finking, who had received only a fingle blow; but I remarked, that few veffels lafted long which had been much repaired, nor was it found that the artists themselves continued afloat longer than those who had leaft of their affistance.

The only advantage which, in the voyage of Life, the cautious had above the negligent, was, that they funk later, and more fuddenly; for they paffed forward till they had fometimes feen all thofe in whose company they had iffued from the ftreights of Infancy, perish in the way, and at last were overfet by a cross breeze, without the toil of refiftance, or the anguish of expectation. But fuch as had often fallen against the rocks of Pleasure, commonly fubfided by fenfible degrees, contended long with the encroaching waters, and haraffed themselves by labours that fcarce Hope herfelf could flatter with fuccefs.

As I was looking upon the various fate of the multitude about me, I was fuddenly alarmed with an admonition from fome unknown power, Gaze not idly upon others when thou thyfelf art finking. Whence is this thoughtlefs tranquillity, when thou and they are, equally endangered?' I looked, and feeing the gulph of Intemperance before me, started and awaked. Rambler.

§ 3. The Journey of a Day, a Picture of

Human Life; the Story of Obidah. Obidah, the fon of Abenfina, left the caravanfera early in the morning, and purfued his journey through the plains of Indoftan. He was freth and vigorous with reft; he was animated with hope; he was incited by defire; he walked iwiftly forward over the vallies, and faw the hills gradually rifing before him. As he paffed along, his ears were delighted with the morning fong of the bird of paradife, he was fanned by the laft flutters of the finking breeze, and fprinkled with dew by groves of fpices; he fometimes contemplated the towering height of the oak, monarch of the hills; and fometimes caught the gentle fragrance of the primrofe, eideft daughter of the fpring: all his fenfes were gratified, and all care was banished from the heart.

Thus he went on till the fun approached his meridian, and the increafing heat preyed upon his ftrength; he then looked round about him for fome more commodious path. He faw, on his right hand, a grove that feemed to wave its hades as

a fign of invitation; he entered it, and found the coolness and verdure irrefiftibly pleafant. He did not however, forget whither he was travelling, but found a narrow way bordered with flowers, which appeared to have the fame direction with the main road, and was pleafed that, by this happy experiment, he had found means to unite pleasure with business, and to gain the rewards of diligence, without fuffering its fatigues. He, therefore, ftill continued to walk for a time, without the leaft remiffion of his ardour, except that he was fometimes tempted to stop by the music of the birds, whom the heat had aflembled in the fhade, and fometimes amused himself with plucking the flowers that covered thy banks on either fide, or the fruits that hung upon the branches. At laft the green path began to decline from its first tendency, and to wind among hills and thickets, cooled with fountains, and murmuring with water-falls. Here Obidah paused for a time, and began to confider whether it were longer fafe to forfake the known and common track; but remembering that the heat was now in its greatest violence, and that the plain was dufty and uneven, he refolved to pursue the new path, which he fuppofed only to make a few meanders, in compliance with the varieties of the ground, and to end at laft in the common road.

Having thus calmed his folicitude, le renewed his pace, though he fufpected that he was not gaining ground. This uneafnefs of his mind inclined him to lay hold on every new object, and give way to every fenfation that might footh or divert him. He liftened to every echo, he mounted every hill for a fresh profpect, he turned afide to every cafcade, and pleafed himfelf with tracing the courfe of a gentle river that rolled among the trees, and watered a large region with innumerable circumvolutions. In thefe amufements the hours paffed away uncounted, his deviations had perplexed his memory, and he knew not towards what point to travel.. He flood penfive and confused, afraid to go forward left he should go wrong, yet. confcious that the time of loitering was now past. While he was thus tortured with uncertainty, the fky was overfpread with clouds, the day vanished from before him, and a fudden tempeft gathered round his head. He was now roufed by his danger, to a quick and painful remembrance of his folly; he now faw how happiness is loft, when eafe is confulted; he lamented the

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unmanly impatience that prompted him to feek fhelter in the grove, and defpifed the petty curiofity that led him on from trifle to trifle. While he was thus reflecting, the air grew blacker, and a clap of thunder broke his meditation.

He now refolved to do what remained yet in his power; to tread back the ground which he had paffed, and try to find fome iffue where the wood might open into the plain. He proftrated himself on the ground, and commended his life to the Lord of nature. He rofe with confidence and tranquillity, and preffed on with his fabre in his hand, for the beafts of the defert were in motion, and on every hand were heard the mingled howls of rage and fear, and ravage and expiration; all the horrors of darkness and folitude furrounded him; the winds roared in the woods, and the torrents tumbled from the hills.

Work'd into fudden rage by wint'ry show'rs, Down the steep hill the roaring torrent pours; The mountain thepherd hears the distant noife. Thus forlorn and distressed, he wandered through the wild, without knowing whither he was going, or whether he was every moment drawing nearer to safety or to deftruction. At length, not fear, but labour, began to overcome him; his breath grew fhort, and his knees trembled, and he was on the point of lying down in refignation to his fate, when he beheld through the brambles the glimmer of a taper. He advanced towards the light, and finding that it proceeded from the cottage of a hermit, he called humbly at the door, and obtained admiffion. The old man fet before him fuch provifions as he had collected for himself, on which Obidah fed with eagerness and gratitude.

When the repaft was over, Tell me,' faid the hermit, by what chance thou haft been brought hither; I have been now twenty years an inhabitant of the wildernefs, in which I never faw a man before.' Obidah then related the occurrences of his journey, without any concealment or palliation.

• Son,' faid the hermit, let the 'errors and follies, the dangers and escape of this day, fink deep into thy heart. Remember, my fon, that human life is the journey of a day. We rife in the morning of youth, full of vigour, and full of expecta-. tion; we fet forward with spirit and hope, with gaiety and with diligence, and travel on a while in the ftrait road of piety towards the manfions of reft. In a fhort-time we

remit our fervour, and endeavour to find fome mitigation of our duty, and fome more eafy means of obtaining the fame end. We then relax our vigour, and refolve no longer to be terrified with crimes at a distance, but rely upon our own conftancy, and venture to approach what we refolve never to touch. We thus enter the bowers of eafe, and repofe in the fhades of fecurity. Here the heart foftens, and vigilance fubfides; we are then willing to enquire whether another advance cannot be made, and whether we may not, at leaft, turn our eyes upon the gardens of pleasure. We approach them with fcruple and hesitation; we enter them, but enter timorous and trembling, and always hope to pafs through them without losing the road of virtue, which we, for a while, keep in our fight, and to which we propose to return. But temptation fucceeds temptation, and one compliance prepares us for another; we in time lofe the happiness of innocence, and folace our difquiet with fenfual gratifications. By degrees we let fall the remembrance of our original intention, and quit the only adequate object of rational defire. We entangle ourselves in bufinefs, immerge ourselves in luxury, and rove through the labyrinths of inconftancy, till the darkness of old age begins to invade us, and difeafe and anxiety obftruct our way. We then look back upon our lives with horror, with forrow, with repentance; and wish, but too often vainly with, that we had not forfaken the ways of virtue. Happy are they, my fon, who fhall learn from thy example not to defpair, but fhall remember, that though the day is paft, and their strength is waited, there yet remains one effort to be made; that reformation is never hopeless, nor fincere endeavours ever unaffifted; that the wanderer may at length return, after all his errors; and that he who implores ftrength and courage from above, fhall find danger and difficulty give way before him. my fon, to thy repofe; commit thyself to the care of Omnipotence; and when the morning calls again to toil, begin anew thy journey and thy life.' Rambler.

Go now,

fon," faid the hermit: " but what is thy condition if there is "Man is a creature defigned for two different ftates of being, or rather, for two different lives. His first life is fhort and tranfient; his fecond, permanent and lailing. The queftion we are ali concerned in is this, In which of thofe two lives is it our chief intereft to make ourfelves happy? or, in other words, whether we fhould endeavour to fecure to ourfelves the pleasures and gratifications of a life which is uncertain and precarious, and, at its utmost length, of a very inconfiderable duration; or to fecure to ourselves the pleafures of a life that is fixed and fettled, and will never end? Every man, upon the first hearing of this question, knows very well which fide of it he ought to clofe with. But however right we are in theory, it is plain that, in practice, we adhere to the wrong fide of the queftion. We make provifions for this life, as though it were never to have an end; and for the other life, as though it were never to have a beginning. Should a fpirit of fuperior rank, who is a ftranger to human nature, accidentally alight upon the earth, and take a furvey of its inhabitants, what would his notions of us be? Would not he think, that we are a fpecies of beings made for quite different ends and purposes than what we really are? Muft not he imagine that we were placed in this world to get riches and honours? Would not he think that it was our duty to toil after wealth, and ftation, and title? Nay, would not he believe we'were for bidden poverty by threats of eternal punifhment, and enjoined to purfue our pleafures under pain of damnation? He would certainly imagine, that we were influenced by a fcheme of duties quite oppofite to thofe which are indeed prescribed to us. And truly, according to fuch an imagination, he must conclude that we are a fpecies of the most obedient creatures in the univerfe; that we are conftant to our duty; and that we keep a steady eye on the end for which we were fent hither.

But how great would be his aftonishment, when he learnt that we were beings not defigned to exift in this world above threefcore and ten years; and that the greatest part of this bufy fpecies fall fhort even of that age! How would he be loft in horror and admiration, when he should know that this fet of creatures, who lay out all their endeavours for this life, which fcarce deferves the name of existence; when, I fay, he should know that this fet

of creatures are to exift to all eternity in another life, for which they make no preparations? Nothing can be a greater difgrace to reafon, than that men, who are perfuaded' of thefe two different states of being, fhould be perpetually employed in providing for a life of threescore and ten years, and neglecting to make provifion for that which, after many myriads of years, will be still new, and still beginning; efpecially when we confider that our endeavours for making ourselves great, or rich, or honourable, or whatever else we place our happiness in, may, after all, prove unfuccefsful; whereas, if we constantly and fincerely endeavour to make ourselves happy in the other life, we are fure that our endeavours will fucceed, and that we shall not be difappointed of our hope.

The following question is ftarted by one of the schoolmen. Suppofing the whole body of the earth were a great ball or mass of the finest fand, and that a fingle grain or particle of this fand fhould be annihilated every thousand years: Suppofing then that you had it in your choice to be happy all the while this prodigious mafs of fand was confuming by this flow method till there was not a grain of it left, on condition you were to be miferable for ever after; or fuppofing you might be happy for ever after, on condition you would be miserable till the whole mafs of fand were thus annihilated, at the rate of one fand in a thoufand years: which of these two cases would you make your choice?

It must be confeffed in this cafe, so many thousands of years are to the imagination as a kind of eternity, though in reality they do not bear fo great a proportion to that duration which is to follow them, as an unit does to the greatest number which you can put together in figures, or as one of thofe fands to the fuppofed heap. Reafon therefore tells us, without any manner of hesitation, which would be the better part in this choice. However, as I have before intimated, our reafon might in fuch a cafe be fo overfet by the imagination, as to difpofe fome perfons to fink under the confideration of the great length of the firft part of this duration, and of the great diftance of that second duration which is to fucceed it. The mind, I fay, might give itself up to that happiness which is at hand, confidering that it is fo very near, and that it would laft fo very long. But when the choice we actually have before us is this, whether we will chufe to be

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happy for the space of only threefcore and ten years, nay, perhaps, of only twenty or ten years, I might fay, of only a day or an hour, and miferable to all eternity; or, on the contrary, miferable for this fhort term of years, and happy for a whole eternity; what words are fufficient to exprefs that folly and want of confideration which in fuch a cafe makes a wrong choice!

I here put the cafe, even at the worst, by fuppofing (what feldom happens) that a courfe of virtue makes us miferable in this life; but if we fuppofe (as it generally happens) that virtue will make us more happy, even in this life, than a contrary courfe of vice; how can we fufficiently admire the ftupidity or madness of thofe perfons who are capable of making fo abfurd a choice!

Every wife man, therefore, will confider this life only as it may conduce to the happiness of the other, and chearfully facrifice the pleasures of a few years to thofe of an eternity. Spectator.

§ 5. The Advantages of a good Education. I confider an human foul without edu

cation like marble in the quarry, which fhews none of its inherent beauties, until the skill of the polifher fetches out the colours, makes the furface fhine, and difcovers every ornamental cloud, spot, and vein, that runs through the body of it. Education, after the fame manner, when it works upon a noble mind, draws out to view every latent virtue and perfection, which, without fuch helps, are never able to make their appearance.

If my reader will give me leave to change the allufion fo foon upon him, I fhall make use of the fame inflance to illuftrate the force of education, which Ariftotle has brought to explain his doctrine of fubftantial forms, when he tells us that a ftatue lies hid in a block of marble; and that the art of the ftatuary only clears away the fuperfluous matter, and removes the rubbish. The figure is in the ftone, and the fculptor only finds it. What fculpture is to a block of marble, education is to an human foul. The philofopher, the faint, or the hero, the wife, the good, or the

great man, very often lie hid and concealed in a plebeian, which a proper edu cation might have dif-interred, and have brought to light. I am therefore much delighted with reading the accounts of favage nations, and wit contemplating thofe

virtues which are wild and uncultivated; to fee courage exerting itself in fierceness refolution in obftinacy, wifdom in cunning, patience in fullenness and despair.

Men's paffions operate variously, and appear in different kinds of actions, according as they are more or less rectified and swayed by reafon. When one hears of negroes, who upon the death of their mafters, or upon changing their fervice, hang themfelves upon the next tree, as it frequently happens in our American plantations, who can forbear admiring their fidelity, though it expreffes itself in fo dreadful a manner? What might not that favage greatness of foul, which appears in thefe poor wretches on many occafions, be raifed to, were it rightly cultivated? And what colour of excufe can there be for the contempt with which we treat this part of our fpecies; that we fhould not put them upon the common foot of humanity; that we should only fet an infignificant fine upon the man who murders them; nay, that we should, as much as in us lies, cut them off from the profpects of happiness in another world, as well as in this, and deny them that which we look upon as the

per means for attaining it!

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It is therefore an unfpeakable bleffing to be born in thofe parts of the world where wisdom and knowledge flourish ; though it must be confeffed there are, even in thefe parts, feveral poor uninstructed perfons, who are but little above the inhabitants of those nations of which I have been here fpeaking; as those who have had the advantages of a more liberal education, rife above one another by feveral different degrees of perfection. For, to return to our statue in the block of marble, we fee it fometimes only begun to be chipped, fometimes rough-hewn, and but juft sketched into an human figure; fometimes we fee the man appearing diftinctly in all his limbs and features; fometimes we find the figure wrought up to great elegancy; but feldom meet with any to which the hand of a Phidias or a Praxiteles could not give feveral nice touches and finishings. Spectator.

lows the mind to indulge parental affection with greater intenfenefs. My birth was celebrated by the tenants with feafts, and dances, and bagpipes; congratulations were fent from every family within ten miles round; and my parents difcovered, in my first cries, fuch tokens of future virtue and understanding, that they declared themselves determined to devote the remaining part of life to my happinefs and the encrease of their eftate.

The abilities of my father and mother were not perceptibly unequal, and education had given neither much advantage over the other. They had both kept good, company, rattled in chariots, glittered in playhouses, and danced at court, and were both expert in the games that were in their times called in as auxiliaries against the intrufion of thought.

When there is fuch a parity between two perfons affociated for life, the dejection which the husband, if he be not completely ftupid, muft always fuffer for want of fuperiority, finks him to fubmiffiveness. My mamma therefore governed the family without controul; and, except that my father still retained fome authority in the stables, and now and then, after a fupernumerary bottle, broke a looking-glafs or china-dish to prove his fovereignty, the whole courfe of the year was regulated by her direction, the fervants received from her all their orders, and the tenants were continued or difmiffed at her difcretion.

She therefore thought herself entitled to the fuperintendance of her fon's education; and when my father, at the inftigation of the parfon, faintly propofed that I fhould be fent to school, very pofitively told him, that the would not fuffer a fine child to be ruined; that she never knew any boys at a grammar-school, that could come into a room without blushing, or fit at the table without fome aukward uneafinefs; that they were always putting themselves into danger by boisterous plays, or vitiating their behaviour with mean company; and that, for her part, fhe would rather follow me to the grave, than fee me tear my cloaths,. and hang down my head, and fneak about with dirty fhoes and blotted fingers, my hair unpowdered, and my hat uncocked.

My father, who had no other end in his propofal than to appear wife and manly, foon acquiefced, fince I was not to live by my learning; for indeed, he had known very few ftudents that had not fome flift

nefs in their manner. They therefore agreed, that a domeftic tutor fhould be procured; and hired an honeft gentleman of mean converfation and narrow fentiments, but whom having paffed the common forms of literary education, they implicitly concluded qualified to teach all that was to be learned from a scholar. He thought himself fufficiently exalted by being placed at the fame table with his pupil, and had no other view than to perpetuate his felicity by the utmost flexibility of fubmiffion to all my mother's opinions and caprices. He frequently took away my book, left I should mope with too much application, charged me never to write without turning up my ruffles, and generally brushed my coat before he dismissed me into the parlour.

He had no occafion to complain of too burthenfome an employment; for my mother very judiciously confidered, that I was not likely to grow politer in his company, and fuffered me not to pafs any more time in his apartment than my leffon required. When I was fummoned to my tafk, fhe enjoined me not to get any of my tutor's ways, who was feldom mentioned before me but for practices to be avoided. I was every moment admonished not to lean on my chair, cross my legs, or swing my hands like my tutor; and once my mother very seriously deliberated upon his total difmiflion, becaufe I began, she said, to learn his manner of sticking on my hat, and had his bend in my shoulders, and his totter in my gait.

Such, however, was her care, that I efcaped all these depravities; and when I was only twelve years old, had rid myself of every appearance of childish diffidence. I was celebrated round the country for the petulance of my remarks, and the quicknefs of my replies; and many a scholar five years older than myself, have I dashed into confufion by the steadiness of my countenance, filenced by my readinefs of repartee, and tortured with envy by the address with which I picked up a fan, prefented a fnuff-box, or received an empty tea-cup.

At fourteen I was compleatly skilled in all the niceties of drefs, and I could not only enumerate all the variety of filks, and diftinguish the product of a French loom, but dart my eye through a

numerous company, and obferve every deviation from the reigning mode. I was univerfally skilful in all the changes of

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