An

are distinguished by the faculty of reason. eminent French author speaks somewhere to the following purpose: 'I have often seen from my chamber window two noble creatures, both of them of an erect countenance, and endowed with reason. These two intellectual beings are employed from morning to night in rubbing two smooth stones one upon another; that is, as the vulgar phrase it, in polishing marble.'

My friend Sir Andrew Freeport, as we were sitting in the club last night, gave us an account of a sober citizen, who died a few days since. This honest man being of greater consequence in his own thoughts than in the eye of the world, had for some years past kept a journal of his life. Sir Andrew showed us one week of it. Since1 the occurrences set down in it mark out such a road of action as that I have been speaking of, I shall present my reader with a faithful copy of it; after having first informed him, that the deceased person had in his youth been bred to trade, but finding himself not so well turned for business he had for several years last past lived altogether upon a moderate annuity : 2—

MONDAY, eight o'clock.-I put on my clothes and walked into the parlour.

Nine o'clock, ditto.-Tied my knee-strings and washed my hands.

Hours ten, eleven, and twelve.-Smoked three

1 As' (folio).

2 It is said that this journal was a banter on a member of a congregation of Independents. A Mr. Nesbit-who is referred to in Dunton's Life and Errors'-was the minister of this congregation, and was constantly consulted on every subject by the journalist.

pipes of Virginia. Read the Supplement and Daily Courant. Things go ill in the North. Mr. Nisby's opinion thereupon.

One o'clock in the afternoon.-Chid Ralph for mislaying my tobacco-box.

Two o'clock.-Sat down to dinner. Mem.: Too many plums and no suet.

From three to four.-Took my afternoon's nap. From four to six. - Walked into the fields. Wind S.S.E.

From six to ten.-At the club. Mr. Nisby's opinion about the peace.

Ten o'clock.-Went to bed, slept sound.

TUESDAY (being holiday), eight o'clock.-Rose as

usual.

Nine o'clock.-Washed hands and face, shaved, put on my double-soled shoes.

Ten, eleven, twelve.-Took a walk to Islington. One.-Took a pot of Mother Cob's mild.

Between two and three.-Returned; dined on a knuckle of veal and bacon. Mem.: Sprouts wanting. Three.-Nap as usual.

From four to six.-Coffee-house.

Read the

news. A dish of twist. Grand Vizier strangled. From six to ten.-At the club. Mr. Nisby's account of the great Turk.

Ten.-Dream of the Grand Vizier. Broken

sleep.

WEDNESDAY, eight o'clock.-Tongue of

buckle broke. Hands, but not face,

my shoe

Nine.-Paid off the butcher's bill. Mem.: To

be allowed for the last leg of mutton.

Ten, eleven.-At the Coffee-house.

More work

in the North. Stranger in a black wig asked me

how stocks went.

From twelve to one.-Walked in the fields. Wind to the south.

From one to two.-Smoked a pipe and a half.
Two.-Dined as usual. Stomach good.

Three. Nap broke by the falling of a pewter dish. Mem.: Cookmaid in love, and grown careless.

From four to six.-At the coffee-house. Advice from Smyrna, that the Grand Vizier was first of all strangled and afterwards beheaded.

Six o'clock in the evening.-Was half-an-hour in the club before anybody else came. Mr. Nisby of opinion, that the Grand Vizier was not strangled

the sixth instant.

Ten at night.-Went to bed. Slept without waking till nine next morning.

THURSDAY, nine o'clock.-Stayed within till two o'clock for Sir Timothy; who did not bring me my annuity according to his promise.

Two in the afternoon.-Sat down to dinner. Loss of appetite. Small-beer sour. Beef overcorned. Three-Could not take my nap.

Four and five.-Gave Ralph a box on the ear. Turned off my cookmaid. Sent a message to Sir Timothy. Mem.: I did not go to the club to-night. Went to bed at nine o'clock.

FRIDAY.-Passed the morning in meditation upon Sir Timothy, who was with me a quarter before twelve.

Twelve o'clock.-Bought a new head to my cane and a tongue to my buckle. Drank a glass of purl to recover appetite.

Two and three.-Dined, and slept well.

From four to six.-Went to the coffee-house. Met Mr. Nisby there. Smoked several pipes. Mr.

Nisby of opinion that laced coffee' is bad for the head.

Six o'clock.-At the club as steward. Sat late. Twelve o'clock.-Went to bed, dreamt that I drank small-beer with the Grand Vizier.

SATURDAY.-Waked at eleven; walked in the fields; wind N.E.

Twelve.-Caught in a shower.

One in the afternoon.. Returned home, and dried myself.

Two.-Mr. Nisby dined with me.

First course

marrow-bones, second ox-cheek, with a bottle of Brooke's and Hellier.2

Three o'clock.-Overslept myself.

Six.-Went to the club. Like to have fallen into a gutter. Grand Vizier certainly dead, &c.

I question not but the reader will be surprised to find the above-mentioned journalist taking so much care of a life that was filled with such inconsiderable actions and received so very small improvements; and yet, if we look into the behaviour of many whom we daily converse with, we shall find that most of their hours are taken up in those three important articles of eating, drinking, and sleeping. I do not suppose that a man loses his time who is not engaged in public affairs or in an illustrious course of action. On the contrary, I believe our hours may very often be more profitably laid out in such transactions as make no figure in the world, than as such as are apt to draw upon them the attention of mankind. One may become wiser and better by several methods of employing oneself in secrecy and silence, and do what is laudable without noise or ostentation. I 2 See Nos. 264, 362.

1 Coffee containing spirits.

would, however, recommend to every one of my readers the keeping a journal of their lives for one week, and setting down punctually their whole series. of employments during that space of time. This kind of self-examination would give them a true state of themselves, and incline them to consider seriously what they are about. One day would rectify the omissions of another, and make a man weigh all those indifferent actions which, though they are easily forgotten, must certainly be accounted for. L.

A

CERTAIN vice which you have lately attacked has not yet been considered by you as growing so deep in the heart of man that the affectation outlives the practice of it. You must have observed that men who have been bred in arms preserve to the most extreme and feeble old age a certain daring in their aspect: in like manner, they who have passed their time in gallantry and adventure, keep up, as well as they can, the appearance of it, and carry a petulant inclination to their last moments. Let this serve for a preface to a relation I am going to give you of an old beau in town that has not only been amorous, and a follower of women 1 The folio had for motto Horace's

'Rideat, et pulset lasciva decentius ætas.'