those who appear competent judges of this matter, and must here take occafion to thank A. B. whoever it is that conceals himself under those two letters, for his advice upon this fubject: But as I find the work I have undertaken to be very difficult, I shall defer the executing of it till I am further acquainted with the thoughts of my judicious contemporaries, and have time to examine the feveral books they offer to me; being refolved, in an affair of this moment, to proceed with the greateit caution.

In the mean while, as I have taken the ladies under my particular care, I fhall make it my bufinefs to find out in the best authors, ancient and modern, fuch paffages as may be for their ufe, and endeavour to accommodate them as well as I can to their tafte; not queftioning but the valuable part of the fex will eafily pardon me, if from time to time I laugh at thofe little vanities and follies which appear in the behaviour of fome of them, and which are more proper for ridicule than a ferious cenfure. Most books being calculated for male readers, and generally written with an eye to men of learning, makes a work of this nature the more neceffary; befides, I am the more encouraged, because I flatter myself that I fee the fex daily improving by these my fpeculations. My fair readers are already deeper fcholars than the beaus. I could name fome of them who talk much better than feveral gentlemen that make a figure at Will's; and, as I frequently receive letters from the fine ladies and pretty fellows, I cannot but obferve that the former are fupperior to the others, not only in the fenfe but in the spelling. This cannot but have a good effect upon the female world, and keep them from being charmed by thofe empty coxcombs that have hitherto been admired among the women, though laughed at among the

men.

I am credibly informed that Tom Tattle paffes for

an impertinent fellow, that Will Trippet begins to be fmoked, and that Frank Smoothly himself is within a month of a coxcomb, in cafe I think fit to conti

nue this paper. For my part, as it is my business in

fome measure to detect fuch as would lead aftray weak minds by their falfe pretences to wit and judgment, humour and gallantry, I fhall not fail to lend' the best lights I am able to the fair fex for the continuation of these their difcoveries.

No. 93.

SATURDAY, JUNE 16.

Spatio brevi

Spem longam refeces : dum loquimur, fugerit Invida tas: carpe diem, quam minimum credula poftero.

HOR. Od. xi. 1. 1. ver. 6.

-Be wife, cut off long cares

From thy contracted fpan.

E'en whilft we fpeak, the envious time
Doth make fwift hafte away;

Then feize the prefent, ufe thy prime,
Nor truft another day.

WE

CREECH.

7E all of us complain of the fhortness of time, faith Seneca, and yet have much more than we know what to do with. Our lives, fays he, are spent either in doing nothing at all, or in doing nothing to the purpofe, or in doing nothing that we ought to do: We are always complaining our days are few, and acting as though there would be no end of them. That noble philofopher has defcribed our inconfiftency with ourselves in this particular, by all thofe various turns of expreflion and thought which are peculiar to his writings.

I often confider mankind as wholly inconfiftent with itself in a point that bears fome affinity to the former. Though we seem grieved at the shortness

of

of life in general, we are withing every period of it at an end. The minor longs to be at age, then to be a man of business, then to make up an eftate, then to arrive at honours, then to retire. Thus, although the whole of life is allowed by every one to be fhort, the feveral divifions of it appear long and tedious. We are for lengthening our span in general, but would fain contract the parts of which it is compofed. The ufurer would be very well fatisfied to have all the time annihilated that lies between the present moment and next quarter-day. The politician would be contented to lose three years in his life, could he place things in the posture which he fancies they will ftand in after fuch a revolution of time. The lover would be glad to ftrike out of his existence all the moments that are to pafs away before the happy meeting. Thus, as faft as our time runs, we fhould be very glad in most parts of our lives that it ran much fafter than it does: Several hours of the day hang upon our hands, nay we with away whole years; and travel through time as through a country filled with many wild and empty waftes, which we would fain hurry over, that we may arrive at those several little fettlements or imaginary points of rest which are difperfed up and down in it.

If we divide the life of moft men into twenty parts, we fhall find that at least nineteen of them are mere gaps and chafms, which are neither filled with pleature nor business. I do not however in. clude in this calculation the life of thofe men who are in a perpetual hurry of affairs, but of thofe only who are not always engaged in fcenes of action; and I hope I fhall not do an unacceptable piece of fervice to thefe perfons, if I point out to them certain methods for the filling up of their empty fpa'ces of life. The methods I thall propofe to them are as follow.

The firft is the exercife of virtue, in the moft ge.

E 3

neral

neral acceptation of the word. That particular fcheme which comprehends the focial virtues, may give employment to the most induftrious temper, and find a man in business more than the most active station of life. To advise the ignorant, relieve the needy, comfort the afflicted, are duties that fall in our way almost every day of our lives. A man has frequent opportunities of mitigating the fiercenefs of a party; of doing juftice to the character of a deferving man; of foftning the envious, quieting the angry, and rectifying the prejudiced; which are all of them employments fuited to a reasonable nature, and bring great fatisfaction to the person who can bufy himself in them with discretion.

There is another kind of virtue that may find employment for those retired hours in which we are altogether left to ourselves, and destitute of company and converfation; I mean that intercourse and communication which every reasonable creature ought to maintain with the great Author of his being. The man who lives under an habitual sense of the divine presence keeps up a perpetual chearfulness of temper, and enjoys every moment the fatisfaction of thinking himself in company with his dearest and best of friends. The time never lies heavy upon him: It is impoffible for him to be alone. His thoughts and paffions are the most busied at fuch hours when thofe of other men are the most unactive: He no fooner steps out of the world but his heart burns with devotion, fwells with hope, and triumphs in the confcioufnefs of that prefence which every where furrounds him; or, on the contrary, pours out its fears, its forrows, its apprehenfions, to the great Supporter of its existence.

I have here only confidered the neceffity of a man's being virtuous, that he may have fomething to do; but if we confider further that the exercife of virtue is not only an amusement for the time it lafts, but that its influence extends to those parts of

our

our existence which lie beyond the grave, and that our whole eternity is to take its colour from those hours which we here employ in virtue or in vice, the argument redoubles upon us, for putting in practice this method of paffing away our time.

When a man has but a little ftock to improve, and has opportunities of turning it all to good account, what fhall we think of him if he fuffers nineteen parts of it to lie dead, and perhaps employs even the twentieth to his ruin or difadvantage? But because the mind cannot be always in its fervours, nor strained up to a pitch of virtue, it is necessary to find out proper employments for it in its relaxations.

The next method therefore that I would propose to fill up our time, thould be useful and innocent diverfions. I must confefs I think it is below reafonable creatures to be altogether converfant in fuch diverfions as are merely innocent, and have nothing elfe to recommend them, but that there is no hurt in them. Whether any kind of gaming has even thus much to fay for itself, I shall not determine; but I think it is very wonderful to fee perfons of the beft fenfe paffing away a dozen hours together in fhuffling and dividing a pack of cards, with no other converfation but what is made up of a few game phrases, and no other ideas but thofe of black or red fpots ranged together in different figures. Would not a man laugh to hear any one of this species complaining that life is fhort?

The Stage might be made a perpetual source of the most noble and useful entertainments, were it under proper regulations.

But the mind never unbends itself so agreeably as in the conversation of a well-chofen friend. There is indeed no bleffing of life that is any way comparable to the enjoyment of a difcreet and virtuous friend. It eafes and unloads the mind, clears and improves the understanding, engenders thoughts and