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c^rell their Statues and Pictures, by so much is i.rtu.e in Example more amiable and attractive than i Precepts and Discourses. In good Example we :e Virtue alive, and in Motion, exerting itself in ac most- "omely Actions and gracsul Gestures,
- Letter from Mr. Gay to Mr. F##*.
Stanton Harcourt, Aug. 9, 1718.
THE only News that you can expect from me here, is News from Heaven, lor I am quite out of the World; and there is scarce any Thing that can reach me, except the Noise of Thunder, which undoubtedly you have heard too. We have read in old Authors of high Towers levelled by it to the Ground, while the humble Valleys have escaped: The only Thing that is Proof against it is the Laurel, which however I take to be no great Security to the Brains of modern Authors. But to let you see that the contrary to this often happens, 1 must acquaint you that the highest and most extra. vagant Heap of Towers in the Universe, which is in this Neighbourhood, stand still undefaced, while a Cock of Barley in our next Field has been consumed to Ashes. Would to God that this Heap of Barley had been all that had perished! For unhappily beneath this little Shelter fat two much more constant Lovers than ever were sound in Romance under the Shade of a Beach .Tree. John Hewit was a wellset Man of about Five and Twenty; Sarah Drew might be rather called comely than beautiful, and was about the fame Age. They had passed through the various Labours of the Year together with the
. greatest greatest Satisfaction. If she milked, it was to Morning and Evening Care to bring the Cows to her Hand. It was but last Fair that he bougk her a Present of Green Silk for her Straw Hat, M the Posy on her Silver Ring was of his chusing. Their Love was the Talk of the whole Neighbourhood; sor Scandal never affirmed, that he had any other Views than the lawful Possession of her in Marriage. It was that very Morning.that he had obtained the Consent of her Parents, and it was but till the next Week that they were to wait to be happy. Perhaps in the Intervals of their Work they were n» talking of their Wedding Cloaths, and John W suiting several Sorts of Poppies and Field Flov.s to her Complexion, to chuse her a Knot for hfl Wedding Day. While they were thus busied (it was on the last of July, between two and three n the Afternoon) the Clouds grew black, and such a Storm of Lightning and Thunder ensued, that & the Labourers made the best of their Way to wfe Shelter tlie Trees and Hedges afforded. during this Debate, and smiling at the Mistake of the Dervise, asked him how he could possibly be fa dull as not to distinguish a Palace from a Caravanfary? Sir, fays the Der-vise, give me Leave to ask your Majesty a Question or two. Who were the Persons that lodged in this House when it was first built? the King replied, His Ancestors. And who, fays the Der-vife, was the last Person that lodged here? the King replied. His Father. And who Is it, fays the Dervife, that lodges here at present? The King told him, that it was he himself. And who, fays the Dervise, will be here after you? The King answered. The young Prince his Son. "Ah Sir! faid the Der-vife, a House that changes "its Inhabitants so often, and receives such a per"petual Succession of Guests, is not a Palace but a "Caravansary S' ties of Man higher than these? And ought not his Ambition and Expectations to be greater? Let us be Adventurers for another World: 'Tis at least a fair and noble Chance; and there is nothing in this worth our Thoughts or our Passions. If" we mould be difappointed, we are still no worse than the rest of our Fellow Mortals; and if we succeed in our Expectations, we are eternally happy.
Sarah was frighted, and sell down in a S<W»» on a heap of Barley. John, who never separata from her, fat down by her Side, having raked together two or three Heaps, the better to secure rtf from the Storm. Immediately there was heard*) loud a Crack, asuif Heaven had split asunder every one was now solicitous sor the Sasety of n>s .Neighbour, and called to one another throughout the Field : No Answer being returned to those wh° called to our Lovers, they stept to the Place where they lay; they perceived the Barley all in a Smoak.
md spied, this faithful Pair, John with one Arm ibout Sarah's Neck, and the other held over as :o screen her from the Lightning. They were struck dead, and stiffened in this tender Posture. Sarah's left Eyebrow was singed, and there appeared a black Spot on her Breast: Her LoverWas all over black, but not the least Signs of Lise were sound in either. Attended by their melancholy Companions, they were conveyed to the Town, and the next Day were interred in Stanton-Harcourt ChurchYard.
Human Life, a Pilgrimage; illustrated by an Eastern Story. Spectator.
ADERVISE travelling through Tartary, being arrived at the Town of Balk, went into the King's Palace by a Mistake, as thinking it to be a public Inn or Caravansary. Having looked dfJtwt him for some Time, he entered into a long Gallery, where he laid clown his Wallet, and ipread his Carpet, in order to repose himself upon it aster the Manner of the Eastern Nations. He had not been long in this Posture, besore he was discovered by some of the Guards, who asked him what was his Business in that Place? The Dervife told them, he intended to take up his Night's Lodging in that Cara•'anfary. The Guards let him know, in a very angry Manner, that the House he was in, was not a Caravanfary, but the King's Palace. It happened that the King himself passed through the Gallery K Juring
The present Life, considered merely in itself, a /aw S,cene of Action.
WHAT is this Life but a Circulation of little mean Actions? We lie down and rise again. Dress and undress, seed and wax hungry, work or play, and are weary, and then we lie down again, and the Circle returns. We spend the Day in Trifles, and when the Night comes, we throw ourselves into the Bed of Folly, amongst Dreams and broken Thoughts, and wild Imaginations. Our Reason lies asleep by us, and we are for the Time as arrant Brutes as those that sleep in the Stalls or in the Field. Are not the Capacities
The Folly and-D anger of Procrastination in Religion.
» .^TlLLOTSON. "#.
THERE is no greater Evidence that a Man doth not really intend to do a Thing, than when notwithstanding he ought upon all Accounts, and may in all Respects better do it at present than hereafter, yet he still puts it off. Whatever thou pretendest, this is a meer Shift to get rid of a present Trouble. It is like giving good Words, and making fair Promises to a clamorous and importunate Creditor, and appointing him to come another Day, when the Man knows in his Conscience that lie intends not to pay him, and.that he shall be less able to discharge the Debt then, than he is at present. Whatever Reasons thou hast against resorming thy Life now, will still remain and be in as full Force hereafter, nay probably stronger than they are at present. Thou art unwilling now, and so thou wilt be hereafter, and in all Likelihood much more unwilling. So that this Reason will every Day improve upon thy Hands, and have so much the more Strength by how much the longer thou continuest in thy Sins. Thou hast no Reason in K 2 the