benefits which accrue to the public from these my speculations, and which, were I to speak after the manner of logicians, I would distinguish into the material and the formal. By the latter I understand those advantages which my readers receive, as their minds are either improved or delighted "by these my daily labours; but baring already several times descanted on my endeavours in this light, f shall at present wholly confine myself to the consideration of the former. By the word material, I mean those benefits which arise to the public from these my speculations, as they consume a considerable quantity of our paper-manufacture, employ our artisans in printing, and find business for great numbers of indigent persons. Our paper-manufacture takes into it several mean materials »hich could be put to no other use, and affords work for several hands in the collecting of them, which are incapable of any other employment. Those poor retailers, whom we see so busy iu every street, deliver in their respective gleanings to the merchant. The merchant carries them in loads to the paper-mill, where they pass through a fresh set of hands, and give life to another trade. Those who have mills on their estates, by this means considerably raise their rents, and the whole nation is in a great measure supplied with a manufacture, for which formerly she was obliged to her neighbours. The materials are no sooner wrought into paper, but they are distributed among the presses, where they again set innumerable artists at work, and furnish business to another mystery. From hence, accordingly as they are stained with news and politics they % through the town in Postmen, Postboys, Daily Courants, Reviews, Medleys, and Examiners. Men, women, and children, contend who shall be the first bearers of them, and get their dailysustenance by spreading them. In short, when I trace in my mind 'bundle of rags to a quire of Spectators, I find so many hands employed in every step they take through their whole progress, that while I am writing a Spectator, I fancy myself providing bread for a multitude. . If I do not take care to obviate some of my witty readers, they ^11 be apt to tell me. that my paper, after it is thus printed and published, is still beneficial to the public on several occasions I "lust confess I have lighted my pipe with my own works for this !*elvemonth past. My landlady often sends up her little daughter to desire some of my old Spectatohs, and has frequently told me, 'hat the paper they are printed on is the best in the world to wrap 5pice in. They likewise make a good foundation for a mutton-pie, M1 have more than once experienced, and were very much sought w last Christmas by the whole neighbourhood. "is pleasant enough to consider the changes that a linen fragment undergoes, by passing through the several hands abovementioned. The finest pieces of bolland, when worn to tatters, assume a new whiteness more beautiful than their first, and ofteu return in the shape of letters to their native country. A lady's shift may be metamorphosed into billets-doux, and come into ber possession a second time. A beau may peruse his cravat after it is worn out, with greater pleasure and advantage than ever he did in a glass. In a word, a piece of cloth, after having officiated some years as a towel or a napkin, may by this means be raised from a dunghill, and become the most valuable piece of furniture in a prince's cabinet The politest nations of Europe have endeavoured to vie with one another for the reputation of the finest printing. Absolute governments as well as republics have encouraged an art which seems to be the noblest and most beneficial that ever was invented among the sons of men. The present king of France, in bis pursuits after glory, has particularly distinguished himself by the promoting of this useful art, insomuch that several books have been printed in the Louvre at his own expense, upon which he sets so great a value, that be considers them as the noblest presents he can make to foreign princes and ambassadors. If we look into the commonwealths of Holland and Venice, we shall find that in this particular they have made themselves the envy of the greatest monarchies. Elzevir and Aldus are more frequently mentioned than any pensioner of the one, or doge of the other. The several presses whioh are now in England, and the great encouragement which has been given to learning for some years last past, has made our own nation as glorious upon this account, as for its late triumphs and conquests. The new edition which is given us of Cassar's Commentaries,* has already been taken notice of in foreign gazettes, and is a work that does honour to the English press. It is no wonder that an edition should be very correct, which has passed through the bands of one of the most accurate, learned, and judicious writers this age has produced. The beauty of the paper, of the character, and of the several outs with which this noble work is illustrated, makes it the finest book that I have ever seen; and is a true instance of the English genius, which, though it does not come the first into any art, generally carries it to greater heights than any other country in the world. I am particularly glad that this author comes from a British printing-house in so great a magnificence, as he is the first who has given us any tolerable account of our country. My illiterate readers, if any such there are, will be surprised to hear me talk of learning as the glory of a nation, and of printing as an art that gains a reputation to a people among whom it flourishes. When men's thoughts are taken up with avarice and am * By Dr. Samuel Clarke, in folio; a mort olegant work, published that year. bition, they cannot look upon anything as great or vnluable, which does not bring with it an extraordinary power or interest to the person who is concerned in it. But as I shall never sink this paper so far as to engage with Goths and Vandals. I shall only regard such kind of reasoners with that pity which is due to so deplorable a degree of stupidity and ignorance. ADDISON. L. No. 368. FRIDAY, MAY 2, 17L2. Nos dccebat SCRIP. APDS TULL. When first an infant draws the vital air, As the Spectator is in a kind a paper of news from the natural world, as others are from the busy and politic part of mankind, I shall translate the following letter, written to an eminent French gentleman in this town from Paris, which gives us the exit of an heroine, who is a pattern of patience and generosity. "Paris, April 18, 1712. "sir, " It is so many years since you left your native couutry, that I am to tell you tbe characters of your nearest relations as much as if you were an utter stranger to them. The occasion of this is to give you an account of tbe death of Madame de Villacerle, whose departure out of this life I know not whether a man of your philosophy will call unfortunate or not, since it was attended with some circumstances as much to be desired as to be lamented. She was her whole life bappy in an uninterrupted health, and was always honoured for an evenness of temper and greatness of mind. On the 10th instant that lady was taken with an indisposition which confined her to her chamber, but was such as was too slight to make her take a sick bed, and yet too grievous to admit of any satisfaction in being out of it It is notoriously known, that some years ago Monsieur Festeau, one of the most considerable surgeons in Paris, was desperately in love with this lady. Her quality placed her above any application to her on the account of his passion : but as a woman always has some regard to the person whom she believes to be her real admirer, she now took it in her head (upon advice of her physicians to lose some of her blood) to send for Monsieur Festeau on that occasion. I happened to be there at that time, and my near relation gave me the privilege to be present. As soon as her arm was stripped bare, and he began to press it in order to raise the vein, his colour changed, and I observed him seized with a sudden tremor, which made me take the liberty to speak of it to my cousin with some apprehension. She smiled ; and said, she knew M. Festeau had no inclination to do her injury. He seemed to recover himself, and smiling also proceeded in his work. Immediately after the operation, he cried out that he was the most unfortunate of all men, for that he had opened an artery instead ofa vein. It is as impossible to express the artist's distraction as the patient's composure. I will not dwell on little circumstances, but go on to in orm you, that within three days time it was thought necessary to take off her arm. She was so far from using Festeau as it would be natural for one of a lower spirit to treat him, that she would not let him be absent from any consultation about her present condition, and on every occasion asked whether he was satisfied in the measures that were taken about her. Before this last operation she ordered her will to be drawn, and after having been about a quarter of an hour alone, she bade the surgeons, of whom poor Festeau was one, go on in their work. I know not how to give you the terms of art; but there appeared such symptoms after the amputation of her arm, that it was visible she could not live four and twenty hours. Her behaviour was so magnanimous throughout this whole affair, that I was particularly curious in taking notice of what passed. as her fate approached nearer and nearer, and took notes of what she said to all a tout her, particularly word for word what she spoke to M. F vsteau, which was as follows.“ ‘ Sir, you give me inexpressible sorrow for the anguish with which I see you overwhelmed. I nm removed to all intents and purposes from the interests of human life. therefore I am to begin to t ink like one wholl unconcerned in it. I do not consider you as one by whose error li have lost my life; no, you are my beneihctor, as you have hastened my entrance into a happy immortality. This is my sense of this accident; but the world in which you live may have thoughts of it to your disadvantage; I have there fore taken care to provide for you in my will, and have placed you above what ou have to fear from their ill nature' “ While tliyis excellent woman spoke these words, Festeau looked as if he received a condemnation to die, instead of a pension for his life. Madame 'de Villacerfe lived till eight of the clock the next night; and though she must have laboured under the most exquisite torments, she possessed her mind with so wonderful a patience, that one may rather say she ceased to breathe, than she died at that hour. You, who had not the happiness to be per sonally known to this lady, have nothing but to rejoice in the honour you had of being related to so great merit; but we, who taTe lost her conversation, cannot so easily resign our own happiness by reflection upon hers. " I am. Sir, your affectionate kinsman, " And most obedient humble servant, " Paul Reqnaud." There hardly can be a greater instance of an heroic mind, than the unprejudiced manner in which this lady weighed this misfortune. The regard of life itself could not make her overlook the contrition of the unhappy man, whose more than ordinary concern for her was all his guilt. It would certainly be of singular use to human society to have an exact account of this lady's ordinary conduct, which was crowned by so uncommon magnanimity. Such greatness was not to be acquired in the last article, nor is it to be doubted but it was a constant practice of all that is praiseworthy, which made her capable of beholding death, not as the dissolution, but consummation of her life. STEELE. T. No. 360. SATURDAY, MAY 3, 171*. Segnius irritant animos demissa per nurem, HOR. AB9P0KT. ISO. — What we hear moves less than what we see. Roscomhon. Milton, after having represented in vision the history of mankind to the first great period of nature, dispatches the remaining part of it in narration. He has devised a very handsome reason for the Angel's proceeding with Adam after this manner; though doubtless 'he true reason was, the difficulty which the poet would have found to have shadowed out so mixed and complicated a story in visible objects. I could wish, however, that the author had done it, what«w pains it might have cost him. To give my opinion freely, I 'l'ink that the exhibiting part of the history of mankind in vision, »od part in narrative, is as if an history-painter should put in colours one-half of his subject, and write down the remaining part °f it If Milton's poem flags anywhere, it is in this narration, •here in some places the author has been so attentive to his 'lirinity, that he has neglected bis poetry. The narration, howler, rises very happily on. several occasions, where the subject is cspable of poetical ornaments, as particularly in the confusion •hich he describes among the builders of Babel, and in his short |