'r 
 Cut down ; do coffins, graves, and tolling bells 
 Warn thee in vain ? In palaces and cells, 
 The heights of life above, the vales beneath, 
 In towns and fields, we ev'ry where meet death. 
 
 In death's uncertainty thy danger lies. 
 
 As the tree falls, fo muft it lie ; as death leaves 
 us judgment will find us. If fo, how importunate 
 fhould every one of us be to fecure the favour of 
 the Almighty Judge, to be interefted in the Re- 
 deemer's love, and among the number of his 
 chofen people, before it is too late. 
 
 Be like a centinel, keep on your guard, 
 All eye, all ear, all expectation of 
 The coming foe. 
 
 In the death of others we may fee our own mor- 
 tality, and be taught to live more and more in the 
 daily expectation of, and preparation for that aw- 
 ful hour, to which we are all haftening as fail as 
 
 N 2 the 
 
( 92 ) 
 
 the wings of time can carry us. 
 intereft in the bleffed Redeemer. 
 
 Seek then an 
 
 Our birth is nothing, but our death begun. 
 As tapers wafte that inftant they take fire. 
 
 Death is the end of fear, and beginning of fe- 
 licity. Death is the law of nature, the tribute of 
 the flefh, the remedy of evils, and the path either 
 to heavenly felicity, or eternal mifery. 
 
 Eternity, that boundlefs race, 
 Which time himfelf can never run — 
 (Swift as he flies, with an unwearied pace :) 
 Which when ten thoufand thoufand years are 
 
 done, 
 Is ftill the fame, and flill to be begun. 
 
 We always dream, the life of man's a dream, 
 In which frefh tumults agitate his breaft ; 
 Till the kind hand of death unlocks the chain 
 Which clogs the noble and afpiring foul ; 
 And then we truly live. 
 
 ADAM's 
 
( 93' ) 
 ADAM's ADVICE TO EVE, 
 
 TO AVOID TEMPTATION. 
 
 O Woman ! beft are all things ds the will 
 Of God ordain'd them ; his creating hand 
 Nothing imperfect or deficient left 
 Of all that he created, much lefs man, 
 Or aught that might his happy Mate fecure, 
 Secure from outward force ; within himfelf 
 The danger lies, yet lies within his pow'r : 
 Againft: his will he can receive no harm. 
 But God left free the will, for what obeys 
 Reafon is free, and reafon he made right ; 
 But bid her well beware, and (till erect, 
 Left by fome fair appearing good furpris'd 
 She dictate falfe, and mifmform the will 
 To do what God exprefsly hath forbid. 
 Not then miftruft, but tender love enjoins, 
 That I fhould mind thee oft, and mind thou me. 
 Firm we fubfift, yet poflible to fwerve, 
 Since reafon not impoflibly may meet 
 Some fpecious object, by the foe fuborn'd, 
 And fall into deception unaware, 
 Not keeping ftricleft watch, as flie was warn'd. 
 Seek not temptation then, which to avoid 
 Were better, and molt likely if from me 
 
 Thou 
 
( SM ) 
 
 Thou fever not ; trial will come unfought, 
 
 Wouklft thou approve thy conftancy ? approve 
 
 Firft thy obedience : th'other, who can know, 
 
 Not feeing thee attempted, who atteft ? 
 
 But if you think trial unfought may find 
 
 Us both fecurer than thus warn'd thou feem'ft, 
 
 Go ; for thy (lay, not free, abfents thee more ; 
 
 Go in thy native innocence, rely 
 
 On what thou haft of virtue, fummon all, 
 
 For God tow'rds £hee hath done his part, do thine, 
 
 LUXURY 
 
 VIEWED 
 
 IN A POLITICAL LIGHT. 
 
 TO confider luxury in a political view, no re- 
 finement of drefs, of the table, of equipage, 
 of habitation, is luxury in thofe, who can afford 
 the expence, and the public gains by the encou- 
 ragement that is given to arts, manufactures, and 
 commerce. But a mode of living, above a man'^ 
 annual income weakens the ftate, by reducing to 
 poverty, not only the fquanderers themfelves, but 
 many innocent and induftrious pcrfons connected 
 with them. 
 
 Luxury 
 
{ 95 ) 
 
 Luxury is, above all, pernicious in a commer- 
 cial ftate. A perfon of moderation is fatisfied 
 with fmall profits. But the luxurious defpife 
 every branch of trade, that docs not return great 
 profits. Other branches are engrofied by foreign- 
 ers, whe are more frugal. The merchants of Am- 
 fterdam, and even of London, within a century, 
 lived with more ceconomy, than their clerks do 
 at prefent. Their country houfes and gardens 
 make not the greateft article of their expence. 
 At firft, a merchant retires to his country houfe 
 on Sundays only and holidays ; but beginning to 
 relilh indolent retirement, bufincfs grows irkfome, 
 he trulls all to his clerks, lofes the thread of his 
 affairs, and foes no longer with his own eyes. 
 
 In all times, luxury has been the ruin of every 
 ftate where it prevailed. Nations originally are 
 poor and virtuous. They advance to induftry, 
 commerce, and perhaps conqueft and empire. 
 But this ftate is never permanent. Great opu- 
 lence opens a wide door to indolence, fenfuality, 
 corruption, proftitution, fediiion. 
 
 In ancient Egypt, execution againft the perfon 
 of a debtor was prohibited. Such a law could 
 not obtain but among a temperate people, where 
 
 bank- 
 
( 96 ) 
 
 bankruptcy happens by misfortune, and feldom 
 by luxury or extravagance. 
 
 In Switzerland, not onfy a bankrupt, but even 
 his fons are excluded from public office, till all 
 the family debts be paid. 
 
 ANECDOTE 
 
 OF 
 
 VOLTAIRE. 
 
 IT Is well known, that, while Voltaire was in 
 England, the darling fubjeft: of his conver- 
 fation was Milton ; whom he once took occafion 
 to abufe, for his epifode on Death and Sin. — 
 Whereupon a certain wit turned the laugh againlt 
 him, by the following fmart impromtu : 
 
 " Thou art fo witty, profligate, and thin, 
 
 (i Thou'rt Milton's devil, with his Death and Sin." 
 
 We are not told who this certain wit was ; 
 but if we recollect aright, it was the celebrated 
 Dr. Young ; a writer, at that time, as well as 
 fince, of very different difpofrtion and principles 
 from Voltaire. 
 
 RE* 
 
i 97 ) 
 REMARKABLE 
 
 ANECDOTES 
 
 RELATING TO A 
 
 FRENCH AUTHOR AND HIS FAMILY. 
 
 BOISSI, the author of feveral approved dra* 
 matic pieces, and efpecially of one, which 
 was defervedly efteemed, called Francois d Londres, 
 (The Frenchman in London) — found himfelf not 
 exempt from the ufual fate of thofe who cul* 
 tivate the Mufes. Even that fpot, faid to be the 
 leaft barren one of Parnaflus, the theatre, pro- 
 duced him little more than a fcanty maintenance 
 for himfelf, his wife, and one child. In fhort, 
 misfortune, want of aeconomy, perhaps, or what- 
 ever elfe might be the caufe, I cannot well fay, 
 but he was reduced to the moft deplorable extre- 
 mities of want. 
 
 In this condition, finking under the indignities 
 of his fate, he had, however, too much of that 
 fpirit which characterizes genius, to debafe him- 
 felf by mean applications, or mendicant letters. 
 He had friends, whofe kindnefs his need of them 
 had not exhaufted, and whom, for that very reafon, 
 
 O he 
 
( S8 ) 
 
 he was the more averfe from troubling. But 
 his friends were the more inexcufable, if they 
 knew his diftrefs, not to fave him from the pain 
 of an application. However, Boiffi, overcome 
 with the irkfomenefs of his circumftances, em- 
 braced a refolution of taking the fhorteft way out 
 of the world, that of death, and in the light m 
 which he confidered it as a friendly relief from his 
 farther mifery, he not only perfuaded his wife to 
 keep him company, but not to leave behind them 
 a boy, a child of five years, to the mercy of the 
 world, in which they had found fo little happinefs, 
 Probably the example of Richard Smith, in much 
 the fame fituation, might have its fhare in the fatal 
 
 determination. 
 
 » - 
 
 This refolution now formed of dying together, 
 there remained nothing but to fix the manner of 
 it. The moft torturous one was chofen, that of 
 hunger, not only as the moft natural confequence 
 of their condition, of which it might pafs for 
 the involuntary effe£t, but as it faved a violence 
 which neither BoiiTi nor his wife could find in 
 their hearts to ufe to one.another. 
 
 In that folitude then of their apartment, in 
 which the unfortunate need fo little apprehend 
 their being difturbed, they refolved to wait with 
 
 unfhakea- 
 
( 99 ) 
 
 unfhaken conftancy, the arrival of their deliverer, 
 .though under the meagre grim form of famine, 
 
 They began, then, and refolutely, proceeded on 
 ■their plan of ftarving themfelves to death, with 
 their child. — If any called, by chance, at their 
 apartment, finding it locked, and no anfwer given, 
 it was only concluded that nobody was at home. 
 Thus they had all the time they could wiih to 
 confummate their intention. But what can de- 
 ceive or damp a true friend? They had one, it 
 feems, of a fortune not much fuperior to their 
 own, and whom, for that reafon, and for the 
 dread of being an inconvenience to him, they had 
 never acquainted with the extremities to which 
 they w%re actually driven. 
 
 This friend had been one of thofe who had 
 called at their apartment, and finding it fhut 
 up, naturally concluded as others did, — that 
 Boilli and his family were gone out, or, perhaps, 
 removed. 
 
 Upon reflection, however, or from that kind 
 of inftinft, with which the fpirit of friendftiip 
 abounds, he began to apprehend that fomething 
 mull be amifs with his friend, (though he could 
 not guefs what), that he could neither find "him at 
 
 O 2 home 
 
( ioo ) 
 
 home, nor gain any intelligence about him. Un- 
 der this anxiety, he returned to Boifli's apartment, 
 and whether any motion or noife from within be- 
 trayed his being at home, or whether his friend 
 began to fufpe£t fomething of this matter, no an- 
 fwer being returned, he forced open the dopr. 
 
 Boifli and his wife had been fo much in earned, 
 that it was now three days fince they had taken 
 any fuftenance, infomuch that they were now got 
 fo far on their way to their intended home, that 
 one may fay they touched the gates of it. 
 
 The friend, upon his entrance into the room 
 where this fcene of death was going forward, 
 found them already in fuch a fituation, that they 
 feemed infenfible of his intrufion. — Boifli and his 
 wife had no eyes but for one another, and were 
 not fitting, but fupported from falling by two 
 chairs, fet oppofite to each other, their hands 
 locked faft together, and with their ghaftly looks 
 languidly dejefted, in which might be read a kind 
 of rueful companion for the child that hung at 
 her mother's knee, and feemed as if looking up 
 to her for nourishment, in its natural tenacioufnefs 
 of life. This group of wretchednefs did not lefs 
 ihock than afflift the friend. 
 
 Soon 
 
( 101 ) 
 
 Soon collec"Hng from circumftances the meaning 
 of all this, his firft care was, not to export ulate 
 with Boiffi or his wife, but to engage them to 
 receive his fuccours, in which he met with no 
 fmall difficulty. Their refolution had been taken 
 in earned ; they were now got over the worft, and 
 were in view of their port ; the faintnefs which 
 had fucceeded the moft intolerable tortures of 
 hunger, had deadened their fenfe to them and to 
 life. They might, befides, conceive a falfe ihame 
 of not going through with what they had thus 
 refolved ; a kind of flur being too often imagined 
 to attend a fuicide, begun and not finifhed, as if 
 fuppofed a failure of firmnefs. The friend, how- 
 ever, took the right way to reconcile them to life, 
 by making the child join his interceflion : the child, 
 who could have none of the prejudices or reafons 
 they might have for not retracting j and who, 
 though he had a little life left, had ftill enough 
 not to be out of love with it. 
 
 The inftincT: of felf-prefervation operating with 
 its ufual efficacy, he held up his innocent hands, 
 and, in concert with the friend, entreated his pa- 
 rents to confent to all their relief. Nature did 
 not plead in vain. The friend then proceeded to 
 procure them, helplefs and unattended as they 
 were, immediate food, with proper precautions 
 
 and 
 
( i^2 ) 
 
 and cordials ; nor did he leave them till he had 
 feen them in a way of recovery to life, and given 
 them all the money he had about him. 
 
 This flory immediately tGok air ; it reached the 
 ears of Madame Pompadour, who inftantly took 
 him under her protection, fent prefent relief, and 
 procured him the place of Comptroller of the 
 Mercure de France, a place of no incon- 
 fiderable income. 
 
 LABOUR NECESSARY TO EXCELLENCE, 
 
 NATURAL hiftorians aflert, that whatever Is 
 formed for long duration arrives flowly to 
 its maturity. Thus the firraeft timber is of tardy 
 growth, and animals generally exceed each other 
 in longevity, in proportion to the time between 
 their conception and their birth. 
 
 The fame obfervation may be extended to the 
 offspring of the mind. Hafty compofitions, how- 
 ever they pleafe at firft, by flowery luxuriance, 
 and fpread in the funfliine of temporary favour, 
 can feldom endure the change of feafons, bu): 
 
 perifh 
 
( ri* ) 
 
 perifh at the firft blaft of criticifm, or froft of 
 neglect. 
 
 When Apelles was reproached with the 
 paucity of his productions, and the inceflant at- 
 tention with which he retouched his pieces, he 
 condefcended to make no other anfwcr, than that 
 he painted for perpetuity. 
 
 No vanity can more juftly incur contempt and 
 indignation than that which boafls of negligence 
 and hurry. For who can bear with patience the 
 writer who claims fuch fuperiority to the reft of 
 his fpecies, as to imagine that mankind are at 
 ]eifure for attention to his extemporary fallics,and 
 that pofterity will repofit his cafual effufions among 
 the treafures of ancient wifdom? 
 
 Men have fometimes appeared of fuch tranf- 
 cendent abilities, that their flighteft and mod cur- 
 fory performances excel all that labour and ftudy 
 can enable meaner intellects to compofe ; as there 
 are regions of which the fpontaneous products 
 cannot be equalled in other foiis by care and 
 culture. But it is no lefs dangerous for any man 
 to place himfelf in this rank of underftanding, 
 and fancy that he is bom to be illuftrious without 
 
 labour, 
 
( io* ) 
 
 labour, than to omit the cares of huibandry, and. 
 expect from his ground the bloflbms of Arabia. 
 
 The greater! part of thofe who congratulate 
 themfelves upon their intellectual dignity, and 
 ufurp the privileges of genius, are men whom 
 only themfelves would ever have marked out as 
 enriched by uncommon liberalities of nature, or 
 entitled to veneration and immortality on eafy 
 terms. 
 
 This ardour of confidence is ufually found among 
 thofe who, having not enlarged their notions by 
 books or converfation, are perfuaded, by the par- 
 tiality which we all feel in our own favour, that 
 they have reached the fummit of excellence, be- 
 caufe they difcover none higher than themfelves ; 
 and who acquiefce in the firft thoughts that oc- 
 cur, becaufe their fcantinefs of knowledge al- 
 lows them little choice, and the narrownefs of 
 their views affords them no glimpfe of perfection, 
 of that fublime idea which human induftry has 
 from the firft ages been vainly toiling to approach. 
 They fee a little, and believe that there is nothing 
 beyond their fphere of vifion, as the Patuecos 
 of Spain, who inhabited a fmall valley, con- 
 ceived the furrounding mountains to be the boun- 
 daries of the world. 
 
 In 
 
( 105 ) 
 
 In proportion as perfection is more diftinclly 
 conceived, the pleafure of contemplating our own 
 performances will be leflened ; it may therefore 
 be obferved, that they who mod deferve praife, 
 are often afraid to decide in favour of their own 
 performances ; they know how much is dill want- 
 ing to their completion, and wait with anxiety 
 and terror, the determination of the public. — 
 I pleafe every one elfe> fays Tully, but never fatisfy 
 myfelf. 
 
 It has often been enquired, why, notwithftand- 
 ing the advances of latter ages in fcience, and 
 the afliftance which the infufion of fo many new 
 ideas has given us, we ftill fall below the an- 
 cients in the art of composition. 
 
 Some part of their fuperiority may be juflly 
 afcribed to the graces of their language, from 
 which the moft polifhed of the prefent European 
 tongues are nothing more than barbarous dege- 
 nerations. Some advantage they might gain mere- 
 ly by priority, which put them in pofTeiTion of 
 the moft natural fentiments, and left us nothing 
 but fervile repetition or forced conceits. But the 
 greater part of their praife feems to have been 
 the jufl reward of modefty and labour. Their 
 fenfe of human weaknefs confined them com* 
 P mocly 
 
( 106 ) 
 
 monly to one ftady, which their knowledge of 
 the extent of every fcience engaged them to pro- 
 fecute with indefatigable diligence. 
 
 Among the writers of antiquity I remember 
 none except Statins who ventures to mention the 
 fpeedy productions of his writings, either as an 
 extenuation of his faults, or a proof of his facility. 
 Nor did Statius> when he confidered as a candi- 
 date for lafling reputation, think a clofer atten- 
 tion unneceffary, but amidft all his pride and indi- 
 gence, the two great hafteners of modern poems, 
 employed, twelve years upon the Thebaid, and 
 thinks his clakns to renown proportionate to hh 
 labour. 
 
 Thebais, mult a cruciata lima, 
 Tentat, au'dacijidc, Mantnana: 
 
 Gaudiafama. 
 Polifli'd with endlefs toil, my lays 
 At length afpire to Mantuan praife. 
 
 Ovid indeed apologizes in his banifhment fot 
 .the imperfection of his letters, but mentions his 
 want of leifure to polilh them as an addition to 
 his calamities ; and wasfo far from imagining re- 
 vifals and corrections unneceflary, that at his de- 
 parture from Rome he threw his Metamorphofes 
 
 into 
 
( 107 ) 
 
 into the fire, left he fhould be difgraced by a 
 book which he could not hope to finiih. 
 
 It feems not often to have happened that the 
 fame writer afpired to reputation in verfe and 
 profe ; and of thofe few that attempted fuch a 
 diverfity of excellence, I know not that even one 
 Tucceeded. Contrary characters they never ima- 
 gined a fingle mind able to fupport, and therefore 
 no man is recorded to have undertaken more than 
 one kind of dramatick poetry. 
 
 What they had written they did not venture in 
 their nrft fondnefs to thruft into the world, but 
 confidering the impropriety of fending forth in- 
 confiderately that which cannot be recalled, de- 
 ferred the publication, if not nine years, accord- 
 ing to the direction of Horace, yet till their fancy 
 was cooled after the raptures of invention, and 
 the glare of novelty had ceafed to dazzle the 
 judgment. 
 
 There were in thofe days no weekly or diurnal 
 writers ; multa dies, 6? multa lilura, much time, 
 and many rafures, were confidered as indifpen- 
 fable requifites ; and that no other method of at- 
 taining lafting praife has been yet difcovered, 
 may be conjectured from the blotted manufcripts 
 P2 of 
 
( 108 ) 
 
 of Milton now remaining, and from the tardy 
 emiffion of Popes compofitions, delayed more 
 than once till the incidents to which they alluded 
 were forgotten, till his enemies were fecure from 
 his fatire, and, what to an honeft mind muft 
 be more painful, his friends were deaf to his 
 encomiums. 
 
 To him, whofe eagernefs of praife hurries his 
 productions foon into the light, many imperfec- 
 tions are unavoidable, even where the mind fur- 
 nilhes the materials, as well as regulates their dif- 
 pofitions, and nothing depends upon fearch or 
 informations. Delay opens new veins of thought ; 
 the fubject difmiffed for a time, appears with a 
 new train of dependant images ; the accidents of 
 reading or converfation fupply new ornaments or 
 allufions, or mere intermimon of the fatigue of 
 thinking, enables the mind to collect new force, 
 and make new excurfions. 
 
 But all thofe benefits come too late for him, 
 who, when he was weary with labour, matched 
 at the recompence, and gave his work to his 
 friends and his enemies, as foon as impatience 
 and pride perfuaded him to concluded it. 
 
 One 
 
( 109 ) 
 
 One of the moft pernicious effects of hafte is 
 obfcurity. He that teems with a quick fucceffion 
 of ideas,, and perceives how one fentiment pro- 
 duces another, eafily believes that he can clearly 
 exprefs what he fo ftrongly comprehends ; he fel- 
 dom fufpefrs his thoughts of embarrafsment, 
 while he preferves in his own memory the ferics 
 £>f connection, or his diction of ambiguity, while 
 only one fenfe is prefent to his mind. Yet if he 
 has been employed on an abftrufe or complicated 
 argument, he will find, when he has awhile with- 
 drawn his mind, and returns as a new reader to 
 his work, that he has only a conjectural glimpfe of 
 his own meaning, and that to explain it to thofe 
 w r hom he defires to inftruct, he mufl open his fen- 
 timents, difentangle his method, and alter his 
 arrangement. 
 
 Authors and lovers always fuffer fome infatua- 
 tion, from which only abfence can fet them free , 
 and every man ought to reftore himfelf to the full 
 exercifeof his judgment, before he does that which 
 he cannot do improperly, without injuring his ho- 
 nour and his quiet. 
 
 AN 
 
( no) 
 
 AN 
 
 EVENING REFLECTION. 
 
 WHILE night, in folemn made, inverts the 
 pole, 
 And calm reflection fooths the penfive foul ; 
 While reafon, undifturb'd, afferts her fway, 
 And life's deceitful colours fade away— 
 To thee, all confcious prefence ! I devcte 
 This peaceful interval offober thought. 
 Here all my better faculties confine, 
 And be this hour of facred fiience thine. 
 If by the day's illufive fcenes milled, 
 My erring foul from virtue's paths has ltray'd, 
 Snar'd by example, or by pailion warm'd, 
 Some falfe delight my giddy fenfe has charm 'd ; 
 My calmer thoughts the wretched choice reprove* 
 And my beft hopes are center'd in thy love. 
 Depriv'd of this, can life one joy afford ? 
 Its utmoit boaft, a vain, unmeaning word. 
 
 But, ah ! how oft my lawlefs pailions rove, 
 And break thofe awful precepts I approve ! 
 Purfue the fatal impulfe I abhor, 
 And violate the virtue I adore ! 
 Oft when thy better fpirit's guardian care, 
 Warn'd my fond foul to fhun the tempting fnare, 
 My ftubborn will his gentle aid repreft, 
 And chcck'd the rifme: goodnefs in my brealt. ; 
 
 Mad 
 
( 111 ) 
 
 Mad with vain hopes, or urg'd by falfe defires, 
 
 Still'd'hisfoft voice, and quenched his facred fires. 
 
 With grief oppreft, and proftrate in the duft, 
 
 Should'ft thou condemn, I own the fentence juft. 
 
 But, oh! thy fofter titles let me claim, 
 
 And plead my caufe by mercy's gentle name — 
 
 Mercy, that wipes the penitential tear, 
 
 And difllpates the horrors of defpair ; 
 
 From rig'rous juftice deals the vengeful hour, 
 
 Softens the dreadful attribute of pow'r, 
 
 Difarms the wrath of an offended God, 
 
 And feals my pardon in a Saviour's blood. 
 
 All-pow'rful grace, exert thy gentle fway. 
 
 And teach my rebel paflions to obey, 
 
 Left lurking folly, with infidious art, 
 
 Regain my volatile, inconftant heart. 
 
 Shall ev'ry high refolve devotion frames, 
 
 Be only lifelefs founds and fpecious names ? 
 
 Oh ! rather while thy hopes and fears controul, 
 
 In this ftill hour, each motion of my foul, 
 
 Secure its fafety by a fudden doom, 
 
 And be the foft retreat of fleep my tomb* 
 
 Calm let me (lumber in that dark repofe, 
 
 'Till the laft morn its orient beam difclofe ; 
 
 Then when the great archangel's potent found 
 
 Shall echo thro' creation's ample round, 
 
 Wak'd from the fleep of death, with joy furvey 
 
 The op'ning fplendors of eternal day. 
 
 ANEC- 
 
( H2 ) 
 
 ANECDOTE OF 
 
 FREDERICK III. 
 KING OF PRUSSIA. 
 
 THE King one day found a Dutch merchant 
 at Sans-Souci. He politely accofted him, 
 and aiked if he wifhed to fee the gardens. The 
 merchant, who did not know his Majefty, an- 
 fwered, he did not think that would be permitted 
 while the Kins: was there. 
 
 o 
 
 " Give yourfelf no concern about that," an- 
 fwered Frederick, " I will Ihow it to you myfelf." 
 He then led the merchant to the moll: beautiful 
 fpots in the garden, and defired his opinion con- 
 cerning a variety of things. When he had fhown 
 him every thing that was remarkable, the mer- 
 chant took out his purfe, and would have given 
 fome money to his guide. 
 
 " No," faid the King, " we are not allowed to 
 take any thing: we Ihould lofc our places if we 
 
 did." 
 
 The 
 
( 113 ) 
 
 The merchant thanked him very politely, and 
 took his leave, perfuaded it was the infpe£tor of 
 the gardens. He had fcarce proceeded a few 
 fteps, when he met the gardiner, who faid to 
 him roughly, " What do you do here ? The King 
 is yonder." 
 
 The Dutchman told him what had happened, 
 and praifed very much the politenefs of the gen- 
 tleman that had mown him the garden. 
 
 " An do you know who that is?" faid the gar- 
 diner : " It is the King himfelf." 
 
 The aftonifliment of the Dutchman may be 
 eafily conceived. 
 
 ANECDOTE 
 
 OF A 
 
 (QUAKER. 
 
 A Quaker coming to town with his team, wae 
 laid hold of, and took before a Juftice for 
 riding upon the (hafts of his cart, and was fined 
 
 forty ihillings. 
 
 Q The 
 
( m ) 
 
 The Quaker, without hefitation, threw down 
 two guineas; when the Juftice told him, he mud 
 have two {hillings change. Ay, fays the Quaker, 
 but thou haft been at fo much trouble, thee 
 mayeft keep the two (hillings to thyfelf ; only thee 
 write it down on a bit of paper for my fatisfaElion ; 
 which the Juftice accordingly did, and gave a re- 
 ceipt for two guineas, but not upon ftamped 
 paper. 
 
 The Quaker immediately goes to a neigh- 
 bouring Juftice, fhews him the receipt, tells 
 him he had juft taken it, and afked if it was 
 according to law ? 
 
 No, faid the Juftice, it mould have been upon 
 ftamped paper. 
 
 The Juftice was brought before him ; and fined 
 in the penalty of five pounds, to the no fmall 
 mortification of the Juftice, and the great laugh- 
 ter of the company prefent. 
 
 COM- 
 
( us ) 
 
 COMPASSION. 
 
 PITY is, to many of the unhappy, a fource 
 of comfort in hopeful diftrefs, as it contri- 
 butes to recommend them to themfelVes, by prov- 
 ing that they have not loft the regard of others ; 
 end heaven feems to indicate the duty even of 
 barren companion, by inclining us to weep for 
 evils which we cannot remedy. 
 
 Half the mifery of human life might be ex- 
 tinguilhed, would men alleviate the general curfe 
 they lie under by mutual offices of Companion, 
 Benevolence, and Humanity. 
 
 No radiant pearl which creftcd fortune wears, 
 No gem that twinkling hangs from beauty's ears, 
 Not the bright ftars which night's blue arch adorn, 
 Nor vernal funs that gild the riling morn, 
 Shine with fuch luftre, as the tear that breaks, 
 For other's woes, down virtue's manly cheeks, 
 
 Q 2 AN 
 
( "6). 
 
 AN 
 
 ANECDOTE 
 
 OF 
 
 HEIDEGGER. 
 
 THE following particulars are related of a 
 fingular character, one Heidegger, a native 
 of Zurich, Mafter of the Revels, and Chief Ma- 
 nager of the Opera-Houfe, in the late King's 
 reign. 
 
 As to his perfon, though he was tall and well 
 made, it was uncommonly difagreeable, owing to 
 an ugly face, fcarcely human. He was the firft 
 to joke upon his own uglinefs ; and he once laid 
 a wager with Lord Chefterfield, that within a cer- 
 tain given time, his Lordfhip would not be able 
 to produce fo hideous a face in all London. The 
 time elapfed ; Heidegger won the wager. 
 
 Our readers will not be furprized to hear that 
 the King condefc ended to requeft him to lit for 
 his picture - 3 but in vain, though the Nobility, 
 who were moil intimate with him, and all his 
 beft patrons, urged the indecency of the refufal. 
 
 This 
 
( in ) 
 
 This obftinacy gave rife to a very laughable ad- 
 venture : 
 
 The late facetious Duke of Montagu (the 
 memorable author of the bottle-conjuror at the 
 theatre in the Hay-market) gave an entertainment 
 at the Devil-Tavern, Temple-Bar, to feveral of 
 the Nobility and Gentry, fele£ting the moll: con- 
 vivial, and a few hard-drinkers, who were all in 
 the plot. Heidegger was invited, and, in a few 
 hours was made fo dead drunk, that he was car- 
 ried out of the room, and laid infenfible upon a 
 bed. A profound fleep enfued ; when the late 
 Mrs. Salmon's daughter was introduced, who 
 took a mould from his face in plaifter of Paris. 
 From this a mafk was made ; and a few days 
 before the next mafquerade (at which the King 
 promifed to be prefent, with the Countefs of 
 Yarmouth), the Duke made application to Hei- 
 degger's Valet-de-Chambre, to know what fuit of 
 clothes he was likely to wear - 3 and then procur- 
 ing a fimilar drefs, and a perfon of the fame 
 feature, he gave him his inftruclions. 
 
 On the evening of the mafquerade, as foon as 
 his Majefty was feated (who was always known 
 by the conductor of the entertainment, and the 
 officers of the Court, though concealed by his 
 
 drefs 
 
( H8 ) 
 
 drefs from the company), Heidegger, as ufuai, or- 
 dered the mufic to play Godfave the King ; but 
 his back was no fooner turned than the falfe Hei- 
 degger ordered them to ftrike up Charley over the 
 Water. The whole company were inftantly thun- 
 derftruck ; and all the Courtiers, not in the plot, 
 were thrown into a ftupid confternation. 
 
 Heidegger flew to the mufic-gallery, fwore^ 
 ftamped, and raved, accufed the Muficians of 
 drunkennefs, or of being fet on by fome fecret 
 enemy to ruin him. The King and the Countefs 
 laughed fo immoderately, that they hazarded a 
 difcovery. ■ 
 
 While Heidegger flaid in the gallery, Godfave 
 the King was the tune; but when, after fetting 
 matters to-rights, he retired to one of the dancing 
 rooms, to obferve if decorum was kept by the 
 company, the Counterfeit ftepping forward, and 
 placing himfelf upon the floor of the theatre, juft 
 in front of the mufic gallery, called out in a mod 
 audible voice, imitating Heidegger, damned them 
 for blockheads, — had he not juit told them to play 
 Charley over the Water? — A paufe enfued : the 
 Mulicians, who knew his character, in their turn 
 thought him cither drunk or mad ; but, as he 
 continued his vociferation, Charley was played 
 
 again. 
 
( "? ) 
 
 again. At this repetition of the fuppofed affront, 
 fbme of the officers of the guards, who always 
 attended upon thefe occafions ; were for afcending 
 the gallery, and kicking the Muficians out ; but. 
 the late Duke of Cumberland, who could hardly 
 contain himfelf, interpofed. 
 
 The company were thrown into great confufiorr. 
 " Shame ' Shame !" refounded from all parts, and 
 Heidegger once more flew in a violent rage to 
 that part of the theatre facing the gallery. — Here 
 the Duke of Montagu, artfully addreffing himfelf 
 to him, told him the King was in a violent paf- 
 fion ; that his belt way was to go inftantly and 
 make an apology, for certainly the Mufic was 
 mad, and afterwards to difcharge them. 
 
 Almoft at the fame inltant, he ordered the 
 falfe Heidegger to do the fame. The fcene now 
 became truly comic in the circle before the King. 
 Heidegger had no fooner made a genteel apology 
 for the infolence of the Muficians, but the falfe 
 Heidegger advanced, and in a plaintive tone, 
 cried out, " Indeed, Sire, it was not my fault, 
 but that devil's in my likenefs." Poor Heidegger 
 turned round, (tared, daggered, grew pale, and 
 could not utter a word. — The Duke then hu- 
 mane ly 
 
( 120) 
 
 manely whifpered in his ear fome of the plot, and 
 the Counterfeit was ordered to take off his malk. 
 
 Here ended the frolick ; but Heidegger fwore 
 he would never attend any public amufement if 
 that witch, the wax-work woman, did not break 
 the mould, and melt down the mafk before his 
 face. 
 
 To this occurrence, the following imperfect 
 flanzas, tranfcribed from the hand-writing of Pope, 
 are fuppofed to relate. They were found on the 
 back of a page, containing fome part of his 
 tranflation, either of the Iliad or Odyffey, in the 
 Britifh Mufeum. 
 
 Then he went to the fide-board, and call'd for 
 
 much liquor, 
 And glafs after glafs he drank quicker and 
 quicker ; 
 
 So that Heidegger quoth, 
 Nay, faith on his oath, 
 Of two hogfheads of Burgundy, Satan drank both. 
 
 Then all like a the Devil appear'd, 
 
 And ftrait the whole table of dirties he clear'd : 
 
 Then a friar, then a nun, 
 
 And then he put on 
 A face all the companv took for his own. 
 
 SFRING, 
 
( 121 ) 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 AN ODE. 
 
 STERN Winter now, by Spring reprefs'd, 
 Forbears the long continued ftrife j 
 And nature, on her naked bread, 
 Delights to catch the gales of life. 
 
 Now o'er the rural kingdom roves 
 
 Soft pleafure, with her laughing train i 
 
 Love warbles in the vocal groves, 
 And vegetation plants the plain. 
 
 Unhappy ! whom to beds of pain, 
 
 Arthritic tyranny * configns ; 
 Whom fmiling nature courts in vain, 
 
 Tho' rapture fmgs, and beauty fhines. 
 
 Yet tho' my limbs deceafe invades, 
 
 Her wings imagination tries, 
 And bears me to the peaceful (hades 
 
 Where 's humble turrets rife. 
 
 * The author being ill of the gout. 
 
 R Here 
 
( 122 ) 
 
 Here flop, my foul, thy rapid flight, 
 Nor from the pleafing groves depart, 
 
 Where firft great nature charm'd my fight, 
 Where wifdom firft inform'd my heart. 
 
 Here let me thro' the vales purfue, 
 A guide — a father — and a friend : 
 
 Once more great nature's works renew, 
 Once more on wifdom's voice attend. 
 
 From falfe careffes, caufelefs ftrife, 
 Wild hope, vain fear, alike remov'd ; 
 
 Here let me learn the ufe of life, 
 
 When befl enjoy 'd — when moll improv'd- 
 
 Teach me, thou venerable bow'r, 
 
 Cool meditation's quiet feat ; 
 The gen'rous fcorn of venal pow'r, 
 
 The filent grandeur of retreat. 
 
 When pride by guilt to greatnefs climbs. 
 
 Or raging faction rufh to war, 
 Here let me learn to fhun the crimes 
 
 I can't prevent, and will not fhare. 
 
 But left I fall by fubtler foes, 
 
 Bright wifdom teach me Curio's art, 
 
 The fwelling pafiions to compofe, 
 And quell the rebels of the heart. 
 
 A VIR- 
 
( 123 ) 
 
 A VIRTUOUS OLD AGE 
 
 ALWAYS REVERENCED. 
 
 I HAVE always thought it the bufinefs of thofe 
 who turn their fpeeulations upon the living 
 world, to commend the virtues as well as to ex- 
 pofe the faults of their contemporaries, and to 
 confute a falfe as well as to fupport a juft accufa- 
 tion ; not only becaufe it is peculiarly the bufinefs 
 of a monitor to keep his own reputation untainted, 
 left thofe who can once charge him with par- 
 tiality, lliould indulge themfelves afterwards in 
 disbelieving him at pleafure ; but becaufe he may 
 find real crimes fufficient to give full employment 
 to caution or repentance, without diftra£Hng the 
 mind by needlefs fcruples and vain folicitudes. 
 
 There are certain fixed and ftated reproaches 
 that one part of mankind has in all ages thrown 
 upon another, which are regularly tranfmitted 
 through continued fuccefiions, and which he that 
 has once fuffered them is certain to ufe with the 
 fame undiftinguiihed vehemence, when he has 
 changed his ftation, and gained the prefcriptive 
 right of inflicting on others, what he had formerly 
 endured himfelf. 
 
 R 2 Tq 
 
( 124 ) 
 
 To thefe hereditary imputations, of which no 
 man fees the juftice, till it becomes his intereft 
 to fee it, very little regard is to be fhewn ; fince 
 it does not appear that they are produced by ra- 
 tiocination or enquiry, but received implicitly, 
 or caught by a kind of inftantaneous contagion, 
 and fupported rather by willingnefs to credit 
 than ability to prove them. 
 
 It has been always the practice of thofe who 
 are defirous to believe themfelves made venerable 
 by length of time, to cenfure the new comers into 
 life, for want of refpect to grey hairs and fage ex- 
 perience ; for heady confidence in their own un- 
 derstandings, for hafty conclufions upon partial 
 views, for difregard of counfels, which their 
 fathers and grandfires are ready to afford them, 
 and a rebellious impatience of that fubordination 
 to which youth is condemned by nature, as necef- 
 fary to its fecurity from evils into which it would 
 be otherwife precipitated, by the rafhnefs of paf- 
 fion, and the blindnefs of ignorance. 
 
 Every old man complains of the growing de- 
 pravity of the world, of the petulance and in- 
 folence of the rifing generation. He recounts the 
 decency and regularity of former times, and cele- 
 brates the difcipline and fobriety of the age in 
 
 which 
 
{ 125 ) 
 
 which his youth was pafled ; a happy age which 
 is now now more to be expected, fince confufion 
 has broken in upon the world, and thrown down 
 all the boundaries of civility and rcvtrence. 
 
 It is not fufhciently confidered how much he 
 aflumes who dares to claim the privilege of com- 
 plaining ; for as every man has, in his own opinion, 
 a full fhare of the miferies of life, he is inclined 
 to confider all clamorous uneafinefs as a proof of 
 impatience rather than of affliction, and to afk, 
 What merit has this man to (how, bv which he 
 has acquired a right to repine at the diftiibutions 
 of nature ? Or, why does he imagine that ex- 
 emptions lhould be granted him from the general 
 condition of man ? We find ourfelyes excited 
 rather to captioufnefs than pity ; and inltead of 
 being in hafte to footh his complaints by fvm- 
 pathy and tendernefs, we enquire, whether the 
 pain be proportionate to the lamentation, and 
 whether, fuppoling the affliction real, it is not the 
 effecl: of vice and tolly rather than calamity. 
 
 The queruloufnefs and indignation which is ob- 
 ferved fo often to disfigure the laft fcene of life, 
 naturally leads us to enquiries like thefe. For 
 furely it will be thought at the firft view of things, 
 that if age be thus contemned and ridiculed, in- 
 
 fulted 
 
( 126 ) 
 
 fulted and neglected, the crime muft at leaft be 
 equal on either part. They who have had oppor- 
 tunities of eftablifhing their authority over minds 
 duttile and unrefifting, they who have been the 
 protectors of helplefsnefs and the inftructors of 
 ignorance, and who yet retain in their own hands 
 the power of wealth and the dignity of command, 
 muft defeat their influence by their own mif- 
 condu£t, and make ufe of all thefe advantages 
 with very little fkill, if they cannot fecure to 
 themfelves an appearance of refpecl, and ward 
 off" open mockery and declared contempt. 
 
 The general ftory of mankind will evince, that 
 lawful and fettled authority is very feldom re- 
 filled when it is well employed. Grofs corrup- 
 tion, or evident imbecility, is neceflary to the 
 fupprellion of that reverence with which the 
 majority of mankind look upon their governors, 
 on thofe whom they fee furrounded by fplendour 
 and fortified by power. For though men are 
 drawn by their paffions into forgetfulnefs of in- 
 vifible rewards and puniihments, yet they are 
 eaiily kept obedient to thofe who have temporal 
 dominion in their hands, till their veneration is 
 diffipated by fuch wickednefs and folly as can 
 neither be defended nor concealed. 
 
 It 
 
( 127 ) 
 
 It may, therefore, very reafonably be Fufpe&ed 
 that the old draw upon themfelves the greateft 
 part of thofe infults, which they fo much lament, 
 and that age is rarely defpifed but when it is con- 
 temptible. If men imagine that excefs of de- 
 bauchery can be made reverend by time, that 
 knowledge is the confequence of long life, how- 
 ever idly and thoughtlefsly employed, that priority 
 of birth will fupply the want of fteadinefs or ho- 
 nefty, can it raife much wonder that their hopes 
 are difappointed, and that they fee their pofterity 
 rather willing to truft their own eves in the pro- 
 grefs into life, than enlift themfelves under guides 
 who have loft their way ? 
 
 There are, indeed, many truths which time 
 neceffarily and certainly teaches, and which might, 
 by thofe who have learned them from experience, 
 be communicated to their fucceflbrs at a cheaper 
 rate : but dictates, though liberally enough be- 
 ftowed, are generally without effect ; the teacher 
 gains few profelytes by inftruclion which his own 
 behaviour contradicts ; and young men mifs the 
 benefit of counfel, becaufe they are not very ready 
 to believe that thofe who fall below them in 
 pra£tice, can much excel them in theory. Thus 
 the progrefs of knowledge is retarded, the world 
 is kept long in the fame ftate, and every new race 
 
 is 
 
( 128 ) 
 
 is to gain the prudence of their predeceflbrs by 
 committing and redreffing the fame mifcarriages- 
 
 To fecure to the old that influence which 
 they are willing to claim, and which might fo 
 much contribute to the improvement of the arts 
 of life, it is abfolutely neceffary that they give 
 themfelves up to the duties of declining years ; 
 and contentedly refign to youth its levity, its plea- 
 fures, its frolicks, and its fopperies. It is a hope- 
 lefs endeavour to unite the contrarieties of fpring 
 and winter ; it is unjuft to claim the privileges of 
 age, and retain the playthings of childhood. The 
 young always form magnificent ideas of the wif- 
 dom and gravity of men, w T hom they confider as 
 placed at a diftance from them in the ranks of 
 exiftence, and naturally look on thofe whom they 
 find trifling with long beards, with contempt and 
 indignation, like that which women feel at the 
 effeminacy of men. If dotards will contend with 
 boys in thofe performances in which boys mufl 
 always excel them ; if they will drefs crippled 
 limbs in embroidery, endeavour at gaiety with 
 faultering voices, and darken aflemblies of plea- 
 fure with the ghaftlinefs of difeafe, they may well 
 expect thofe who find their diverfions obftru£ted 
 will hoot them away j and that if they defcend 
 
 to 
 

 ( 129 ) 
 
 to competition with youth, they mull bear the to- 
 folence of fuccefsful rivals. 
 
 Lujipi fatis, cdijli fatis atque libijli : 
 Tempus abire tibi eft. 
 
 You've had your fhare of mirth, of meat and 
 
 drink, 
 Tis time to quit the fcene — 'tis time to think. 
 
 Another vice of age, by which the rifing gene- 
 ration may be alienated from it, its feverity and 
 cenforioufnefs, that gives no allowance to the 
 failings of early life, that expects artfulncfs from 
 childhood and conftancy from youth, that is pe- 
 remptory in every command, and inexorable to 
 every failure. There are many who Jive merely 
 to hinder happinefs, and whofe defcendants can 
 only tell of long life, that it produces fufpicion, 
 malignity, peeviihnefs, and perfecution : and yet. 
 even thefe tyrants can talk of the ingratitude of 
 the age, curfe their heirs for impatience, and 
 wonder that young men cannot take pleafure in 
 their father's company. 
 
 He that would pafs the latter part of life with 
 honour and decency, mud, when he is youn°-, 
 confider that he ihall one day be old j and remem- 
 
 S ber 
 
( 150) 
 
 ber when he is old, that he has once been youn£. 
 In youth he mult lay up knowledge for his fup- 
 port, when his powers of a£ting mall forfake 
 him ; and in age forbear to animadvert with 
 rigour on faults which experience only can cor- 
 re£l. 
 
 ELEGY TO PITY. 
 
 HAIL, lovely Pow'r ! whofe bofom heaves the 
 
 When Fancy paints the fcene of deep diftrefs ; 
 Whofe tears fpontaneous cryftallize the eye, 
 When rigid Fate denies the pow'r to blefs. 
 
 Not all the fweets Arabia's gales convey 
 
 From flow'ry meads, can with that figh compare, 
 
 Not dew drops glitt'ring in the morning ray, 
 Seem near fo beauteous as that falling tear. 
 
 Devoid of fear, the fawns around thee play; 
 
 Emblem of peace, the dove before thee flies ; 
 No blood-ftain'd traces mark thy blamelefs way, 
 
 Beneath tjiy feet no haplcfs infe£t dies. 
 
 Come, 
 
( 131 ) 
 
 Come, lovely nymph ! and range the mead with me, 
 To fpring the partridge from the guileful foe, 
 
 From fecret fnares the ftruggling bird to free, 
 And flop the hand uprais'd to give the blow. 
 
 And when the air with heat meridian glows, 
 And nature droops beneath the conqu'ring 
 gleam, 
 
 Let us, flow wand'ring where the current flows, 
 Save finking flies that float along the ftream. 
 
 Or turn to nobler, greater talks thy care, 
 To me thy fympathetic gifts impart ; 
 
 Teach me in friendfhip's griefs to bear a ihare, 
 And juftly boaft the gcn'rous feeling heart. 
 
 Teach me to foothe the helplefs orphan's grief, 
 With timely aid the widow's woes afluage ; 
 
 To mifery's moving cries to yield relief, 
 And be the fure refource of drooping age. 
 
 So when the genial fpring of life (hall fade, 
 And finking nature owns the dread decay -, 
 
 Some foul congenial then may lend its aid, 
 And gild the clofe of life's eventful day. 
 
 REC 
 
T 
 
 ( 132 ) 
 
 RECTITUDE. 
 
 HE confcioufnefs of rectitude is (o delighting 
 to the mind, that if experience did not con- 
 vince us of the contrary, we muft fuppofe the 
 perpetration of evil to be impoffible. 
 
 The anxiety and fears which continually tor- 
 ment the guilty mind, prove, that virtue is its 
 own reward, fo is vice its own punimment. 
 
 Afk the honeft man from whence proceeds his 
 tranquillity, and he will anfwer, " I am free from 
 the rankling reflections that arife from the per- 
 petration of bad actions." 
 
 Purfue the libertine through the guilty incidents 
 of his life, and you will find that pain is the con- 
 usant attendant on his pleafures. 
 
 Vifit.him in the gayeft fcene of difiipation, and 
 you will perceive that he is not happy. 
 
 Senfual pleafures are like the rofe; they pleafe 
 the fenfe, but a thorn lies beneath ; and the thorn 
 remains after the flower has loft its fenfe and fried 
 its leaves. 
 
 GRA- 
 
( 133 ) 
 
 GRATITUDE AND PIETY. 
 
 ARTABANES was diftinguiftied with pecu- 
 liar favour by a wife, powerful, and good 
 Prince. A magnificent palace, furrounded with 
 a delightful garden, was provided for his refidence. 
 He partook of all the luxuries of his Sovereign's 
 table, was invetTed with extenfive authority, and 
 admitted to the honour of a free intercourfe with 
 his gracious mailer. But Artabanes was infen- 
 fible of the advantages which he enjoyed ; his 
 heart glowed not with gratitude and rcfpecl: ; he 
 avoided the fociety of his benefaclor, and abufed 
 his bounty. I dcteft fuch a character, faid .Alexis, 
 with generous indignation ! — It is your own pic- 
 ture which I have drawn, replied Euphronius. 
 The great Potentate of heaven and earth has 
 placed you in a world which difplavs the higher! 
 beauty, order, and magnificence ; and which 
 abounds with every means of convenience, en- 
 joyment, and happinefs. He has furniihed you 
 with fuch powers of body and mind as give you 
 dominion over the fiihes of the fea, the fowls of 
 the air, and the beafts of the field : and he has in- 
 vited you to hold communion with him, and to 
 exalt your own nature by the Jove and imitation 
 
 of 
 
( 134 ) 
 
 of his divine perfections : yet have your eyes 
 wandered with brutal gaze over the fair creation, 
 unconfcious of the mighty hand from which it 
 fprung. You have rioted in the profufion of 
 nature, without one fecret emotion of gratitude to 
 the Sovereign Difpenfer of all good ; and you 
 have flighted the glorious converfe, and forgotten 
 the prefence of that Omnipotent Being, who fills 
 all fpace, and exifts through all eternity. 
 
 A REMARKABLE 
 
 CANADIAN ANECDOTE. 
 
 SOON after the foundation of the hofpital at 
 Quebec, the war breaking out again between 
 the Five Nations, or the Iroquois, and the Hurons, 
 or French Indians, an Iroquois of fome diftinc- 
 tion was, in one of the {kirmifhes which enfued, 
 taken prifoner, and by the Council of the Elders 
 deftined to replace the nephew of an Huron chief, 
 who had been flain in the engagement. 
 
 The prifoner was drefTed in a new robe of 
 caftor, adorned with a curious necklace, and on 
 his temples he wore a circlet, in form of a diadem : 
 but before it was determined that his life mould 
 
 be 
 
 
I 1S5 ) 
 
 be faved, he had been, according to cuftom, tor- 
 tured. One hand had been crufhcd between two 
 Hones, and one finger torn off: they had likewife 
 chopped off" two fingers of the other hand ; the 
 joints of his arms were burned to the bone, and 
 in one of them there was a dreadful gafh, or in- 
 cifion. This cruel treatment he had received in 
 the march ; for as foon as he entered the firft 
 village of the Hurons, he was treated with great 
 ceremony and magnificence, entertained by every 
 hut, and even complimented with a young woman 
 to live with him as his wife. It was in one of 
 thefc habitations that he was feen by father Brebent, 
 the miflionary, who converted, and baptized him 
 by the name of Jofcph. I lis fores he endeavoured 
 to cleanfe, but by this time they were covered 
 with worms, that burrowed in the Hem, and could 
 not be removed. 
 
 As he proceeded from one Indian town to 
 another, the feafting continued all day long, 
 and the prifoner fung inceflantly until his voice 
 was quite gone : he had no intermillion but when 
 the father difcourfed with him about the falvation 
 of his foul. At length they arrived at the village, 
 where the chief refided, who had the choice either 
 of retaining him as his nephew, or of fentencing 
 him to the torture. Before this fovereign judge 
 
 of 
 
( 136 ) 
 
 of his fate Jofeph appeared altogether uncon- 
 cerned. 
 
 The old man having furveyed him a few- 
 minutes, faid, " Nephew, thou canft not imagine 
 the joy that filled my heart when I firft underftood 
 that thou was to be mine. I thought that he 
 whom I have loft was rifen again, and refolved 
 thou fhouldft fill his place. I had already pre- 
 pared a mat for thee in my ow r n cabin, and it was 
 a great pleafure to think I was going to fpend 
 the remainder of my days with thee in peace : 
 but the fad condition which I fee thee in, obliges 
 me to change my refolution. It is very evident 
 that with thofe pains and inconveniencies, thy life 
 muft be a burthen to thee, and therefore thou wilt 
 think I do thee a favour in abridging it. It is 
 not I, but thofe who have maimed thee in this 
 manner, that have occafioned thy death. Have 
 courage then, nephew, prepare thyfelf for this 
 evening : fhew thou art a man ; and fuffer not 
 thyfelf to fhrink under the fear of torments." 
 
 To this addrefs the prifoner liftened with equal 
 attention and unconcern, and replied with a refo- 
 lute tone — " Tis well." Then the filter of the 
 youth who had been killed, ferved him with food, 
 expreffing all the marks of the moft tender af- 
 fection. 
 
( 137 ) 
 
 fe£tion. The old man himfelf carefTed him, as 
 if he had been really his own nephew. He 
 put his own pipe into his mouth, and feeing 
 him covered with duft and fweat, wiped it off 
 carefully with his own hand. About noon the 
 prifoner made his farewell feaft> at the expence 
 of his uncle ; and all the people of the village 
 being afiembled around him — " Brethren," faid 
 he, * I am going to die — divert yourfelves boldly 
 about me — remember I am a man, and be per- 
 fuaded that I fear neither death, nor all the pains 
 you can inflift." 
 
 Having made this declaration, he fung a fong, 
 in which he was joined by feveral warriors ; and 
 afterwards he was prefented with food. This re- 
 pair, being ended, Jofeph was carried to the place 
 of execution, a cabin belonging to one of the 
 chiefs, diftinguifhed by the appellation of the 
 bloody cabin. The fires were lighted, the people 
 afiembled to fee, and the young men prepared 
 to a& this tragedy. The prifoner's hands being 
 bound, he danced round the cabin, fmging his 
 death fong : then fitting down upon a mat, one 
 of the warriors took off his caftor robe, and pro- 
 ducing him naked to the affembly, declared that 
 fuch a chief mould have the robe ; and that the 
 inhabitants of fuch a village mould cut off the 
 
 T head, 
 
( 138 ) 
 
 head, and give it with an arm to another, who 
 mould make an entertainment of them. This 
 difpofition being made, they began to exercife the 
 mod excruciating tortures on this poor wretch, 
 who bore them without flinching, or even under- 
 going a change of countenance. 
 
 He calmly exhorted them to perfevere, fung 
 his death fong, talked of the political affairs of 
 his own nation, and difcourfed with the miffion- 
 aries, as if he had been really void of fenfation. 
 They protrafted the torments till fun-rife; then fell 
 upon him like half-famifhed hounds : one hand 
 and one foot being cut off, they at laft put a 
 period to his fufferings, by ftriking his head off 
 with a hatchet. 
 
 THE CAMELEON. 
 
 OFT has it been my lot to mark 
 A proud, conceited, talking fpark, 
 With eyes, that hardly ferv'd at moft 
 To guard their matter 'gainft -a poll ; 
 Yet round the world the blade has been 
 To fee whatever could be feen. 
 
 Returning 
 
( 139 ) 
 
 Returning from his fmifh'd tour, 
 Grown ten times perter than before j 
 Whatever word you chance to drop, 
 The travell'd fool your mouth will ftop, 
 if Sir, if my judgment you'll allow — 
 " I've feen — and fure I ought to know" — 
 So begs you'd pay a due fubmiflion, 
 And acquiefce in his decifion. 
 
 Two travellers of fuch a call. 
 As o'er Arabia's wild they pad, 
 And on their way, in friendly chat, 
 Now talk of this, and then of that, 
 Difcours'd awhile 'mongft other matter, 
 Of the cameleon's form and nature. 
 " A ftranger animal," cries one, 
 * ( Sure never liv'd beneath the fun : 
 " A lizard's body, lean and long, 
 " A fifth's head, a ferpent's tongue, 
 " Its tooth with triple claw disjoin'd ; 
 " And what a length of tail behind ! 
 " How flow its pace ! and then its hue — 
 " Who ever faw fo fine a blue ?" 
 " Hold there," the other quick replies, 
 " 'Tis green — I faw it with thefe eyes, 
 " As late with open mouth it lay, 
 " And warm'd it in the funny ray ; 
 " Stretch'd at its eafe the beaft I view'd, 
 ft And faw it eat the air for food," 
 
 « I've 
 
( HO ) 
 
 c< I've Teen it, Sir, as well as you, 
 
 * f And mult again affirm it blue. 
 
 " At leifure I the beaft furvey'd 
 
 " Extended in the cooling made." 
 
 " 'Tis green, 'tis green, Sir, I allure ye — " 
 
 " Green !" cries the other in a fury — 
 
 " Why, Sir — d'ye think I've loft my eyes ?" 
 
 " Twere no great lofs," the friend replies, 
 
 *■ For, if they always ferve you thus, 
 
 " You'll find them but of little ufe." 
 
 So high at laft the conteft rofe, 
 
 From words they almoft came to blows. ; 
 
 When luckily came by a third — 
 
 To him the queftion they referr'd, 
 
 And beg he'd tell 'em if he knew, 
 
 Whether the thing was green or blue ? 
 
 " Sirs," cries the umpire, " ceafe your pother — 
 
 " The creature's neither one nor t'other. 
 
 " I caught the animal laft night, 
 
 K And view'd it o'er by candle light : 
 
 " I mark'd it well — 'twas black as jet — • 
 
 " You ftare — but Sirs, I've got it yet, 
 
 " And can produce it." — * Pray, Sir, do : 
 
 " I'll lay my life the thing is blue." 
 
 " And I'll be fwom that when you've feen 
 
 " The reptile, you'll pronounce him green." 
 
 '* Well then, at once to eafe your doubt :" 
 
 Replies the man, t( I'll turn him out ; 
 
 "And 
 
( Ml ) 
 
 #f And when before your eyes I've fet him, 
 " If you don't find him black, I'll eat him:'* 
 He faid : then full before their fight 
 Produc'd the beaft ; and lo ! 'twas white. 
 
 LOVE OF JUSTICE. 
 
 A SENSE of juftice mould be the foundation 
 of all our focial qualities. In our moft 
 early intercourfe with the world, and even in 
 our moft ufeful amufements, no unfairnefs mould 
 be found. That facred rule of doing all things 
 to others, according as we with they would do 
 unto us, mould be engraved on our minds. For 
 this end, we fhould imprefs ourfelvcs with a deep 
 fenfe of the original, and natural equality of men. 
 
 Whatever advantages of birth or fortune we 
 poffefs, we ought never to difplay them with an 
 oftentatious fuperiority. We fhould leave the 
 fubordinations of rank, to regulate the intercourfe 
 of more advanced years. In youth it becomes 
 us to a6l among our companions as man with 
 man. We fhould remember how unknown to us 
 are the viciffitudes of the world ; and how often 
 they, on whom ignorant and contemptuous young 
 men once looked down with fcorn, have rifen to be 
 their fuperiors in future years. 
 
 A THOUGHT 
 
( **a ) 
 
 A THOUGHT ON WAKING. 
 
 LEEP by night, and cares by day, 
 Bear my fleeting life away: 
 Lo ! in yonder eaftern ikies, 
 Sol appears, and bids me rife : 
 Tells me, " life is on the wing. 
 And has no returning fpring : 
 Death comes on with fteady pace, 
 And life's the only day of grace.'* 
 Shining preacher ! happy morning ! 
 Let me take th' important warning ;; 
 Roufe then all my active pow'rs, 
 Well improve the coming hours -, 
 Let no trifles kill the day, 
 (Trifles oft our heart betray.) 
 Virtue, Science, Knowledge, Truth, 
 Guide th' enquiries of my youth. 
 Wifdom, and Experience fage, 
 Then mail foothe the cares of age ; 
 Thofe with time fhall never die ; 
 Thofe will lead to joys on high ; 
 Thofe the path of life difplay, 
 Shining with celelHal day ; 
 Blifsful path ! with fafety trod, 
 As it leads the foul to God. 
 
 ANEC 
 
{ 143 ) 
 
 ANECDOTE 
 
 OF THE LATE 
 
 KING OF PRUSSIA. 
 
 FREDERICK, whofe chief pleafure was in the 
 proficiency of his troops in military difci- 
 pline, whenever a new T foldier made his firii ap- 
 pearance in the guards, aiked him three queftions : 
 The firft was. How old are you ? The fecond was, 
 How long have you been in my fervice ? (as the 
 guards were recruiued out of the flower of the 
 marching regiments) ; and the third was, If he re- 
 ceived his pay and his cloathing as he wiihed ? — 
 A young Frenchman, who had been well difci- 
 plined, offered himfelf to enter the guards, where 
 he was immediately accepted, in confequence of 
 his experience in military tallies. The young re- 
 cruit did not underhand the Pruffian language ; 
 fo that his Captain informed him, that wh€n the 
 King faw him firft on the parade, he would make 
 the ufual enquiries of him in the Pruffian language, 
 therefore he muft learn to make the fuitableanfwers, 
 in the form of which he w r as inftrucled. As foon 
 as the King beheld a new face in the ranks, taking 
 a lufty pinch of fnuff, he went up to him ; and, 
 
 unluckily 
 
( 1^4 ) 
 
 unluckily for the foldier, he put the fecond quef- 
 tion firft, and alked him how long he had been 
 in his fervice ? The foldier anfwered as he was 
 inftrucled, Twenty-one years, an pleafe your 
 Majefty. The King was ftruck at his figure, 
 which did not announce his age to be more than 
 the time he anfwered he had been in his fervice, 
 How old are you ? fays the King in a furprize. 
 One year, an pleafe your Majefty. The King 
 ftill more furprized faid, Either, you or I muft be 
 a. fool. The foldier taking this for the third ques- 
 tion, relative to his pay and cloathing, fays, Both, 
 an pleafe your Majefty. This is the firft time, 
 fays Frederick, ftill more furprized, that I have 
 been called a fool at the head of my own guards. 
 The foldier's ftock of inftru&ion was now ex- 
 haufted, and when the Monarch ftill purfued 
 the defign of unravelling the myftery, the foldier 
 informed him that he could fpeak no more Ger- 
 man ; but that he would anfwer in his native 
 tongue. Here Frederick perceived the nature of 
 the man's fituation, at which he laughed very 
 heartily, and advifed the young man to appiy 
 himfelf to learning the language of Pruflia, and 
 mind his dutv. 
 
 A SO-. 
 
( H5 ) 
 A SOLILOQUY 
 
 WRITtEN 
 
 IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD. 
 
 STRUCK, with religious awe, and folemn dread, 
 I view thefe gloomy manfions of the dead ; 
 Around me tombs in mix'd diforder rife, 
 And in mute language teach me to be wife. 
 Time was, thefe allies liv'd — a time muft be 
 When others thus fliall ftand — and look at me ; 
 Alarming thought ! no wonder 'tis we dread 
 Oe'r thefe uncomfortable vaults to tread ; 
 Where blendid lie the aged and the young, 
 The rich and poor, an undiftinguiili'd throng: 
 t)eath conquers all, and time's fubduing hand 
 Nor tombs, nor marbie-ftatues can withftand. J 
 Mark yonder allies in confufion fpread ! 
 Compare earth's living tenants with her dead ! 
 How ftriking the refemblance, yet how juft ! 
 Once life and foul inform'd this mafs of duft ; 
 Around thefe bones, now broken artd decay 'd, 
 The (breams of life in various channels play'd : 
 Perhaps that fkull, fo horrible to view ! 
 Was fome fair maid's, ye belles, as fair as you ; 
 Thefe hollow fockets two bright orbs contain'd, 
 Where the loves fported, and in triumph reign a ; 
 U Here 
 
( 14* ) 
 
 Here glow'd the lips ; there white, as Parian (lone, 
 
 The teeth difpos'd in beauteous order fhone. 
 
 This is life's goal — no farther can we view, 
 
 Beyond it, all is wonderful and new ; 
 
 O deign, fome courteous ghoft ! to let us know 
 
 What we mult ihortly be, and you are now ! 
 
 Sometimes you warn us of approaching fate ; 
 
 Why hide the knowledge of your prefent Hate ? 
 
 With joy behold us tremblingly explore 
 
 Th' unknown gulph, that you can fear no more .^ 
 
 The grave has eloquence — its lectures teach 
 
 In filence, louder than divines can preach ; 
 
 Hear what it fays — ye fons of folly hear ! 
 
 It fpeaks to you — O give it then your ear ! 
 
 It bids you lay all vanity afide, 
 
 O what a lecture this for human pride ! 
 
 The clock ftrikes twelve— ^-how folemn is the found I 
 
 Hark, how the ftrokes from hollow vaults rebound! 
 
 They bid us haften to be wife and fhow, 
 
 How rapid in their courfe the minutes flow. 
 
 See yonder yew — how high it lifts its head ! 
 
 Around, the gloomy {hade their branches fpread/' 
 
 Old and decay'd it dill retains a grace, 
 
 And adds more folemn horror to the place. 
 
 Whofe tomb is this ? it fays, 'tis Myra's tomjb, 
 
 Pluck'd from the world in beauty's faired blqom- 
 
 Attend ye fair ! ye thoughtlefs, and ye gay ! 
 
 For Myra dy'd upon her nuptial day ! 
 
 The 
 
( «7 ) 
 
 The grave, cold bridegroom ! clafp'd her in its 
 
 arms, 
 And the worm rioted upon her charms. 
 In yonder tomb the old Avaro lies ; 
 Once he was rich — the world efteem'd him wife: 
 Schemes unaccompliih'd labor'd in his mind, 
 And all his thoughts were to the world confin'd ; 
 Death came unlook'd for — from his grafping hands 
 Down dropt his bags, and mortgages of lands. 
 Beneath that fculptur'd pompous marble ltone, 
 JJes youthful Florio, aged twenty-one; 
 Cropt like a flow'r, he wither'd in his bloom, 
 Tho' flatt'ring life had promis'd years to come : 
 Ye filken fons ! ye Florio's of the age, 
 Who tread in giddy maze life's flow'ry ftage ! 
 Mark here the end of man, in Florio fee 
 What you, and all the fons of earth fhall be ! 
 There low in dull the vain Hortenfio lies, 
 Whofe fplendor once we view 'd with envious eyes , 
 Titles and arms his pompous marble grace, 
 With a long hiftory of his noble race ; 
 Still after death his vanity furvives, 
 And on his tomb all of Hortenfio lies. 
 Around me as I turn my wand'ring eyes, 
 Unnumber'd graves in awful profpe£t rife, 
 Whofe ftones fay only when their owners dy'd 3 
 Jf young, or aged, and to whom ally'd. 
 
( 1*8 ) 
 
 On others pompous epitaphs are fpread 
 
 In memory of the virtues of the dead : 
 
 Vain wafte of praife ! fince, flattYing or fincere, 
 
 The judgment-day alone will make appear. 
 
 How filent is this little fpot of ground ! 
 
 How melancholy looks each object round ! 
 
 Here man diflblv'd in fhatter'd ruin lies 
 
 So fail afleep — as if no more to rife ; 
 
 Tis ftrange to think how thefe dead bones can live, 
 
 Leap into form, and with new heat revive ! 
 
 Or how this trodden earth to life fhall wake, 
 
 Know its own place, its former figure take ! 
 
 But whence thefe fears ? when the laft trumpet 
 
 founds 
 Thro' heav'ns expanfe to earth's remotefl bounds 4 
 The dead mall quit thefe tenements of clay, 
 And view again the long extinguifh'd day : 
 It muft be fo — the fame Almighty pow'r 
 From duft who form'd us, can from duft reftore, 
 Chear'd with this pleafing hope, I fafely truft, 
 Jehovah's pow'r to raife me from the duft, 
 On his unfailing promifes rely, 
 And all the horrors of the grave defy. 
 
 THE 
 
( H9 ) 
 
 THE 
 
 ORIGINAL OF FLATTERY. 
 
 THE 
 
 MEANNESS OF VENAL PRAISE. 
 
 THE apparent infufhciency of every individual 
 tohis own happinefs or fafety, compels us 
 to feek from one another afliftance and fup- 
 port. The neceflity of joint efforts for the exe- 
 cution of any great or extcnfive defign, the va- 
 riety of powers diffeminated in the fpecies, and 
 the proportion between the defects and excellen- 
 cies of different perfons, demand an interchange 
 of help and communication of intelligence, and 
 by frequent reciprocations of beneficence unite 
 mankind in fociety and friendship. 
 
 If it can be imagined that there ever was a time 
 when the inhabitants of any country were in a 
 flate of equality, without diftinclion of rank or 
 peculiarity of poffeffions, it is reafonable to be- 
 lieve that every man was then loved in proportion 
 as he could contribute by his ftrength, or his (kill, 
 to the fupply of natural wants; there was then 
 
 little 
 
( 150 ) 
 
 little room for peevifh diflike or capricious favour : 
 the affection admitted into the heart was rather 
 efteem than tendernefs 5 and kindnefs was only 
 purchafed by benefits. But when, by force or 
 policy, by wifdom or by fortune, property and 
 fuperiority were introduced and eltablifhed, fo 
 that many were condemned to labour for the fup- 
 port of a few, then they whofe poffeiTions fwelled 
 above their wants naturally laid out their fuper- 
 fiuities upon pleafure ; and thofe who could not 
 gain friendfhip by neceflary offices, endeavoured 
 to promote their intereft by luxurious gratifica- 
 tions, and to create need which they might be 
 courted to fuppry. 
 
 The defires of mankind are much more nume : 
 rous than their attainments, and the capacity of 
 imagination much larger than actual enjoyment. 
 Multitudes are therefore unfatisfied with their al- 
 lotment ; and he that hopes to improve his con- 
 dition by the favour of another, and either finds 
 no room for the exertion of great qualities, or 
 perceives himfelf excelled by his rivals, will by 
 other expedients endeavour to become agreeable 
 where he cannot be important, and learn, by de- 
 grees, to number the art of ftlcafing among the 
 r,v:-ii ufeful ftudies and moft valuable acquifitions. 
 
 This 
 
 
 
( 151 ) 
 
 This art, like others, is cultivated in propor- 
 tion to its ufefulnefs, and will always fiourifli 
 moft where it is raoft rewarded ; for this reafon 
 we find it praclifed with great ailiduity under ab- 
 folute governments, where honours and riches are 
 in the hands of one man, whom all endeavour to 
 propitiate, and who foon becomes fo much ac- 
 cufiomed to compliance and offieioufnefs, as not 
 eafily to find, in the moft delicate addrefs, that 
 novelty which is neceflary to procure attention. 
 
 It is difcovered by a very few experiments, that 
 no man is much plcafed with a companion, who 
 does not increafe, in fome refpe£l, his fondnefe of 
 himfelf 3 and, therefore, he that wtfhes rather to be 
 led forward to profperity by the gentle hand of 
 favour, than to force his way by labour and me- 
 rit, mull coniider with more care how to difplay 
 his patron's excellencies than his own; that when- 
 ever he approaches, he may fill the imagination 
 with pleating dream?, and chafe away difguft and 
 wearinefs by a perpetual fucceflion of delightful 
 images. 
 
 This may, indeed, fometimes be effecled by 
 turning the attention upon advantages which are 
 really poffeifed, or upon profpe£ts which reafon 
 fpreads before hope; for whoever can deferve .or 
 
 require 
 
( 152 ) 
 
 require to be courted, has generally, either from, 
 nature or from fortune, gifts, which he may re- 
 view with fatisfatlion, and of which, when he is 
 artfully recalled to the contemplation, he will 
 feldom be difpleafed. 
 
 But thofe who have once degraded their under- 
 ilanding to an application only to the paflions, 
 and who have learned to derive hope from any 
 other fources than induftry and virtue, feldom 
 retain dignity and magnanimity fufficient to defend 
 them againft the conftant recurrence of temptation 
 to falsehood. He that is too defirous to be loved, 
 will foon learn to flatter, and when he has ex- 
 haufted all the variations of honeft praife, andean 
 delight no longer with the civility of truth, he 
 will invent new topics of panegyric, and break 
 out into raptures at virtues and beauties conferred 
 by himfelf. 
 
 The drudgeries of dependance would, indeed, 
 be aggravated by hopelefsnefs of fuccefs, if no in- 
 dulgence was allowed to adulation. He that will 
 obitinately confine his patron to hear only the 
 commendations which he deferves, will foon be 
 forced to give way to others that regale him with 
 more compafs of muiic. The great eft human vir- 
 tue bears no proportion to human vanity. 
 
 We 
 
( 153 ) 
 
 We always think ourfelves better than we are, 
 and are generally defirous that others fliould think 
 us Hill better than we think ourfelves. To praife 
 us for actions or difpofitions, which deferve praife, 
 is not to confer a benefit, but to pay a tribute. 
 We have always pretentions to fame, which, in 
 our own hearts, we know to be difputable, and 
 which we are defirous to ftrenghthen by a new 
 fuffrage ; we have always hopes which we fufpe£t 
 to be fallacious, and of which we eagerly fnatch 
 at every confirmation. 
 
 It may, indeed, be proper to make the firfr. ap- 
 proaches under the conduct of truth, and to fe- 
 cure credit to future encomiums, by fuch praife 
 as may be ratified by the confcience ; but the mind 
 once habituated to the lufcioufnefs of eulogy, be- 
 comes, in a fhort time, nice and faftidious, and, 
 like a vitiated palate, is inceffantly calling for 
 higher gratifications. 
 
 It is fcarcely credible to what degree difcern- 
 ment may be dazzled by the mift of pride, and 
 wifdom infatuated by the intoxication of flattery ; 
 or how low the genius may defcend by fuccefhve 
 gradations of ferviiity, or how fwiftly it may fall 
 . down the precipice of falfhood. No man can, 
 indeed, obferve, without indignation, on what 
 X names, 
 
( 154 ) 
 
 names, both of ancient and modern times, the 
 utmoft exuberance of praife has been lavifhed, 
 and by what hands it has been beftowed. It has 
 never yet been found that the tyrant, the plun- 
 derer, the oppreflbr, the moft hateful of the hate- 
 ful, the moft profligate of the profligate, have 
 been denied any celebrations which they were 
 willing to purchafe, or that wickednefs and folly 
 have not found correfpondent flatterers through 
 all their fubordinations, except when they have 
 been affociated with avarice or poverty, and have 
 wanted either inclination or ability to hire a pane- 
 gyrift. 
 
 As there is no character fo deformed as ta 
 fright away from it the proftitutes of praife, there 
 is no degree of encomiaflic veneration which 
 pride has refufed. The Emperors of Rome fuffered 
 themfelves to be worshipped in their lives with 
 altars and facrifices ; and in an age more en- 
 lightened, the terms peculiar to the praife and 
 worfhip of the Supreme Being, have been applied 
 to wretches whom it was the reproach of hu- 
 manity to number among men; and whom 
 nothing but riches or power hindered thofe that 
 read or wrote their deification, from hunting into 
 the toils of juftice, as difturbers of the peace of 
 nature. 
 
 There 
 
( 155 ) 
 
 There are, indeed, many among the poetical 
 flatterers, who mufl be refigned to infamy with- 
 out vindication, and whom we muft confefs to 
 have deferted the caufe of virtue for pay : they 
 have committed, againft full convicton, the crime 
 of obliterating the diftin£tions between good and 
 evil; and inftead of oppofing the encroachments 
 of vice, have incited her progrefs and celebrated 
 her conquefts. But there is a lower clafs of fyco- 
 phants, whofe understanding has not made them 
 capable of equal guilt. Every man of high rank 
 is furrounded with numbers, who have no other 
 rule of thought or a&ion, than his maxims and 
 his conduct ; whom the honour of being num- 
 bered among his acquaintance, reconciles to al* 
 his vices and all his abfurdities ; and who eafily 
 perfuade themfelves to efteem him, by whofe re- 
 gard they confider themfelves as diftinguilhed and 
 exalted. 
 
 It is dangerous for mean minds to venture 
 themfelves within the fphere of greatnefs. Stu- 
 pidity is foon blinded by the fplendor of wealth, 
 and cowardice is eafily fettered in the (hackles of 
 dependence. To folicit patronage is, at leaft, 
 in the event, to fet virtue to fale. None can be 
 pleafed without praife, and few can "be praifed 
 without falfhood ; few can be affiduous without fer- 
 vilitv, and none can be fervile without corruption. 
 
 PLEA^ 
 
( 156 ) 
 
 PLEASURE, 
 SENSUAL, AND SPIRITUAL. 
 
 THE refined pleafures of a pious mind are, 
 in many refpe£ts, fuperior to the coarfe gra- 
 tifications of fenfe ; they are pleafures which be- 
 long to the higheft powers and beft affe&ions of 
 the foul ; whereas the gratifications of fenfe refide 
 in the lowed region of our nature. To the one 
 the foul floops below its native dignity ; the other 
 raifes it above itfelf. The one leaves always a 
 comfortlefs, often a mortifying remembrance be- 
 hind it; the other is reviewed with applaufe and 
 delight. The pleafures of fome refemble a foam- 
 ing torrent ; which, after a diforderly courfe, 
 fpeedily runs out, and leaves an empty and of- 
 fenfive channel : but the pleafures of devotion 
 refemble the equable current of a pure river, 
 which enlivens the fields through which it paifes, 
 and difTiifes verdure and fertility along its banks. 
 
 AP^ 
 
( 137) 
 
 APPEARANCES OF PIETY. 
 
 THESE are often fubtlituted in the place of 
 the great duties of humanity and mercy. 
 Too many flatter themfelves with the hope of 
 obtaining the friendfhip of their Creator, though 
 they neglect to do juftice to their, fellow creatures. 
 
 But fuppofed piety is an invention of their own, 
 unknown to reafon, unknown in the word of 
 God. For piety is a principle which regenerates 
 the heart, and forms it to goodnefs. If, there- 
 fore, while piety feems ardent, morality fhall de- 
 cline ; or if ever the regard to it fiiould totally fail ; 
 if, whilft making prayers, no alms are given ; if, 
 whillt. we appear zealous for God, we are falfe or 
 unjuft to men 5 if we are hard or contracted in 
 heart, fevere in our cenfures, and oppreffive in 
 our conducl, then conclude what we have termed 
 piety, was no more than an empty name, refolving 
 itfelf either into an hypocritical form of godlinefs ; 
 a tranfient impreilion of ferioufnefs ; an accidental 
 melting of the heart ; or the deliberate refuge of 
 a deluded and fuperftitious, but, at the fame time, 
 a corrupted mind ; for all men, even the moll de- 
 praved, are fubje£t, more or lefs, to compunc- 
 iions of conference. 
 
 HOPE. 
 
( 158 ) 
 
 HO PE. 
 
 HOPE to the foul, when diftracted by the 
 confufions of the world, is as an anchor to 
 a fhip in a dark night, on an unknown coaft, and 
 amidft a boifterous ocean. In danger it gives 
 fecurity ; amidft general fluctuation it affords one 
 fixed point of reft ; it is the moil eminent of all 
 the advantages which religion now confers ; it is 
 the univerfal comforter; it is the fpring of all 
 human activity. 
 
 Upon futurity men are conftantly fufpended ; 
 animated by the profpecl of fome diftant good, 
 they toil and fufTer through the whole courfe of 
 life ; and it is not fo much what they are at pre- 
 fent, as what they hope to be in fome after time, 
 that enlivens their motions, fixes their attention, 
 and ftimulates induftry. 
 
 Was this hope entertained with that full per- 
 fuafion which Chriftian faith demands, it would 
 in truth totally annihilate all human miferies j it 
 would banifh difcontent, extinguish grief, and 
 fufpend the very feeling of pain. 
 
 or, 
 
( 159 ) 
 
 ON THE EXCELLENCY 
 
 OP THE 
 
 MARRIAGE STATE. 
 
 " MARRIAGS IS HONOURABLE IN ALL." 
 
 HAIL, wedded love ! by gracious God defign'd 
 At once the fource and glory of mankind ! 
 'Tis this, can toil and grief and pain afluage, 
 Secure our youth, and dignify our age ; 
 'Tis this, fair fame and guiltlefs pleafure brings, 
 And (hakes rich plenty from its brooding wings - ? 
 Guilds duty's roughen paths with friendmip's ray, 
 And (trews with rofes fweet the narrow way. 
 Not fo the harlot, if it lawful be 
 To mention vice, when praifing chaftity — 
 Not fo the harlot plights her venal vow, 
 With heart obdurate, and Corinthian brow, 
 She fawns unfriendly, pra&is'd to beguile, 
 Stings while (he weeps, and murders in a fmile. 
 Fame, peace, and virtue, (he at once deftroys, 
 And damns, moft furely, whom (lie mod enjoys. 
 
 THE 
 
( 160) 
 
 THE 
 
 FOLLY OF MISPENDING TIME. 
 
 THE infinite importance of properly improv- 
 ing our time is more frequently inculcated 
 by the infpired writers, than perhaps any other 
 admonition the facred pages contain. To enforce 
 the neceffity of this confideration, the Scriptures 
 have likewife reprefented the fhortnefs and un- 
 certainty of our continuance in this life, by fimi- 
 litudes the mod fleeting and tranfitory that can 
 poffibly be imagined : but, alas ! how very few 
 are there in the world, who confider this matter 
 with the importance it deferves ! How many thou- 
 fands of intelligent beings are there who fcarce 
 know the end of their existence, or the purpofe 
 for which they were created ; who live year after 
 year without confidering of futurity, or bellowing' 
 a fingle thought about the vaft concerns of an 
 eternal ftate r Daily experience confirms this ob- 
 fervation for a fact, and the moil fuperficial 
 furvey of the different characters and circum- 
 fiances of mankind in general, will more fully 
 demonflrate the truth of what I have here af- 
 ferted. 
 
 The 
 
( 161 ) 
 
 The poor and indigent, who live by the fweat 
 of their brow, have many difficulties to encounter, 
 and are furrounded with poverty and diftrefs on 
 every fide ; all their toil and labour are fcarcely 
 fufficicnt to provide for the wants and neceffities 
 of the prefent life, and therefore they have neither 
 time nor opportunity to confider of a future. 
 
 Let us next take a view of the man immerfed 
 in fecular affairs, and engaged in the buftle of 
 bufinefs, who rifes up early, takes reft late, and 
 eats the bread of carefulnefs : we lhall find all 
 his time and attention employed in the purfuit of 
 riches, and the toils of induilry ; wholly taken 
 up with the numerous concerns of the world, he 
 neglects the one, the fupreme thing needful ; 
 anxious and indefatigable to acquire a competency 
 for this precarious and uncertain life, he is carelefs 
 and indifferent about the momentous concerns 
 of a never ending hereafter. 
 
 • But let us carry our obfervations a little farther, 
 and take a furvey of thofe who are ftiled the 
 favourites of fortune, who revel in the lap of 
 pleafure, and poffefs all the advantages that 
 riches and honour can beffow ; who from their 
 elevated fituation in life, and the few cares with 
 which they are furrounded, one mould naturally 
 Y imagine 
 
( 162 ) 
 
 imagine had both leifure and opportunity to im- 
 prove their time like rational creatures to the molt 
 exalted purpofes ? but is this really the cafe ? or 
 does experience convince us of the truth of it ? 
 Alas ! no : the purfuits of pleafure, the gay amufe- 
 ments, the fafliionable diverfions of a depraved 
 licentious age, engrofs all their attention, and 
 divert the mind from nobler objects. Little do 
 thefe fons of vanity and diffipation think that a 
 period will moft certainly arrive, when neither 
 the treafures of the Indies, nor the mines of Peru, 
 when even the univerfe itfelf will want wealth 
 to purchafe a few moments of that precious time, 
 they now fo foolifhly, fo laviftily trifle away. 
 
 Men of genius and literature are employed in 
 the curious refearches of antiquity, and investi- 
 gating the works of nature ; all their ftudy and 
 ambition is to acquire fame and reputation, and 
 to obtain the empty applaufe of their fellow 
 mortals. 
 
 Thus in every ftate and condition of life, there 
 is fomething to engage the attention, and drive 
 the thought of eternity from the human breath 
 
 I was led into this train of reflections b^ a 
 fcene of the moft awful diftrefs, which the kind 
 
 hand 
 
{ m ) 
 
 hand of Providence accidentally brought me to 
 be a fpeftator of ; it was the exit of the gay, the 
 gallant, the much admired Lothario. At the 
 death of his father, he became heir to a very 
 confiderable eftate, ' belide a large fortune in the 
 public funds : but alas ! his heart was exceed- 
 ingl\\depraved ; his principles were abandoned, 
 and he was a libertine in the moll comprehen- 
 sive meaning of the word. Gambling and de- 
 bauchery had almoft ruined his conftitution, and in 
 fome meafure impaired his fortune. In the more 
 juvenile part of my life we had been intimate ac- 
 quaintance ; but I was obliged to drop the in- 
 timacy, left his fortune and connexions, which 
 were in every refpe£l fuperior to mine, fhould 
 have influenced my conduct, and have caufed me 
 to deviate from the paths of re£litude and fq- 
 briety. The death of a near relation, occafioned 
 my taking a journey within a few miles of his 
 country refidence ; as I was fo near, I could 
 not return home without going to fee a man for 
 whom I had formerly a friendlhip and regard. I 
 accordingly went, met with a very cordial recep- 
 tion, and was entertained with politenefs. It 
 fell out, that during my abode at his houfe, he 
 was feized with a pleuritic fever, the firft fymp- 
 tums of which threatened the moll fatal ana* 
 
 dangerous 
 
( >64 ) 
 
 dangerous confequences ; the violence of his dif- 
 order daily increafed, and baffled all the efforts 
 of his phyficians, who were men of diftinguifhed 
 abilities, the mod eminent that could be pro- 
 cured, and in a few days they pronounced his 
 cafe to be defperate, and paft all hopes of recovery. 
 But, O, what tongue can exprefs, or imagination 
 conceive, the agonies of defpair which took pofTeffion 
 of his foul, upon being informed he muff, foon bid 
 adieu to this world, and all fublunary enjoyments ! 
 Durin- hi? laft moments, in which I flood by 
 his bed-fide, he uttered fuch pathetic exclamations 
 as no condition of life, or length of time will ever 
 be able to erafe from my memory. 
 
 " O that the Almighty (cried he) would gra- 
 
 cioufiy be pleafed to fave a wretch like me from 
 
 jroinff down to the pit of deftru£tion, . the re- 
 ts o * 
 
 mainder of my days mould be dedicated to the 
 fervice of my Creator, and the caufe of that holy 
 religion which I have always neglected and de- 
 fpifed ! My time, my health, my fortune, every 
 thing I poiTefs, mould, be engaged to promote 
 the caufe of virtue and godlinefs ! O that I might 
 hope but for a fhort reprieve to expiate the of- 
 fences of my former life, by a future condu£h 
 which fhouM be in every refpect blamelefs and 
 
 irre- 
 
( 16* ) 
 
 irreproachable. The gifts of Providence, hitherto 
 fo lavifhly proftituted to the vileft and mod aban- 
 doned purpofes, mould then be employed in acls 
 of charity and benevolence ; mould wipe away 
 tears from the eyes of the orphan and the father- 
 lefs, and lhould caufe the heart of the widow to 
 fing for joy ! Q that God — " 
 
 Here he was going on with his vain and fruit- 
 lefs wifhes, but could proceed no further ; the 
 filver cords of life were almoft broken, and the 
 feeble, glimmering lamp of exiftencc juft extin- 
 guilhed. He lay fpeechlefs about half an hour, 
 and then expired. O that the votaries of mirth ! 
 that the filken fons of pleafure had been prefent 
 at the folemnities of this dying chamber ! it 
 would have fufpended their thoughtlefs and giddy 
 career ; it would have taught them the true, the 
 ineftimable value of time pofTerTed, and the in- 
 finite importance of properly improving it. 
 
 A death-bed's a detector of the heart, 
 A leclure, filent, but of fov'reign pow'r! 
 To vice, confufion ; and to virtue peace. 
 
 I confefs, to me, who am of a ferious contem- 
 plative mind, it was the mod folemn and affe£t- 
 jng fcene I ever beheld." In this fchool of wifdotn 
 
 I was 
 
( 1-56 ) 
 
 . I was more benefited than I poflibly could have 
 been by attending the profoundeit lectures of 
 divinity and philofophy, although accompanied 
 with all the powers of rhetoric and eloquence. 
 Its filent but ir.ftructive leffons have thoroughly 
 weaned my affections from the trifling objects of 
 time and fenfe, and made me think more ferioufly 
 than ever about the vaft concerns of that awful, 
 eternal, and unchangeable ftate, to which all man- 
 kind are advancing upon the fwifteft wings of 
 time ; they have taught me to look down upon 
 the riches, the honour, and grandeur of this 
 world with indifference and difdain ; convinced, 
 that when they are not made fubfervient to the 
 caufe of religion and virtue, they will only render 
 the life of the perfon full of anxiety and vexation, 
 and at lafl planting his dying pillow with thorns. 
 
 " Great Proprietor and Difpenfer of all things, 
 (faid I, lifting up my eyes to heaven with resig- 
 nation and gratitude), I defire neither abundance 
 nor poverty ; grant me a competence, attended 
 with thy bleffing ; beftow upon me but the fmalleft 
 portion of this world's good, accompanied with 
 that peace of mind which arifes from the teftimony 
 of a good confcience. Give me that folid, fub- 
 ftantial heart-felt enjoyment, which this world can- 
 not give, nor the viciffitudes of fortune deftroy, 
 «nd I defire no more." 
 
 SOLI- 
 
( U17 ) 
 
 SOLITUDE. 
 
 A SOLILOQUY. 
 
 WELCOME, inviting folitude ! Thy vene- 
 rable afpeft cheers, exalts, and agitates 
 my foul, and makes it pant with vehemence for 
 knowledge. Deign to exert thy operative influ- 
 ence, and fill my ambitious, emulative mind with 
 fentiments fublime. Far from the captious and 
 diflcmbling world, fecluded may I pafs my life, 
 in tranquil fcenes, variegated and luxuriant, formed 
 by nature, remote from joy's deceptive and faf- 
 tidious pomp, whole fuperhcial charms infatuate 
 and delude. O may my afpiring foul, in calm 
 retirement, contemplation's feat, imbibe celeftial 
 knowledge from giorious Newton's works, ela- 
 borate and inftruclive, fraught with beauties ex. 
 quifite. 
 
 Fired with ecftatic rapture, I furvey the illu- 
 mined horizon, the oriental monarch, riling in 
 refulgent fplendor, exhaling noclurnal vapours, 
 and difTufmg light over all the hemifphere. His 
 potent energy pervades, attenuates, and refines 
 the particles faline, which fluctuate in the atmo- 
 
 fuhere. 
 
( 168 ) 
 
 fphere. Hail light ! thou principal fupport of ani- 
 mal exiftence ! — From thee, thou emanation of 
 ftupendous goodnefs, uncircumfcribed and infinite, 
 refult innumerable benefits to man. — Thy vivify- 
 ing eflence re-animates the vegetative tribe, which, 
 during thy abfence, mourn with filial forrow, 
 drooping their aromatic heads. Thy magnetic 
 impulfe in due reftri£tion keeps the ponderous 
 planetary orbs, which regularly perform their 
 courfe etherial. The various feafons are produced 
 by thee. The ar£b'c and antarftic poles alternately 
 receding and approaching, impelled by thy re- 
 fiftlefs force, as by adamantine fetters, communi- 
 cate pleafures ineffable to human nature. 
 
 Cynthia, majeftic folemn queen of night, bor- 
 rows her radiant luftre from thy rays, and with 
 benignant fmile faiutes mankind. From thee 
 the aerial bow derives its vivid tints ; thy rays* 
 reflected and refracted by the humid corpufcles, 
 confpicuous fhine, and caufe that fair phenome- 
 non. Newton, infpired, its origin difcovered, and 
 to the aftoniined multitude declared the latent 
 caufe. O thou immortal fage, whole extenfive, 
 penetrating genius, yon azure realms pervaded, 
 and explored the fecret works of nature, could 
 my mufe with rapid wing excurfive foar from pole 
 to pole, the Hyperborean mountains lliould rever- 
 berate 
 
( 169 ) 
 
 berate thy praife. As Phoebus diiTlpates the con- 
 gregated mifts, formed by opaque vapours, which 
 enwrap the cerulean canopy of heaven in gloom 
 impenetrable, fo did thy tranfcendent theories 
 the mills and chimeras of ignorance difperfe. — 
 No more the comets lucid beams alarm Britan- 
 nia's fons : They view the eccentric body with 
 delight, copioufly difpenfing vapours to invigorate 
 the liars erratic. Fain would my mufe proclaim 
 thy wonderous worth ; but her defign abortive 
 proves — She droops, unequal to the tafk. 
 
 ON TIME. 
 
 TIME, thou devourer of each foace, 
 Thou enemy to human race, 
 Deiift awhile thy rapid flight, 
 Nor roll me on fo quick in night. 
 Steal not the hours fo fwift away, 
 Nor take fo foon the prefent day. 
 Wilt thou not hear ? He ftill is deaf, 
 Nor to my prayer will give relief, 
 'Tis all in vain ! e'en now he flies, 
 Deaf to all importunities ; 
 To deftiny a trufty Have, 
 He'll not return one hour he gave. 
 
 2 How 
 
( 170 j 
 
 How mould we prize thy real worth t 
 Nor deal the minutes idly forth ? 
 Vain the debates and fruitlefs ftrife, 
 Since time's fo fhort, fo fleeting life. 
 
 NOBILITY, 
 
 AN ANECDOTE, 
 
 IN England, as the titles of nobility are limited", 
 and cannot be ufurped by fi&ious characters 
 without detection, they confer- a degree of con- 
 fideration upon the pofTeflbr, far fuperior to what 
 is obferved in foreign countries, where they are 
 abundant to an extreme, and where every needy 
 adventurer can affume them. 
 
 A German Baron, hi derifion, once obferved 
 to a French Marquis, that the title of Marquis 
 was very common in France, " I," added he, 
 Jaughing, " have a Marquis in my kitchen." — 
 "Andl," retorted the Frenchman, who felthimfelf 
 rnfulted, " have a German Baron in my liable." 
 This repartee was particularly happy , it being 
 
 well- 
 
( 171 ) 
 
 well known that German grooms are as common 
 out of their own country as are French cooks- 
 It affords a juft leflbn too, againft the folly as well 
 £s rudenefs of all national reflections. 
 
 AN EPISTLE. 
 THE PLEASURES OF THE COUNTRY. 
 
 TO Fufcus, who in city-fports delights, 
 A country bard with gentle greeting writes > 
 In this we differ, but in all befide, 
 Like twin-born brothers, are our fouls ally'd ; 
 And, as a pair of fondly-conftant doves, 
 What one diflikes the other difapproves. 
 You keep the neft, I love the rural mead, 
 The brook, the moffy rock, and woody glade ; 
 In fhort, I live and reign, whene'er I fly 
 The joys you vaunt with raptures to the fky, 
 And like a (lave from the prieft's fervice fled, 
 I naufeate honey'd cakes, and long for bread. 
 Would you to nature's laws obedience yield : 
 Would you a houfe for health or pleafure build ; 
 Where is there fuch a fituation found, 
 As where the country fpreads its bleflings round ? 
 
 Where 
 
( 172 ) 
 
 Where is the temperate winter lefs fevere ? 
 Or, when the fun afcending fires the year, 
 Where breathes a milder zephyr to afluage 
 The dog-ftar's fury, or the lion's rage ? 
 Where do lefs envious cares difturb our reft ? 
 Or are the fields, in nature's colours dreft, 
 Lefs grateful to the fmell or to the fight, 
 Than the rich floor, with inlaid marble bright ? 
 Is water purer from the burfting lead, 
 Than gently murm'ring down its native bed ? 
 Among your columns, rich with various dyes, 
 Unnatural woods with awkward art arife. 
 You praife the houfe, whofe fituation yields 
 Au open profpe£t in the diftant fields. 
 Though nature's driven out with proud difdain 3 
 The pow'rful Goddefs will return again, 
 Return in filent triumph to deride 
 The weak attempts of luxury and pride. 
 The man who cannot with judicious eye 
 Compare the fleece, that drinks the Tyrian dye, 
 With the pale Latian ; yet (hall ne'er fuftain 
 A lofs fo touching, of fuch heart-felt pain, 
 As he, who can't with fenfe of happier kind, 
 Diflinguim truth from faliliood in the mind. 
 
 They who in fortune's fmiles too much delight, 
 Shall tremble when the Gx>ddefs takes her flight - 3 
 
 For 
 
( 173 ) 
 
 For If her gifts our fonder paffions gain 
 The frail pofieilion we refign with pain. 
 
 Then leave the gaudy bleffings of the great, 
 The cottage offers a fecure retreat, 
 Where you may make a folid blifs your own, 
 To Kings, and favorites of Kings unknown. 
 
 A lordly flag, arm'd with fuperior force, 
 Drove from their common field a vanquifh'd horfe, 
 Who for revenge to man his ftrength enflav'd, 
 Took up his order, and the bit received : 
 But, when he faw his foe with triumph flain, 
 In vain he drove his freedom to regain ; 
 He felt the weight, and yielded to the rein. 
 So he, who poverty with horror views, 
 Nor frugal nature's bounty knows to ufe ; 
 Who fells his freedom in exchange for gold, 
 {Freedom for mines of wealth, too cheaply fold) 
 Shall make eternal fervitude his fate, 
 And feel a haughty mailer's galling weight. 
 
 Our fortunes and our fhoes are near ally'd, 
 WVre pinch'd in ftrait, and Humble in the wide. 
 Then learn thy prefent fortune to enjoy, 
 And on my head thy juft reproach employ, 
 If e'er, forgetful of my former felf, 
 I toil to raife unneceflary pelf; 
 
 For 
 
 i 
 
( i*« ) 
 
 For gold will either govern or obey, 
 But better fhall the Have than tyrant play. 
 
 This near the ferine of idlenefs I penn'd, 
 Sincerely bleit, ]but that I want my friend. 
 
 BENEVOLENT ADDRESS 
 
 TO THE 
 
 ENGLISH DEISTS. 
 
 MY DEAR COUNTRYMEN! 
 
 AS you mult be fenfible this addrefs is difin- 
 terefted, I hope you will attend to what I 
 mail fuggeft with ferioufnefs, and impartiality. J 
 fuppofe you to be convinced of the being, and 
 providence of God; or of the exiftence of an in- 
 finitely perfect, fpirit, who not only made, and 
 preferves, but alfo governs the world ; and par- 
 ticularly fuperintends the affairs of mankind, and 
 will call us to an account for our behaviour; but to 
 reject, what is commonly looked upon as a divine 
 revelation, and as, if this fyftem be really of 
 
 the 
 
( 175 ) 
 
 the high authority of which it is (aid, and by 
 many thought to be, I apprehend your condition 
 to be very dangerous, I fhall reprefent your dan- 
 ger to you, in order to engage you to fhun it. 
 
 That there can be no danger in unbelief, it 
 feemSj you argue ; becaufe as you fay, believing 
 is an aft, not of the wiH, but the underftanding: 
 and that accordingly it is neither in our power to 
 believe what appears incredible, nor to refufe to 
 believe what wc judge credible. But this is a 
 great miftake. BeJieving is fo far a voluntary a£t, 
 that though we cannot believe what appears to 
 be falfe, nor refufe to believe what we judge to 
 be true, we can refufe to believe not only what is 
 true, but what we ihould judge to be fo, if we 
 would attentively, and impartially confider the 
 evidence, there is of its truth. And by thus dis- 
 regarding the credibility of it, it is as much in our 
 power to diibelieve the moft credible thing in the 
 "world, as it is to be ignorant of the truth of any 
 demonftrable proportion vvhatfoever, by not at- 
 tending to its demonflration. Now herein I take 
 it to be that the guilt of infidelity confifts : which, 
 upon carefully examining its nature, will be found 
 to be very great. If indeed, after due confidera- 
 tion of the nature, and evidence of a fyftem of re- 
 ligion, faid to be derived from heaven, a perfon 
 
 thinks, 
 
( 1<<3 ) 
 
 thinks it to bean impofture, he cannot be culpable 
 for not believing it. But if his unbelief be owing 
 to his not duly confidering the realbns he has to 
 believe it, it muft be highly criminal. That it is 
 the duty of creatures to examine, with the ut- 
 moft care, the evidence of what is propofed to 
 them in the name of their great Creator, and has 
 any probabily of having him for its author, is in- 
 difputable. Torefufe,or neglect todo this, betrays 
 fuch a want of regard for his divine Majefty, as 
 muft be acknowledged to be very criminal, and 
 therefore juftly to defervehis dreadful difpleafure. 
 It argues the perfon, who is guilty of fuch im- 
 piety, to be far from having the profound re- 
 verence for the adorable author of his being, and 
 awful regard for his will, which he manifestly 
 ought. Nay, it mews that he minds him but 
 little, if it all. 
 
 And what then muft fuch impious behaviour 
 merit from the divine juftice ? And how highly 
 m-uft it concern you to confider whether you be 
 not chargeable with it ? That the gofpel is propofed 
 to you in the name of the great God of heaven 
 End earth.and that there is, at leaft, a probability 
 of its being derived from him, cannot be denied. 
 Have . you considered its credentials with the fe- 
 rioufnefs, which its claims to a divine original re- 
 quires, 
 
( 177 ) 
 
 quires, and with hearts fincerely difpofed to 
 embrace, and fubmit to it, if you fhould fee 
 reafon to think your Maker its author ? Or have 
 you impioufly neglected to examine the credi- 
 bility of it, or examined it with minds prejudiced 
 againft it ? If either of the two laft be the cafe, 
 it will be in vain to plead in excufe for your un- 
 belief, that you cannot believe what you will : for 
 the true reafon of it is, you are not difpofed to 
 believe becaufe you have not a due regard for 
 him, whofe meffage it is faid to be. 
 
 But, perhaps, you will fay, you have examined 
 the pretenfions of the Chriftian religion to be a 
 divine revelation, and find fome things relating 
 to it unaccountable, and others incomprehenfible; 
 and therefore cannot believe it. But why cannot 
 you believe the revelation of the Bible, though 
 you cannot account for every part and circum- 
 ilance of it ? Can you account for all the dif- 
 penfations of Providence ? If not, and you never- 
 thelefs believe a divine Providence ; why cannot 
 vou believe a divine revelation, which is in fome 
 refpe&s unaccountable ? 
 
 But it is not only unaccountable, but likewise 
 in feveral particulars incomprehenfible ; which 
 you think another reafon for rejecting it. But 
 
 A a Are 
 
( *78 ) 
 
 are you fure a divine revelation cannot contain 
 any thing, but what you can comprehend ? Are 
 there not many things undeniably true which, 
 furpafs human comprehenfion? And do not you 
 yourfelves give your aflent to other matters of this 
 kind ? Do you fully comprehend either what 
 reafon teaches concerning the nature and attri- 
 butes of God ? or even what you experience in 
 yourfelves ? Can you form an adequate notion of 
 an unoriginated infinitely perfect fpirit ? Or con- 
 ceive how your fouls and bodies are united ; or 
 mutually act upon and affect each other ? Nay, 
 do you clearly comprehend how you perform any 
 action of life — So much as how an act of your 
 will ftirs your finger ? If thefe, and numberlefs 
 other phenomena of nature exceed, as you muft 
 acknowledge them to do, men's comprehenfion, 
 it can be no juft objection to the truth, or divine 
 original of a revelation, that it teaches incom- 
 prehenfible doctrine. If we could account for 
 all the ways of Providence, and comprehend both 
 the works and nature of our great Creator, there 
 would be fome weight in thefe objections ; but, 
 fince we are fo far from being able to do either, 
 it feems ftrange they fliould be taught to invali- 
 date the evidence of the infpiration of Scripture. 
 That there arc things in the gofpel revelation, for 
 which we cannot account, and doctrines above 
 
 our 
 
( ™ ) 
 
 fwr comprehenfion, is really a prefumptive argu- 
 ment of its truth, rather than a proof its falfhood. 
 In thefe refpecls the accounts given us therein of 
 the great Governor of the world's dealings with 
 mankind, and of his incomprehensible nature, re- 
 femble the courfe of his providence and the 
 doctrines of reafon concerning him. And the 
 more what the Bible fays of the being and pro- 
 vidence of God is like what reafon and expe* 
 rience teach us relating thereto, the more likely 
 certainly it is to be true. For therefore, I 
 doubt, will the impofTibility of accounting for 
 any thing related in the facred volume, or of 
 comprehending fome things taught therein, be 
 from juftifying your rejecting it, as an impofture. 
 And it deferves to be well considered, with what 
 face fuch creatures as we are, whofe knowledge is 
 undeniably fo very imperfect, will be able to 
 plead the unaccountablenefs, or incomprehenfi- 
 blenefs of what we are taught in the name of 
 our great Creator, as an excufe tor difregarding 
 it, and what regard is likely to be paid to fuch 
 an excufe, when we mall be called to an account 
 for fuch behaviour. — That you may be able to 
 approve your conduct:, in this important matter, 
 to the Governor and righteous Judge of the World, 
 \i the fincere with of 
 
 Your affectionate countryman, 
 And humble fervant. 
 
( 180) 
 
 THE 
 
 IMPROVEMENT OF THE UNDERSTANDING 
 
 IS ESSENTIAL TO 
 
 OUR HAPPINESS. 
 
 IT is impoffible that we fhall enjoy that trai> 
 quilJity of the mind which forms true happi- 
 nefs, if we do not take care to cultivate our un- 
 derstanding, and to ftore it with every thing that 
 is capable of regulating and fharpening it. It is 
 a hard matter for a man who knows nothing, to 
 have a competency within himfelf ; and whoever 
 has not this, but ftands in need of foreign aid to 
 be happy, cannot be thought to enjoy a happy 
 life ; for the helps on which his happinefs depends 
 very often fail him, and from that moment he 
 becomes unhappy. A perfon lofes his time, who 
 does not employ it to guard himfelf againft the 
 accidents to which mankind is liable, by fuch 
 ufeful reflections as furnifh us with the means not 
 to make an ill ufe of good fortune, and not to 
 be caft down with bad. It is neceffary, therefore, 
 to take as much care of the mind as of the body, 
 becaufe on its ftate depends all the happinefs of 
 our life; and it is neceffary to be always pro- 
 viding 
 
( 181 ) 
 
 viding for its fupport, becaufe it is like a lamp, 
 which goes out if not fupplied with oil. 
 
 There is this difference betwixt the mind and 
 the body; that whereas too much exercife and 
 fatigue enervates the latter, it is exercife that 
 fupports the former. The more its genius is cul- 
 tivated, the more ftren<rth it gathers ; and old atre 
 itfclf, which has fo entire a power over the body, 
 can make no encroachment on the mind, when 
 it is habituated to a proper fublimity of thought, 
 to fecure it againft its attacks. — Cicero juftly 
 obferves, that it is not to old age that we are to 
 charge the defects which we perceive in credulous, 
 forgetful, and irregular old men ; but to their 
 fordidnefs, floth, and negligence. And as the 
 follies of youth, though it is a date more fubje£l 
 to fire and paffion than old age, are not, how- 
 ever, to be found in all young people, but only 
 in thofe who are ill-natured, fo we do not find that 
 all old men doat, but thofe only who are triflers. 
 and men of (hallow capacities. We ought there- 
 fore to confider the underitanding as a treafure 
 that is of ufe. to us at all times, and which we 
 cannot take too much pains to increafe. 
 
 Acquired knowledge is not only ufeful, but 
 pleafant ; it gives the mind a two-fold fatisfaftion, 
 
 and 
 
( 182 ) 
 
 and preferves it fro-m ruft, that poifon which is 
 fo fatal to the tranquillity of the mind, and cor- 
 rupts the moil precious enjoyments. A man 
 who loves the arts and fciences is never idle ; all 
 his moments are employed ; and wherefoever he 
 is, whitherfoever he goes, he always carries what 
 will agreeably amufe him. The fciences are 
 formed for all ftages of life ; and the older a man is, 
 the more neceifary they are. In youth they ferve 
 for amufement, at years of maturity for a com- 
 panion, and in old age for a comforter. 
 
 Study furnifhes us with a thoufand ways to dif- 
 pel that uneafmefs which makes us unhappy. A 
 mind that is employed, eafily forgets many things 
 which would make a ftronger impreffion upon it, 
 if it was idle. The grievances of the body are 
 alfo relieved by ftudy ; for the application of the 
 mind to certain objects which pleafe it, hinder it 
 from perceiving the neceflities of the body. Even 
 old age, after a life fpent in ftudy, does not dif- 
 cover its infirmities by the difagreeable fymptoms 
 which reduce us, as it were, to childhood. It 
 comes on without being perceived, we ftoop 
 under it infenfibly ; but, though at lad we drop 
 into the grave, we do not fall into it all at once. 
 Thus did Newton, Boerhaave, and Beaufobre, 
 pafs their old age, and thus the illuftrious Fon- 
 
 tenelle. 
 
( 183 ) 
 
 tenclle. The greateft men among the ancients 
 improved their underftanding to the laft. Sopho- 
 cles compofed tragedies until he was exceeding 
 old, and it is faid he was not lefs than an hundred 
 when he wrote his (Edipus. His children, finding 
 that the application he gave to his plays made 
 him negleft his family affairs, commenced a fuit 
 of lunacy againft him ; but Sophocles made no 
 other defence than the reciting the tragedy of 
 (Edipus, which he had juft finimed, before 
 proper judges of the drama ; and, having then 
 afkcd them whether they thought the play was 
 the compofition of a man that had loft his reafon, 
 he was acquitted of the charge. 
 
 GRACE SUPERIOR TO BEAUTY. 
 
 A VISION. 
 
 HAVING a few nights fince paffed feveral 
 hours in a circle of intelligent perfons, who 
 endeavoured to account in vain for the caufe of 
 the irrefiftible effect which grace has upon the 
 human mind, after contemplating the fubje£t for 
 fome time, I fell aflcep, and fancied myfelf be- 
 tween 
 
( tu ) 
 
 tween two landfcapes, this called the Region of 
 Beauty, and that the Valley of the Graces; the 
 one embellilhed with all that luxuriant nature 
 could beftow; the fruits of various climates 
 adorned the trees, the grove refounded with mufic, 
 the gale breathed perfume, every charm that could 
 arife from fymmetry and exact diftribution, were 
 here confpicuous, the whole offering a profpecl: of 
 pleafure without end. The Valley of the Graces, 
 on the other hand, feemed by no means fo in- 
 viting ; the dreams and the grove3 appeared juft 
 as they ufually do in frequented countries ; no 
 magnificent parterres, no concert in the grove, 
 the rivulet was edged with weeds, and the rook 
 joined its voice to that of the nightingale. All 
 was fimplicity and nature. 
 
 The moil (hiking objects ever allure the travel- 
 ler. I entered the Region of Beauty with m- 
 creafed curiofity, and promifed myfelf endlefs fa- 
 tisfa£b'on in being introduced to the prefiding 
 goddefs. I perceived feveral ftrangers who en- 
 tered with the fame defign, and, what furprized 
 me not a little, was to fee feveral others haftening 
 to leave ibis abode of feeming felicity. 
 
 After fome fatigue, I had the honour of being 
 introduced to the goddefs who prefented Beaut/ 
 
 iii 
 

 ( 185 ) 
 
 in perfon. She was feated on a throne, at the 
 foot of which flood feveral Grangers lately intro- 
 duced like me ; all gazing on her form in exftacy. 
 Ah what eyes ! what lips ! how clear her com- 
 plexion ! how perfe£t her fhape ! At thefe ac- 
 clamations, Beauty, with downcaft eyes, would 
 endeavourto counterfeit modefty ; but foon again, 
 looking round as if to confirm every fpeclator in 
 his favourable fentiments, fometimes (lie would 
 attempt to allure us by fmiles, and at intervals 
 would bridle back in order to infpire us with re- 
 fpecl as well as tendernefs. 
 
 This ceremony lafted fome time, and had (o 
 much employed our eyes, that we had forgot all 
 this while that the goddefs was lilent. We foon 
 however began to perceive the defect : what, laid 
 we among each other, are we to have nothing but 
 languilhing airs, foft looks and inclinations of the 
 head; will the goddefs only defign to faiisfy our 
 eyes? upon this, one of the company Hepped up 
 to prefent her with fome fruits he had gathered 
 by the way. She received the prefent moft fweetly 
 fmilin<r, and with one of the whiteft hands in the 
 world, but frill not a word efcaped her lips. 
 
 I now found that my companions grew weary 
 of their homage j they went off one by one, and, 
 
 B b refolving 
 
( 186 ) 
 
 revolving not to be left behind, I offered to go in 
 my turn ; when, juft at the door of the temple, I 
 was called back by a female whofe name was 
 Pride, and who feemed difpleafed at the beha- 
 viour of the company. Where are you haftening? 
 laid fhe to- me, with an angry tone ; the Goddefs of 
 Beauty is here. I have been to vifit her, Madam, 
 replied I, and found her more beautiful than even 
 report had made. And why then will you leave 
 her, added the female : I have feen her long 
 enough replied I ; I have got all her features by 
 heart : her eyes are (till the fame : Her nofe is a 
 very fine one, but is now as it was half an hour 
 ago ; could fhe throw a little more mind into her 
 face, perhaps I fhould be for wifhing to have more 
 of her company. What fignifjes, replied the fe- 
 male, whether fhe has a mind or not : has fhe 
 any occafion for a mind fo formed as fhe is by 
 nature ? If fhe had a common face indeed, there 
 might be fome reafon for thinking to improve it ^ 
 but, when features are already perfect, every al- 
 teration would but impair them. A fine face is 
 already at the point of perfection, and a fine lady 
 fhould endeavour to keep it fo ; the impreffion it 
 would receivefrom thought would but difturb its 
 whole ceconomy. 
 
 T* 
 
{ 187 ) 
 
 To this fpeech I gave no reply, but made the 
 "heft of my way to the Valley of the Graces. Here 
 I found all thofe who had before been my com- 
 panions in the Region of Beauty, now upon the 
 fame errand. 
 
 As we entered the Valley, the profpefl infen- 
 fibly feemed to improve ; we found every thing fo 
 natural, fo domeftic and pleafing, that our minds, 
 which before were congealed in admiration, now 
 relaxed into gaiety and good humour. We had 
 defigned to pay our refpetts to the presiding god- 
 defs, but flie was no where to be found. One of 
 ■our companions aflerted that her temple lay to the 
 right; another to the left; a third inlifted that it 
 was ftrait before us ; and a fourth, that we had 
 left it behind. In lhort, we found every thing fa- 
 miliar and charming, but could not determine 
 where to feek for the Grace in perfon. In this 
 agreeable incertitude we pafTed feveral hours, 
 and, though very delirous of rinding the goddefs, 
 by no means impatient of delay. Every part of 
 the valley prefented fome minute beauty, which, 
 without offering itfelf at once, ftole upon the 
 foul, and captivated us with the charms of our re- 
 treat. Still, however, we continued our fearch, 
 and miffht ftill have continued, had we not been 
 interrupted by a voice, which, though we could 
 
 not 
 
( m ) 
 
 not hear frdm whence it came, addreflfed us in 
 this manner : 
 
 ANECDOTE 
 
 OF 
 
 SIR ROBERT WALPOLE. 
 
 HEN Sir Robert Walpole was minifter 
 in the Spanifh war, a fcheme was men- 
 tioned to him of taxing the American colonies ; 
 
 he 
 
 
 If vou would find the Goddefs of Grace, feek 
 her not under one form, for fhe aflumes a thou- 
 fand, ever changing, under the eye of infpeclion ; 
 her vanity, rather than her figure, is pleating. In 
 contemplating her beauty, the eye glides over 
 every perfection with giddy delight, and, capable 
 of fixing no where, is charmed with the whole. 
 She is now contemplation, with folemn look ; 
 again, compaffion with humid eyes; fhe now 
 fparkles with joy ; foon every feature fpeaks 
 diflrefs 5 her looks at times invite our reproach, 
 at others reprefs our prefumption ; the goddefs 
 cannot be properly called beautiful, under any 
 one of thofe forms ; but, by combining them all, 
 {lie becomes irrefiftibly pleafing. 
 
( 189 ) 
 
 he fmiledand faid, " I will leave that for fome of 
 my fuccefibrs, who may have more-courage than 
 I have, and lefs a friend to commerce than I am." 
 He added, " It has been a maxim with me "during 
 my adminiftration, to encourage the trade of the 
 American colonies in the utmoft latitude (nay it 
 has been neccflary to pafs over fome irregularities 
 in their trade with Europe) for by encouraging 
 them to an extcnfive growing foreign com- 
 merce, if they gain 500,0001. I am convinced 
 that in two years afterwards full 250,0001. of their 
 gains will be in his Majefty's exchequer by the 
 labour and product of this kingdom, as immenfe 
 quantities of every kind of our manufactures go 
 thither; and as they increafe in their foreign 
 American trade, more of our produce will be 
 
 wanted." He ended with faying, " This is 
 taxing them more agreeably both to their own 
 conftitution and to ours."- 
 
 BEAUTY. 
 
 THERE is nothing that gives us fo pleating a 
 profpect of human nature, as the contem- 
 plation of wifdom and beauty. Beauty is an over 
 weaning, felf-fufficient thing, carelefs of providing 
 
 itfelf 
 
( iw>) 
 
 in elf any more fubflantial ornaments; nay, fo 
 little does it confult its own intereft, that it too 
 often defeats itfelf, by betraying that innocence 
 which renders it lovely and definable. As there- 
 fore virtue makes a beautiful woman appear more 
 beautiful, fo beauty makes a virtuous woman 
 Tealiy more virtuous. 
 
 It is, methinks, a low and degrading idea of 
 that fex, which was created to refine the joys, 
 and foften the cares of human nature, by the Hioft 
 agreeable participation, to confider them merely 
 as objects of fight. This is abridging them of 
 their natural extent of power, to put them upon 
 a level with their pictures. How much nobler is 
 the contemplation of beauty heightened by virtue, 
 and commanding our efteem and love, while it, 
 draws our obfervation ? How faint and fpiritlefs 
 are the charms of the coquet, when compared 
 with the real loveiinefsof innocence, piety, good 
 humour, the inefifiible charms of modefty un- 
 affected, — humanity, with all thofe rare and plea- 
 fing marks of fenfibility ; virtues, which add anew 
 foftnefs to her fex ; and even beautify her beauty. 
 
 Nothing (fays Mr. Addifon) can atone for the 
 want of modefty and innocence, without which, 
 beauty is ungraceful, and quality contemptible. 
 
 Let 
 
( 191 ) 
 
 Let a woman be decked with all the embellifh- 
 merits of art and care of nature ; yet if boldnefs 
 be to be read in her face, it blots all the lines of 
 beauty. 
 
 The plainer the drefs, with greater Iuftre does 
 beauty appear : virtue is the greater! ornament, 
 and good fenfe the beft equipage. 
 
 An inviolable fidelity, good humour, and com- 
 placency of temper in a woman, outlive all the 
 charms of a fine face, and make the decays of it 
 inviiible. 
 
 It is but too feldom feen, that beautiful perfons 
 are otherwife of great virtue. 
 
 No beauty hath any charms equal to the in- 
 ward beauty of the mind. A gracefulnefs in the 
 manners is much more en^aarins: than that of the 
 perfon ; the former every one has the power to 
 attain to in fome meafure, the latter is in no one's 
 power, — is no internal worth, and has the gift of 
 God, who formed us all. Meeknefs and modeiiy 
 are the true and lafting ornaments. 
 
 Virtue's the chiefeft beauty of the mind, 
 Xlie nobleft ornament of human kind. 
 
 Beauty 
 
( 1^2 ) 
 
 Beauty infpires a pleafing fentiment, winch pre- 
 poffeffes people in its favour. Modefty has great 
 advantages ; it fets off beauty, and ferves as a 
 veil to uglinefs. The misfortune of uglinefs is, 
 that it fometimes (mothers and buries much me- 
 rit j people do not look for the engaging qualities 
 for the head and heart in a forbidding figure. 'Tis 
 no'eafy matter when merit muft make its way, 
 and mine through a difasrreeable outfide. 
 
 Without virtue, good fenfe, and fweetnefs of 
 difpofition, the fined fet of features will, ere long, 
 eeafe to pleafe ; but, where thefe with the graces 
 are united, it muft afford an agreeable and pleafing 
 contemplation. 
 
 The liberality of nature in the perfon, is but 
 too frequently attended with a deficiency in the 
 underftanding. 
 
 Beauty alone, in vain its charms difpenfe, 
 The charms of beauty, are the charms of fenfe. 
 
 Beauty without the graces of the mind, will 
 have no power over the hearts of the wife and the 
 good. Beauty is a flower which foon withers, 
 health changes, and ftrength abates, but inno- 
 
 cency 
 
( 193 ) 
 
 cency is immortal and a comfort both in life and 
 death. 
 
 Let us fuppofe the virtuous mind a rofe, 
 Which nature plants and education blows. 
 
 Merit, accompanied with beauty, is a jewel 
 fet to advantage. 
 
 o 
 
 Let virtue prove your never-fading bloom. 
 For mental beauties will furvive the tomb. 
 
 There are emanations from the mind, which, 
 like a ray of celeflial fire, animate the form of 
 beauty ; without thefe the moll perfect fymmetry 
 is but a moulded clod ; and whenever they appear* 
 the moil indifferent features acquire a fpirit of fen-^ 
 fibility, and an engaging charm, which, thole 
 only do not admire, who want faculties to 
 difcover. — Thole flrokes of fenfibility, thofe 
 touches of innocence and dignity, &c. difplay 
 charms too refined for the difcernment of vulgar 
 eyes, that are captivated by a glance of beauty, 
 aflifled by vivid colour and gaudy decoration. 
 
 C c THOUGHTS 
 
( 194 ) 
 
 THOUGHTS 
 
 AFTER READING AN ACCOUNT OF THE 
 DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY. 
 
 * r \ ^IS done! (lie's gone ! her better part is fled, 
 JL But whence? and where? though num- 
 ber'd with the dead, 
 Yet ftill fhe lives in endlefs blifs to fing, 
 Eternal praifes to her heavenly King. 
 Thrice happy maid ! thy race is quickly run, 
 Thy talk is finifh'd ere 'tis well begun ; 
 I give thee joy, thou haft efcap'd from woe, 
 And all the cares that mortals feel below ; 
 Thy God hath fnatch'd thy blooming foul away, 
 From fcenes of ficknefs to immortal day ; 
 To feats of blifs, eternal and fecure, 
 Where joy is certain, and contentment fure. 
 Why mould the tear then tremble in the eye ? 
 Why heave the bofom with a mournful figh ? 
 Was not her virtuous foul prepar'd to meet 
 Her gracious Maker in his judgment feat ? 
 Did not fhe quit this lower world refign'd ? 
 Tho' rack'd in body, yet compos'd in mind. 
 
 And 
 
( 195 ) 
 
 And fince nor art, nor friendfhip's foothing 
 pow'r, 
 Could aught avail beyond the fatal hour ; 
 Since not a mother's fond parental love 
 Could change the will of him who rules above ; 
 Since neither health, nor e'en the beauteous frame 
 Of earth's fair daughters, or the fons of fame, 
 Can long exift in this inconftant world, 
 Where all to ruin foon or late is hurl'd ; 
 Since too from future pains and future care 
 She's call'd thus early to a brighter fphere, 
 Y\ hy ihould we mourn her flight from earth below, 
 Who with her Maker (miles a cherub now ! 
 
 THE HOPE OF RICHES 
 MORE THAN THE ENJOYMENT. 
 
 THAT every man would be rich, if a with 
 could obtain riches, is a pofition which 
 few will conteft, at leaft in a nation like our's, in 
 which commerce has kindled an univerfal emula- 
 tion ot wealth, and in which money receives all 
 the honours which are the proper right of know- 
 ledge, and of virtue. Yet, though we are labour- 
 ing tor gold as for the chief good, and, by the 
 natural ettort ot unwearied diligence, have found 
 
 many 
 
 
( ^6 ) 
 
 many expeditious methods cf obtaining it, we 
 have not been able to improve the art of niing it* 
 or to make it produce more happinefs than it 
 afforded in former times, when every declaimer 
 expatiated on its mifchiefs, and every philofopher 
 taught his followers to defpife it. 
 
 We fill our houfes with ufelefs ornaments, 
 only to fhew that we can buy them : w T e cover 
 our coaches with gold, and employ artifts in the 
 difcovery of new faihions of expence, and yet it 
 cannot be found that riches produce happinefs. 
 
 Of riches, as of every thing elfe, the hope is 
 more than the enjoyment : while we confider 
 them as the means to be ufed, at fome future 
 time, for the attainment of felicity, we prefs on 
 our purfuit ardently and vigoroufly, and that 
 ardour fecures us from wearinefs of ourfelvcs ; 
 but no fooner do we fit down to enjoy our ac- 
 quisitions, than we find them infufficient to fill 
 up the vacuities of life. One caufe which is not 
 always obferved of the infufficiency of riches, is, 
 that they very feldom make their owner rich. 
 To be rich, is to have more than is defired, and 
 more than is wanted • to have fomething which 
 may be fpent without reluctance, and fcattered 
 without care, with which the fudden demands of 
 
 defire 
 
( 197 ) 
 
 defire may be gratified, the cafual freaks of fancy 
 indulged, or the unexpected opportunities of 
 benevolence improved. 
 
 Avarice Is always poor, but poor by her own 
 fault. There is another poverty to which the 
 rich are expofed with lefs guilt by the officiouf- 
 nefs of others. Every man, eminent for exuberance 
 of fortune, is furrounded from morning to even- 
 ing, and from evening to midnight, by flatterers, 
 whofe art of adulation confifts in exciting ar- 
 tificial wants, and in forming new fchemes of 
 profusion. 
 
 Tom Tranquil, when he came to age, found 
 hirnfelf in pofleflion of a fortune, of which the 
 twentieth part might perhaps have made him 
 rich. His temper is eafy, and his affections foft : 
 he receives every man with kindnefs, and hears 
 him with credulity. His friends took care to 
 fettle him, by giving him a wife, whom, having 
 no particular inclination, he rather accepted than 
 choofe, becaufe he was told that flie was proper 
 for him. 
 
 He was now to live with dignity proportionate 
 to his fortune. What his fortune requires or 
 admits, Tom does not know; for he has little 
 
 (kill 
 
( 198 ) 
 
 (kill in computation, and none of his friends think 
 it their intereft to improve it. If he was fuffered 
 to live by his own choice, he would leave every 
 thing as he finds it, and pafs through the world 
 diftinguiflied only by inoftenfive gentlencfs. But 
 the Minifters of Luxury have marked him out as 
 one at whole expence they may exercife their 
 arts. A companion, who has juft learned the 
 names of the Italian mafters, runs from fale to 
 fale, and buys pictures, for which Mr. Tranquil 
 pays, without enquiring where they mail be hung. 
 Another fills his garden with ftatues, which Tian- 
 quil wifhes away, but dares not move. One of 
 his friends is learning architecture by building ' 
 him a houfe, which he pafled by, and enquired to 
 whom it belonged : another has been for three 
 years digging canals, and railing mounts, cutting 
 trees down in one place, and planting them in 
 another ; on which Tranquil looks with ferene 
 indifference, without afking what will be the coft. 
 Another projector tells him that a water-work, 
 like that of Verfailles, will complete the beauties 
 of his feat, and lays his draughts before him : 
 Tranquil turns his eyes upon them, and the artilr. 
 begins his explanations : Tranquil raifes no ob- 
 jections, but orders him to begin the work, that 
 he may efcape from talk which he does not un- 
 derftand. 
 
 Thus 
 
( ita ) 
 
 Thus a thoufand hands are bufy at his expence, 
 without adding to his pleafures. He pays and 
 receives vifits, and has loitered in public, or in 
 folitude, talking in fummer of the town, and in 
 winter of the country, without knowing that his 
 fortune is impaired, 'till the fteward told him 
 lately that he could pay the workmen no longer 
 but by mortgaging a manor. 
 
 THE YOUNG TRADER'S 
 
 ATTEMPT AT POLITENESS. 
 
 I Was the fecond fon of a country gentleman 
 by the daughter of a wealthy citizen of Lon- 
 don. My father having by his marriage freed the 
 ellate from a heavy mortgage, and paid his fitters 
 their portions, thought himfelf difcharged from 
 all obligation to further thought, and entitled 
 to fpend the reft of his life in rural plea- 
 fures. He therefore fpared nothing that might 
 contribute to the completion of his felicity ; he 
 procured the belt guns and horfes that the king- 
 dom could fupply, paid large falaries to his groom 
 and huntfman, and became the envy of the coun- 
 try 
 
( 200 ] 
 
 try for the difclpline of his hounds. But above all 
 his other attainments, he was eminent for a breed 
 of pointers and fetting-dogs, which by long and vi- 
 gilant cultivation he had fo much improved, that 
 not a partridge or heathcock could reft in fecurity, 
 and game of whatever fpecies that dared to light 
 upon his manor, was beaten down by his mot, 
 or covered with his nets. 
 
 My elder brother was very early initiated in 
 the chace, and at an age when other boys are 
 creeping like fnails unwillingly to fchool, he could 
 wind the horn, beat the bufhes, bound over 
 hedges, and fwim rivers. When the huntfman 
 one day broke his leg, he fupplied his place with 
 equal abilities, and came home with the fcut in 
 his hat, amidft the acclamations of the whole 
 village. I being either delicate or timorous, lefs 
 defirous of honour, or lefs capable of fylvan he- 
 roifm, was always the favourite of my mother ; 
 becaufe I kept my coat clean, and my complexion 
 free from freckles, and did not come home like 
 my brother mired and tanned, nor carry corn in 
 my hat to the horfe, nor bring dirty curs into the 
 parlour. 
 
 My mother had not been taught to amufe her- 
 felf with books, and being much inclined to de- 
 
 fpife 
 
{ 201 ) 
 
 fpife the ignorance and barbarity of the country 
 ladies, difdained to learn their fentiments or con- 
 verfation, and had made no addition to the notions 
 which (lie had brought from the precin&s of 
 Cornhill. She was. therefore, always recounting 
 the glories of the city; enumerating the fuc- 
 ceffion of mayors ; celebrating the magnificence 
 of the banquets at Guildhall; and relating the 
 civilities paid her at the companies feafts, by men 
 of whom fome are now made aldermen, fome 
 have fined for mends, and none are worth lefs 
 than forty thoufand pounds. She irequently dis- 
 played her father's greatnefs ; told of the large 
 bills which he had paid at fight ; of the funis for 
 which his word would pafs upon the exchange ; 
 the heaps of gold which he ufed on Saturday night 
 to tofs about with a (hovel ; the extent of his 
 warehoufe, and the ftrength of his doors ; and 
 when (lie relaxed her imagination with lower 
 fubjecls, defcribed the furniture of their country- 
 houfe, or repeated the wit of the clerks and 
 porters. 
 
 By thefe narratives I was fired with the fplenclor 
 and dignity of London and of trade. I therefore 
 devoted myfelf to a (hop, and warmed my ima- 
 gination from ye?r to year with enquiries about 
 tfre privileges of a fieeman, the power of the 
 D d common 
 
( 202 ) 
 
 common council, the dignity of a wholefale 
 dealer, and the grandeur of mayoralty, to which 
 my mother aflfured me that many had arrived who 
 began the world with lefs than myfelf. 
 
 I was very impatient to enter into a path which 
 led to fuch honour and felicity; but was forced 
 for a time to endure fome repreffion of my eager- 
 nefs, for it was my grandfather's maxim, that a 
 young manfeldom makes much money, who is out of 
 his lime before two and-twenty. They thought it 
 neceflary, therefore, to keep me at home till the 
 proper age, and without any other employment 
 than that of learning merchants' accounts, and 
 the art of regulating books ; but at length the 
 tedious days elapfed, I was tranfplanted to town, 
 and, with great fatisfaclion to myfelf, bound to a 
 haberdafher, 
 
 My mailer, who had no conception of any 
 virtue, merit, or dignity, but that of being rich, 
 had all the good qualities which naturally arife 
 from a clofe and unwearied attention to the main 
 chance ; his defire to gain wealth was fo well 
 tempered by the vanity of fhewing it, that with- 
 out any other principle of action, he lived in the 
 efteem of the whole commercial world ; and was 
 always treated with refpect by the only men, 
 
 whofe 
 
( 203 ) 
 
 whofe good opinion he valued or folicited, thofe 
 who were univerfally allowed to be richer than 
 himfelf. 
 
 By his inftruclions I learned in a few weeks to 
 handle a yard with great dexterity, to wind tape 
 neatly upon the ends of my fingers, and to make 
 up parcels with exact frugality of paper and 
 pack-thread ; and foon caught from my fellows- 
 apprentices the true grace of a counter bow, the 
 carelefs air with which a final! pair of fcales is to 
 be held between the fingers, and the vigour and 
 fprightlinefs with which the box, after the ribband 
 has been cut, is returned to its place. Having no 
 defire of any higher employment, and therefore 
 applying all my powers to the knowledge of my 
 trade, I was quickly mailer of all that could be 
 known, became a critic in fmall wares, con- 
 trived new variations of figures, and new mix- 
 tures of colours, and was fomctimes confulted 
 by the weavers, when they projected faihions for 
 the enfuing fpring. 
 
 With all thefe accomplifhments, in the fourth 
 year of my apprenticelhip, I paid a vilit to my 
 friends in the country, where I expected to be re T 
 reived as a new ornament of the family, and con- 
 fulted by the neighbouring gentlemen as a matter 
 1 of 
 
( 204 ) 
 
 of pecuniary knowledge, and by the ladies as an 
 oracle of the mode. But unhappily, at the firft 
 public table to which I was invited, appeared a 
 ftudent of the Temple, and an officer of the Guards, 
 who looked upon me with a fmile of contempt, 
 which deftroyed at once all my hopes of diftinc- 
 tion, fo that I durft hardly raife my eyes for fear 
 of encountering their fuperiorityof mein. Nor was 
 my courage revived by any opportunities ofdifplay- 
 ing my knowledge ; for the Templar entertained 
 the company for part of the day with hiftorical 
 narratives and political obfervations; and the Colo- 
 nel afterwards detailed the adventures of a birth- 
 night, told the claims and expectations of the 
 courtiers, and gave an account of affemblies, 
 gardens, and diverfions. I, indeed, effayed to 
 fill up a paufe in a parliamentary debate with a 
 faint mention of trade, and Spaniards ; and once 
 attempted, with fome warmth, to correct a grofs 
 miilake about a filver breaft-knot ; but neither of 
 my antagonifts feemed to think a reply neceflary j 
 they refumed their difcourfe without emotion, 
 and again engrofTed the attention of the com- 
 pany ; nor did one of the ladies appear defirous 
 to know my opinion of her drefs, or to hear 
 how long the carnation (hot with white, that was 
 then new amongft them, had been antiquated in 
 town. 
 
 m 
 
( 205 ) 
 
 As I knew that neither of thefe gentlemen had 
 more money than myfelf, I could not difcover 
 what had depreffed me in their prefence ; nor 
 why they were confidered by others as more 
 worthy of attention and refpeel ; and therefore 
 tefolved, when we met again, to roufe my fpirit, 
 and force myfelf into notice. I went very early 
 tot he next weekly meeting, and was entertaining 
 a fmall circle very fuccefsfullv with a minute re- 
 prefentation of my Lord Mayor's lhow, when 
 the Colonel entered carelefs and gay, fat down 
 with a kind of unceremonious civility, and with- 
 out appearing to intend any interruption, drew 
 my audience away to the other part of the room, 
 to which I had not the courage to follow them. 
 Soon after came in the Lawyer, not indeed with 
 the fame attraction of mien, but with greater 
 powers of language ; and by one or other the 
 company was fo happily amufed, that I was 
 neither heard nor feen, nor was able to give any 
 other proof of my exigence than that 1 put round 
 the glafs, and was in my turn permitted to name 
 the toaft. 
 
 My mother indeed endeavoured to comfort me 
 in my vexation, by telling me, that perhaps thefe 
 fhowy talkers were hardly able to pay every one 
 feis own ; that he who has money in his pocket 
 
 need 
 
( 206 ) 
 
 need not care what any man fays of him ; that, it 
 I minded my trade, the time will come when 
 lawyers and foldiers would be glad to borrow out 
 of my purfe ; and that it is fine when a man can 
 fet his hands to his fides, and fay he is worth 
 forty thoufand pounds every day of the year. 
 Thefe and many more fuch confolations and en- 
 couragements I received from my good mother, 
 which, however, did not much allay my uneafi- 
 nefs ; for having by fome accident heard, that 
 the country ladies defpifed her as a cit, I had 
 therefore no longer much reverence for her opi- 
 nions, but confidered her as one whofe ignorance 
 and prejudice had hurried me, though without ill 
 intentions, into a ftate of meannefs and ignominy, 
 from which I could not find any poflibility of 
 rifing to the rank which my anceftors had al- 
 ways held. 
 
 I returned, however, to my mafter, and bufied 
 myfelf among thread, and filks, and laces, but 
 without my former cheerfulnefs and alacrity. I 
 had now no longer any felicity in contemplating 
 the exa£r. difpofition of my powdered curls, the 
 equal plaits of my ruffles, or the glofly blacknefs 
 of my iliocs ; nor heard with my former elevation 
 thofe compliments which ladies fometimes con- 
 defcended to pay me upon my readinefs in 
 
 twilling 
 
( 207 ) 
 
 twitting a paper, or counting out the change. 
 The term of young man, with which I was fome- 
 times honoured, as I carried a parcel to the door 
 of a coach, tortured my imagination ; I grew ne- 
 gligent in my perfon, and fullen in my temper, 
 often miftook the demand of the cuftomers, 
 treated their caprices and objections with con- 
 tempt, and received and difmiffed them with 
 furly filence. 
 
 My mailer was afraid left the fliop flibuld fufTer 
 by this change of my behaviour ; and therefore 
 after fome expoftulations, ported me in the ware- 
 houfe, and preferved me from, the danger and 
 reproach of defertion, to which my difcontent 
 would certainly have urged me, had I continued 
 any longer behind the counter. 
 
 In the fixth year of my fervitude my brother 
 died of drunken joy, for having run down a fox 
 that had baffled all the packs in the province. I 
 was now heir, and with the hearty confent of my 
 mafter commenced gentlemen. 
 
 THE 
 
( 208 ) 
 
 THE YOUNG TRADER 
 
 TURNED GENTLEMAN. 
 
 WHEN the death of my brother had dif- 
 mi fifed me from the duties of a fhop, I 
 confidered myfelf as reftored to the rights of my 
 birth, and entitled to the rank and reception 
 which my ancestors obtained. I was, however, 
 embarrafifed with many difficulties at my firft re- 
 cntrance into the world ; for my hafte to be a 
 gentleman inclined me to precipitate meafures; 
 and every accident that forced me back towards 
 my old ftation, was confidered by me as an ob- 
 ftru£tion of my happinefs. 
 
 It was with no common grief and indignation, 
 that I found my former companions Hill daring to 
 claim my notice, and the journeymen and ap- 
 prentices fometimes pulling me by the fleeve as I 
 was walking in the ftreet, and without any terror 
 of my new fword, which was notwithftanding, of 
 an uncommon iize, inviting me to partake of a 
 bottle at the old houfe,.and entertaining me with 
 hiftories of the girls in the neighbourhood. I had 
 always, in my official flate, been kept in awe by 
 lace and embroidery ; and imagined that to 
 
 fright 
 
( 209 } 
 
 fright away thefe unwelcome familiarities, nothing 
 was neceflary, but that I lhould, by fplendour of 
 drefs, proclaim my reunion with a higher rank. I 
 therefore fent for my taylor ; ordered a fuit with 
 twice the ufual quantity of lace j and, that I 
 might not let my perfecutorS increafe their confi- 
 dence, by the habit of acceding me, (laid at home 
 till it was made. 
 
 This week of confinement I puffed in pra&ifmg 
 a forbidding frown, a finile of condefcenfion, a 
 flight falutation, and an abrupt departure ; and in 
 four mornings was able to turn upon my heel, 
 with fo much levity and fprightlincfs, that I made 
 no doubt of difcouraging all public attempts 
 Upon my dignity. I therefore iflued forth in my 
 new coat, with a refolution of dazzling intimacy 
 to a fitter diftance ; and pleafed myfelf with the 
 timidity and reverence, which I mould imprefs 
 upon all who had hitherto prefumed to harafs me 
 with their freedoms. But whatever was the 
 caufe, I did not find myfelf received with any new 
 degree of refpe£t ; thofe whom I intended to 
 drive from me ventured to advance with their 
 ufual phrafes of benevolence ; and thofe whofe 
 acquaintance I folicited, grew more fupercilious 
 and referved. I began foon to repent the ex- 
 pence, by which I had procured no advantage, 
 
 E e and 
 
( 210 ) 
 
 and to fufpe£t that a fhining drefs, like a weight}' 
 weapon, has no force in itfelf, but owes all its 
 efficacy to him that wears it. 
 
 Manv were the mortifications and calamities 
 which I was condemned to fuffer in my initiation 
 to politenefs. I was fo much tortured by the 
 inceflant civilities of my companions, that I never 
 patted through that region of the city but in a 
 chair with the curtains drawn ; and at laft left 
 my lodgings, and fixed myfelf in the verge of the 
 court. Here I endeavoured to be thought a gen- 
 tleman juft returned from his travels, and was 
 pleafed to have my landlord believe, that I was 
 in fome danger from importunate creditors ; but 
 this fcheme was quickly defeated by a formal 
 deputation fent to offer me, though I had 
 now retired from bufmefs, the freedom of my 
 company. 
 
 I was now detected in trade, and therefore re- 
 folved to ftay no longer. I hired another apart- 
 ment, and changed my fervants. Here I lived 
 very happily for three months, and, with fecret 
 fatisfa&ion, often overheard the family celebrating 
 the greatnefs and felicity of the efquire ; though 
 the converfation ■ feldom ended without fome 
 complaint of my covetoufnelts, or fome remark 
 
 upon: 
 
(211 ) 
 
 upon my language, or my gait. I now began to 
 venture into the public walks, and to know the 
 faces of nobles and beauties ; but could not ob- 
 ferve, without wonder, as I paffed by them, how 
 frequently they were talking of a taylor. I 
 Jonged, however, to be admitted to converfation, 
 and was fomewhat weary of walking in crowds 
 without a companion, yet continued to come and 
 go with the reft, till a lady whom I endeavoured 
 to protect in a crowded paffage, as the was about 
 to ftep into her chariot, thanked me for my 
 civility, and told rne, that, as fhe had often dif- 
 tinguiihed me for my modeft and rcfpectful be- 
 haviour, whenever I fet up for myfelf, I might 
 expect to fee her among my firft cuftomers. 
 
 Here was an end of all my ambulatory pro- 
 jects. I indeed fometimes entered the walks 
 again, but was always blafted by this deftructive 
 lady, whofe mifchievous generofity recommended 
 me to her acquaintance. Being therefore forced 
 to pra£tife my adfcititious character upon an- 
 other llage, I betook myfelf to a coffee-houfe 
 frequented by wits, among whom I learned, in a 
 fhort time the cant of criticifm, and talked fo 
 loudly and volubly of nature, and manners, and 
 fentiment, and diftion, and fimilies, and contrails, 
 and action, and pronunciation, that I was often 
 
 defired 
 
( 212 ) 
 
 defired to lead the hifs and clap, and was feared 
 and hated by the players and poets. Manv a 
 fentence have I hilled, which I did not under- 
 Hand, and many a groan have I uttered, when 
 the ladies were weeping in the boxes. At lair a 
 malignant Author, whofe performance I had per- 
 fecuted through the nine nights, wrote an epi- 
 giam upon Tape the critic, which drove me from 
 the pit for ever. My defire to be a fine gentle- 
 man itill continued : I therefore, after a fhort 
 fufpenfe, chofe a new fet of friends at the 
 gaming table, and was for fome time pleafed with 
 the civility and opennefs with which I found 
 myfelf treated. I was indeed obliged to play j 
 but being naturally timorous and vigilant, was 
 never furprifed into large fums. What might 
 have been the confequence of long familiaritv 
 with thefe plunderers, I had not an opportunity 
 of knowing ; for one night the conftables entered 
 and feized us, and I was once more compelled 
 to fink into my former condition, by fending for 
 my old mafter to atteft my character. When I 
 was deliberating to what new qualifications I 
 ihould afpire, I was fummoned into the country, 
 by an kqcount of my father's death. Here I'had 
 hopes of being able to diftinguifh myfelf, and 
 to fupport the honour of my family. I therefore 
 bought guns and horfes, and, contrary to the 
 
 expecla,- 
 
( 213 ) 
 
 expectation of the tenants, increafed the falary 
 of the huntfman. But when I entered the field, 
 it was foon difcovered, that I was not deftined to 
 the glories of the chafe. I was afraid of thorns 
 in the thicket, and of dirt in the marfh ; I fhivered 
 on the brink of a river, while the fportfmen 
 croffed it, and trembled at the fight of a five-bar 
 gate. When the fport and danger were over, I 
 was ftill equally difconcerted ; for I was effemi- 
 nate, though not delicate, and could only join a 
 feebly whifpering voice in the clamours of their 
 triumph. 
 
 A fall, by which my ribs were broken, foon 
 recalled me to domeltic pleafures, and I exerted 
 all my art to obtain the favour of the neighbour- 
 ing ladies; but wherever I came, there was always 
 fome unlucky converfation upon ribbands, fillets, 
 pins, or thread, which drove all my flock of 
 compliments out of my memory, and overwhelmed 
 me with lhame and dejeclion. 
 
 Thus I palled the ten firft years after the death 
 of my brother, in which I have learned at laft 
 to reprefs that ambition which I could never 
 gratify ; and, inftead of waiting more of my life 
 in vain endeavours after accomplilhments which, 
 jf not early acquired, no endeavours can obtain, 
 
 I mall 
 
( 2H ) 
 
 I fhall confine my care to thofe higher excellencies 
 which are in every man's power; and though I 
 cannot enchant affection by elegance and eafe, 
 hope to fecure efteem by honefty and truth. 
 
 NO LIFE PLEASING TO GOD, 
 
 THAT IS NOT 
 
 USEFUL TO MAN. 
 
 AN EASTERN STORY. 
 
 IN the Perfian chronicle of the five hundred 
 and thirteenth year of the Heigyra, it is thus 
 written : It pleafed our mighty Sovereign Abbas 
 Carafcan, from whom the kimrs of the earth de- 
 rive honour and dominion, to fet Mirza his 
 fervant over the province of Tauris. In the hand 
 of Mirza the balance of distribution was fufpended 
 with impartiality, and under his adminiuration 
 the weak were protected, the learned received 
 honour, and the diligent became rich. Mirza, 
 therefore, was beheld by every eye with com- 
 placency, and every tongue pronounced bleffings 
 upon his head. But it was obferved, that he 
 derived no joy from the benefits which he diis. 
 
 fufed : 
 
( 215 ) 
 
 fufed • lie became penfive and melancholy ; he 
 fpent ln's leifure in folitude : in his palace he fat 
 motionlefs upon a fofa ; and when he went out, 
 his walk was flow, and his eyes were fixed upon 
 the ground. He applied to the bufmefs of ftate 
 with reluclance, and refolved to relinquiih the 
 toil of government, of which he could no longer 
 enjoy the reward. J le, therefore, afked permiiTion 
 to approach the throne of our Sovereign ; and 
 being afked what was bis requeft, he made this 
 reply : 
 
 " May the Lord of the world forgive the 
 Have whom he has honoured, if Mirza prefumes 
 again to lay the bounty of Abbas at his feet. 
 Thou haft given me the dominion of a country, 
 fruitful as the gardens of Damafcus ; and a city, 
 glorious above all others, except that only which 
 reflects the fplendour of thy prefence. But the 
 longcft life is a period fcarce fufficient to pre- 
 pare for death : all other bufmefs is vain and 
 trivial, as the toil of emmets in the path of the 
 traveller, under whofe foot they perifh for ever ^ 
 and all enjoyment is unfubftantial and evanefcent, 
 as the colours of the bow that appears in the in- 
 terval of a ftorm. Suffer me, therefore, to pre- 
 pare for the approach of eternity : let me give up 
 my foul to meditation ; let folitude and filence 
 
 acquaint 
 
(21* ] 
 
 acquaint me with the myfteries of devotion ; let 
 me forget the world, and by the world be for- 
 gotten, 'till the moment arrives in which the veil 
 of eternity (hall fall, and I mail be found at the 
 bar of the Almighty." Mirza then bowed him- 
 felf to the earth, and flood lilent. 
 
 By the command of Abbas, it is recorded, 
 that at thefe words he trembled upon that throne, 
 at the footftool of which the world pays homage ; 
 he looked round upon his nobles ; but every 
 countenance was pale, and every eye was upon 
 the earth. No man opened his mouth ; and the 
 King firft broke filence, after it had continued 
 near an hour. 
 
 <c Mirza, terror and doubt are come upon me. 
 I am alarmed, as a man who fuddenly perceives 
 that he is near the brink of a precipice, and is 
 urged forward by an irrefrftible force : but yet I 
 know not whether my danger is a reality or a 
 dream. I am as thou art, a reptile of the earth: 
 my life is a moment ; and eternity, in which days, 
 and years, and ages are nothing, is before me, for 
 which I alfo mould prepare : but by whom then 
 muft the faithful be governed ? By thofe only, 
 who have no fear of judgment ; by thofe only, 
 whofe life is brutal ; becaufe, like brutes, they 
 
 do. 
 
( 217 ) 
 
 do not confider that they mall die. Or who in- 
 deed are the faithful ? Are the bufy multitudes 
 that crowd the city in a flate of perdition ? and 
 is the cell of the Dervife alone the gate of Para- 
 dife ? To all, the life of a Dervife is not polTible : 
 to all, therefore, it cannot be a duty. Depart to 
 the houfe which has in this city been prepared 
 lor thy refidence : I will meditate the reafon of 
 thy requeft ; and may He, who illuminates the 
 mind of the humble, enable me to determine 
 with wifdom." 
 
 Mirza departed ; and on the third day, having 
 received no command, he again requefted an 
 audience, and it was granted. When he en- 
 tered the Royal Prefence, his countenance ap- 
 peared more cheerful : he drew a letter from his 
 bofom, and, having kiffed it, prefented it with 
 his right hand. " My Lord," faid he, « I have 
 learned by this letter, which I received from 
 Cofrou the Iman, who now (lands before thee, 
 in what maimer life may be bed improved : I 
 am enabled to look back with pleafure, and for* 
 ward with hope; and I mail now .reioice frill 
 to be the fhadow of thy power at: Tav.ris, and to 
 keep thofe honours which I fo^Tately wilhed 
 to refign." The King, who had liftened to Mirza, 
 with a mixture of furprife and curioiity, imme- 
 
 F f diately 
 
( 218 ) 
 
 diately gave the letter to Cofrou, and commanded 
 that it mould be read. The eyes of the Court 
 were at once turned upon the hoary fage, whofe 
 countenance was fuffufed with an honeft blufh ; 
 and it was not without fome hefitation that he 
 read thefe words : " To Mirza, whom the wif- 
 dom of Abbas, our mighty Lord, has honoured 
 with dominion, be everlafting health ! when I 
 heard thy purpofe to withdraw the blefhngs of 
 thy Government from the thoufands of Tauris, 
 my heart was wounded with the arrow of afflic- 
 tion, and my eyes became dim with forrow. But 
 who mail fpeak before the King, when he is 
 troubled? and who mall boaft of knowledge, 
 when he is diftreflfed by doubt ? To thee I will 
 relate the events of my youth, which thou haft 
 renewed before me ; and thofe truths which they 
 taught me, may the Prophet multiply to thee. 
 
 " Under the inftruclion of the phyfician Alua- 
 zer, I obtained an early knowledge of this art. To 
 thofe who were fmitten with difeafe I could ad- 
 minifler plants, which the fun had impregnated 
 with the fpirit of health. But the fcenes of paiq, 
 langour, and mortality, which were perpetually 
 rifmg before me, made jne often tremble for 
 myfelf. I faw the grave open at my feet : I de- 
 termined, therefore, to contemplate only the 
 
 regions 
 
( 219 ) 
 
 regions beyond it, and defpife every acquifition 
 which I could not keep. I conceived an opinion, 
 that as there was no merit but in voluntary po- 
 verty, and filent meditation, thofe who delired mo- 
 ney were not proper objects of bounty ; and that 
 by all who were proper objects of bounty, money 
 was defpifed. I, therefore, buried mine in the 
 earth, and renouncing fociety, I wandered into 
 a wild and fequeftered part of the country: my 
 dwelling was a cave by the fide of a hill ; I drank 
 the running water from the fpring, and eat fuch 
 fruits and herbs as I could find. To increafe the 
 aulterity of my life, I frequently watched all 
 night, fitting at the entrance of the cave, with 
 my face to the eaft, religning myfelf to the fecret 
 influences of the Prophet, and expecting illumi- 
 nations from above. 
 
 " One morning, after my nocturnal vigil, juft 
 as I perceived the horizon glow at the approach 
 of the fun, the power of deep became irrefiitible, 
 and I funk under it. I imagined, dill fitting at 
 the entrance of my cell, that the dawn increafed; 
 and that as I looked earneftly for the firft beam of 
 day, a dark fpot appeared to intercept it. I per- 
 ceived that it was in motion : it increafed in fize 
 as it drew near, and at length I difcovered it to 
 be an eagle, I ftill kept my eye fixed ftedfaftly 
 
 upon 
 
( 220 j 
 
 upon it, and faw it alight at a fmall diftance, 
 where I now difcried a fox whofe two fore-legs 
 appeared to be broken. Before this fox the 
 eagle laid part of a kid, which fhe had brought 
 in her talons, and then difappeared. When I 
 awaked, I laid my forehead to the ground, and 
 bleflfed the Prophet for the inftruclion of the morn- 
 ing. I reviewed my dream, and faid thus to 
 myfelf : Cofrou, thou haft done well to renounce 
 the tumult, the bufinefs, and the vanities of life ; 
 but thou haft as yet done it only in part : thou art 
 Hill every day bulled in the fearch of food ; thy 
 mind is not wholly at reft, neither is thy truft in 
 providence com pleat. What art thou taught by 
 this vifion ? If thou haft feen an eagle com- 
 miilioned by heaven to feed a fox that is lame, 
 fhall not the hand of heaven alfo fupply thee 
 with food, when that which prevents thee from 
 procuring it for thyfelf is not necefiity, but devo- 
 tion ? I was now fo confident of a miraculous 
 fupply, that i neglected to walk out for my repaft, 
 which after the firft day, I expected with an im- 
 patience that left me little power of attending to 
 any other obje6t. This impatience, however, I 
 laboured to fupprefs, and perfifted in my refo- 
 lution ; but my eyes at length began to fail me, 
 and my knees fmote each other : I threw myfelf 
 backward, and hoped my weaknefs would foon 
 
 increafe 
 
( 121 ) 
 
 increafe to infenfibility. But I was fuddenly 
 rouzed by the voice of an invifible Being, who 
 pronounced thefe words : * Cofrou, I am the 
 Angel who, by the command of the Almighty, 
 have regiftered the thoughts of thy heart, which 
 I am now commiflioned to reprove. While thou 
 waft attempting to become wife above that which 
 is revealed, thy folly has perverted the inftru£tion 
 which was vouchfafed thee. Art thou difabled 
 as the fox ? Haft thou not rather the powers of 
 the eagle ? Arife, let the eagle be the object of 
 thy emulation. To pain and ficknefs, be thou 
 again the meflenger of eafe and health. Virtue 
 is not reft, but aclion. If thou doft good to 
 man, as an evidence of thy love to God, thy 
 virtue will be exalted from moral to divine, and 
 that happincfs, which is the pledge of Paradife, 
 will be thy reward upon earth.' 
 
 <f At thefe words I was not lefs aftonifhed, 
 than if a mountain had been overturned at my 
 feet. I humbled myfelf in the duft : I returned 
 to the city ; I dug up my treafure ; I was liberal, 
 yet I became rich. My fkill in reftoring health 
 to the body, gave me frequent opportunities of 
 curing the difeafes of the foul. I put on the fa- 
 cred veflments : I grew eminent beyond my 
 merit j and it was the pleafure of the King that 
 
 I inould 
 
( 222 ) 
 
 I fbould ftand before him. Now, therefore, be 
 not offended ; I boaft of no knowledge that I 
 have not received : as the fands of the defart drink 
 up the drops of rain, or the dew of the morn- 
 ing, fo do I alfo, who am but dull, imbibe the 
 inftructions of the Prophet. Believe, then, that it 
 is he who tells thee all knowledge is prophane, 
 which terminates in th\ felt ; and by a life wafted in 
 fpeculation, little even of this can be gained. 
 When the gates of Paradifeare thrown open before, 
 thee, thy mind (hall be irradiated in a moment : 
 here thou canft little more than pile error upon 
 error; there thou malt build truth upon truth. 
 Wait, therefore, for the glorious vifion ; and in 
 the mean time emulate the eagle. Much is in 
 thy power, and, therefore, much is expected of 
 thee. Though the Almighty only can give virtue, 
 yet as a Prince, thou mayeft ftimulate thofe to 
 beneficence, who aft from no higher motive than 
 immediate intereft : thou canft not produce the 
 principle, but mayeft enforce the practice. The 
 relief of the poor is equal, whether they receive 
 it from oftentation or charity ; and the effect of 
 example is the fame, whether it be intended to 
 obtain the favour of God or man. Let thy virtue 
 be thus diffufed ; and if thou believed with re- 
 verence, thou (halt be accepted above. — Farewell. 
 May the fmile of him who relides in the Heaven of 
 
 Heavens, 
 
{ 223 ) 
 
 Heavens be upon thee! And againft thy name, 
 in the Volume of his Will, may happinefs be 
 written !" 
 
 The King, whofe doubts, like thofe of Mirza, 
 were now removed, looked up with a fmile that 
 communicated the joy of his mind. He difmiffed 
 the Prince to his government, and commanded 
 thefe events to be recorded, to the end that 
 pofterity may know, — That no life is p leafing la 
 God, but that which is ufeful to mankind. 
 
 CURIOUS ANECDOTE. 
 
 THE Gardens at Pains-Hill, near Cobham, 
 in Surry, in the prefent pofleflion of Mr. 
 Eond Hopkins, of which fo much praife has been 
 juftly given, bring to our recollection an anecdote 
 of the late owner, Mr. Hamilton. He advertifed 
 for a perfon who was willing to become the her- 
 mit of that retreat, under the following among 
 many other curious conditions ; that he was to 
 dwell in the hermitage for {av^n years ; where 
 he fhould be provided with a bible, optical glades, 
 a mat for his bed, and a haflbek for his pillow, 
 an hour-glafs for his time-piece, water for his 
 
 be\ . 
 
( *** ) 
 
 beverage from the ftream that runs at the back 
 of his cot, and food from the houfe, which was 
 to be brought him daily by a fervant, but with 
 whom he was never to exchange one fyllable ; 
 he was to wear a camblet robe, never to cut his 
 beard or his nails, to tread on fandals, never 
 to ftray in the open parts of the ground, nor 
 beyond their limits ; that if he lived there under 
 all thefe reftri&ions till the end of the term, he 
 was to receive 700 guineas ; but on the breach 
 of any one of them, or if he quitted his place 
 any time previous to that term, the whole was to 
 be forfeited, and all his lofs of time remedilefs. 
 One perfon attempted it, but three weeks was 
 the extent of his abode. 
 
 TENDERNESS TO MOTHERS. 
 
 MARK that parent hen ! faid a father to hi*9 
 beloved fon. With what anxious care does 
 flie call together her offspring, and cover them with 
 her expanded wings! The kite is hovering in the 
 air, and, difappointed of his prey, may perhaps 
 dart upon the hen herfelf, and bear her off in his 
 talons ! 
 
 Does not this fight fuggeft to you the tender- 
 nefs and affe&ion of your mother ? Her watchful 
 
 care 
 
( 225 ) 
 
 care protected you in the helplefs period of in. 
 fancy, when fhe nouriftied you with her milk, 
 taught your limbs to move, and your tongue to 
 lifp its unformed accents. In childhood fhe 
 has mourned over your little griefs ; has rejoiced 
 in your innocent delights ; has administered to 
 you the healing balm in ficknefs ; and has inftilled 
 into your mind the love of truth, of virtue, and 
 oi wifdom. Oh ! cherifh every fentiment of re- 
 fpetl for fuch a mother. She merits your warmed 
 gratitude, efteem, and veneration, 
 
 PROLOGUE, 
 
 SPOKEN BY MR. GARRICK, 
 
 AT THE OPENING OF THE THE AT It E-ROY AL, 
 DRURY-LANE, 1747. 
 
 WHEN Learning's triumph o'er her bar- 
 barous foes 
 Firftrear'd the ilage, immortal Skakefpeare rofe ; 
 Each change of many colour'd life he drew, 
 Exhaufted worlds, and then imagin'd new : 
 Existence faw him fpurn her bounded reign, 
 And panting time toil'd after him in vain. 
 
 G g H* 
 
( 226 ) 
 
 His powerful ftrokes prefiding truth imprefs'd, 
 And unrefifted paffion ftorm'd the breaft. 
 
 Then Johnfon came, inftru&ed from the fchooL, 
 To pleafe in method, and invent by rule; 
 His ftudious patience and laborious art, 
 By regular approach, eflay'd the heart : 
 Cold approbation gave the lingering bays ; 
 For thofe who durft not cenfure, fcarce could praife. 
 A mortal born, he met the gen'ral doom, 
 But left, like Egypt's kings, a lafting tomb. 
 
 The wits of Charles found eafier ways to fame, 
 Nor wifh'd for Johnfon's art, or Shakefpeare's- 
 
 flame. 
 Themfelves they ftudied ; as they felt, they writ : 
 Intrigue was plot, obfcenity was wit. 
 
 Vice always found a fympathetic friend ; 
 They pleas'd their age, and did not aim to mend. 
 Yet bards like thefe afpir'd to lafting praife, 
 And proudly hop'd to pimp in future days. 
 Their caufe was gen'ral, their fupports were ftrong ; 
 Their flaves were willing, and their reign was long r 
 Till fhame regain'd the poft that fenfe betray 'd, 
 And virtue call'd oblivion to her aid. 
 
 Then 
 
( 227 ) 
 
 Then crufh'd by rules, and weaken'd as refin'd 
 For years the pow'r of Tragedy declin'd ; 
 From bard to bard the frigid caution crept, 
 Till declamation roar'd whilft paffion flept ; 
 Yet ftill did virtue deign the ftage to tread, 
 Philofophy remain'd tho' nature fled. 
 But forc'd, at length, her ancient reign to quit, 
 She faw great Fauftus lay the ghoft of wit ; 
 Exulting folly hail'd the joyous day, 
 And pantomime and fong confirni'd her fway. 
 
 But who the coming changes can prefage, 
 And mark the future periods of the ftage ? 
 Perhaps if (kill could diftant times explore, 
 New Bens, new Durfeys, yet remain in ftore. 
 Perhaps where Lear has rav'd, and Hamlet dy'd, 
 On flying cars new forcerers may ride ; 
 Perhaps (for who can guefs th' effecls of chance) 
 Here Hunt may box, or Mahomet may dance. 
 
 Hard is his lot that here by fortune plac'd, 
 Muft watch the wild viciihtudes of tafte ; 
 With every meteor of caprice muft play, 
 And chafe the new-blown bubbles of the day. 
 Ah ! let not cenfure term our fate our choice. 
 The ftage but echoes back the public voice ; 
 The drama's laws, the drama's patrons give, 
 For we that live to pleafe, muft pleafe to live. 
 
 Then 
 
( 228 ) 
 
 Then prompt no more the follies you decry, 
 As tyrants doom their tools of guilt to die ; 
 'Tis yours, this night, to bid the reign commence 
 Of refcu'd nature, and reviving fenfe ; 
 To chafe the charms of found, the pomp of mow, 
 For ufeful mirth and faint ary woe j 
 Bi j fcenic virtue form the rifing age, 
 And truth diffufe her radiance from the ftage. 
 
 THE FOLLY AND ODIOUSNESS 
 OF AFFECTATION. 
 
 LUCY, Emilia, and Sophronia, feated on a 
 bank of daifies near a purling ftream, were 
 liliening to the mufic of a neighbouring grove. 
 The fun glided, with his fetting beams through 
 the weftern fky, gentle zephyrs breathed around ; 
 and the feathered fongfters feemed to vie with 
 each other in their evening notes of gratitude and 
 praife. Delighted with the artlefs melody of the 
 linnet, the goldfinch, the woodlark, and the thrufh, 
 they were all ear, and obferved not a peacock 
 which had forayed from a diftant farm, and was 
 appioaching them with a majeftic pace and ex- 
 panded plumage, The harmony of the concert 
 
 was 
 
( 229 ) 
 
 was foon interrupted by the loud and harfli cries 
 of this (lately bird ; which, though chafed away 
 bv Emilia, continued his vociferations with the 
 confidence that confcious beauty too often in- 
 fpires. — Does this toolifh bird (faid Lucy) fancy 
 that he is qualified to ling, becaufe he is furnilhed. 
 with a fpreading tail, ornamented with the richell 
 colours ? — I know not (replied Sophronia) whether 
 the peacock be capable of fuch a reflection ; but 
 I hope that you and Emilia will always avoid the 
 difplay of whatever is inconfiftent with your fex, 
 your flation, or your character. Shun affectation 
 in all its odious forms ; affume no borrowed airs ; 
 and be content to pleafc, to ihine, or to be ufeful 
 in the way which nature points out, and which 
 reafon approves. 
 
 ON THE 
 
 UNCERTAINTY OF HUMAN LIFE. 
 
 EVERY day furnifhes me with fome obferva- 
 tion or other of the vanity and in (lability of 
 human affairs. In the bufy world I fee the fe- 
 veral different purfuits •> fome for wealth, fome 
 
 for 
 
( 230 ) 
 
 for pleafure, feme for honour, and all for hap- 
 p'inefs: but the purfuers miffing the laft, as not 
 attainable here, the reft avail them little, if ob- 
 tained, the poffellion being in no degree equal to 
 the high ideas they had raifed, and the things 
 themfelves of fo fhort and uncertain duration, 
 that it extremely leffens the value. 
 
 See Dorimon dead in the vigour of youth, 
 matter of an uncommon underftanding, and pof- 
 feffed of an almoft unbounded affluence of wealth. 
 Is it long fmce he purchafed an eftate, which 
 would have befitted the higheft tides ? Yet the 
 price feemed to make but a fmall diminution in 
 his vaft heap of riches. 
 
 Daily would he communicate to his acquaint- 
 ance his great defigns ! The principal architects 
 were employed in making plans and elevations for 
 his intended ftru&ure, that it might, if pofhble, 
 exceed every thing that had been before exhibited. 
 The moft fkilful artifts flretched their utmoft ca- 
 pacities to make his gardens exceed thofe of Al- 
 cinous, Cyrus, or the famed Hefperian ! 
 
 " Here," (fays he) u mail rife the main ftru£hire ; 
 the foil is healthy, the profpect enchanting: look 
 round, and tell me, do you find its equal ? 
 
 Through 
 
( 231 ) 
 
 Through yonder vale fee rivers gliding in Terpen- 
 tine meanders, more beautiful than fiction : ob- 
 ferve the neighbouring woods attend to the de- 
 light of the harmonious chorifters of the air! 
 
 O 
 
 How juftly diftant are thofe mountains, to afford 
 the eye delight ! Yonder town, riling on the fide 
 to the top of the hill, enriched with turrets, 
 fpires, and pleafant villas, feem as defigned to 
 terminate my view from the grand terrace ! Sec 
 on the right j there lhall arife a temple, formed 
 from, defigns of Grecian and Roman architects: 
 from thence I ihall view the vaft extents of rich 
 cnclofures, covered with fruitful crops of corn, 
 waving their heads, as fporting with the winds. 
 
 " Walk on to yonder fpot, for there I'll place 
 a Japanefe pavillion, curious as mall be found in 
 Jeddo's royal gardens ; and on that eminence, 
 bevond, ihall be a grove of variegated eaftern 
 plane-trees, whofe various fhades and tints (hall 
 not be imitated by the moft fkilful painter : in 
 the midft fhall arife an obferyatory, furnifhed with 
 the choiceft inftruments, to view the courfe ot 
 the heavenly luminaries, and there I will adore, 
 with fincereft heart, their and my own Great 
 Maker : there will I contemplate, notwithstand- 
 ing the boafted knowledge of mankind in all ages, 
 how little it is they know, how much opinion 
 
 rules, 
 
( 232 ) 
 
 rules, how cuftom prevails, and how education's 
 ftrong root is difficult to be eradicated, even by 
 the utmoft flrength of reafon. 
 
 " Next I will enquire how reafon feems to ope- 
 rate differently in different minds. This is a large 
 field, and has many ways, all intricate. Should I 
 look back as far as Pythagoras, Plato, and So- 
 crates, and bring them down to Des Cartes, to 
 Locke, and Newton, I mould fay, thefe feemed 
 indeed (if I may fay it) to do much honour to the 
 human fpecies ; yet, as to abfolute certainty, 
 where (hall we find it ? Only in God. Him we 
 can, indeed, in no fort comprehend ; but we fee 
 enough of his works to call forth our utmoft 
 adoration. 
 
 " Now (continues the fhort-fighted, alas ! the 
 mortal fage,) I will prefent you with my favourite 
 defign. On yonder pleafant fpot of ground I 
 will ere£t. an edifice for a yet unthought-of charity 
 for thcfe who can fooner die than afk, I mean for 
 thole whom merit hath concealed ; thofe whom 
 the love of arts and knowledge have hindered 
 fiornthe purfuits of wealth, there they (hall find 
 an afylum from want; there (hall they have 
 wherewith to purfue their different fludies ; thither 
 lhall J. often retire, and, by their converfation, 
 
 be 
 
( 233 ) 
 
 be well repaid for their temporate repafts ; foi 
 none but Temperance, Knowledge, and real 
 Merit, (hall ever enter there. 
 
 " Thus mail I avoid flattery, and improve my 
 understanding. The grey heads I there fupport, 
 I fliall revere more than the mofl famed buftoes 
 made by Grecian artifts of Parian marble, of 
 Egyptian granite, or of the adamantine porphyry. 
 A library fliall be placed adjoining, with well- 
 chofen books, and only fuch. 
 
 " On the other fide fliall be a laboratory : per- 
 haps there may be found a Homberg, now hi 
 rags. A garden for choice plants fliall be behind : 
 perhaps another ray may offer. However, I (hall 
 always love the ftudy, as I do every thing that 
 exalts my ideas of that infinite, that Great Crea- 
 tor of all things: nor will I forget a repofitory 
 for fuch natural curiofities as I may procure ; fuch 
 as are not to be got, drawings muft fupply the 
 place of. A pleafant room fhall be prepared for 
 thofe, lhould any fuch repair to it, (killed in the 
 noble Graphic art ; there they fliall work when 
 fancy leads, and know 'tis not for fale, 'tis not 
 for bread. 
 
 H h " Some 
 
( 234 ] 
 
 " Some things I have yet to add," continued 
 he ; " but now I fliall only mention this : as you 
 fee who are to inhabit my houfe, and to be my 
 companions, you mall know they will be free and 
 happy : think not I intend to mark them with a 
 badge, or pompous gown : wife men love de- 
 cency, and nothing more ; and what becomes 
 their years, will always pleafe them ; and there- 
 fore no uniform (hall be obferved. 
 
 " One difficulty I own I cannot but forefee. 
 As I intend to fettle lands fufficient in perpetuity 
 to maintain this edifice, how I fliall bequeath it, 
 that my defign may not be defeated; for in what 
 I have hitherto feen of this kind, the donor's in- 
 tention hath been eluded. A fervant, a difcarded 
 footman, has been placed where gentlemen only 
 had a right, and made to mix among them. 
 While I live, all will be fecure from this ; but 
 whom after myfelf fliall I appoint ? Among my 
 large acquaintance indeed, at prefent, I could fix 
 on two or three ; but there mult be a fucceffion, 
 and, if it but once falls into bad hands, my de- 
 fign is frustrated. I own, this will be my great 
 perplexity. Even in thofe eftablifhments where 
 great perfons are concerned, 'tis not he who moft 
 deferves, 'tis not fo much whom the donor feemed 
 to intend, as he who has mofl intereft. Have I 
 
 not 
 
( 235 ) 
 
 ■not feen, in this eftablifhment, a child of the 
 houfe, a gentleman of eminent learning, of an 
 unblemifhed character, a man without exception, 
 poflponed, becaufe the other candidate (though 
 little known,- and of as little knowledge,) had the 
 intereft of a woman, which gave him the majority. 
 I have feen fchools changed from the donor's de- 
 fign, to make them fit for the mailer's, and be- 
 nefits tortured into oppreflions. Tis intereft doth 
 all this, and more." 
 
 Thus had defigned, thus talked Dorimon ; Do- 
 minion, who is no more ! 
 
 ANECDOTE 
 
 OF AN 
 
 HONEST STOCK BROKER. 
 
 SOME time fince a countryman, having a le- 
 gacy left him, was advifed by an acquaintance 
 to get into the flock-jobbing bufinefs, alluring 
 him, that large fortunes had been made in that 
 line. The countryman being flruck with the 
 thought of increafing his fortune, defired his. 
 
 friend 
 
( 236 ) 
 
 friend to recommend him to fome perfon ac- 
 quainted with the public funds; accordingly Mr. 
 
 L was named. The countryman in a few 
 
 days, repaired to town, and on enquiry at the 
 Bank, was introduced to the honeft Broker ; 
 
 when, after telling him his tale, Mr. L afked 
 
 the fum he was in poffefiion of. The countryman 
 replied, "five thoufand pounds." "What bu- 
 fmefs have you followed ?•' He anfwered, " farm- 
 ing." " Then" (fays he) " go on Monday next 
 to Smith field, and buy pigs with it." " Pigs ! 
 pigs !" replied the countryman, " Lord, Sir, I 
 never dealt in pigs." " Then," fays the Broker, 
 " let this be the firft time, for there you will be 
 fure of a Jqueak for your money, but I'll be 
 d — d if you have even that 'here." 
 
 THE 
 
 VIRTUOUS COURTIER, 
 
 AN EASTERN TALE. 
 
 THE Caliph Mahadi, of the race of the Abaf- 
 fides, was a lover of letters, and of plea- 
 fures. Jacoub was his favourite courtier, who, 
 
 like 
 
( 237 ) 
 
 like his mafter, had a tafte for the fine arts. Ja- 
 coub fung delightfully, and pofleflcd an uncom- 
 mon mare of vivacity and genius. When the 
 Prince gave an entertainment, he could not enjoy 
 it without Jacoub's mufical voice, and the bright 
 fallies of his wit. He would often even admit 
 him into his Harem. For the Caliphs were not 
 then fo fubje£l to jcaloufy as the Oriental Princes 
 were afterwards ; a pafiion which has been ever 
 increafing among the Muflulmen. 
 
 One day Jacoub, having dined with his So- 
 vereign, mounted his horfe to return home : he 
 fell, and broke his leg. The Caliph, being in- 
 formed of this accident, exprefled fo much grief 
 on the occafion, and was fo afliduous and anxious 
 for the recovery of his friend, that he raifed the 
 jcaloufy of all thofe who had not the good for- 
 tune, like Jacoub, to pleafe their mafter, Many 
 of them determined to attempt the ruin of his 
 favourite. They concerted meafures to excite 
 fufpicions againft him in the mind of the Prince. 
 While Jacoub's leg was healing, he loft the favour 
 and confidence of his mafter ; for at Court, more 
 than any other place, the abfent are always in 
 the wrong. 
 
 The 
 
( 238 } 
 
 The Caliph had received feveral informations 
 that Jacoub did fecret fervices for the family of 
 the Alides, his rivals and enemies. When his 
 old favourite was recovered, inftead of betraying 
 the leaft fufpicion of him, he affefcted to give him 
 frelh teftimonies of his confidence. Having one 
 day taken him apart, he thus accofted him : " Ja- 
 coub, I muft own my weaknefs to you. I deteft 
 and I dread Mehemet, of the family of the 
 Alides : I never durft venture to banifh him from 
 Bagdad. I muft get rid of him." 
 
 The favourite reprefented to his mafter, that 
 Mehemet, a man without friends, and without 
 credit, was rather an 'object of pity than revenge. 
 
 <f No matter," replied the Caliph, ?' his ex- 
 igence difturbs me, and I muft facrince it to my 
 iafety. I dare not bring him to a public exe- 
 cution ; that would raife too ftrong a companion 
 for his fate. The care of ridding me of him I 
 truft to you. I have him here ; I fhall put him 
 into your hands. Confider that the peace of your 
 mailer's mind depends on you : but fo important 
 a fervice muft not want its recompence. I give 
 you the fair ilave who fupped with us yefterday, 
 and who feemed to pleafeyou; and to that pre- 
 fent I add twenty thoufand pieces of gold." 
 
 Jacoub 
 
( 139 ) 
 
 Jacoub anfwered in terms of gratitude, as he 
 found farther remonftrances would be vain. The 
 Caliph immediately gave orders that the Have, 
 with the unhappy victim of royal jealoufy, fhould 
 be delivered to him ; and that the money, the 
 price of the blood he was to thed, lhould be paid 
 him. 
 
 Jacoub, more anxious for Mehemet than pleafed 
 with the poffelTion of the beautiful Have, con- 
 ducted them to his palace. He had fcaree entered 
 it, when Mehemet, who llrongly fufpecled the 
 Caliph's intention, tell at the feet of him, who he 
 concluded was to be his executioner. 
 
 " Do not imagine," faid Jacoub to him, " that 
 my mailer has any defign upon your life : and it 
 would be ftill weaker in you to imagine that he 
 could have fo far miftaken me as to chufe me for 
 the inftrument ot your death. It is true, your 
 high fpirit, and your pretentions, give him un- 
 eafmefs. You muft fwear to me by the foul of 
 the Prophet, and by that of the refpeclable AH, 
 from whom you are defcended, that you will 
 never think of dethroning Mahadi, nor of forming 
 a party againfr. him." 
 
 Mehemet 
 
( 240 ) 
 
 Mehemet, happy to come off fo eafily, took 
 the oath required of him. " Imuft exact another 
 condition of you," added Jacoub, " that you ne- 
 ver appear again at Bagdad : but, as you mull 
 have fomething to fupport you, my matter makes 
 you a prefent of this fum." He then gave him 
 the twenty thoufand pieces of gold which he 
 had received. 
 
 The manner in which he had conducted this 
 affair was foon known to the Caliph ; for the fair 
 flave, fo generoufly given up to him, was only a 
 fpy fet over his actions by the jealous Mahadi. 
 The exafperated Caliph fent for the pretended 
 traitor : " How have you acquitted yourfelf" (faid 
 he to him in a rage) " of the commiflion with 
 which I charged your" Jacoub was going to 
 anfwer him with the fidelity of a fubject:, with the 
 franknefs of a friend. But the Prince interrupted 
 him : " Wretch, thou haft let my victim efcape 1" 
 " I own I have," (replied Jacoub) " It was my 
 duty to fave you from the commiflion of a crime, 
 of which you were for making me the accomplice ; 
 not to be the tool of your fufpicion and your 
 cruelty. Providence made you our Sovereign to 
 protect the weak ; and you have no more right 
 than the meaneft of your fubjects capricioufly to 
 take away the life of any man. It is your pro- 
 vince 
 
( 241 ) 
 
 vlnce to puniih the guilty, not to fhed the blood, 
 of the innocent. 
 
 The Prince, (truck with the courage of Jacoub, 
 and the force of his words, took him again, from 
 that moment, into favour. M I only thought you," 
 (faid he) " an agreeable Courtier : I now find you 
 a true friend, and a generous and magnanimous 
 man : you have preferred the protection of in- 
 nocence to your intereft; and you have told me 
 falutary truth, at the hazard of your life : your 
 honeft admonition hath illuminated my mind. 
 Henceforth I will circumfcribc my unlimited 
 power by the laws of confcience and reafon. My 
 jealoufy or refentment fliall never again invade 
 the unalienable rights of mankind. 1 fliall not* 
 however, hefitate to inflicTt a fevcre puinihment 
 upon thofe who, for the future, fliall mifreprefent 
 you to me. I have had a moft convincing proof 
 of your difihterefted loyalty and integrity ; your 
 enemies muft be my enemies; the enemies of 
 good government and virtue." 
 
 I i THE 
 
( 242 ) 
 
 THE LATE UNFORTUNATE 
 
 QUEEN OF FRANCE, 
 
 SOME years ago having refolved to make every 
 poffible retrenchment in her expences, gave 
 up her boxes at the theatre Francois, and the 
 Theatre Italien. 
 
 As foon as her Majefty 's refolution on this 
 head was known, the common council of the 
 city of Paris went up with an addrefs to her, to* 
 exprefs the concern with which they had heard it, 
 and to intreat her Majefty to retain her boxes at. 
 both thefe theatres. 
 
 Her Majefty *s anfwerwas, "That at a time when 
 almoft every fubject in the kingdom was making 
 fome facrifice to the neceffities of the ftate, it 
 would ill become her not to follow an example 
 which me ought to fet ; and there was no facri- 
 fice which ought to be made more readily than 
 that of mere amufement, the funis expended 
 upon which, might be fo much better employed 
 in relieving the diflrefTes of the poor." 
 
 Two days before the addrefs was carried up, 
 her Majefty had fent for ail the ladies who formed 
 
 a to 
 
( 2*3 ) 
 
 a fociety in Paris, known by the name of " the 
 fociety of maternal charily;' the object of which 
 was the practice of thofe acts of beneficence 
 and liberality, which more peculiarly belong to 
 the fex. 
 
 Mrs. Neckcr, who was one of the members, 
 waited upon her Majefty with the other ladies, in 
 confequence of the royal merTage. 
 
 Her Majefty was fo condefcending as to defire 
 that they might all befeated in her pre fence. They 
 were forty in number, and not confined to the 
 higher claffes in life. Several of them of courfe 
 were not known to her Majefty. She took down 
 .the names of thefe : fhe then faid, that the infti- 
 tution of fo benevolent a fociety did great honour 
 to their feelings ; and it would afford her fingular 
 fatisfaclion, if fhe could be inftrumental in for- 
 warding their humane and charitable wilhes. 
 She requefted, therefore, that they would apply 
 to her as often as they wanted afTiftance to relieve 
 the many objects of charity which they mould 
 difcover. 
 
 All the ladies went away charmed with the 
 amiable condefcenfion and generous offers of her 
 Majefty. 
 
 AD- 
 
( 244 ) 
 
 
 ADDRESS TO THE DEITY. 
 
 WHILE Thee I feek, protecting power ! 
 Be my vain wifhes ftill'd; 
 And may this confecrated hour 
 With better hopes befill'd. 
 
 Thy love the powers of thought bellow 'd, 
 To thee my thoughts would foar ; 
 
 Thy mercy o'er my life has flow'd — 
 That mercy I adore. 
 
 In each event of life, how clear, 
 
 Thy ruling hand I fee ; 
 Each bleffing to my foul more dear 3 
 
 Becaufe confirm'd by thee. 
 
 In every joy that crowns my days, 
 
 In ev'ry pain I bear, 
 My heart fhall find delight in praife, 
 
 Or feek relief in prayer. 
 
 When gladnefs wings my favour'd hour. 
 Thy love my thoughts fhall fill : 
 
 Refign'd, when ftorms of forrow lower, 
 My foul fhall meet thy will. 
 
 My 
 
( 245 ) 
 
 My lifted eye without a tear, 
 The low'ring florin fhall fee ; 
 
 My fteadfaft heart (hall know no fear — - 
 That heart will reft on thee ! 
 
 ADVICE 
 
 TO THOSE ENTERING THE WORLD. 
 
 THINK what thou art, and what thou foon 
 fhaltbe! 
 Then afk the worth of pride and perfidy. 
 Weigh virtue well, her excellency try, 
 Infpecl the heart — nor truft the erring eye. 
 Let Reafon guide thee — Wifdom make thy friend, 
 An honeft life will have an happy end. 
 Three things there are, on which we all may truft ! 
 Love God: refpe£t thyfelf: Be to thy neighbour 
 juft. 
 
 ACUTE- 
 
( *46 ) 
 
 ACUTENESS IN REPLICATION. 
 
 THIS has ever been allowed a happinefs pe- 
 culiar to the female fex, particularly on 
 fubjecls wherein they are in fome degree conver- 
 fant ; for their imaginations generally keep pace 
 with the narration, that they anticipate its end, 
 and are ready to deliver their fentiments on it as 
 foon as it is fmiihed, while fome of the male 
 hearers, whofe minds were buried in fettling the 
 propriety, comparing the circumflances, and ex- 
 amining the confiltencies of what was faid, are 
 obliged to paufe and difcriminate before they 
 think of anfwering. ' 
 
 Indeed a man of reflection, if he does not 
 keep an intimate commerce with the world, will 
 be fometimes fo entangled in the intricacies of 
 intenfe thought, that he will have the appearance 
 of a confufed and perplexed expreffion, while a 
 fprightly woman will extricate herfelf with that 
 lively and rajh dexterity which will almofl always 
 pleafe, though it is very far from being always 
 right. 
 
 It is eafier to confound than convince an oppo- 
 nent 3 the former may be effected by a turn that 
 
 has 
 
( 247 ) 
 
 has more happinefs than truth in it, but a young 
 lady's vanity ihould not be too much elated with 
 this falfe applaufe, which is given, not to her 
 merit, but her fex : fhe lias not perhaps gained 
 a vicrorv, though ihe may be allowed a triumph.; 
 and it fhould humble her to rcfiecr, that the tri- 
 bute is paid not to her ftrength, but her weak- 
 nefs. It is worth while to dilcriminate between 
 the applaufe, which is given, from the compli- 
 fance of others, and that which is paid to our 
 own merit. 
 
 OM THE 
 
 DEATH OF A CHILD, 
 
 CRUSH'D by th' unfparing hand" of cruel 
 Death, 
 Lies the fweet viciim of a fummer's a<re ; 
 Softly it figh'd away its little breath, 
 
 And look'd regardlefs of the Tyrant's rage. 
 
 So by the baneful blaft of Eurus morn, 
 
 Some infant flow'ret droops its tender head;' 
 In vain the parent tears of vernal morn, 
 
 Bedew its charms — when all thofe charms are 
 fled. 
 
 REFLEC- 
 
( 248 ) 
 
 REFLECTIONS 
 
 OK THE 
 
 MANNER IN WHICH PEOPLE OF FORTUNE 
 SPEND THIER TIME. 
 
 IF a modern lady of fafhion was to be called to 
 account for the difpofition of her time, I ima- 
 gine her defence would run in this ftile : " I can't, 
 you know, be out of the world, nor acl indif- 
 ferently from every body in it. The hours are 
 every where late — confequently I rife late. I 
 have fcarce breakfafted before morning vifits be- 
 rAn — or 'tis time to £0 to an auclion, or a con- 
 cert — or to take a little exercife for my health. 
 DrefTing my hair is a long operation — but one 
 can't appear with a head unlike every body elfe. 
 One muff, fometimes go to a play, or an opera ; 
 though I own it hurries one to death. Then what 
 with necefTary vifits — the perpetual engagements 
 to card-parties at private houfes — and attendance 
 on the public affemblies, to which all people of 
 fafhion fubfcribe, the evenings you fee are fully 
 difpofed of. What time then can I poffibly have 
 for what you call domeftic duties ? — You talk of 
 the offices and enjoyment of friendmip — alas! I 
 
 have 
 
( 24$ ) 
 
 . e no hours left for friends ! I mult fee them in 
 a crowd, or not at all. As to cultivating the 
 friendfhip of my hulband, we are very civil when 
 we meet ; but we are both too much engaged to 
 fpend much time with each other. With regard 
 to my daughters, I have given them a French 
 governefs, and proper matters — 1 can do no 
 more for them. You tell me I mould inftru6t 
 my fervants — but I have not time to inform my- 
 felf, much lefs can I undertake anv thin^ of that 
 fort for them, or even be able to ^uefs what thev 
 do with themfelves the greateft part of the twenty- 
 four hours. I go to church, if pothble, once on a 
 Sunday, and then fome of my fervants attend me ; 
 and if they will not mind what the preacher fays, 
 how can I help it ? — The management of our for- 
 tune, as far as I am concerned, I muft leave to 
 the fteward and houfekecper ; tor I find I can 
 barely match a quarter of an hour, juft to look 
 over the bill of fare when I am to have company, 
 that they may not fend up any thing frightful or 
 old fafhioned. 
 
 " As to the Chriflian duty of charity, I allure 
 you I am not ill-natured 5 and (conildering that 
 the great expence of being always dreffed for 
 company, with loifes at cards, fubicriptiens, and 
 public fpectacles, leave me very little to difpofe 
 K k of,) 
 
( 250 ) 
 
 of,) I am ready enough to give my money when 
 I meet with a miferable object. You fay I mould 
 enquire out fuch, inform myfelf thoroughly of 
 their cafes, make an acquaintance with the poor 
 of my neighbourhood in the country, and plan 
 out the belt methods of relieving the unfortu- 
 nate, and alii fling the induftrious. But this fup- 
 pofes much more time, and much more money, 
 than I have to beftow. — I have had hopes indeed 
 that my fummers would have afforded me more 
 leifure : but we Hay pretty late in town ; then 
 we generally pafs feveral weeks at one or other 
 of the water-drinking places, where every mo- 
 ment is fpent in public ; and for the few months 
 in which we re fide at our own feat, our houfe 
 is always full, with a fucceflion of company, to 
 whofe amufement one is obliged to dedicate every 
 hour of the day." 
 
 So here ends the account of that time which 
 was given you to prepare and educate yourfelf 
 for eternity ! — Yet you believe the immortality 
 of the foul, and a future ftate of rewards and 
 punifhments. A Ik your own heart what rewards 
 you deferve — or what kind of felicity you are 
 fitted to enjoy ? — Which of thofe faculties or af- 
 fections, which Heaven can be fuppofed to gratify, 
 have you cultivated and improved ? — If, in that 
 
 eternal 
 
( 251 ) 
 
 eternal world, the ftores of knowledge fhould be 
 laid open before you, have you preferred that 
 thirft of knowledge, or that tafte for truth, which 
 is now to be indulged with endlefs information: — 
 If, in the fociety of Saints and Angels, the pureft 
 benevolence and mod cordial love is to conftitute 
 your happinefs, where is the heart that fhould 
 enjoy this delightful intcrcourfe of affection r — 
 Has your's been exercifed and refined to a proper 
 capacity of it during your ftate of difcipline, by 
 the energies of generous friendfhip, by the melt- 
 ings of parental fondnefs, or by that union of heart 
 and foul, that mixed exertion of perfect friend- 
 ship and ineffable tendernefs, which approaches 
 nearefl to the full fatisfa&ion of our nature, in 
 the bands of conjugal love ? — Alas ! you fcarce 
 knew you had a heart, except when you felt it 
 fwell with pride, or flutter with vanity. — Have 
 your piety and gratitude to the fource of all good 
 been exercifed and ftrengthened by conftant acls 
 of praifc and thankfgiving ? Was it nourithed by 
 frequent meditation, and filent recollection of all 
 the wonders he hath done for us, till it burft 
 forth in fervent prayer ? — I fear it was rather de- 
 cency, than devotion, that carried you once a 
 w r eek to the place of public worfhip — and, for 
 the reft of the week, your thoughts and time 
 were fo very differently filled up, that the idea of 
 
 a Ruler 
 
( 252 } 
 
 a Ruler of the imiverfe could occur but feldom, 
 and then rather as an object of terror ; than of 
 hope and joy. 
 
 How then fhall a foul fo dead to divine love, 
 fo loft to all but the moft childifh purfuits, be able 
 to exalt and enlarge itfelf to a capacity of that 
 blifs which we are allowed to hope for, in a more 
 intimate perception of the divine prefence, in 
 contemplating more nearly the perfections of our 
 Creator, and in pouring out before his throne 
 our ardent gratitude, love, and adoration? — What 
 kind of training is the life you have palled through 
 for fuch an immortality ? 
 
 ON THE CONNECTION 
 
 BETWEE N 
 
 THE BODY AND THE SOUL. 
 
 TI^ERE is fo clofe a connection between the 
 body and the foul, that whatever one en- 
 joys or fuffers, the other partakes of. Now the 
 body is as much a part of our nature, as the foul ; 
 our appetites and paffions, as our reafon: there- 
 fore, whatever gives the body its proper tone or 
 
 vigour, 
 
( 253 ) 
 
 vigour, that is, whatever is moil likely to fmooth 
 unci harmonize the paffions, and hinder them from 
 preying upon themfelves or others, muft at the fame 
 time bid faireft for regulating the powers of the 
 underftanding, and give them likewife their due 
 force and energy. Temperate gratification, there- 
 fore, as they arc highly conclufive to thefe ends, 
 muft, of confequence, promote, rather than dif- 
 turb the harmony of virtue in that, by contri- 
 buting to (or rather being) the health of the 
 body, they corroborate the powers of the mind, 
 and keep the paffions in good humour, which 
 would otherwife contract fournefs and morofity, 
 and create a perpetual war within. Take away 
 the paffions entirely, and, in effect, you take away 
 virtue and vice; invert their order or courfe, and 
 you turn every thing topfy-turvy ; but under re- 
 gulations, and allowed their proper influence, 
 they come in for a confiderable fhare of the har- 
 mony, and render the balance on virtue's fide 
 more ftrong, complete, and full. 
 
 AN ANECDOTE. 
 
 AN old country fellow, who was married to 
 a termagant, going one Sunday to church, 
 heard the minifter preach from the following 
 
 words. 
 
( 254 ) 
 
 words : " Take up your crofs and follow me." 
 Dobfon was extremely attentive to the difcourfe ; 
 2nd as foon as church was done, went home, and 
 taking his wife on his back by force, ran as faft 
 as he was able after the parfon, who feeing how 
 the fellow was laden, afked him the reafon. 
 " Why, what a p!cgue (cries Dobfon) has your 
 Reverence forgot already? Did not your Worfhip 
 bid us take up our crofs and follow you r and I am 
 fure this is tie greateft crofs that I have in the 
 world, an' pleafe ye." , 
 
 EXTRACT FROM Dr. JOHNSON's SERMON 
 
 DEATH OF HIS WIFE. 
 
 TO Chrifiians the celebration of a funeral is 
 by no means a folemnity of barren and un- 
 availing forrow, but eftablifhed by the Church for 
 other purpofes. 
 
 First, for the confolation of forrow. Se- 
 condly, for the enforcement of piety. The 
 mournful folemnity of the burial of the dead is 
 inftituted, firft, for the confolation of that grief 
 
 to 
 
( 255 ) 
 
 to which the bed minds, if not fupported and re- 
 gulated by religion, are mod liable. They who 
 molt endeavour the happinefs of others, who de- 
 vote their thoughts to tendernefs and pity, and 
 ftudioufly maintain the reciprocation of kindnefs, 
 by degrees mingle their (ouh in fuch a manner, 
 as to feel, from reparation, a total deftitution ot 
 happinefs, a fudden abruption of all their prof- 
 peels, a ceffation of ail their hopes, fchemes, and 
 defires. The whole mind becomes a gloomy va- 
 cuity, without any image or form of pleafure, a 
 chaos of confufed wiflies, directed to no parti- 
 cular end, or to that which, while we wifh, we 
 cannot hope to obtain ; for the dead will not re- 
 vive; thofe whom God has called away from the 
 prefent ftate of exiftence, can be feen no more 
 in it ; we muft go to them ; but they cannot re- 
 turn to us. 
 
 Yet, to (hew that grief is vain, is to afford 
 very little comfort ; yet this is all that reafon can 
 afford ; but religion, our only friend in the mo- 
 ment of diftrefs, in the moment when the help of 
 man is vain, when fortitude and cowardice fink 
 down together, and the fage and the virgin mingle 
 their lamentations ; religion will inform us, that 
 forrow and complaint are not only vain, but un- 
 reafouable and erroneous. The voice of God, 
 
 fp caking 
 
( 256 ) 
 
 /peaking by his fon, and his A pottles, will in- 
 ftruct us, that fhe whofe departure we now mourn, 
 is not dead, but fleepeth : that only her body is 
 committed to the ground, but that the foul is re- 
 turned to God, who gave it ; that God, who is 
 infinitely merciful ; who hateth nothing that he 
 has made, who defireth not the death of a finner; 
 to that God, who only can compare performance 
 with ability, who alone knows how far the heart 
 has been pure, or corrupted, how inadvertency 
 has furprifed, fear has betrayed, or weaknefs has 
 impeded ; to that God who marks every afpera- 
 tion after a better ftate, who hears the prayer 
 which the voice cannot utter ; records the pur- 
 pofe that perifhed without opportunity pf aftion, 
 the wife that vanifhed away without attainment, 
 who is always ready to receive the penitent, to 
 whom micere contrition is never too late, and 
 who will accept the tears of a returning firmer. 
 
 Such are the reflections to which we are called 
 by the voice of truth ; and from thefe we fhall 
 find that comfort which philofophy cannot fupply, 
 and that peace which the world cannot give. 1 he 
 contemplation of the mercy of God may juftly 
 afford fome confolation, even when the office of 
 burial is performed to thofe who have been 
 {hatched away without vifible amendment of their 
 
 lives 5 
 
( 257 ) 
 
 li\ cs ; for who fhall prefume to determine the (late 
 of departed fouls, to lay open what God hath 
 concealed, and to fearch the counfcls of the Mod 
 Higheft ? — but with more confident hope of par- 
 don and acceptance, may we commit thofe to the 
 receptacles of mortality, who have lived without 
 any open or enormous crimes ; who have en- 
 deavoured to propitiate God by repentance, and 
 have died at laft with hope and relignation. 
 Among thefe flic may furely be remembered 
 whom we have followed hither to the tomb, to 
 pay her the laft honours, and to rcfign her to the 
 grave ; fhe whom many who now hear me have 
 known, and whom none who were capable of 
 diftinguifhing either moral or intellectual excel- 
 lence could know, without efteem or tendernefs. 
 To praife the extent of her knowledge, the acute- 
 nefs of her wit, the accuracy of her judgment, 
 the force of her fentiments, or the elegance of 
 her expreilion, would ill fuit with the occafion. 
 
 Let us therefore preferve her memory for no 
 other end but to imitate her virtues, and let us 
 add her example to the motives to piety which 
 this folemnity was, fecondly inftituted to enforce. 
 
 It would not indeed be reafonable to expect, 
 did we not know the inattention and perverfenefs 
 
 LJ of 
 
( 253 ) 
 
 of mankind, that any one who had followed a 
 funeral, could fail to return home without new 
 refolutions of a holy life : for who can fee the 
 final period of all human fchemes and under- 
 takings, without conviction of the vanity of all 
 that terminates in the prefent ftate ? For who 
 can fee the wife, the brave, the powerful, or the 
 beauteous, carried to the grave, without reflec- 
 tions on the emptinefs of all thofe diftinclions 
 which fet us here in oppofition to each other ? 
 And who, when he fees the vanity of all ter~ 
 reftrial advantages, can forbear to with for a more 
 permanent and certain happinefs? 
 
 Such wiflies, perhaps, often arife, and fuch re- 
 folutions are often formed : but before the refo- 
 lution can be exerted, before the wifh can regu- 
 late the conduct, new profpecls open before us, 
 v r impreffions are received ; the temptations of 
 the world folicit, the paffions of the heart are 
 put into commotion ; we plunge again into the 
 tumult, engage again in the contefl, and forget, 
 that what we gain cannot be kept, and the life, 
 for which we are thus bufy to provide, mud be 
 quickly at an end, 
 
 But, let us not be thus fhamefully deluded ! 
 i;ctus not thus idly perifh in our folly, by ne- 
 glecting 
 
( 259 ) 
 
 gle£ting the loudeft call of Providence ; nor, 
 when we have followed our friends, and our ene- 
 mies to the tomb, fuffer ourfelves to be furprifed 
 by the dreadful fummons, and die, at laft, amazed 
 and unprepared ! Let every one whofe eye glances 
 on this bier, examine what would have been his 
 condition, if the fame hour had called him to 
 judgment, and remember, that though he is now 
 fpared, lie may, perhaps, be to-morrow among 
 feparate fpirits. The prefent moment is in our 
 power ; let us therefore, from the prefent moment, 
 begin our repentance ! Let us not, any longer, 
 harden our hearts, but hear this day, the voice of 
 our Saviour and our God, and begin to do, with all 
 our powers, whatever we fhall with to have done 
 when the grave fhall open before us ! Let thofe 
 who came hither weeping and lamenting, reflect, 
 that they have not time for ufelefs forrow ; that 
 there own falvation is to be fecured, and that the 
 day is far fpent, and the night cometh, when no 
 man can work; that tears are of no value to the 
 dead, and that their own danger may juftly claim 
 their whole attention ! Let thofe who entered 
 this place unarle6ted and indifferent, and whofc 
 only purpofe was to behold this funeral fpeclacle, 
 confider that flic, whom they thus behold with 
 negligence, and pafs by, was lately partaker of 
 the f:> me nature with themfelves, and that they 
 
 likewife 
 
( 260 ) 
 
 likewife are hrftcning to their end, and muft foon, 
 bv others equally negligent, be buried and forgot- 
 ten ! Let all remember, that the day of man is 
 fhort, and that the day of grace maybe much 
 fhorter ; that this may be the laft warning which 
 God will grant us, and that, perhaps, he who 
 looks on this grave unalarmed, may fink uni- 
 formed into his own ! 
 
 Let it, therefore, be our care, when we retire 
 from this folemnity, that we immediately turn 
 from our wickednefs, and do that which is lawful 
 and right ; that, whenever difeafe or violence 
 fhall diffolve our bodies, our fouls may be faved 
 alive, and received into everlafting habitations. 
 
 THE 
 
 IMPOTENCE OF WEALTH. 
 
 THE VIt.IT OF SEROTINUS TO THE PLACE OF 
 HIS NATIVITY. 
 
 THE writers who have undertaken the un- 
 promifing talk of moderating defire, exert 
 all the power of their eloquence, to fhew that 
 
 happinefs. 
 
( 261 ) 
 
 happinefs is not the lot of man, and have by 
 many arguments and examples proved the infta- 
 bility of every condition by which envy or am- 
 bition are excited. They have fet before our eyes 
 all the calamities to which we are expofed from 
 the frailty of nature, the influence of accident, or 
 the ftratagems of malice ; they have terrified great- 
 nefs with confpiracics, and riches with anxieties, 
 wit with criticifm, and beauty with difeafe. 
 
 All the force of reafon, and all the charms of 
 language, are indeed neceflary to fupport po- 
 fitions which every man hears with a willi to con- 
 fute them. Truth finds an eafy entrance into the 
 mind when (lie is introduced by defire, and at- 
 tended by pleafure ; but when the intrudes un- 
 called, and brings only fear and forrow in her 
 train, the paffes of the intellect are barred againft 
 her by prejudice and pafiion ; if fhe fometimes 
 forces her way by the batteries of argument, fhe 
 feldom long keeps pofTeiTion of her conquefts, 
 but is ejecled by fome favoured enemy, or at beft 
 obtains only a nominal fovereignty without in- 
 fluence and without authoritv. 
 
 That life is fhort we are all convinced, and yet 
 fuffer not that conviction to reprefs our projects or 
 limit our expectations ; that life is miferable we 
 
 all 
 
( 262 ) 
 
 all feel, and yet we believe that the time is near 
 when we mall feel it no longer. But to hope 
 happinefs and immortality is equally vain. Our 
 ftate may indeed be more or lefs imbittered, as 
 our duration may be more or lefs contracted ; yet 
 the utmoft felicity which we can ever attain will 
 be little better than alleviation of mifery, and we 
 mall always feel more pain from our wants than 
 pleafure from our enjoyments. The incident 
 which lam going to relate will fliew, that to de- 
 ftroy the effefit of all our fuccefs, it is not nccef - 
 fary that any fignal calamity fhould fall upon us, 
 that we fhould be haraffed by implacable perfe- 
 ction, or excruciated by irremediable pains; the 
 brighter!: hours of profperity have their clouds, 
 and the ftrearo of life, if it is not ruffled by ob- 
 ftructions, will grow putrid by ftagnation. 
 
 My father revolving not to imitate the folly of 
 his anceflors, who had hitherto left the younger 
 fons incumbrances on the cldeft, deftined me to 
 a lucrative profeflion ; and I being careful to lofe 
 no opportunity of improvement, was, at the 
 ufual time in which young men enter the world, 
 well qualified for exercife of the bufinefs which 
 I had cho fen. 
 
 My 
 
( 263 ) 
 
 My eagerncfs to diflinguifh myfelf in public, 
 and my impatience of the narrow fcheme of iife 
 to which my indigence confined me, did not fufTcr 
 me to continue long in the town where I was 
 born ; I went away as from a place of confine- 
 ment, with a refolution to return no more, till I 
 mould be able to dazzle with my fplendour thofe 
 who now looked upon me with contempt, to 
 reward thofe who had paid honours to my dawn- 
 ing merit, and to ihow all who had fullered me to 
 jrlide by them unknown and nedeited, how much 
 they miilook their intereft in omitting to pro- 
 pitiate a genius like mine. 
 
 Such were my intentions when I fallied forth 
 into the unknown world, in queft of riches and 
 honours, which I expected to procure in a very 
 fhort time ; for what could withhold them from in- 
 durtry and knowledge r Pie that indulges hope 
 will always be difappointed. Reputation I very 
 foon obtained ; but as merit is much more cheaply 
 acknowledged than rewarded, I did not find my- 
 felf yet enriched in proportion to my celebrity. 
 
 I had however in time furmounted the obftaclcs 
 by which envy and competition obftrucl the firll 
 attempts of a new claimant, and faw my oppo- 
 nents and cenfurers tacitly confeffing their defpair 
 
 of 
 
( 264 ) 
 
 cf fuccefs, by courting my friendfhip and yielding 
 to my influence. They who once purfued me, 
 were now fatisfied to efcape from me ; and they 
 who had before thought me prefumptuous in 
 hoping to overtake them, had now their utmoft 
 with, if they were permitted at no great diflance 
 quietly to follow me. 
 
 My wants w T ere not madly multiplied as my 
 acquisitions increafed, and the time came at length, 
 when I thought myfelf enabled to gratify all rea- 
 fonable defires, and when therefore, I refolved to 
 enjoy that plenty and ferenity which I had been 
 hitherto labouring to procure, to enjoy them 
 while I was yet neither cruflied by age into 
 infirmity, nor fo habituated to a particular manner 
 of life as to be unqualified for new ftudies and 
 entertainments. 
 
 I now quitted my profeflion, to fet myfelf at 
 once free from all importunities to refume it, 
 changed my reiidence, and devoted the remain- 
 ing part of my time to quiet and amufement. 
 Amidft innumerable projects of pleafure which 
 refclefs idlenefs incited me to form, and of which 
 mod, when they came to the moment of exe- 
 cution, were rejected for others of no longer con- 
 tinuance, fome accident revived in my imagination 
 
 the 
 
( 265 ) 
 
 the pleafing Ideas of my native place. It \va9 
 now in my power to vifit thofe from whom I had 
 been fo long abfent, in fnch a manner as was 
 confident with mv former refolution, and I won- 
 dered how it could happen that I had fo long de- 
 layed my own happinefs. Full of the admiration 
 which I ihould excite, and the homage which I 
 mould receive, I drefTed my fervants in a more 
 oftenflatious livery, purchafed a magnificent cha- 
 riot, and refolved to dazzle the inhabitants of 
 the little town with the unexpected blaze of 
 greatnefs. 
 
 While the preparations that vanity required 
 were made for my departure, which, as work- 
 men will not eafily be hurried beyond their or- 
 dinary rate, I folaced my impatience with ima- 
 gining the various cenfures that my appearance 
 would produce, the hopes which fome would feel 
 from my bounty, the terror which my power 
 would flrike on others ; the awkward refpecl with 
 which I Ihould be accofted by timorous of- 
 ficioufnefs ; and the diftant reverence with which 
 others, lefs familiar to fplendour and dignity, would 
 be contended to gaze upon me. I deliberated a 
 long time, whether I fhould immediately defcend 
 to a level with my former acquaintances, or make 
 my condefceniion more grateful by a gentle 
 M m tranlition 
 
( 266 ) 
 
 tranfition from haughtincfs and referve. At 
 length I determined to forget fome of my com- 
 panions till they difcovered themfelves by fome 
 indubitable token, and to receive the con- 
 gratulations of others upon my good fortune with 
 indifference, to fliew that I always expected what 
 I had now obtained. The acclamations of 
 the populace I purpofed to reward with fix 
 hogfheads of ale, and a roafted ox, and then re- 
 commend to them to return to work. 
 
 At laft all the trappings of grandeur were fitted, 
 and I began the journey of triumph, which I 
 could have wifhed to have ended in the fame 
 moment , but my horfes felt none of their mafter's 
 ardour, and I was fhaken four days upon rugged 
 roads. I then entered the town and having 
 gracioufly let fall the glaffes, that my perfon 
 might be feen, paffed flowly through the ftreet. 
 The noife of the wheels brought the inhabitants 
 to their doors, but I could not perceive that I 
 was known by them. At laft I alighted, and 
 my name, I fuppofe, was told by my fervants, 
 for the barber ftept from the oppofite houfe, and 
 feized me by the hand with honeft joy in his 
 countenance, which, according to the rule that 
 I had perfcribed to myfelf, I repreffed with a 
 frigid gracioufnefs. The fellow, inftead of finking 
 
 into 
 
( 267 ) 
 
 into dejeclion, turned away with contempt, and 
 left me to confider how the fecond falutation 
 mould be received. The next friend was better 
 treated, for I foon found that I mull purchafe by 
 civility that regard which I had expecled to en- 
 force by infolence. 
 
 There was yet no fmoke of bonfires, no har- 
 mony of bells, no fhout of crowds, nor riot of 
 joy ; the bufinefs of the day went forward as be- 
 fore, and after having ordered a fplcndid flipper, 
 which no man came to partake, and which my 
 chagrin hindered me from tailing, I went to bed, 
 where the vexation of difappointment overpowered 
 the fatigue of my journey, and kept me from 
 fleep. 
 
 I rofe fo much humbled by thofe mortifications, 
 as to inquire after the prefent ftate of the town, 
 and found that I had been abfent too long to ob- 
 tain the triumph which had flattered my ex- 
 pectation. Of the friends whofe compliments I 
 expecled, fome had long ago moved to diftant 
 provinces, fome had loft in the maladies of age 
 all fcnfe of another's profperity, and fome had 
 forgotten our former intimacy amidft care and 
 diftreffes. Of three whom I had refolved to 
 punifh for their former offences by a long con- 
 tinuance 
 
( 268 ) 
 
 tinuance of negle£t, one was, by his own induftrv, 
 raifed above my lcorn, and two were fheltered 
 from it in the grave. All thofe whom I loved, 
 feared, or hated, all whofe envy, or whofe kind- 
 nefs I had hope of contemplating with pleafure, 
 were fwept away, and their place was filled by a 
 new generation, with other views and other com- 
 petitions ; and among many proofs of the impo- 
 tence of wealth, I found that it conferred upon 
 me very few distinctions in my native place 
 
 SATISFACTION OF THE MIND. 
 
 MY Mind to me a kingdom is ; 
 Such perfect joy therein I find, 
 As far exceeds all earthly blifs 
 
 That God or nature hath affign'd. 
 Tho' much I want, that moll wou'd have, 
 Yet ftill my Mind forbids to crave. 
 
 Content I live, this is my ftay ; 
 
 I feek no more than may fuffice : 
 I prefs to bear no haughty fway, 
 
 For what I lack my Mind fupplies. 
 Lo ! thus I triumph like a King, 
 Content with what my Mind doth bring. 
 
 I fee 
 
( 269 ) 
 
 I fee how plenty furfeits oft, 
 And hafty climbers fooneft fall ; 
 
 I fee that fuch as fit aloft, 
 
 Mifhap doth threaten mod of ail. 
 
 Thefe get with toil, and keep with fear ; 
 
 Such cares my Mind could never bear. 
 
 No princely pomp, nor wealthy ftore, 
 
 No force to win a vi&ory ; 
 No wily wit to falve a fore, 
 
 No lhape to win a lover's eye : 
 To none of thefe I yield as thrall; 
 For why ? my Mind defpifeth all. 
 
 Some have too much, yet ftill they crave ; 
 
 I little have, yet feek no more : 
 They are but poor, tho' much they have, 
 
 And I am rich with little More : 
 They poor, I rich ; they beg, I give ; 
 They lack, I lend ; they pine and grieve. 
 
 I laugh not at another's lofs, 
 I grudge not at another's gain ; 
 
 No worldly wave my mind can tofs, 
 I brook what is another's bane : 
 
 I fear no foe, nor frown on friend ; 
 
 I loath not life, nor dread mine end. 
 
 My 
 
( 270 ) 
 
 My wealth is health, and perfect cafe ; 
 
 My conscience clear, my chief defence : 
 I never feek by bribes to pleafe, 
 
 Nor by defert to give offence. 
 Thus do I live, thus will I die ; 
 Would all did do fo well as I. 
 
 
 The following beautiful Lines, addrejjed to Dr. 
 Warner, on his leaving London, and more 
 ferious Bufmefs, tempted by the Hofpitalities of 
 Matson, the Seat of G. Selwyn, Esq. "were 
 written hyW. Hay ley, Esq. 
 
 AH ! flippery Monk ! to leave thy book and 
 bell, 
 Put out thy candle, and defert thy cell ! 
 Yet reverend fugitive, unlicenc'd roam, 
 Since ftrong temptations urg'd thee from thy home. 
 While rich October gives to groves of gold 
 Graces, that make the charms of May look cold : 
 The gloom of London who would fail to quit 
 For hills enliven'd by thy Selwyn's wit ? 
 Wit — that in harmony with Autumn's fcene, 
 Strikes, like October air, benignly keen, 
 Brings diftant objects gaily to our view, 
 And mews us Nature in her fweetelt hue ! 
 
 THE 
 
( 271 ) 
 
 THE WARNING. 
 
 AL L you who leap religion's facred fence, 
 And hunt the ignoble chafe of luftand fenfe; 
 Whofe impious breads fome hellifh fiend infpires! 
 And tongues, and eyes, confefs adult'rous fires ; 
 Who drown your wretched fouls in floods of wine, 
 And to the beaft the nobler man refign ; 
 Who with loud oaths and curfesrend the iky, 
 And dare th' Almighty's dread authority: 
 With earned fpeed your darling vice forego, 
 Which elfe will prove your certain overthrow. 
 For fince heaven's awful King is juft and pure.. 
 You mull the lathes of his wrath endure j 
 Mud ere 'tis long, to your confufion find, 
 That God, tho' injur'd, is not deaf nor blind. 
 
 AN EGYPTIAN ANECDOTE. 
 
 WHEN Pharaoh king of Egypt had prayed 
 to God to caufe the Nile to flow, to ap- 
 peafe the murmurings of the people, it flowed 
 accordingly, and he took the glory of the event 
 
 tc 
 
( 272 ) 
 
 tohimfelf. On his return to bis cattle, Gabriel 
 met him in the way, under the difguife of a fhep- 
 herd, and laying hold of the bridle of his horfe, 
 faid to him, " Great king, do me juflice againft 
 my fervant." " What has thy fervant done to 
 thee ?" (faid Pharaoh). " I have a fervant, (replied 
 Gabriel) to whom I have been liberal of my fa- 
 vours and kindnelTes, and yet perfecutes me, and 
 thofe I love, and obliges thofe I hate : he is rebel- 
 lious, and difobeys my commands ; he acknow- 
 ledges not the good I have done him, nay he is (o 
 far forgetful, as to tell me that he does not know 
 
 who I am." " A very wicked fervant indeed, 
 
 (anfwered Pharaoh) : if you bring him to me I will 
 have him drowned in the Red Sea ; and mall not 
 content myfelf for his punifhment, with the water 
 of the Nile, which is fweet and pleafant." " Great 
 king (rep ,: ed Gabriel) let me have a decree written 
 to this puroofe, that I may punifh him according 
 to it, wherever I find him." 
 
 Pharaoh, in compliance with this requeft, caufed 
 to be written the condemnation of a fervant re- 
 bellious to his mailer, and an encourager of his 
 enemies, and a perfecutor of his friends ; who 
 difobeys and treats him ill, who is ungrateful and 
 acknowledges not the kindneffes he has received 
 from him. — " I know not, added he, who this 
 
 man 
 
( 273 ) 
 
 man is, but my command is, that he fliall be 
 drowned in the Red Sea." " Great king (faid 
 
 Gabriel) be pleafed to fign this decree." 
 
 Pharaoh figned it, and fealed it with his own 
 feal, and put it in the hand of the lhepherd. 
 Gabriel took it, and kept it as long as God 
 ordered him. When the day of fubmerfion was 
 come, Pharaoh being juft upon the point of 
 drowning, (God having delivered Mofes and his 
 people from the waves, and opened to them a paf- 
 fage through the Red Sea J Gabriel came to him 
 with his decree. " What is this ? (faid Pharaoh). 
 " Open it, (replied Gabriel) and read what it con- 
 tains." Pharoah opened it, read it, and remem- 
 bered it. 
 
 " You are the fervant, (faid Gabriel to him) 
 whom this decree mentions, and fee.jyhatyou 
 have decreed againft yourfelf," ^ 
 
 Nn AN 
 
( 274 ) 
 
 AN HYMN. 
 
 WH I LE others fome proud mortal praife, 
 Or deeds of warlike heroes fing j 
 To heav'n, my raptur'd fong I'll raife, 
 To heav'n, and heav'n's eternal King ! 
 
 The wond'ring world my fong fhall hear, 
 Jehovah's worthy praife rehearfe ; 
 
 Pleas'd infidels fhall lend an ear, 
 And be the converts of my verfe. 
 
 But ah ! this cumb'rous load of clay, 
 Forbids the daring, pleafing flight ; 
 
 And guilt chains down th' afpiring lay, 
 To darknefs and eternal night. 
 
 Then aid me darknefs! filence aid, 
 While yet th' alternate day is mine! 
 
 Before your dreary realms I tread, 
 And fall before your awful flirine I 
 
 Much rather thou my fong infpire, 
 
 Whom all thefe glowing worlds obey j 
 
 Who ting'd their radiant orbs with fire, 
 Whofe hand directs their rapid way ! 
 
 Whofe 
 
( 275 ) 
 
 Whofe voice from nothing call'd the whole, 
 Whofe care the univerfe fuftains ; — 
 
 Of life and love the fource and foul, 
 O ! aid a feeble mortal's (trains ! 
 
 O! where lhall praife begin? where end? — 
 And end my praife lhall never know j 
 
 But to its center willing tend, 
 
 And there, like fam'd Meander flow, 
 
 Each fingle attribute defies, 
 
 E'en angels mod exalted fongs ; 
 
 Or cherubs raptur'd flame to rife, 
 So high as to its praife belongs. 
 
 What thoughts diften'd my lab'ring breaft ! 
 
 Too great for utt'rance, they confound ! 
 Thy povv'r, in love alone expreft, 
 
 Thy pow'r and love both pafling bound ! 
 
 Thyjuflice, fov'reign pow'r, who knows? 
 
 Thy wifdom who can comprehend ? 
 Who lhall thy fleady truth difclofe ? 
 
 Or of thy empiie find an end ? 
 
 But dearer far to mortal ear, 
 Thy tender love and mercy founds -, 
 
 Our 
 
( 276 ) 
 
 Our praife is forc'd, not virtue here, 
 Redeeming love all praife confounds ! 
 
 O ! if I knew the lofty drain, 
 Devout archangels ufe above ; 
 
 Unfung I'd drop their darling theme j 
 And fing alone redeeming love ! 
 
 Yet fooner could I reckon o'er 
 
 Thofe ftars that throng the vaulted Iky i 
 Or count the fands on ocean's ihore ; 
 
 Or drops that in its bowels lie I 
 
 When I the darling theme forget, 
 Eternal filence feize my tongue ! 
 
 Or other hymns of joy repeat, 
 
 But thofe which to thy name belong ! 
 
 Let all of human race rejoice, 
 
 With joy their great Redeemer praife ; 
 
 From pole to pole, with one glad voice, 
 One gen'ral chorus to him raife. 
 
 THE 
 
( 277 ) 
 
 THE GOOD HUSBAND. 
 
 THE good hufband is one, who, wedded not 
 by intereft but by choice, is conftant as 
 well from inclination as from principle ; he treats 
 his wife with delicacy as a woman, with tender- 
 nefs as a friend : he attributes her follies to her 
 weakncfs, her imprudence to her inadvertency ; 
 he pafles them over therefore with good nature, 
 and pardons them with indulgence : all his care 
 and induftry are employed for her welfare ; all 
 his ftrcngth and power are exerted for her fup- 
 port and protection ; he is more anxious to pre- 
 ferve his own character and reputation, becaufe 
 her's is blended with it : Laftly, the good hufband 
 is pious and religious, that he may animate her 
 faith by his practice, and enforce the precepts of 
 Chriftianity by his own example : That as they 
 join to promote each others happinefs in this 
 world, they may unite to infure eternal joy and 
 felicity in that which is to come. 
 
 THE GOOD WIFE. 
 
 THE good wife is one, who ever mindful of 
 the folemn contract which ihe hath entered 
 into, is ftrictly and confcientioufly virtuous, con- 
 ftant 
 
( 278 ) 
 
 ftant and faithful to her hufband ; chafte, pure 
 and unblemifhed in every thought, word, and 
 deed; fhe is humble and modeft from reafon and 
 conviction, fubmiiTive from choice, and obedient 
 from inclination : what fhe acquires by love and 
 tendernefs, fhe preferves by prudence and dif- 
 cretion : (lie makes it her bufmefs to ferve, and 
 her pleafure to oblige her hufband ; as confcious, 
 that every thing which promotes his happinefs, 
 mud in the end, contribute to her own : her ten- 
 dernefs relieves his cares, her affection foftens his 
 cliftrefs, her good humour and complacency leffen 
 and fubdue his affliction : fhe openeth her mouth 
 (as Solomon fays,) with wifdom, and in her 
 tongue is the law of kindnefs : fhe looketh well 
 to the ways of her hufband, and eateth not the 
 bread of idlenefs : her children rife up and call 
 her bleffed: her hufband alfo, and he praifeth her. 
 Laftly, as a good and pious Chriflian, ihe looks up 
 with an eye of gratitude to the Great Difpenfer 
 and Difpofer of all things, to the hufband of the 
 widow, and father of the fatherlefs, entreating 
 his divine favour and affiftance in this and every 
 other moral and religious duty : well fatisfied, 
 that if fhe duly and punctually difcharges her fe- 
 vcral offices and relations in this life, fhe fhall be 
 bleffed and rewarded for it in another. 
 
 ANEC- 
 
( 279 ) 
 
 ANECDOTE 
 
 THE LATE Dr. MONSEY. 
 
 DR. Monsey, by way of ridiculing family 
 pride, ufed to confefs, that the firft of his 
 anceilors of any note, was a baker, and dealer 
 in hops, of whom he told the following anecdote: 
 
 " To raife a prefent fum he had robbed his 
 feather beds of their contents, and fupplied the 
 deficiency with unfaleable hops. In a few years 
 a fevere blight univerfally prevailing, hops became 
 very fcarce and enormoufly dear ; the hoarded 
 treafure was upon this immediately ripped out, 
 and a good fum procured for hops, which in a 
 plentiful feafon, would not have been faleable ; 
 and thus, the Doctor ufed to add, our family 
 hopp'd from obfcurity." 
 
 A N 
 
( 280 ) 
 
 AN INSTANCE OF 
 
 A PRIVATE ACT OF BENEVOLENCE 
 
 OF HIS LATE 
 
 Royal Highnefs the Duke of Cumberland. 
 
 WHEN in the rebellion in the North, in the 
 year 174 5, his Royal Highnefs led his 
 auguft father's troops, deftined to defeat the dar- 
 ing rebels ; on his arrival at Penrith, in Cumber- 
 land, at which place his army halted two nights 
 and one day, a youth, who was there at fchool, 
 and whofe father had for many years not been 
 one of the meaneft fervants in the royal houfhold, 
 but at that time dead, applied to his Royal 
 Highnefs by petition, fetting forth what induced 
 the princely hero to order the petitioner into his 
 prefence, when, after a fliort paufe, for the re- 
 collc6ting fome incidents ftated in the petition, he 
 condefcendingly fpoke to the following effect" : 
 * f I remember your father well; his honour and 
 integrity, as a fervant, deferred efteem. The 
 lofs of the good old man was a public lofs. 
 Could I be perfuaded that you would adopt his 
 maxims, fuch provifion fhould be made for you 
 as would enable you to live with the credit and 
 
 reputa- 
 
( 281 ) 
 
 reputation which his merit entitled him to. How- 
 ever, take this purfe, and I give you my promife, 
 when, under the direction of God, thefe national 
 tumults ceafe, it I furvive, you will find me your 
 friend." Some fewyears having elapfed, this young 
 adventurer fleered to town to remind his royal 
 patron of his promife ; when his application 
 proved fo fuccefsful, that, within a few days he 
 became genteelly provided for at the Royal Palace 
 at Windfor. 
 
 E 
 
 THE DESERT ISLAND, 
 
 O R 
 
 HAPPY RECOVERY. 
 
 ARL Dorset was a nobleman of diftin- 
 guiihed abilities ; he had ferved in the reign 
 of Edward the third, King of England, and in par- 
 ticular had acquired uncommon reputation at the 
 famous battle of CreiTy. He married an amiable 
 lady, by whom he had an only daughter, named 
 Helen, whofe beauty and accomplifhments gained 
 her a crowd of admirers. 
 
 Among the feveral diftinguifhed characters that 
 reforted to the houfe of Earl Dorfet was the Duke 
 
 O o of 
 
( 282 ) 
 
 of Suffolk, who had for fome time conceived a 
 partiality in favour of the fair Helen. He at 
 length opened the matter to her father, who 
 readily agreed to the match, and flew with im- 
 patience to communicate the agreeable intel- 
 ligence to his beloved daughter ; but what was 
 his furprife, when he had fcarce ended his fpeech, 
 to find her bathed in tears, and declaring fhe 
 never could confent to fuch an union, as fhe had 
 already entertained a fincere regard for another. 
 Earl Dorfet determined, if poflible, to find out 
 the object of her choice, and entreated of her, in 
 the genteeleft manner, to inform him who was 
 the perfon fhe had fo unluckily placed her a£* 
 fections upon. 
 
 After fome hefitation, fhe acquainted him, that 
 it was no other than a gentleman diftantly related 
 to her family, named Dudley, whom fhe had 
 been acquainted with from her infancy. Dorfet 
 was almoft diffracted at this intelligence. — The 
 firft flep he took was to order young Dudley to 
 quit his houfe immediately, and he determined to 
 marry his daughter at all events to the Duke. 
 
 Helen flew to her mother, who loved her ten- 
 derly, and implored her in the moft pathetic 
 terms, to diffuade her father from his intended 
 
 purpofe 
 
 
( 283 ; 
 
 purpofe, and to give his con font to her union with 
 Dudley. Lady Dorfet could afford her but little 
 comfort ; the endeavoured to diffuade him from 
 fo rath a proceeding, but without efTecl: ; and 
 after Dudley had fecn his beloved Helen once 
 more, and had vowed mutual conftancy, he de« 
 parted, as they fuppofed, for the country ; but 
 his intentions were different, and he determined 
 not to live, without forming fome project to fee 
 his beloved miftrefs. — For this purpofe, he pro- 
 cured a proper difguife, and going to a convent 
 adjoining to the Duke of Suffolk's houfe, which he 
 well knew Helen conftantly frequented, he en- 
 gaged himfelf as one of the religious. This 
 fcheme fucceeded, and he frequently had op- 
 portunities of feeing and converting with his mif- 
 trefs. The Duke of Suffolk came often to vilit 
 Helen, and at length told her father he fancied 
 he was not agreeable to the lady, as he alfo re- 
 marked the had a fettled melancholy in her coun- 
 tenance, which the ftrove in vain to hide. Her 
 father endeavoured to perfuade him to the con- 
 trary, and afterwards feverely reprimanded his 
 daughter for her indifference to the Duke. 
 
 The next morning the repaired as ufual to the 
 convent, and there found Dudley waiting. She 
 communicated to him her father's intention of 
 
 facrificing 
 
( 281 ) 
 
 facrificing her to the Duke in a few days, which 
 threw him into a fit of defpair ; and, matching up 
 a fvrord, he would have put an end to his life, 
 had not Helen prevented him, by promifing never 
 to confent to be united to another. This pro- 
 mife, in fome degree, made him happy, and they 
 foon after parted. 
 
 She repaired to her apartment in the utmoft 
 agitation of mind, which had iuch an effect on 
 her, that it confined her to her room for fome 
 days. When the had fomewhat recovered, fhe 
 battened as ufual to the chapel, and was greatly 
 difappointed at not feeing her lover. She waited 
 fome time without effect, and returned home in 
 a perplexity of mind not to be defcribed. She 
 again applied to her mother, intreating her to tell 
 her the fate of Dudley. — What was her aftonifh- 
 mentjwhen Lady Dorfet informed her he had been 
 difcovered, and conveyed to prifon, by the order 
 of the king, where he was to remain, till fhe 
 agreed to give her hand to the Duke of Suffolk. 
 
 Suffice it to fay, fhe remained for fome months 
 in a ftate of infenfibility, continually calling on 
 the rtai.Be of her lover. When her reafon was 
 fomewhat reftored, fhe refolved to offer up her 
 prayers to the fupreme Being for the fafety of the 
 
 unhappy 
 
( 285 ) 
 
 unhappy youth. For this purpofe fhe haftened to 
 the chapel ; but, as the was defcending the fteps, 
 fhe perceived her beloved Dudley. She was un- 
 able to utter a word, but fell lifelefs into his 
 arms. When recovered, he acquainted her he 
 had juft efcaped from prifon, and intreated her 
 confent to marry him, and fly to France, or that 
 moment mould be his laft. 
 
 The charming Helen was fo perplexed between 
 love and duty, that flie did not know on what to 
 refolve. He renamed his intreaties, and flie at 
 length confcnted, and one of the brethren of the 
 holy order joined their hands. The next night 
 they proceeded to a village in the weft of Eng- 
 land, and embarked for France. Helen little re. 
 garded the dangers of the fea, all her grief was 
 for her father, whom flie heard from a perfon 
 on board was already in fearch of her. 
 
 They had fcarce loft fight of the port, when a 
 terrible ftorm arofe, and they expected every mi- 
 nute to be fwallowed up by the waves. — Helen's 
 grief redoubled ; flie fell continually into fainting 
 £ts, calling in vain on the name of her parents. 
 The ftorm continued fome days, when they were 
 driven upon the unknown coaft of a defert ifland. 
 — Dudley intreated the Captain to fet them afliore, 
 as he found the life of his beloved Helen to be in 
 
 the 
 
( 286 ) 
 
 the mo ft Imminent danger. The Captain com- 
 plied with their requeft, and they wandered about 
 a confiderable way from the fea fide, when they 
 beheld a delightful place, which feemed to 
 yield every thing nature could afford in higheft 
 luxury. 
 
 They remained for fome time gazing on this 
 enchanting fpot. They could perceive no form 
 like their own, or hear any thing but the bubbling 
 of fountains, and the warbling of birds. Dudley 
 at length refolved to build a little hut, and there 
 to live with his enchanting miftrefs upon the fpon- 
 taneous productions which the place produced. 
 
 After they had remained in this ifland for near 
 five years, and were bleffed with feveral pledges 
 of their mutual love, it happened one winter's 
 evening, when they had juft retired to reft, a 
 dreadful hurricane arofe, which defolated the 
 fields, and tore up the trees by the roots. They 
 heard the billows roar, and the lamentations of 
 fome unfortunate people, who had, no doubt, 
 fuffered by a wreck. Dudley and 1 lelen haftened 
 immediately to the fhore, where they beheld fe- 
 veral people lying lifelefs on the fands. 
 
 The next object that prefented hfelf was a ve- 
 nerable old man, ftretched at the bottom of a 
 
 tree, 
 
( 287 ) 
 
 tree, and (hewing fome (igns of life. Helen im- 
 mediately ran up to him, and looking wildly on 
 him cried out, " My father!" and fainted by his 
 fide. Dudley, perceiving the diftrefs of Helen 
 flew to her affiftance, and foon difcovered the 
 ftranger to be Earl Dorfet, who, with his con- 
 fort, had embarked in fearch of his daughter. 
 They immediately conducted him to their cabin, 
 and after he was fomewhat recovered, he cm- 
 braced his children, but told them there was one 
 tiling yet which would for ever deftroy his happi- 
 nefs. His beloved wife, he feared, had (harcd the 
 fame fate as the reft by the ftorm. 
 
 Helen was almoft diftrafted. She intreated 
 
 her huiband to fly to the fliore, and fearch after 
 the object of their wifhes. Dudley complied, 
 and after he had wandered about for fome time, 
 he faw at fome diftance a lady to all appearance 
 breathlefs, in the arms of a flave. He prefently 
 recollected in her face the features of Lady Dorfet. 
 He bore her to his cabin, where the foon after 
 recovered, and opening her eyes, and looking 
 ftedfaftly on Helen and Earl Dorfet, exclaimed, 
 " Gracious Heaven ! my hufband alive ! in the 
 arms of his daughter!" (lie could fcarce utter 
 thefe words, but fainted in Dudley's arms. When 
 (lie revived, their joy was not to be defcribed. 
 
 She 
 
( 288 ) 
 
 She perceived Dudley on his knees ; fiie tenderly 
 embraced him and her daughter. They all four 
 mingled their tears of joy together. A few days 
 after, feveral officers, and others of the crew, who 
 had been preferved from the wreck, difcovered the 
 delightful abode of their noble chief. They were 
 received with the greateft. cordiality by Dudley 
 and his engaging partner. The beauties of the 
 charming ifland, which feetned to its new inha- 
 bitants another Eden, made fuch an impreffion on 
 the followers of Earl Dorfet that they determined 
 to make it the place of their future abode ; and it 
 is afferted by M. de Arnaud, a celebrated French 
 writer, from which the above little hiilory is chiefly 
 taken, that feveral of their defcendants were found 
 there fome years afterwards, when this valuable 
 ifland was difcovered by the Portuguefe, which, 
 from its being covered with wood, they call 
 Madeira. 
 
 finis.