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XVII. The Supper and Grace.

SHOE coming loose from the fore-foot of the thill horse, at the beginning of the ascent of mount Tauria, the postillion dismounted, twisted the shoe off, and put it in his pocket as the ascent was of five or six miles, and that horse our main dependance, I made a point of having the shoe fastened on again, as well as we could: but the postillion had thrown away the nails, and the hammer in the chaise-box being of no great use without them, I submitted to go on.

He had not mounted half a mile higher, when, coming to a flinty piece of road, the poor devil lost a second shoe, and from off his other fore-foot. I then got out of the chaise in good earnest; and, seeing a house about a quarter of a mile to the left hand, with a great deal to do I prevailed upon the postillion to turn up to it. The look of the house, and of every thing about it, as we drew nearer, soon reconciled me to the disaster. It was a little farmhouse, surrounded with about twenty acres of vineyard, about as much corn: and, close to the house, on one side, was a potagerie of an acre and a half, full of every thing which could make plenty in a French peasant's house; and, on the other side, was a little wood which furnished wherewithal to dress it. It was about eight in the evening when I got to the house: so I left the postillion to manage his point as he could; and for mine, I walked directly into the house.

The family consisted of an old grey-headed man and his wife, with five or six sons and sons-in-law and their several wives, and a joyous genealogy out of them.

They were all sitting down together to their lentil soup; a large wheaten loaf was in the middle of the table; and a flagon of wine at each end of it promised joy through the stages of the repast 'twas a feast of love.

The old man rose up to meet me, and, with a respectful cordiality, would have me sit down at the table. My heart was set down the moment I entered the room: so I sat down at once like a son of the family; and to invest myself in the character as speedily as I could, I instantly borrowed the old man's knife, and taking up the loaf, cut myself a hearty luncheon; and, as I did it, I saw a testimony in every eye, not only of an honest welcome, but of a welcome mixed with thanks that I had not seemed to doubt it.

much joy and comfort in his children, and as flattering hopes of their doing well,-to enliven his hours and gladden his heart, as you could conceive in the most affluent station. And I make no doubt, in general, but if the true account of his joys and sufferings were to be balanced with those of his betters,-that the upshot would prove to be little more than this ;-that the rich man had the more meat, but the poor man the better stomach :-the one had more luxury,-more able physicians to attend and set him to rights; the other, more health and soundness in his bones, and less occasion for their help that, after these two articles betwixt them were balanced, in all other things they stood upon a level that the sun shines as warm, the air blows as fresh, and the earth breathes as fragrant upon the one as the other; and that they have an equal share in all the beauties and real benefits of na

ture.

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XIX. House of Mourning.

ET us go into the house of mourning, made so by such afflictions as have been brought in merely by the common cross accidents and disasters to which our condition is exposed, where, perhaps, the aged parents sit broken-hearted, pierced to their souls with the folly and indiscretion of a thankless child-the child of their prayers, in whom all their hopes and expectations centered perhaps a more affecting scene-a virtuous family lying pinched with want, where the unfortunate support of it having long struggled with a train of misfortunes, and bravely fought up against them, is now piteously borne down at the last overwhelmed with a cruel blow, which no forecast or frugality could have prevented.-O God! look upon his afflictions.-Behold him distracted with many sorrows, surrounded with the tender pledges of his love, and the partner of his cares-without bread to give them ; unable, from the remembrance of better days, to dig-to beg, ashamed.

When we enter into the house of mourning such as this-it is impossible to insult the unfortunate even with an improper look-Under whatever levity and dissipation of heart such objects catch our eyes, they catch likewise our attentions, collect and call home our scattered thoughts, and exercise them with wisdom. A transient scene of

ceptible, how full of religious impressions; how deeply it is smitten with a sense and with a love of virtue! Could we, in this crisis, whilst this empire of reason and religion lasts, and the heart is thus exercised with wisdom and busied with heavenly contemplations-could we see it naked as it is-stripped of its passions, unspotted by the world, and regardless of its pleasures--we might then safely rest our cause upon this single evidence, and appeal to the most sensual, whether Solomon has not made a just determination here, in favor of the house of mourning? not for its own sake, but as it is fruitful in virtue and becomes the occasion of so much good. Without this end, sorrow, I own has no use but to shorten a man's days-nor can gravity with all its studied solemnity of look and carriage, serve any end but to make one half of the world merry, and impose upon the other.

SECTION III.

I. The Honor and Advantage of a constant Adherence to Truth.

PEL

ETRARCH, a celebrated Italian poet, who flourished about four hundred years ago, recommended himself to the confidence and affection of Cardinel Colonna, in whose family he resided, by his candor and strict regard to truth. A violent quarrel occurred in the household of this nobleman; which was carried so far, that recourse was had to arms. The Cardinal wished to know the foundation of this affair; and, that he might be able to decide with justice, he assembled all his people, and obliged them to bind themselves, by a most solemn oath on the Gospels, to declare the whole truth. Every one, without exception, submitted to this determination; even the bishop of Luna, brother to the Cardinal, was not excused. Petrarch in his turn, presented himself to take the oath, the Cardinal closed the book, and said, As to you Petrarch, your word is sufficient.

II. Impertinence in Discourse.

HIS kind of impertinece is a habit of talking much

T without thinking.