the valuable part of the fex will easily 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 speculations. 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 fuperior to the other not only in the fenfe, but in the fpelling. This cannot but have a good effect upon the female world, and keep them from being charmed by those 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 continue this paper. For my part, as it is my part, as it is my business in fome measure to detect fuch as would lead aftray weak minds by their false pretences to wit and judgment, humour and gallantry, I fhall not fail to lend the beft light I am able

to the Fair Sex for the continuation of thefe

their difcoveries.

Νο 93. Saturday, June 16, 1711.

-Spatio brevi

Spem longam refeces: dum loquimur, fugerit invida
Etas: carpe diem, quàm minimum credula poftero.

L.

HOR. I Od. xi. 6.

Thy lengthen'd hopes with prudence bound
Proportion'd to the flying hour:
While thus we talk in careless ease,
The envious moments wing their flight;
Inftant the fleeting pleasure feize,

Nor truft to-morrow's doubtful light.

FRANCIS.

WE all of us complain of the shortness 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 purpose, 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 described our inconsistency with ourselves in this particular, by all those various turns of expreffion 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 feem grieved at the

By Addifon, dated London. See final note to N° 7, and N° 221.

L. A. Senecæ De Brevitate Vitæ ad Paulinum lib. paffim.

3

shortness of life in general, we are wishing every period of it at an end. The minor longs to be at age, then to be a man of bufinefs, then to make up an estate, then to arrive at honours, then to retire. Thus although the whole life is allowed by every one to be short, the feveral divifions of it appear long and tedious. We are for lengthening our fpan 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 stand in after such a revolution of time. The lover would be glad to ftrike out of his existence all the moments that are to pass 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 wish away whole years; and travel through time as through a country filled with many wild and empty wastes, which we would fain hurry over, that we may arrive at thofe feveral little fettlements or imaginary points of rest which are dispersed up and down in it.

If we divide the life of most men into twenty parts, we shall find that at least nineteen of them are mere gaps and chafms, which are neither filled with pleasure nor business. I do not however include in this calculation the life of thofe men who are in a perpetual hurry of affairs, but

of those only who are not always engaged in scenes of action; and I hope I fhall not do an unacceptable piece of service to these persons if I point out to them certain methods for the filling up their empty fpaces of life. The methods I fhall propose to them are as follow:

The firft is the exercise of virtue, in the most general acceptation of the word. The particular scheme 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 almoft every day of our lives. A man has frequent opportunities of mitigating the fierceness of a party; of doing juftice to the character of a deferving man; of foftening the envious, quietng 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 difcretion.

There is another kind of virtue that may find employment for thofe retired hours in which we are altogether left to ourselves, and deftitute of company and conversation; I mean that intercourfe 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 cheerfulness of temper, and enjoys every moment the fatisfaction of thinking himfelf 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 bufied at fuch hours when those 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 consciousness of that prefence which every where furrounds him; or on the contrary, pours out its fears, its forrows, its apprehenfions, to the great fupporter of its exiftence.

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 exercise of virtue is not only an amusement for the time it lasts, but that its influence extends to those parts of 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 stock to improve, and has opportunities of turning it all to good account, what shall 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 ftrained up to a pitch of virtue, it is neceffary to find out proper employments for it in its relaxations.

The next method therefore that I would propose to fill up our time, fhould be useful and innocent diverfions. I muft confefs I think it is