number of the 'Rambler,' a series of most exquisite essays amounting to two hundred and eight, all possessing an excellent moral tendency. He also wrote many contributions to 'The Idler,' "The Adventurer' and other periodicals. In 1759 appeared his 'Rasselas' and in 1775 his Journey to the Western Islands of Scotland.' About this period a living in the church was offered him, which however he refused. In 1762 he obtained a pension of L. 300 per annum, and was thus enabled

ON THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE

WORLD.

Nothing has so much exposed men of learning to contempt and ridicule, as their ignorance of things which are known to all but themselves. Those, who have been taught to consider the institutions of the schools as giving the last perfection to human abilities, are surprised to see men wrinkled with study, yet wanting to be instructed in the minute circumstances of propriety, or the necessary forms of daily transaction; and quickly shake off their reverences for modes of education, which they find to produce no ability above the rest of mankind.

Books, says Bacon, can never teach the use of books. The student must learn by commerce with mankind to reduce his speculations to practice, and accommodate his knowledge to the purposes of life.

It is too common for those who have been bred to scholastic professions, and passed much of their time in academies, where nothing but learning confers honours, to disregard every other qualification, and to imagine, that they shall find mankind ready to pay homage to their knowledge, and to crowd about them for instruction. They therefore step out from their cells into the open world, with all the confidence of authority, and dignity of importance; they look round about them at once with ignorance and scorn on a race of beings, to whom they are equally unknown and equally contemptible, but whose manners they must imitate, and with whose opinions they must comply, if they desire to pass their time happily along them.

To lessen that disdain with which scholars are inclined to look on the common business of the world, and the unwillingness with which they con

to lead an easy life. In 1764 he obtained the degree of Doctor of Laws from Dublin University, and in 1774, the same honour from Oxford. In 1781 he completed his last work, "The Lives of the Poets. He died in 1784, and was interred in Westminster-Abbey. His style is concise and forcible, and in all his works thoroughly manly; his ideas are generally ingenious and lively in short, energy combined with good sense is the prominent feature in all his compositions. descend to learn what is not to be found in any system of philosophy, it may be necessary to consider, that though admiration is excited by abstruse researches, and remote discoveries, yet pleasure is not given, or affection conciliated, but by softer accomplishments, and qualities more easily communicable to those about us. He that can only converse upon questions, about which only a small part of mankind has knowledge sufficient to make them curious, must lose his days in unsocial silence, and live in the crowd of life without a companion. He that can only be useful on great occasions may die without exerting his abilities and stand a helpless spectator of a thousand vexations, which fret away happiness, and which nothing is required to remove but a little dexterity of conduct and readiness of expedients.

No degree of knowledge attainable by man is able to set him above the want of hourly assistance, or to extinguish the desire of fond endearments, and tender officiousness; and therefore no one should think it unnecessary to learn those arts, by which friendship may be gained. Kindness is preserved by a constant reciprocation of benefits, or interchange of pleasures; but such benefits only can be bestowed, as others are capable of receiving, and such pleasures only imparted, as others are qualified to enjoy.

By this descent from the pinnacles of art, no honour will be lost for the condescensions of learning are always overpaid by gratitude. An elevated genius employed in little things appears, to use the simile of Longinus, like the sun in his evening declination; he remits his splendour, but retains his magnitude; and pleases more, though he dazzles less.

IRON AND GOLD. Those who are skilled in the extraction and preparation of metals, declare, that iron is every where to be found; and that not only its proper ore is copiously treasured in the caverns of the earth, but that its particles are dispersed throughout all other bodies.

If the extent of the human view could comprehend the whole frame of the universe, I believe it would be found invariably true, that Providence has given that in greatest plenty, which the condition of life makes of greatest use; and that nothing is penuriously imparted or placed far from the reach of man, of which a more liberal distribution, or more easy acquisition, would increase real and rational felicity. Iron is common, and gold is rare. Iron contributes so much to supply the wants of nature, that its use constitutes much of the difference between savage and polished life, between the state of him that slumbers in European palaces, and him that shelters himself in the cavities of a rock from the chillness of the night, or the violence of the storm. Gold can never be hardened into saws or axes; it can neither furnish instruments of manufacture, utensils of agriculture, nor weapons of defence; its only quality is to shine, and the value of its lustre arises from its scarcity.

Throughout the whole circle, both of natural and moral life, necessaries are as iron, and superfluities as gold. What we really need we may readily obtain: so readily, that far the greater part of mankind has, in the wantonness of abundance, confounded natural with artificial desires, and invented necessities for the sake of employment, because the mind is impatient of inaction, and life is sustained with so little labour, that the tediousness of idle time cannot otherwise be supported.

Thus plenty is the original cause of many of our needs; and even the poverty, which is so frequent and distressful in civilized nations, proceeds often from that change of manners which opulence has produced. Nature makes us poor only when we want necessaries,

but custom gives the name of poverty to the want of superfluities.

When Socrates passed through shops of toys and ornaments, he cried out, 'how many things are here which I do not need!' And the same exclamation may every man make who surveys the common accommodations of life.

A

Superfluity and difficulty begin together. To dress food for the stomach is easy; the art is, to irritate the palate when the stomach is sufficed. rude hand may build walls, form roofs, and lay floors, and provide all that warmth and security require; we only call the nicer artificers to carve the cornice, or to paint the ceilings. Such dress as may enable the body to endure the different seasons, the most unenlightened nations have been able to procure; but the work of science begins in the ambition of distinction, in variations of fashion, and emulation of elegance. Corn grows with easy culture; the gardener's experiments are only employed to exalt the flavours of fruits, and brighten the colours of flowers.

Even of knowledge, those parts are most easy which are generally necessary. The intercourse of society is maintained without the elegances of language. Figures, criticisms, and refinements, are the work of those whom idleness makes weary of themselves. The commerce of the world is carried on by easy methods of computation. Subtilty and study are required only when questions are invented merely to puzzle, and calculations are extended to shew the skill of the calculator. The light of the sun is equally beneficial to him whose eyetell him that it moves, and to him. whose reason persuades him that it stands still; and plants grow with the same luxuriance, whether we suppose earth or water the parent of vegetation.

If we raise our thoughts to nobler enquiries, we shall still find facility concurring with usefulness. No mai need stay to be virtuous till the moralists have determined the essence virtue; our duty is made apparent by its proximate consequences, though the

general and ultimate reason should never be discovered. Religion may regulate the life of him to whom the Scotists and Thomists are alike unknown; and the assertors of fate and freewill, however different in their talk, agree to act in the same manner.

It is not my intention to depreciate the politer arts or abstruser studies. That curiosity which always succeeds ease and plenty was undoubtedly given us as a proof of capacity which our present state is not able to fill, as a

preparative for some better mode of existence, which shall furnish employment for the whole soul, and where pleasure shall be adequate to our powers of fruition. In the mean time, let us gratefully acknowledge that goodness which grants us ease at a cheap rate, which changes the seasons where the nature of heat and cold has not been yet examined, and gives the vicissitudes of day and night to those who never marked the tropics, or numbered the constellations.

JONATHAN SWIFT, born in Dublin 1667 as a posthumous child, was educated by his relations, and enabled by his patron Mr. Temple to finish his studies at Oxford. He made his first literary efforts in political pamphlets written for the Whig party; then appeared his satire entitled "The Battle of the Books,' which, as it chiefly treats of a contemporary struggle between Bentley and Wotton, afforded more interest at the time of its appearance than at the present day; it is full of sarcasmn and coarse invective. In 1704 appeared one of his greatest satires, entitled, "Tale of a Tub. In this work Swift describes the progress of the three churches, the Roman, Lutheran and Calvinistic, which he represents in the persons of three brothers. The author has succeeded in rendering ridiculous the extravagances of the three churches in their different stages of progression. Through the whole book the satire is as lively and fanciful as it is cutting. Swift became afterwards a Tory, and wrote as violently, and as frequently, on this side of politics as he had formerly done on the other. About the year 1708, appeared his famous pamphlets, entitled, Sentiments of a Church of England Man,' 'Letters on the Application of the Sacramental Test,' and his 'Apology for Christianity. In 1724, Swift's 'Drapier's Letters appeared in a Dublin newspaper with the signature M. B. Drapier; they were directed against the Whig government, and the permission which was then about to be given a Mr. Wood, to coin copper money for circulation in Ireland; and such power did these writings possess, that they excited an immense

THE STUDY OF ASTRONOMY
PECULIARLY DELIGHTFUL.

In fair weather, when my heart is cheered, and I feel that exaltation of spirits which results from light and warmth, joined with a beautiful prospect of nature, I regard myself as one placed by the hand of God in the midst of an ample theatre, in which the sun, the, moon, and stars, the fruits also, and vegetables of the earth, perpetually changing their positions, or their aspects, exhibit an elegant entertainment to the understanding as well as to the eye.

RA

CALI be that

country on

indignation amongst the people of which account the government considered it unadvisable to grant the permission. In 1726 Swift produced his masterpiece, 'Gulliver's Travels,' perhaps the best satirical work that exists in any language. It is supposed to have been written by Gulliver himself, who travels in different imaginary lands; as for instance to a country inhabited by giants and another by dwarfs. The whole is an admirable satire, principally upon the institutions of society, which are examined, and if we may use the term, dissected, and brought before us in the forms, first of the dwarfs and afterwards of the giants. The great fault of this work is its indecency, which is in many places repulsive. Had not Swift been a great prose writer, he would have been considered a poet, for he has left several poetical productions, of which we may mention Cadenus and Vanessa, 'A Rhapsody on Poetry," Verses on my own Death' and the unfinished 'Legion Club. About the year 1736 he was attacked with repeated fits of insanity, in the midst of the composition of his 'Legion Club, and he never recovered sufficiently to finish the poem. The last nine years of his life were passed in a state, first of madness, then of idiotcy. He died in Dublin, 1745. Swift was undoubtedly one of the most powerful and cutting satirists that England has ever produced; his genius and imagination are as fertile as his satire is strong. Of his smaller works we may mention his 'Conduct of the Allies,' 'Public Spirit of the Whigs,',Directions of Servants,' 'Polite Conversation."

Thunder and lightning, rain and hail, the painted bow and the glaring comet, are decorations of this mighty theatre; and the sable hemisphere, studded with spangles, the blue vault at noon, the glorious gildings and the rich colours in the horizon, I look on as so many successive scenes.

When I consider things in this light, methinks it is a sort of impiety to have no attention to the course of nature, and the revolutions of the heavenly bodies. To be regardless of those phænomena, that are placed within our

view on purpose to entertain our fa- | culties and display the wisdom and power of our Creator, is an affront to Providence of the same kind (I hope it was not impious to make such a simile,) as it would be to a good poet to sit out his play, without minding the plot or beauties of it. And yet, how few are there who attend to the drama of nature, its artificial structure, and those admirable scenes whereby the passions of a philosopher are gratefully agitated, and his soul affected with the sweet emotions of joy and surprise! How many fox-hunters and rural squires are to be found all over Great Britain, who are ignorant that they have lived all this time in a planet! that the sun is several thousand times bigger than the earth; and that there are several other worlds within our view, greater and more glorious than our own! 'Aye, but,' says some illiterate fellow, I enjoy the world, and leave it to others to contemplate it.' Yes, you eat and drink, and run about upon it; that is, you enjoy as a brute; but to enjoy as a rational being is to know it, to be sensible of its greatness and beauty, to be delighted with its harmony and, by these reflections, to obtain just sentiments of the almighty mind that framed it.

The man who, unembarrassed with vulgar cares, leisurely attends to the flux of things in heaven and things on earth, and observes the laws by which they are governed, hath secured to himself an easy and convenient seat, where he beholds with pleasure all that passes on the stage of nature, while those about him are some fast asleep, and others struggling for the highest places, or turning their eyes from the entertainment prepared by Providence, to play at pushpin with one another.

Within this ample circumference of the world, the glorious lights that are hung on high, the meteors in the middle region, the various livery of the earth, and the profusion of good things that distinguish the seasons, yield a prospect which annihilates all human grandeur.

THOUGHTS ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS. When a true genius appeareth in the world, you may know him by this infallible sign, that the dunces are all in confederacy against him.

It is in disputes as in armies, where the weaker side setteth up false lights, and maketh a great noise, that the enemy may believe them to be more numerous and strong than they really are. I have known some men possessed of good qualities, which were very serviceable to others, but useless to themselves; like a sundial on the front of a house, to inform the neighbours and passengers, but not the owner within.

The power of fortune is confessed only by the miserable, for the happy impute all their success to prudence and merit.

Ambition often puts men upon doing the meanest offices: so, climbing is performed in the same posture with creeping.

Censure is the tax a man payeth to the public for being eminent.

No wise man ever wished to be younger.

An idle reason lessens the weight of the good ones you gave before.

Complaint is the largest tribute heaven receives, and the sincerest part of our devotion.

To be vain is rather a mark of humility than pride. Vain men delight in telling what honours have been done them, what great company they have kept, and the like; by which they plainly confess that these honours were more than their due, and such as their friends would not believe if they had not been told: whereas a man truly proud thinks the greatest honours below his merit, and consequently scorns to boast. I therefore deliver it as a maxim, that whoever desires the character of a proud man, ought to conceal his vanity.

THE SPIDER AND THE BEE.

Upon the highest corner of a large window there dwelt a certain spider. swollen up to the first magnitude by

the destruction of infinite numbers of flies whose spoils lay scattered before the gates of his palace. The avenues to his castle were guarded after the modern way of fortification. In the centre you might behold the constable himself in his own lodgings, which had windows fronting to each avenue, and ports to sally out upon all occasions of prey or defence. In this mansion he had for some time dwelt in peace and plenty, without danger to his person: when it was the pleasure of fortune to conduct thither a wandering bee, to whose curiosity a broken pane in the glass had discovered itself, and in he went; where, expatiating awhile, he at last happened to alight upon one of the outward walls of the spider's citadel; which, yielding to the unequal weight, sunk down to the very foundation. Thrice he endeavoured to force his passage, and thrice the centre shook. The spider within, feeling the terrible convulsion, supposed at first that nature was approaching to her final dissolution. However, he at length valiantly resolved to issue forth and meet his fate. Meanwhile the bee had acquitted himself of his toils, and, posted securely at some distance, was employed in disengaging his wings from the rugged remnants of the cobweb. By this time the spider was adventured out, when, beholding the ruins and dilapidations of his fortress, he stormed and swore like a madman, and swelled till he was ready to burst. At length, looking at the bee, and wisely gathering causes from events (for they knew each other by sight), 'A plague split you,' said he, for a giddy puppy, is it you, with a vengeance, that have made this litter here? could you not look before you? do you think I have nothing else to do but to mend and repair after you?' Good words, friend, said the bee (having now pruned himself, and being disposed to be droll): 'I'll give you my hand and word to come near your kennel no more, I was never in such a confounded pickle since I was born.' -Sirrah,' replied the spider, 'if it were not for breaking an old custom in our

family, never to stir abroad against an enemy, I should come and teach you better manners.'-'I pray, have patience,' said the bee, or you'll spend your substance, and you may stand in need of it all, toward the repair of your house.'-'Rogue,' replied the spider, 'yet methinks you should have more respect to a person whom all the world allows to be so much your betters.'-'Pray,' said the bee, 'do me a favour to let me know the reasons that all the world is pleased to use in so hopeful a dispute.' At this the spider, having swelled himself into the size and posture of a disputant, began his argument in the true spirit of controversy, with a resolution, to urge on his own reasons without the least regard to the answers or objections of his opposite.

'Not to disparage myself,' said he, 'by the comparison with such a rascal, what art thou but a vagabond? born to no possession of your own, but a pair of wings and a drone-pipe. Your livelihood is a universal plunder upon nature; a freebooter over fields and gardens. Whereas I am a domestic animal, furnished with a native stock within myself. This large castle (to show my improvements in the mathematics) is all built with my own hands, and the materials extracted altogether out of my_person.'

'I am glad,' answered the bee, 'to hear you grant at least that I am come honestly by my wings and my voice; for then, it seems, I am obliged to Heaven alone for my flights and my music; and Providence would never have bestowed on me two such gifts, without designing them for the noblest ends. I visit indeed all the flowers and blossoms of the field and garden; but whatever I collect thence enriches myself, without the least injury to their beauty, their smell, or their taste. Now, for you and your skill in architecture and other mathematics, I have little to say: but, by woful experience for us both, it is too plain, the materials are naught; and I hope you will henceforth take warning, and consider duration and matter, as well as method and art.