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have been changed three times in seven years. I have had seven children by her: and by our marriage-articles she was to have her apartment new furnished as often as she lay in. Nothing in our house is useful but that which is fashionable; my pewter holds out generally half a year, my plate a full twelvemonth; chairs are not fit to sit in that were made two years since, nor beds fit for anything but to sleep in, that have stood up above that time. My dear is of opinion that an old fashioned grate consumes coals, but gives no heat. If she drinks out of glasses of last year she can not distinguish wine from small-beer. Oh, dear Sir, you may guess all the rest.

"Yours."

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"You may believe you are a person as much talked of as any man in town. I am one of your best friends in this house, and have laid a wager, you are so candid a man, and so honest a fellow, that you will print this letter, though it is in recommendation of a newspaper called The Historian. I have read it carefully, and find it written with skill, good-sense, modesty, and fire. You must allow the town is kinder to you than you deserve; and I doubt not but you have so much sense of the world's change of humor, and instability of all human things, as to understand, that the only way to preserve favor is to communicate it to others with good-nature and judgment. You are so generally read, that what you speak of will be read. This, with men of sense and taste, is all that is wanting to recommend The Historian. "I am, Sir, your daily Advocate,

"READER GENTLE."

I was very much surprised this morning that any one should find out my lodging, and know it so well as to come directly to my closet-door, and knock at it, to give me the following letter. When I came out I opened it, and saw, by a very strong pair of shoes and a warm coat the bearer had on, that he walked all the way to bring it me, though dated from York. My misfortune is that I cannot talk, and I found the messenger had so much of me, that he could think better than speak. He had, I observed, a polite discerning, hid under a shrewd rusticity. He delivered the paper with a Yorkshire tone and a town leer.

"MR. SPECTATOR,

that unless we break all rules of government, it
must redound to the utter subversion of the brag-
table, the discreet members of which value time,
as Fribble's wife does her pin-money. We are
pretty well assured that your indulgence to Trot
was only in relation to country dances; however,
we have deferred issuing an order of council upon
the premises, hoping to get you to join with us,
that Trot, nor any of his clan, presume for the
future to dance any but country dances, unless a
hornpipe upon a festival day. If you will do
this, you will oblige a great many ladies, and
particularly your most humble Servant,
"York, Feb. 16.

"ELIZA SWEEPSTAKES."

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VIRG. En. vi, ver. 264.

Ye realms, yet unreveal'd to human sight,
Ye gods, who rule the regions of the night,
Ye gliding ghosts, permit me to relate

are

The mystic wonders of your silent state.-Dryden.
I HAVE before observed in general, that the per-
sons whom Milton introduces into his poem always
discover such sentiments and behavior as
in a peculiar manner conformable to their respec-
tive characters. Every circumstance in their
speeches and actions is with great justice and
delicacy adapted to the persons who speak and
act. As the poet very much excels in this con-
sistency of his characters, I shall beg leave to
consider several passages of the second book in
this light. That superior greatness and mock-
majesty which is ascribed to the prince of the fallen
angels, is admirably preserved in the beginning
of this book. His opening and closing the debate;
his taking on himself that great enterprise, at the
thought of which the whole infernal assemb
trembled; his encountering the hideous phantom
who guarded the gates of hell, and appeared to
him in all his terrors; are instances of that proud
and daring mind which could not brook submis-
sion, even to Omnipotence!

Satan was now at hand, and from his seat
The monster, moving onward, came as fast
With horrid strides; hell trembled as he strode.
Th' undaunted fiend what this might be admir'd,
Admir'd, not fear'd-

The same boldness and intrepidity of behavior discovers itself in the several adventures which he "The privilege you have indulged John Trot meets with, during his passage through the regions has proved of very bad consequence to our illus-of unformed matter, and particularly in his address trious assembly, which, beside the many excellent to those tremendous powers who are described as maxims it is founded upon, is remarkable for the presiding over it. extraordinary decorum observed in it. One instance of which is, that the carders (who are always of the first quality) never begin to play until the French dances are finished, and the country dances begin; but John Trot having now got your commission in his pocket (which every one here has a profound respect for) has the assurance to set up for a minuet-dancer. Not only so, but he has brought down upon us the whole body of the Trots, which are very numerous, with their auxiliaries the hobblers and the skip pers, by which means the time is so much wasted,

The part of Moloch is likewise, in all its circum)stances, full of that fire and fury which distinguish this spirit from the rest of the fallen angels. Be is described in the first book as besmeared with the blood of human sacrifices, and delighted with the tears of parents, and the cries of children. In the second book he is marked out as the fiercest spirit that fought in heaven; and if we consider the figure which he makes in the sixth book, where the battle of the angels is described, we find it every way answerable to the same furious, enraged character:

-Where the might of Gabriel fought,
And with fierce ensigns piere'd the deep array
Of Moloch, furious king, who him defied.
And at his chariot-wheels to drag him bound
Threaten'd, nor from the Holy One of heav'n
Refrain'd his tongue blasphemous: but anon.
Down cloven to the waist, with shatter'd arms
And uncouth pain fled bellowing.

It may be worth while to observe, that Milton has represented this violent impetuous spirit, who is hurried on by such precipitate passions, as the first that rises in the assembly to give his opinion upon their present posture of affairs. Accordingly he declares himself abruptly for war, and appears incensed at his companions for losing so much time as even to deliberate upon it. All his senti ments are rash, audacious and desperate. Such as that of arming themselves with their tortures, and turning their punishments upon him who inflicted them

-No, let us rather choose,

Arm'd with hell flames and fury, all at once

O'er heaven's high tow'rs to force resistless way,
Turning our tortures into horrid arms
Against the tort'rer: when to meet the noise
Of his almighty engine he shall hear
Infernal thunder, and for, lightning see
Black fire and horror shot with equal rage
Among his angels; and his throne itself

Mix'd with Tartarian sulphur, and strange fire,
His own invented torments.

His preferring annihilation to shame or misery is also highly suitable to his character; as the comfort he draws from their disturbing the peace of heaven, that if it be not victory it is revenge, is a sentiment truly diabolical, and becoming the bitterness of this implacable spirit.

Belial is described in the first book as the idol of the lewd and luxurious. He is in the second book, pursuant to that description, characterized as timorous and slothful; and if we look into the sixth book, we find him celebrated in the battle of angels for nothing but that scoffing speech which he makes to Satan, on their supposed advantage over the enemy. As his appearance is uniform, and of a piece, in these three several views, we find his sentiments in the infernal assembly every way conformable to his character. Such are his apprehensions of a second battle, his horrors of annihilation, his preferring to be miserable rather than "not to be." I need not observe, that the contrast of thought in this speech, and that which precedes it, gives an agreeable variety to the debate.

Mammon's character is so fully drawn in the first book, that the poet adds nothing to it in the second. We were before told, that he was the first who taught mankind to ransack the earth for gold and silver, and that he was the architect of Pandæmonium, or the infernal palace, where the evil spirits were to meet in council. His speech in this book is every way suitable to so depraved a character. How proper is that reflection of their being unable to taste the happiness of heaven, were they actually there, in the mouth of one, who, while he was in heaven, is said to have had his mind dazzled with the outward pomps and glories of the place, and to have been more intent on the riches of the pavement than on the beatific vision. I shall also leave the reader to judge how agreeable the following sentiments are to the same character:

-This deep world

Of darkness do we dread? How oft amidst
Thick clouds and dark doth heav'n's all-ruling sire
Choose to reside, his glory unobscur'd,
And with the majesty of darkness round

Covers his throne; from whence deep thunders roar,
Mustering their rage, and heaven resembles hell!
As he our darkness, cannot we his light

Imitate when we please? This desert soil Wants not her hidden luster, gems and gold; Nor want we skill or art, from whence to raise Magnificence; and what can heav'n show more?

Beelzebub, who is reckoned the second in dig nity that fell, and is, in the first book, the second that awakens out of the trance, and confers with Satan upon the situation of their affairs, maintains his rank in the book now before us. There is a wonderful majesty described in his rising up to speak. He acts as a kind of moderator between the two opposite parties, and proposes a third undertaking, which the whole assembly gives into. The motion he makes of detaching one of their body in search of a new world, is grounded upon a project devised by Satan, and cursorily propos ed by him in the following lines of the first book:

Space may produce new worlds, whereof so rifə
There went a fame in heav'n, that he ere long
Intended to create, and therein plant
A generation, whom his choice regard
Should favor equal to the sons of heav'n:
Thither, if but to pry, shall be perhaps
Our first eruption, thither or elsewhere:
For this infernal pit shall never hold
Celestial spirits in bondage, nor th' abyss
Long under darkness cover. But these thoughts
Full counsel must mature:-

It is on this project that Beelzebub grounde his proposal:

What if we find

Some easier enterprise? There is a place
(If ancient and prophetic fame in heav'n
Err not), another world, the happy seat
Of some new race call'd man, about this time
To be created like to us, though less

In pow'r and excellence, but favor'd more
Of him who rules above; so was his will
Pronounc'd among the gods, and by an oath,
That shook heav'n's whole circumference, confirm'd.

The reader may observe how just it was, not to omit in the first book the project upon which the whole poem turns; as also that the prince of the fallen angels was the only proper person to give it birth, and that the next to him in dignity was the fittest to second and support it.

There is beside, I think, something wonderfully beautiful, and very apt to affect the reader's imagination, in this ancient prophesy or report in heaven, concerning the creation of man. Nothing could show more the dignity of the species, than this tradition which ran of them before their existence. They are represented to have been the taiz of heaven before they were created. Virgil, in compliment to the Roman commonwealth, makes the heroes of it appear in their state of pre-existence; but Milton does a far greater honor to mankind in general, as he gives us a glimpse of them even before they are in being.

The rising of this great assembly is described in a very sublime and poetical manner.

Their rising all at once was as the sound
Of thunder heard remote-

The diversions of the fallen angels, with the particular account of their place of habitation, are de scribed with great pregnancy of thought, and copiousness of invention. The diversions are every way suitable to beings who had nothing left them but strength and knowledge misapplied. Such are their contentions at the race, and in feats of arms, with their entertainment in the following lines:

Others with vast Typhæan rage more fell Rend up both rocks and hills, and ride the air In whirlwind; hell scarce holds the wild uproar. Their music is employed in celebrating their own criminal exploits, and their discourse in

Founding the unfathomable depths of fate, freewill, and foreknowledge.

The several circumstances in the description of hell are finely imagined; as the four rivers which disgorge themselves into the sea of fire, the extremes of cold and heat, and the river of oblivion. The monstrous animals produced in that infernal world are represented by a single line, which gives us a more horrid idea of them, than a much longer description would have done:

-Nature breeds,

Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things,
Abominable, inutterable, and worse

Than fables yet have feign'd, or fear conceiv'd,
Gorgons and hydras, and chimeras dire.

This episode of the fallen spirits, and their place of habitation, comes in very happily to unbend the mind of the reader from its attention to the debate. An ordinary poet would indeed have spun out so many circumstances to a great length, and by that means have weakened, instead of illustrated, the principal fable.

The flight of Satan to the gates of hell is finely imagined.

I have already declared my opinion of the alle gory concerning sin and death, which is, however, a very finished piece in its kind, when it is not considered as a part of an epic poem. The genealogy of the several persons is contrived with great delicacy. Sin is the daughter of Satan, and Death

With horse and chariots rank'd in loose array; So wide they stood, and like a furnace mouth Cast forth redounding smoke and ruddy flame. In Satan's voyage through the chaos there are several imaginary persons described, as residing in that immense waste of matter. This may, perhaps, be conformable to the taste of those critics who are pleased with nothing in a poet which has not life and manners ascribed to it: but for my own part, I am pleased most with those passages in this description which carry in them a greater measure of probability, and are such as might possibly have happened. Of this kind is his first mounting in the smoke that rises from the infernal pit, his falling into a cloud of niter, and the like combustible materials, that by their explosion still hurried him forward in his voyage: his springing upward like a pyramid of fire, with his laborious passage through that confusion of elements which the poet calls

The womb of nature, and perhaps her grave.

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the offspring of Sin. The incestuous mixture be- No. 310.] MONDAY, FEBRUARY 25, 1711-12.

tween Sin and Death produces those monsters and hell-hounds which from time to time enter into their mother, and tear the bowels of her who gave them birth.

These are the terrors of an evil conscience, and the proper fruits of sin, which naturally rise from the apprehensions of death. This last beautiful moral is, I think, clearly intimated in the speech of Sin, where, complaining of this her dreadful issue, she adds,

Before mine eyes in opposition sits

Grim Death, my son and foe, who sets them on,
And me his parent would full soon devour
For want of other prey, but that he knows
Ilis end with mine involv'd.-

I need not mention to the reader the beautiful circumstance in the last part of this quotation. He will likewise observe how naturally the three persons concerned in this allegory are tempted by one common interest to enter into a confederacy together, and how properly Sin is made the portress of hell, and the only being that can open the gates to that world of tortures.

The descriptive part of this allegory is likewise very strong, and full of sublime ideas. The figure of Death, the regal crown upon his head, his menace of Satan, his advancing to the combat, the outery at his birth, are circumstances too noble to be passed over in silence, and extremely suitable to this king of terrors. I need not mention the justness of thought which is observed in the generation of these several symbolical persons; that Sin was produced upon the first revolt of Satan, that Death appeared soon after he was cast into hell, and that the terrors of conscience were conceived at the gate of this place of torments. The description of the gates is very poetical, as the opening of them is full of Milton's spirit:

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Connubio jungam stabili.

VIRG. Æn., i, 77. I'll tie the indissoluble marriage-knot.

"MR. SPECTATOR,

tain young man very heartily; and my father and "I AM a certain young woman that love a cer mother were for it a great while, but now they say I can do better, but I think I cannot. They bid me not love him, and I cannot unlove him. What must I do? Speak quickly.

"DEAR SPEC.,

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Feb. 19, 1712. "I have loved a lady entirely for this year and a half, though for a great part of the time (which has contributed not a little to my pain) I have been debarred the liberty of conversing with her. The ground of our difference was this; that when we had inquired into each other's circumstances, we found that at our first setting out in the world, we should owe five hundred pounds more than her fortune would pay off. My estate is seven hundred pounds a-year, beside the benefit of tin mines. Now, dear Spec., upon this state of the case, and the lady's positive declaration that there is still no other objection, I beg you will not fail to insert this, with your opinion, as soon as possible, whether this ought to be esteemed a just cause or impediment why we should not be joined, and you will forever oblige yours sincerely,

POSTSCRIPT.

"DICK LOVESICK."

"Sir, if I marry this lady by the assistance of your opinion, you may expect a favor for it." "MR. SPECTATOR,

"I have the misfortune to be one of those unhappy men who are distinguished by the name of discarded lovers; but I am the less mortified at my disgrace, because the young lady is one of those creatures who set up for negligence of men are forsooth the most rigidly virtuous in the world, and yet their nicety will permit them at the command of parents to go to bed to the most utter

stranger that can be proposed to them. As to me, ventures, to set a watch before the door of his myself, I was introduced by the father of my mis-mouth, to refrain his tongue, to check its impetu tress; but find I owe my being at first received to osity, and guard against the sallies of that little a comparison of my estate with that of a former pert, forward, busy person; which, under a sober lover, and that I am now in like manner turned conduct, might prove a useful member of society. off to give way to a humble servant still richer In compliance with those intimations, I have than I am. What makes this treatment the more taken the liberty to make this address to you. extravagant is, that the young lady is in the man- "I am, Sir, your most obscure Servant, agement of this way of fraud, and obeys her faPHILANTHROPOS." ther's orders, on these occasions without any manner of reluctance, but does it with the same air" MR. SPECTATOR, hat one of your men of the world would signify he necessity of affairs for turning another out of office. When I came home last night, I found this etter from my mistress :

SIR,

"I hope you will not think it any manner of disrespect to your person or merit, that the intended nuptials between us are interrupted. My father says he has a much better offer for me than you can make, and has ordered me to break off the treaty between us. If it had proceeded, I should have behaved myself with all suitable regard to you, but as it is, I beg we may be strangers for the future. Adieu. "LYDIA."

"This great indifference on this subject, and the mercenary motives for making alliances, is what I think lies naturally before you, and I beg of you to give me your thoughts upon it. My answer to Lydia was as follows, which I hope you will approve for you are to know the woman's family affect a wonderful ease on these occasions, though they expect it should be painfully received on the man's side:

MADAM,

“I have received yours, and knew the prudence of your house so well, that I always took care to be ready to obey your commands, though they should be to see you no more. Pray give my service to all the good family. Adieu.

66

"The opera subscription is full."”

MEMORANDUM.

CLITOPHON."

The censor of marriage to consider this letter, and report the common usages on such treaties, with how many pounds or acres are generally esteemed sufficient reason for preferring a new to an old pretender; with his opinion what is proper to be determined in such cases for the future. See No. 308, let. 1.

"MR SPECTATOR,

"This is to petition you in behalf of myself and many more of your gentle readers, that at any time when you may have private reasons against letting us know what you think yourself, you would be pleased to pardon us such letters of your correspondent as seem to be of no use but to the printer.

"It is further our humble request, that you would substitute advertisements in the place of such epistles; and that in order hereunto Mr. Buckley may be authorized to take up of your zealous friend Mr. Charles Lillie, any quantity of words he shall from time to time have occasion for.

"The many useful parts of knowledge which may be communicated to the public this way will, we hope, be a consideration in favor of your petitioners.

"And your Petitioners," etc.

Note. That particular regard be had to this petition; and the papers marked letter R. may be carefully examined for the future.-T.

No. 311.] TUESDAY, FEB. 26, 1711-12
Nec Veneris pharetris macer est, aut lampade fervet;
Inde faces ardent, veniunt a dote sagittæ.

Juv., Sat. vi, 137.
He sighs, adores, and courts her ev'ry hour:
Who would not do as much for such a dower?-RYDEN,
"MR. SPECTATOR,

"I AM amazed that, among all the variety of characters with which you have enriched your speculations, you have never given us a picture of those audacious young fellows among us who commonly go by the name of the fortune-stealers. You must know, Sir, I am one who live in a continual apprehension of this sort of people, that lie in wait, day and night, for our children, and may be considered as a kind of kidnappers within the law. I am the father of a young heiress, whom I begin to look upon as marriageable, and who has looked upon herself as such for above these "There is an elderly person lately left off busi-six years. She is now in the eighteenth year of ness and settled in our town, in order, as he her age. The fortune-hunters have already cast thinks, to retire from the world; but he has their eyes upon her, and take care to plant themDrought with him such an inclination for tale- selves in her view whenever she appears in any Dearing, that he disturbs both himself and all our public assembly. I have myself caught a young neighborhood. Notwithstanding this frailty, the jackanapes, with a pair of silver-fringed gloves, honest gentleman is so happy as to have no ene- in the very fact. You must know, Sir, I have kept my: at the same time he has not one friend who her as a prisoner of state ever since she was in will venture to acquaint him with his weakness. her teens. Her chamber-windows are cross-barred; t is not to be doubted, but if this failing were set she is not permitted to go out of the house but n a proper light, he would quickly perceive the with her keeper, who is a staid relation of my indecency and evil consequences of it. Now, Sir, own; I have likewise forbid her the use of pen this being an infirmity, which I hope may be cor- and ink, for this twelvemonth last past, and do rected, and knowing that he pays much deference not suffer a band-box to be carried into her room to you, I beg that when you are at leisure to give before it has been searched. Notwithstanding us a speculation on gossiping, you would think these precautions, I am at my wit's end for fear of of my neighbor. You will hereby oblige several any sudden surprise. There were, two or three who will be glad to find a reformation in their nights ago, some fiddles heard in the street, which gray-haired friend: and how becoming will it be ani afraid portend me no good; not to mention a tall for him, instead of pouring forth words at all ad- Irishman, that has been seen walking before my

house more than once this winter. My kinswoman at the ladies for thirty years together; and taken likewise informs me, that the girl has talked to his stand in a side-box, until he has grown her twice or thrice of a gentleman in a fair wig, wrinkled under their eyes. He is now laying the and that she loves to go to church more than ever same snares for the present generation of beauties she did in her life. She gave me the slip about a which he practiced on their mothers. Cottilus, week ago, upon which my whole house was in after having made his applications to more than alarm. I immediately dispatched a hue and cry you meet with in Mr. Cowley's ballad of misafter her to the 'Change, to her mantuamaker, and tresses, was at last smitten with a city lady of £20,to the young ladies that visit her; but after above an 000 sterling; but died of old age before he could hour's search she returned of herself, having been bring matters to bear. Nor must I here omit my taking a walk, as she told me, by Rosamond's worthy friend Mr. Honeycomb, who has often poud. I have hereupon turned off her woman, told us in the club, that for twenty-years succes. doubled her guards, and given new instructions sively, upon the death of a childless rich man, be to my relation, who, to give her her due, keeps a immediately drew on his boots, called for his watchful eye over all her motions. This, Sir, horse, and made up to the widow. When he keeps me in a perpetual anxiety, and makes me is rallied upon his ill-success, Will, with his usual very often watch when my daughter sleeps, as I gayety, tells us, that he always found her pream afraid she is even with me in her turn. Now, engaged. Sir, what I would desire of you is, to represent to this fluttering tribe of young fellows, who are for making their fortunes by these indirect means, that stealing a man's daughter for the sake of her portion is but a kind of a tolerated robbery, and that they make but a poor amends to the father, whom they plunder after this manner, by going to bed with his child. Dear Sir, be speedy in your thoughts upon this subject, that, if possible, they may appear before the disbanding of the

army.

"I am, Sir,

"Your most humble Servant,
"TIM. WATCHWELL."

Themistocles, the great Athenian general, being asked whether he would rather choose to marry his daughter to an indigent man of merit, or to a worthless man of an estate, replied, that he should prefer a man without an estate to an estate with out a man. The worst of it is, our modern fortunehunters are those who turn their heads that way, because they are good for nothing else. If a young fellow finds he can make nothing of Coke and Littleton, he provides himself with a ladder of ropes, and by that means very often enters upon the premises.

The same art of scaling has been likewise practiced with good success by many military engi. neers. Stratagems of this nature make parts and industry superfluous, and cut short the way to

riches.

Nor is vanity a less motive than idleness to this kind of mercenary pursuit. A fop, who admires his person in a glass, soon enters into a resolution of making his fortune by it, not questioning but that every woman that falls in his way will do him as much justice as he does himself. When an heiress sees a man throwing particular graces into his ogle, or talking loud within her hearing, she ought to look to herself; but if withal she observes a pair of red heels, a patch, or any other particularity in his dress, she cannot take too much care of her person. These are baits not to be trifled with, charms that have done a world of execution, and made their way into hearts which have been thought impregnable. The force of a man with these qualifications is so well known, that I am credibly informed there are several female undertakers about the 'Change, who, upon the arrival of a likely man out of the neighboring kingdom, will furnish him with a proper dress from head to foot, to be paid for at a double price on the day of marriage.

Widows are indeed the great game of your fortune-hunters. There is scarce a young fellow in the town, of six feet high, that has not passed in review before oue or other of these wealthy relicts. Hudibras's Cupid, who

-took his stand Upon a widow's jointure* land,"

Is daily employed in throwing darts, and kindling flames. But as for widows, they are such a subtile generation of people, that they may be left to their own conduct; or if they make a false step in it, they are answerable for it to nobody but themselves. The young, innocent creatures who have no knowledge and experience of the world, are those whose safety I would principally consult in this speculation. The stealing of such a one should, in my opinion, be as punishable as a rape. Where there is no judgment there is no choice; and why the inveigling a woman before she is come to years of discretion should not be as criminal as the seducing of her before she is ten years old, I am at a loss to comprehend.-L.

No. 312.] WEDNESDAY, FEB. 27, 1711-12.

Quod huic officium, quæ laus, quod decus erit tanti, quod adipisci cum dolore corporis velit, qui dolorem summum malum sibi persuaserit? Quam porro quis ignominiam, quam turpitudinem non pertulerit, ut effugiat dolorein, si id summum malum esse decreverit?-TULL.

What duty, what praise, or what honor will he think worth

enduring bodily pain for, who has persuaded himself that pain is the chief evil? Nay, to what ignominy, to what baseness, will he not stoop, to avoid pain, if he has deter mined it to be the chief evil?

Ir is a very melancholy reflection, that men are usually so weak, that it is absolutely necessary for them to know sorrow and pain, to be in their right senses. Prosperous people (for happy there are none) are hurried away with a fond sense of their present condition, and thoughtless of the mutability of fortune. Fortune is a term which we must use in such discourses as these, for what is wrought by the unseen hand of the Disposer of all things. But methinks the disposition of a mind which is truly great, is that which makes misfortunes and sorrows little when they befall ourselves, great and lamentable when they befall other men. The most unpardonable malefactor in the world going to his death, and bearing it with composure, would win the pity of those who should behold him; and this not because his caamity is deplorable, but because he seems himself not to deplore it. We suffer for him who is

We must, however, distinguish between for tune-hunters and fortune-stealers. The first are those assiduous gentlemen who employ their whole lives in the chase, without ever coming at the quarry. Suffenus has combed and powdered Grey's edit. of IIudibras, vol. i, part i, canto iii, p. 212, 213

*The name of the widow here alluded to was Tomson. See

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