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mired and she is of that unreasonable temper, as not to value the inconstancy of her lovers, provided she can boast she once had their addresses. "Biblis was the second I aimed at, and her vanity lay in purchasing the adorers of others, and not in rejoicing in their love itself. Biblis is no man's mistress, but every woman's rival. As soon as I found this, I fell in love with Chloe, who is my present pleasure and torment. I-have written to her, danced with her, and fought for her, and have been her man in the sight and expectation of the whole town these three years, and thought myself near the end of my wishes; when the other day she called me into her closet, and told me, with a very grave face, that she was a woman of honor, and scorned to deceive a man who loved her with so much sincerity as she saw I did, and therefore she must inform me that she was by nature the most inconstant creature breathing, and begged me not to marry her; if I insisted upon it, I should; but that she was lately fallen in love with another. What to do or say I know not, but desire you to inform me, and you will infinitely oblige,

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No. 188.] FRIDAY, OCTOBER 5, 1711.

Lætus sum laudari a te laudato viro.-TULL.

It gives me pleasure to be praised by you, whom all men praise.

He is a very unhappy man who sets his heart upon being admired by the multitude, or affects a general and undistinguishing applause among men. What pious men call the testimony of a good conscience, should be the measure of our ambition in this kind; that is to say, a man of spirit should contemn the praise of the ignorant, and like being applauded for nothing but what he knows in his own heart he deserves. Beside which, the character of the person who commends you is to be considered, before you set a value upon his esteem. The praise of an ignorant man is only good-will, and you should receive his kindness as he is a good neighbor in society, and not as a good judge of your actions in point of fame and reputation. The satirist said very well of popular praise and acclamations, "Give the tinkers and cobblers their presents again, and learn to live of yourself." It is an argument of a loose and ungoverned mind to be affected with the promiscuous approbation of the generality of mankind; and a man of virtue should be too delicate for so coarse an appetite of fame. Men of honor should endeavor only to please the worthy, and the man of merit should desire to be tried only by his peers. I thought it a noble sentiment which I heard yesterday uttered in conversation: "I know," said a gentleman, "a way to be greater than any man. If he has worth in him, I can rejoice in his superiority to me; and that satisfaction is a greater act of the soul in me, than any in him which can possibly appear to me." This thought could proceed but from a candid and generous spirit; and the approbation of such minds is what may be esteemed true

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praise: for with the common race of men there is nothing commendable but what they themselves may hope to be partakers of, and arrive at; but the motive truly glorious is, when the mind is set rather to do things laudable, than to purchase reputation. Where there is that sincerity as the foundation of a good name, the kind opinion of virtuous men will be an unsought, but a necessary consequence. The Lacedæmonians, though a plain people, and no pretenders to politeness, had a certain delicacy in their sense of glory, and sacrificed to the Muses when they entered upon any great enterprise. They would have the commemoration of their actions be transmitted by the purest and most untainted memorialists. The din which attends victories and public triumphs, is by far less eligible than the recital of the actions of great men by honest and wise historians. It is a frivolous pleasure to be the admiration of gaping crowds; but to have the approbation of a good man in the cool reflections of his closet, is a grati fication worthy a heroic spirit. The applause of the crowd makes the head giddy, but the attestation of a reasonable man makes the heart glad.

What makes the love of popular or general praise still more ridiculous, is that it is usually given for circumstances which are foreign to the persons admired. Thus they are the ordinary attendants on power and riches, which may be taken out of one man's hands, and put into another's. The application only, and not the possession, makes those outward things honorable. The vulgar and men of sense agree in admiring men for having what they themselves would rather be possessed of; the wise man applauds him whom he thinks most virtuous, the rest of the world, him who is most wealthy.

When a man is in this way of thinking, I do not know what can occur to one more monstrous, than to see persons of ingenuity address their services and performances to men no way addicted to liberal arts. In these cases, the praise on one hand, and the patronage on the other, are equally the objects of ridicule. Dedications to ignorant men are as absurd as any of the speeches of Bulfinch in the Droli. Such an address one is apt to translate into other words; and when the different parties are thoroughly considered, the panegyric generally implies no more than if the author should say to the patron; "My very good lord, you and I can never understand one another; therefore I humbly desire we may be intimate friends for the future."

The rich may as well ask to borrow of the poor, as the man of virtue and merit hope for addition to his character from any but such as himself. He that commends another engages so much of his own reputation as he gives to that person commended; and he that has nothing laudable in himself is not of ability to be such a surety. The wise Phocion was so sensible how dangerous it was to be touched with what the multitude approved, that upon a general acclamation made when he was making an oration, he turned to an intelligent friend who stood near him, and asked in a surprised manner, “What slip have I made?”

I shall conclude this paper with a billet which has fallen into my hands, and was written to a lady from a gentleman whom she had highly commended. The author of it had formerly been her lover. When all possibility of commerce between them on the subsect of love was cut off, she spoke so handsomely of him, as to give occasion to this letter.

“MADAM,

"I should be insensible, to a stupidity, if I

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could forbear making my acknowledgments for written was directed. His father calls him a your late mention of me with so much applause."saucy and audacious rascal" in the first line, It is, I think, your fate to give me new senti- and I am afraid, upon examination, he will prove ments as you formerly inspired me with the but an ungracious youth. To go about railing" true sense of love, so do you now with the true at his father, and to find no other place but "the sense of glory. As desire had the least part in the outside of his letter" to tell him "that might passion I heretofore professed toward you, so has overcomes right," if it does not discover his vanity no share in the glory to which you have reason to be depraved." and "that he is either How raised me. Innocence, knowledge, beauty, fool or mad," as the choleric old gentleman tells virtue, sincerity, and discretion, are the constant him, we may at least allow that the father will do ornaments of her who has said this of me. Fame very well in endeavoring to “ better his judgment, is a babbler, but I have arrived at the highest and give him a greater sense of his duty." But glory in this world, the commendation of the most whether this may be brought about by "breakdeserving person in it.”—T. ing his head," or "giving him a great knock on the skull, ought, I think, to be well considered. Upon the whole, I wish the father has not met with his match, and that he may not be as equally paired with his son, as the mother in Virgil:—

No. 189.] SATURDAY, OCTOBER 6, 1711.
-Patriæ pietatis imago.-VIRG. En., x, 824.

An image of paternal tenderness.

THE following letter being written to my bookseller, upon a subject of which I treated some time since, I shall publish it in this paper, together with the letter that was iuclosed in it:

"MR. BUCKLEY,

"Mr. Spectator having of late descanted upon the cruelty of parents to their children, I have been induced (at the request of several of Mr. Spectator's admirers) to inclose this letter, which I assure you is the original from a father to his own son, notwithstanding the latter gave but little or no provocation. It would be wonderfully obliging to the world, if Mr. Spectator would give us his opinion of it in some of his speculations, and particularly to (Mr. Buckley),

"SIRRAH,

"Your humble servant."

"You are a saucy, audacious rascal, and both fool and mad, and I care not a farthing whether you comply or no; that does not raze out my impressions of your insolence, going about railing at me, and the next day to solicit my favor. These are inconsistencies, such as discover thy reason depraved. To be brief, I never desire to see your face; and, sirrah, if you go to the workhouse, it is no disgrace to me for you to be supported there; and if you starve in the streets, I'll never give anything underhand in your behalf. If I have anything more of your scribbling nonsense, I'll break your head the first time I set sight on you. You are a stubborn beast; is this your gratitude for my giving you money? You rogue, I'll better your judgment, and give you a greater sense of your duty to (I regret to say) your father, etc.

"P. S. It's prudent for you to keep out of my sight; for to reproach me that might overcomes right, on the outside of your letter, I shall give you a great knock on the skull for it."

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I must here take notice of a letter which I have

received from an unknown correspondent, upon
the subject of my paper, upon which the foregoing
The writer of it seems
letter is likewise founded.
very much concerned lest the paper should seem
to give encouragement to the disobedience of chil-
dren toward their parents; but if the writer of it
will take the pains to read it over again atten-
Pardon and reconciliation are all the penitent
tively, I dare say his apprehensions will vanish.
daughter requests, and all that I contend for in
her behalf; and in this case I may use the saying
of an eminent wit, who, upon some great man's
pressing him to forgive his daughter, who had
married against his consent, told them he could
refuse nothing to their instances, but that he would
have them remember there was difference between
giving and forgiving.

I must confess, in all controversies between diced in favor of the former. The obligations on parents and their children, I am naturally prejuthat side can never be acquitted, and I think it is that paternal instinct should be a stronger motive one of the greatest reflections upon human nature, favors should be a less inducement to a good will, to love than filial gratitude; that the receiving of ring of them; and that the taking care of any tenderness, and commiseration, than the conferperson should endear the child or dependent more to the parent or benefactor, than the parent or benefactor to the child or dependent: yet so it thousand undutiful children. This is, indeed, wonderfully contrived (as I have formerly observed) for the support of every living species: but at the same time that it shows the wisdom of the Creator, it discovers the imperfection and degeneracy of the creature.

Was there ever such an image of paternal ten-happens, that for one cruel parent we meet with a derness! It was usual among some of the Greeks to make their slaves drink to excess, and then expose them to their children, who by that means conceived an early aversion to a vice which makes men appear so monstrous and irrational. I have exposed this picture of an unnatural father with the same intention, that its deformity may deter others from its resemblance. If the reader has a mind to see a father of the same stamp represented in the most exquisite strokes of humor, he may meet with it in one of the finest comedies that ever appeared upon the English stage: I mean the part of Sir Sampson in Love for Love.

I must rot, however, engage myself blindly on the side of the son, to whom the fond letter above

The obedience of children to their parents is the basis of all government, and set forth as the measure of that obedience which we owe to those whom Providence hath placed over us.

It is father Le Compte, if I am not mistaken, who tells us how want of duty in this particular is punished among the Chinese, insomuch that if a son should be known to kill, or so much as to strike his father, not only the criminal, but his

whole family would be rooted out, nay, the inhab- whole world. My humble servant made me un itauts of the place where he lived would be put to derstand that I should always be kept in the plenthe sword, nay, the place itself would be razed to tiful condition I then enjoyed: when after a very the ground, and its foundations sown with salt. great fondness toward me, he one day took his For, say they, there must have been an utter de- leave of me for four or five days. In the evening pravation of manners in that clan or society of of the same day my good landlady came to me, people who could have bred up among them so and observing me very pensive, began to comfort horrid an offender. To this I shall add a passage me, and with a smile told me I must see,the out of the first book of Herodotus. That histor- world. When I was deaf to all she could say to ian, in his account of the Persian customs and divert me, she began to tell me with a very frank religion, tells us, it is their opinion that no man air that I must be treated as I ought, and not take ever killed his father, or that it is possible such a these squeamish humors upon me, for my friend crime should be in nature; but that if anything had left me to the town; and, as their phrase is, like it should ever happen, they conclude that the she expected I would see company, or I must be reputed son must have been illegitimate, supposi-treated like what I had brought myself to. titious, or begotten in adultery. Their opinion in this particular shows sufficiently what a notion they must have had of undutifulness in general.

L.

This

put me into a fit of crying; and I immediately, in a true sense of my condition, threw myself on the floor, deploring my fate, calling upon all that was good and sacred to succor me. While I was in all this agony, I observed a decrepid old fellow come into the room, and looking with a sense of No. 190.] MONDAY, OCTOBER 8, 1711. pleasure in his face at all my vehemence and transport. In a pause of my distresses I heard him Servitus crescit novaHOR. 2 Od. viii, 18. say to the shameless old woman who stood by me, A slavery to former times unknown. She is certainly a new face, or else she acts it SINCE I made some reflections upon the general rarely.' With that the gentlewoman, who was negligence used in the case of regard toward making her market of me, in all the turns of my women, or, in other words, since I talked of wench-person, the heaves of my passion, and the suitable ing. I have had epistles upon that subject, which I shall, for the present entertainment, insert as they lie before me.

"MR. SPECTATOR,

changes of my posture, took occasion to commend my neck, my shape, my eyes, my limbs. All this was accompanied with such speeches as you may have heard horse-coursers make in the sale of nags, when they are warranted for their sound"As your speculations are not confined to any ness. You understand by this time that I was part of human life, but concern the wicked as well left in a brothel, and exposed to the next bidder as the good, I must desire your favorable accept who could purchase me of my patroness. This ance of what I, a poor strolling girl about town, is so much the work of hell: the pleasure in the have to say to you. I was told by a Roman Cath- possession of us wenches abates in proportion to olic gentleman who picked me up last week, and the degrees we go beyond the bounds of innowho, I hope is absolved for what passed between cence; and no man is gratified, if there is nothing us; I say, I was told by such a person, who en- left for him to debauch. Well, Sir, my first man deavored to convert me to his own religion, that when I came upon the town, was Sir Jeoffry Foiin countries where popery prevails, beside the ble, who was extremely lavish to me of his moadvantages of licensed stews, there are large en-ney, and took such a fancy to me that he would dowments given for the Incurabili, I think he called them, such as are past all remedy, and are allowed such maintenance and support as to keep them without further care until they expire. This manner of treating poor sinners has, methinks, great humanity in it; and as you are a person who pretend to carry your reflections, upon all subjects whatever that occur to you, with candor, and act above the sense of what misinterpretation you may meet with, I beg the favor of you to lay before all the world the unhappy condition of us poor vagrants, who are really in a way of labor instead of idleness. There are crowds of us whose manner of livelihood has long ceased to be pleasing to us: and who would willingly lead a new life, if the rigor of the virtuous did not forever expel us from coming into the world again. As it now happens, to the eternal infamy of the male sex, falsehood among you is not reproachful, but credulity in women is infamous.

"Give me leave, Sir, to give you my history. You are to know that I am a daughter of a man of a good reputation, tenant to a man of quality. The heir of this great house took it in his head to cast a favorable eye upon me, and succeeded. I do not pretend to say he promised me marriage: I was not a creature silly enough to be taken by so foolish a story: but he ran away with me up to this town, and introduced me to a grave matron, with who:n I boarded for a day or two with great gravity, and was not a little pleased with the rhange of my condition, from that of a country life to the finest company, as I believed, in the

have carried me off, if my patroness would have taken any reasonable terms for me; but as he was old, his covetousness was his strongest pas sion, and poor I was soon left exposed to be the common refuse of all the rakes and debauchees in town. I cannot tell whether you will do me justice or no, till I see whether you print this or not; otherwise, as I now live with Sal. I could give you a very just account of who and who is together in this town. You perhaps wont believe it; but I know of one who pretends to be a very good Protestant, who lies with a Roman Catholic: but more of this hereafter, as you please me. There do come to our house the greatest politicians of the age; and Sal is more shrewd than anybody thinks. Nobody can believe that such wise men could go to bawdy-houses out of idle purposes. I have heard them often talk of Augustus Cæsar, who had intrigues with the wives of senators, not out of wantonness but stratagem.

"It is a thousand pities you should be so severely virtuous as I fear you are; otherwise, after one visit or two, you would soon understand that we women of the town are not such useless correspondents as you may imagine: you have undoubtedly heard that it was a courtesan who discovered Catiline's conspiracy. If you print this I'll tell you more: and am in the meantime,

"Sir, your most humble servant,
"REBECCA NETTLETOP."

* A celebrated courtesan and procuress of those times.

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"I am to complain to you of a set of impertiacnt coxcombs, who visit the apartments of us women of the town, only, as they call it, to see the world. I must confess to you, this to men of delicacy might have an effect to cure them; but as they are stupid, noisy, and drunken fellows, it tends only to make vice in themselves, as they think, pleasant and humorous, and at the same time nauseous in us. I shall, Sir, hereafter, from time to time give you the names of these wretches who pretend to enter our houses merely as Spectators. These men think it wit to use us ill: pray tell them, however worthy we are of such treatment, it is unworthy them to be guilty of it toward us. Pray, Sir, take notice of this, and pity the oppressed: I wish we could add to it, the in

nocent.

T.

No. 191.] TUESDAY, OCTOBER 9, 1711.

-Deluding vision of the night.-POPE.

SOME ludicrous schoolmen have put the case, that if an ass were placed between two bundles of hay, which affected his senses equally on each side, and tempted him in the very same degree, whether it would be possible for him to eat of either. They generally determine this question to the disadvantage of the ass, who, they say, would starve in the midst of plenty, as not having a single grain of free-will to determine him more to the one than to the other. The bundle of hay on either side striking his sight and smell in the same proportion, would keep him in perpetual suspense, like the two magnets, which travelers have told us, are placed one of them in the roof, and the other in the floor of Mahomet's burying-place at Mecca, and by that means, say they, pull the impostor's iron coffin with such an equal attraction, that it hangs in the air between both of them. As for the ass's behavior in such nice circumstances, whether he would starve sooner than violate his neutrality to the two bundles of hay, I shall not presume to determine; but only take notice of the conduct of our own species in the same perplexity. When a man has a mind to venture his money in a lottery, every figure of it appears equally aflur ing, and as likely to succeed as any of its fellows. They all of them have the same pretensions to good luck, stand upon the same foot of competition, and no manner of reason can be given why a man should prefer one to the other before the lottery is drawn. In this case, therefore, caprice very often acts in the place of reason, and forms to itself some groundless, imaginary motive, where real and substantial ones are wanting. I know a well-meaning man that is very well pleased to risk his good fortune upon the number 1711, because it is the year of our Lord. I am acquainted with a tacker that would give a good deal for the number 134.* On the contrary, I have been told

*In the year 1704 a bill was brought into the house of commons against occasional conformity; and in order to make t pass through the house of lords, it was proposed to tack it to a money bill. This occasioned warm debates, and at

of a certain zealous dissenter, who being a great enemy to popery, and believing that bad me are the most fortunate in this world, will lay two to one on the number 666 against any other number, because, says he, it is the number of the beast.* Several would prefer the number 12,000 before any other, as it is the number of the pounds in the great prize. In short, some are pleased to find their own age in their number; some that have got a number which makes a pretty appearance in the ciphers; and others, because it is the same number that succeeded in the last lottery. Each of these, upon no other grounds, thinks he stands fairest for the great lot, and that he is possessed of what may not be improperly called "the golden number."+

These principles of election are the pastimes and extravagances of human reason, which is of so busy a nature, that it will be exerting itself in the meanest trifles, and working even when it wants materials. The wisest of men are sometimes acted by such unaccountable motives, as the life of the fool and the superstitious is guided by nothing else.

I am surprised that none of the fortune-tellers, or, as the French call them, the Diseurs de bonne Aventure, who publish their bills in every quarter of the town, have turned our lotteries to their advantage. Did any of them set up for a caster of fortunate figures, what might he not get by his pretended discoveries and predictions?

I remember among the advertisements in the Post-Boy of September the 27th, I was surprised to see the following one:

"This is to give notice, that ten shillings over and above the market price, will be given for the ticket in the 1,500,000l. lottery, No. 132, by Nath. Cliff, at the Bible and Three Crowns in Cheapside.”

This advertisement has given great matter of speculation to coffee-house theorists. Mr. Cliff's principles and conversation have been canvassed upon this occasion, and various conjectures made why he should thus set his heart upon No. 132. I have examined all the powers in those numbers, broken them into fractions, extracted the square and cube root, divided and multiplied them all ways, but could not arrive at the secret until about three days ago, when I received the following letter from an unknown hand; by which I find that Mr. Nath. Cliff is only the agent, and not the principal, in this advertisement.

"MR. SPECTATOR,

"I am the person that lately advertised I would give ten shillings more than the current price for the ticket No. 132 in the lottery now drawing; which is a secret I have communicated to some friends, who rally me incessantly upon that ar count. You must know I have but one ticket, for. which reason, and a certain dream I have lately had more than once, I resolved it should be the number I most approved. I am so positive that I have pitched upon the great lot, that I could almost lay all I am worth upon it. My visions are so frequent and strong upon this occasion that I have not only possessed the lot, but disposed of the money which in all probability it will sell for. This morning in particular, I set up, an equipage which I look upon to be the gayest in the town; the liveries are very rich, but not

length it was put to the vote; when 134 were for tacking but a large majority being against it, the motion was overruled, and the bill miscarried.

In the Revelations. See ch. xiii, ver. 18.
Alluding to the number so called in the Calendar.
Actuated.

"GEORGE GOSLING."

"P. S. Dear Spec., if I get the 12,000 pounds, I'll make thee a handsome present."

gaudy. I should be very glad to see a speculation of the kingdom. There is something so very sur I or two upon lottery subjects, in which you would prising in the parts of a child of a man's own, oblige all people concerned, and in particular, that there is nothing too great to be expected from "Your most humble Servant, his endowments. I know a good woman who has but three sons, and there is, she says, nothing she expected with more certainty, than that she shal! see one of them a bishop, the other a judge, and the third a court-physician. The humor is, that anything which can happen to any man's child, is expected by every man for his own. But my friend, whom I am going to speak of, does not flatter himself with such vain expectations, but has his eye more upon the virtue and disposition of his children than their advancement or wealth. Good habits are what will certainly improve a man's fortune and reputation; but, on the other side, affluence of fortune will not as probably produce good affections of the mind.

After having wished my correspondent good luck, and thanked him for his intended kindness, I shall for this time dismiss the subject of the lottery, and only observe, that the greatest part of mankind are in some degree guilty of my friend Gosling's extravagance. We are apt to rely upon future prospects, and become really expensive while we are only rich in possibility. We five up to our expectations, not to our possessions, and make a figure proportionable to what we may be, not what we are. We outrun our present income, as not doubting to disburse* ourselves out of the profits of some future place, project, or reversion that we have in view. It is through this temper of mind, which is so common among us, that we see tradesmen break, who have met with no misfortunes in their business; and men of estates reduced to poverty, who have never suffered from losses or repairs, tenants, taxes, or lawsuits. In short, it is this foolish, sanguine temper, this depending upon contingent futurities, that occasions romantic generosity, chimerical grandeur, senseless ostentation, and generally ends in beggary and ruin. The man who will live above his present circumstances is in great danger of living in a little time much beneath them; or, as the Italian proverb runs, "The man who lives by hope, will die by hunger."

It should be an indispensable rule in life, to contract our desires to our present condition, and, whatever may be our expectations, to live within the compass of what we actually possess. It will be time enough to enjoy an estate when it comes into our hands; but if we anticipate our good fortune, we shall lose the pleasure of it when it arrives, and may possibly never possess what we have so foolishly counted upon.-L.

No. 192.] WEDNESDAY, OCT. 10, 1711.
-Uno ore omnes omnia

Bona dicere, et laudare fortunas meas,
Qui gnatum haberem tali ingenio præditum.
TER. Andr., act., sc. 1.

-All the world
With one accord said all good things, and prais'd
My happy fortunes, who possess a son
So good, so liberally disposed.- COLMAN.

I STOOD the other day, and beheld a father sitting in the middle of a room with a large family of children about him: and methought I could observe in his countenance different motions of delight, as he turned his eye toward the one or the other of them. The man is a person moderate in his designs for their preferment and welfare; and as he has an easy fortune he is not solicitous to make a great one. His eldest son is a child of a very towardly disposition, and as much as the father loves him, I dare say he will never be a knave to improve his fortune. I do not know any man who has a juster relish of life than the person I am speaking of, or keeps a better guard against the terrors of want, or the hopes of gain. It is usual, in a crowd of children, for the parent no name out of his own flock all the great officers

*Disburse seems to stand here for reimburse.

It is very natural for a man of a kind disposition to amuse himself with the promises his imagination makes to him of the future condition of his children, and to represent to himself the figure they shall bear in the world after he has left it. When his prospects of this kind are agreeable, his fondness gives as it were a longer date to his own life; and the survivorship of a worthy man in his son, is a pleasure scarce inferior to the hopes of the continuance of his own life. That man is happy who can believe of his son, that he will escape the follies and indiscretions of which he himself was guilty, and pursue and improve everything that was valuable in him. The continuance of his virtue is much more to be regarded than that of his life; but it is the most lauientable of all reflections, to think that the heir of a man's fortune, is such a one as will be a stranger to his friends, alienated from the same interests, and a promoter of everything which he himself disapproved. An estate in possession of such a suecessor to a good man, is worse than laid waste and the family, of which he is the head, is in a more deplorable condition than that of being extinct.

When I visit the agreeable seat of my honored friend Ruricola, and walk from room to room revolving many pleasing occurrences, and the expressions of many just sentiments I have heard him utter, and see the booby his heir in pain, while he is doing the honors of his house to the friend of his father, the heaviness it gives one is not to be expressed. Want of genius is not to be imputed to any man, but want of humanity is a man's own fault. The son of Ruricola (whose life was one continued series of worthy actions, and gentleman-like inclinations) is the companion of drunken clowns, and knows no sense of praise but in the flattery he receives from his own servants; his pleasures are mean and inordinate, his language base and filthy, his behavior rough and absurd. Is this creature to be accounted the successor of a man of virtue, wit, and breeding? At the same time that I have this melancholy prospect at the house where I miss my old friend, I can go to a gentleman's not far off, where he has a daughter who is the picture both of his body and mind, but both improved with the beauty and modesty peculiar to her sex. It is she who supplies the loss of her father to the world; she, without his name or fortune, is a truer memorial of him, than her brother who succeeds him in both. Such an offspring as the eldest son of my friend perpetuates his father in the same manner as the appearance of his ghost would: it is indeed Ruricola, but it is Ruricola grown frightful.

I know not to what to attribute the brutal turr which this young man has taken, except it may be to a certain severity and distance which his

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