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"MR. SPECTATOR,

"I am a country clergyman, and hope you will lend me your assistance in ridiculing some little indecencies which cannot so properly be exposed from the pulpit.

"A widow lady, who straggled this summer from London into my parish for the benefit of the air, as she says, appears every Sunday at church with many fashionable extravagances, to the great astonishment of my congregation.

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an opinion of those we behold in public is very fallacious, certain it is that those, who by their words and actions take as much upon themselves, as they can but barely demand in the strict serutiny of their deserts, will find their account lessen every day. A modest man preserves his character, as a frugal man does his fortune; if either of them live to the height of either, one will find losses, the other errors, which he has not stock by him to make up. It were therefore a just rule, to keep But what gives us the most offense is her thea- your desires, your words, and actions, within the trical manner of singing the Psalms. She intro-regard you observe your friends have for you; duces about fifty Italian airs into the hundredth and never, if it were in a man's power, to take as psalm; and while we begin, 'All people' in the old much as he possibly might, either in preferment solemn tune of our forefathers, she in a quite dif- or reputation. My walks have lately been among ferent key runs divisions on the vowels, and adorns the mercantile part of the world; and one gets them with the graces of Nicolini: if she meets phrases naturally from those with whom one con with eke' or 'aye,' which are frequent in the meverses. I say then, he that in his air, his treat ter of Hopkins and Sternhold, we are certain to ment of others, or an habitual arrogance to himhear her quavering them half a minute after us, self, gives himself credit for the least article of to some sprightly airs of the opera. more wit, wisdom, goodness, or valor, than he can "I am very far from being an enemy to church possibly produce if he is called upon, will find music; but fear this abuse of it may make my the world break in upon him, and consider him as parish ridiculous, who already look on the sing one who has cheated them of all the esteem they ing psalms as an entertainment, and not part of had before allowed him. This brings a commistheir devotion: beside I am apprehensive that the sion of bankruptcy upon him; and he that might infection may spread; for 'Squire Squeekum, who have gone on to his life's end in a prosperous by his voice seems (if I may use the expression) way, by aiming at more than he should is no to be cut out for an Italian singer, was last Sun-longer proprietor of what he really had before, but day practicing the same airs.

"I know the lady's principles, and that she will plead the toleration, which (as she fancies) allows her nonconformity in this particular; but I beg you to acquaint her that singing the Psalms in a different tune from the rest of the congregation is sort of schism not tolerated by that act.

"I am, Sir, your very humble Servant.
"R. S."

"MR. SPECTATOR,

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"In your paper upon temperance, you prescribe to us a rule for drinking out of Sir William Temple, in the following words: The first glass for inyself, the second for my friends, the third for good humor, and the fourth for mine enemies.' Now, Sir, you must know, that I have read this your Spectator, in a club whereof I am a member; when our president told us there was certainly an error in the print, and that the word glass should be bottle; and therefore has ordered me to inform you of this mistake, and to desire you to publish the following erratum: In the paper of Saturday, Octob. 13, col. 3, line 11, for 'glass,' read 'bottle.' "Yours,

L.

"ROBIN GOODFELLOW."

No. 206.] FRIDAY, OCTOBER 26, 1711.

his pretensions fare as all things do which are torn instead of being divided.

There is no one living would deny Cinna the applause of an agreeable and facetious wit; or could possibly pretend that there is not something inimitably unforced and diverting in his manner of delivering all his sentiments in conversation, if he were able to conceal the strong desire of applause which he betrays in every syllable he utters. But they who converse with him see that all the civilities they could do to him, or the kind things they could say to him, would fall short of what he expects; and therefore, instead of show. ing him the esteem they have for his merit, their reflections turn only upon that they observe he has of it himself.

It you go among the women, and behold Gloriana trip into a room with that theatrical ostentation of her charms, Mirtilla with that soft regularity in her motion, Chloe with such an indifferent familiarity, Corinna with such a fond approach, and Roxana with such a demand of respect in the great gravity of her entrance; you find all the sex, who understand themselves and act naturally, wait only for their absence, to tell you that all these ladies would impose themselves upon you; and each of them carry in their behavior a consciousness of so much more than they should pretend to, that they lose what would otherwise be given them.

I remember the last time I saw Macbeth, I was wonderfully taken with the skill of the poet, in making the murderer form fears to himself from the moderation of the prince whose life he was goes-ing to take away. He says of the king: "He bore his faculties so meekly;" and justly inferred from thence, that all divine and human power would join to avenge his death, who had made such an abstinent use of dominion. All that is in a man's power to do to advance his own pomp and glory, and forbears, is so much laid up against the day of distress; and pity will always be his portion in adversity, who acted with gentleness in prosperity.

Quanto quisque sibi plura negaverit, A diis plura feretHOR. 3 Od. xvi, 21. They that do much themselves deny, Receive more blessings from the sky.-CREECH. THERE is a call upon mankind to value and teem those who set a moderate price upon their own merit; and self-denial is frequently attended with unexpected blessings, which in the end abundantly recompense such losses as the modest seem to suffer in the ordinary occurrences of life. Then the curious tell us, a determination in our favor or to our disadvantage is made upon our first appearance, even before they know anything of our characters, but from the intimations men gather from our aspect. A man, they say, wears The picture of his mind in his countenance; and one man's eyes are spectacles to his, who looks at him to read his hear. But though that way of raising

The great officer who foregoes the advantages he might take to himself, and renounces all prudential regards to his own person in danger, has so far the merit of a volunteer; and all his honors

and glories are unenvied, for sharing the common | going to his devotions, and observing his eyes to fate with the same frankness as they do who have be fixed upon the earth with great seriousness and no such endearing circumstances to part with. attention, tells him, that he had reason to be But if there were no such considerations as the thoughtful on that occasion, since it was possible good effect which self-denial has upon the sense for a man to bring down evils upon himself by his of other men toward us, it is of all qualities the own prayers; and that those things which the gods most desirable for the agreeable disposition in send him in answer to his petitions, might turn to which it places our own minds. I cannot tell his destruction. This, says he, may not only what better to say of it, than that it is the very con-happen when a man prays for what he knows is trary of ambition; and that modesty allays all mischievous in its own nature, as Edipus imthose passions and inquietudes to which that vice plored the gods to sow dissension between his exposes us. He that is moderate in his wishes, sons; but when he prays for what he believes from reason and choice, and not resigned from would be for his good, and against what he besourness, distaste, or disappointment, doubles all lieves would be to his detriment. This the the pleasures of his life. The air, the season, a philosopher shows must necessarily happen sunshiny day, or a fair prospect, are instances among us, since most men are blinded with of happiness; and that which he enjoys in common ignorance, prejudice, or passion, which hinder with all the world (by his exemption from the en-them from seeing such things as are really benechantments by which all the world are bewitched), ficial to them. For an instance, he asks Alcibiaare to him uncommon benefits and new acquisi-des, whether he would not be thoroughly pleased tions. Health is not eaten up with care, nor plea- and satisfied if that god, to whom he was going sure interrupted by envy. It is not to him of any to address himself, should promise to make him cousequence what this man is famed for, or for the sovereign of the whole earth? Alcibiades what the other is preferred. He knows there is in answers, that he should, doubtless, look upon such a place an uninterrupted walk; he can meet such a promise as the greatest favor that could be in such a company an agreeable conversation. He bestowed upon him. Socrates then asks him, if has no emulation, he is no man's rival, but every after receiving this great favor he would be conman's well-wisher; can look at a prosperous man, teuted to lose his life? Or if he would receive it with a pleasure in reflecting that he hopes he is as though he was sure he should make an ill use of happy as himself; and has his mind and his for- it? To both which questions Alcibiades answers tune (as far as prudence will allow) open to the in the negative. Socrates then shows him, from. unhappy and to the stranger. the examples of others, how these might very Lucceius has learning, wit, humor, eloquence, probably be the effects of such a blessing. He but no ambitious prospects to pursue with these then adds, that other reputed pieces of good foradvantages; therefore to the ordinary world he is tune, as that of having a son, or procuring the perhaps thought to want spirit, but known among highest post in government, are subject to the his friends to have a mind of the most consum-like fatal consequences; which nevertheless, says mate greatness. He wants no man's admiration, is in no need of pomp. His clothes please him if they are fashionable and warm; his companions are agreeable if they are civil and well-natured. Having established this great point, that all the There is with him no occasion for superfluity at most apparent blessings in this life are obnoxious meals, or jollity in company; in a word, for any-to such dreadful consequences, and that no mau thing extraordinary to administer delight to him. Want of prejudice, and command of appetite, are the companions which make his journey of life so easy, that he in all places meets with more wit, more good cheer and more good humor, than is necessary to make him enjoy himself with pleaBure and satisfaction.-T.

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Look round the habitable world, how few
Know their own good, or, knowing it, pursue?
How rarely reason guides the stubborn choice,
Prompts the fond wish, or lifts the suppliant voice?
DRYDEN, JOHNSON, etc.

In my last Saturday's paper, I laid down some thoughts upon devotion in general, and shall here show what were the notions of the most refined heathens on this subject, as they are represented in Plato's dialogue upon prayer, entitled Alcibiades the Second, which doubtless gave occasion to Juvenal's tenth satire, and to the second satire of Persius; as the last of these authors has almost transcribed the preceding dialogue, entitled Alcibiades the First, in his fourth satire.

The speakers in this dialogue upon prayer, are Socrates and Alcibiades; and the substance of it (when drawn together out of the intricacies and digressions) as follows:

Socrates meeting his pupil Alcibiades, as he was

he, men ardently desire, and would not fail to pray for, if they thought their prayers might be effectual for the obtaining of them."

knows what in its event would prove to him a blessing or a curse, he teaches Alcibiades after what manner he ought to pray.

In the first place, he recommends to him, as the model of his devotions, a short prayer which a Greek poet composed for the use of his friends, in the following words: "O Jupiter, give us those things which are good for us, whether they are such things as we pray for, or such things as we do not pray for: and remove from us those things which are hurtful, though they are such things as we pray for."

In the second place, that his disciple may ask such things as are expedient for him, he shows him, that it is absolutely necessary to apply himself to the study of true wisdom, and to the knowledge of that which is his chief good, and the most suitable to the excellence of his nature.

In the third and last place he informs him, that the best methods he could make use of to draw down blessings upon himself, and to render his prayers acceptable, would be to live in a constant practice of his duty toward the gods, and toward men. Under this head he very much recommends a form of prayer the Lacedæmonians make use of, in which they petition the gods, "to give them all good things so long as they were virtuous." Under this head, likewise, he gives a very remarkable account of an oracle to the following purpose:

When the Athenians in the war with the Lacedæmonians received many defeats both by sea and land, they sent a message to the oracle of Jupiter Ammon, to ask the reason why they who

erected so many temples to the gods, and adorned and in truth." As the Lacedæmonians in their them with such costly offerings; why they who form of prayer implored the gods in general to had instituted so many festivals, and accompanied give them all good things so long as they were them with such pomps and ceremonies; in short, virtuous, we ask in particular "that our offenses why they who had slain so many hecatombs at may be forgiven, as we forgive those of others." their altars, should be less successful than the If we look into the second rule which Socrates Lacedæmoniaus, who fell so short of them in these has prescribed, namely, that we should apply ourparticulars? To this, says he, the oracle made selves to the knowledge of such things as are best the following reply: "I am better pleased with for us, this too is explained at large in the docthe prayers of the Lacedæmonians than with all trines of the Gospel, where we are taught in sev the oblations of the Greeks." As this prayer im- eral instances to regard those things as curses, plied and encouraged virtue in those who made it; which appear as blessings in the eye of the world: the philosopher proceeds to show how the most and, on the contrary, to esteem those things as vicious man might be devout, so far as victims blessings, which to the generality of mankind could make him, but that his offerings were re-appear as curses. Thus, in the form which is garded by the gods as bribes, and his petitions as prescribed to us, we only pray for that happiness blasphemies. He likewise quotes, on this occa-which is our chief good, and the great end of our sion, two verses out of Homer, in which the poet existence, when we petition the Supreme Being for says, "that the scent of the Trojan sacrifices was the coming of his kingdom, being solicitous for carried up to heaven by the winds; but that it no other temporal blessings but our daily sustenwas not acceptable to the gods, who were dis-ance. On the other side, we pray against nothing pleased with Priam and all his people." but sin, and against evil in general, leaving it with Omniscience to determine what is really such. If we look into the first of Socrates, his rules of prayer, in which he recommends the above-mentioned form of the ancient poet, we find that form not only comprehended, but very much improved in the petition, wherein we pray to the Supreme Being that his will may be done: which is of the same force with that form which our Savior used, when he prayed against the most painful and most ignominious of deaths, Nevertheless not my will, but thine be done."* This comprehensive petition is the most humble, as well as the most prudent, that can be offered up from the creature to his Creator, as it supposes the Supreme Being wills nothing but what is for our good, and that he knows better than ourselves what is so.-L.

The conclusion of this dialogue is very remarkable. Socrates having deterred Alcibiades from the prayers and sacrifice which he was going to offer, by setting forth the above-mentioned difficulties of performing that duty as he ought, adds these words: "We must therefore wait until such time as we may learn how we ought to behave ourselves toward the gods and toward men." But when will that time come?" says Alcibiades, "and who is it that will instruct us? for I would fain see this man, whoever he is." "It is one," says Socrates, "who takes care of you; but as Homer tells us, that Minerva removed the mist from Diomede's eyes that he might plainly discover both gods and men,† so the darkness that hangs upon your mind must be removed before you are able to discern what is good and what is evil." "Let him remove from my mind," says Alcibiades, "the darkness and what else he pleases, I am determined to refuse nothing he shall order me, whoever he is, so that I may become the better man by it." The remaining part of this dialogue is very obscure: there is something in it that would make us think Socrates hinted at himself, when he spoke of this divine teacher who was to come into the world, did not he own that he him self was in this respect as much at a loss, and in as great distress as the rest of mankind.

Some learned men look upon this conclusion as a prediction of our Savior, or at least that Socrates, like the high-priest. prophesied unknowingly, and pointed at that Divine Teacher who was to come into the world some ages after him. However that may be, we find that this great philosopher saw, by the light of reason, that it was suitable to the goodness of the Divine nature, to send a person into the world who should instruct mankind in the duties of religion, and, in particular, teach them how to pray.

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No. 208.] MONDAY, OCTOBER 29, 1711.
-Veniunt spectentur ut ipsæ.

OVID., Ars. Am., 1. i, 99.
To be themselves a spectacle they come.

I HAVE Several letters from people of good sense, who lament the depravity or poverty of taste the town is fallen into with relation to plays and public spectacles. A lady in particular observes, that there is such a levity in the minds of her own sex, that they seldom attend to anything but impertinences. It is indeed prodigious to observe how little notice is taken of the most exalted parts of the best tragedies in Shakspeare; nay, it is not only visible that sensuality has devoured all greatness of soul, but the under-passion (as I may so call it) of a noble spirit, Pity, seems to be a stranger to the generality of an audience. The minds of men are indeed very differently disposed; and the reliefs from care and attention are of one sort in a great spirit, and of another in an ordin

Whoever reads this abstract of Plato's discourse on prayer, will, I believe, naturally make this re-ary one. The man of a great heart and a serious flection, That the great founder of our religion, as well by his own example as in the form of prayer which he taught his disciples, did not only keep up to those rules which the light of nature had suggested to this great philosopher, but instructed his disciples in the whole extent of this duty, as well as of all others. He directed them to the proper object of adoration, and taught them, according to the third rule above-mentioned, to apply themselves to him in their closets, without show or ostentation, and to worship him in spirit

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complexion, is more pleased with instances of generosity and pity, than the light and ludicrous spirit can possibly be with the highest strains of mirth and laughter. It is therefore a melancholy prospect when we see a numerous assembly lost to all serious entertainments, and such incidents as should move one sort of concern, excite in them a quite contrary one. In the tragedy of Macbeth, the other night, when the lady who is conscious of the crime of murdering the king seems utterly astonished at the news, and makes an exclamation at it, instead of the indignation which is natural

* Luke xxvi, 42; Matt. xxii, 39.

to the occasion, that expression is received with a loud laugh. They were as merry when a criminal was stabbed. It is certainly an occasion of rejoicing when the wicked are seized in their designs; but I think it is not such a triumph as is exerted by laughter.

ence.

You may generally observe, that the appetites are sooner moved than the passions. A sly expression which alludes to bawdry, puts a whole row into a pleasing smirk; when a good sentence that describes an inward sentiment of the soul, is received with the greatest coldness and indifferA correspondent of mine, upon this subject, has divided the female part of the audience, and accounts for their prepossessions against this reasonable delight, in the following manner :The prude," says he, "as she acts always in contradiction, so she is gravely sullen at a comedy, and extravagantly gay at a tragedy. The coquette is so much taken up with throwing her eyes around the audience, and considering the effect of them, that she cannot be expected to observe the actors but as they are her rivals, and take off the observation of the men from herself. Beside these species of women, there are the examples, or the first of the mode. These are to be supposed too well acquainted with what the actor was going to say to be moved at it. After these one might mention a certain flippant set of females who are mimics, and are wonderfully diverted with the conduct of all the people around them, and are spectators only of the audience. But what is of all the most to be lamented, is the loss of a party whom it would be worth preserv ing in their right senses upon all occasions, and these are those whom we may indifferently call the innocent, or the unaffected. You may sometimes see one of these sensibly touched with a wellwrought incident; but then she is immediately so impertinently observed by the men, and frowned at by some insensibly superior of her own sex, that she is ashamed, and loses the enjoyment of the most laudable concern, pity. Thus the whole audience is afraid of letting fall a tear, and shun as a weakness the best and worthiest part of our

sense."

"SIR,

"As you are one that doth not only pretend to reform, but effect it among people of any sense, makes me (who am one of the greatest of your admirers) give you this trouble to desire you will settle the method of us females knowing when one another is in town; for they have now got a trick of never sending to their acquaintance when they first come; and if one does not visit them within the week which they stay at home, it is a mortal quarrel. Now, dear Mr. Spec., either command them to put it in the advertisement of your paper, which is generally read by our sex, or else order them to breathe their saucy footmen (who are good for nothing else) by sending them to tell all their acquaintance. If you think to print this, pray put it into a better style as to the spelling part. The town is now filling every day, and it cannot be deferred, because people take advantage of one another by this means, and break off acquaintance, and are rude. Therefore pray put this in your paper as soon as you can possibly, to prevent any future miscarriages of this nature. I am, as I ever shall be, dear Spec.,

"Your most obedient, humble servant,
"MARY MEANWELL."

"Pray settle what is to be a proper notification of a person's being in town, and how that differs according to people's quality."

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"I have been out of town, so did not meet with your paper, dated September the 28th, wherein you, to my heart's desire, exposed that cursed vice of ensnaring poor young girls, and drawing them from their friends. I assure you without flattery it has saved a 'prentice of mine from ruin; and in token of gratitude, as well as for the benefit of my family, I have put it in a frame and glass, and hung it behind my counter. I shall take care to make my young ones read it every morning, to fortify them against such pernicious rascals. I know not whether what you wrote was matter of fact, or your own invention; but this I will take my oath on, the first part is so exactly like what happened to my 'prentice, that had I read your paper then, I should have taken your method to have secured a villain. Go on and prosper.

66

"Your most obliged humble servant."

MR. SPECTATOR,

66

Without raillery, I desire you to insert this word for word in your next, as you value a lover's prayers. You see it is a hue and cry after a stray heart (with the marks and blemishes underwritten); which whoever shall bring to you shall receive satisfaction. Let me beg of you not to fail, as you remember the passion you had for her to whom you lately ended a paper:

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No. 209.] TUESDAY, OCTOBER 30, 1711. Of earthly goods, the best is a good wife;

A bad, the bitterest curse of human life.-SIMONIDES. THERE are no authors I am more pleased with than those who show human nature in a variety of views, and describe the several ages of the world in their different manners. A reader cannot be more rationally entertained, than by comparing the virtues and vices of his own times with those which prevailed in the times of his forefathers; and drawing a parallel in his mind between his own private character, and that o. other persons, whether of his own age, or of the ages that went before him. The contemplation of mankind under these changeable colors is apt to shame us out of any particular vice, or animate us to any particular virtue; to make us pleased or displeased with ourselves in the most proper points, to clear our minds of prejudice and prepossession, and to rectify that narrowness of temper which inclines us to think amiss of those who differ from us.

If we look into the manners of the most remote

ages of the world, we discover human nature in her simplicity; and the more we come downward toward our own times, may observe her hiding herself in artifices and refinements, polished insensibly out of her original plainness, and at length entirely lost under form and ceremony, and (what we call) good-breeding. Read the accounts of men and women as they are given us by the most ancient writers, both sacred and profane, and you would think you were reading the history of another species.

Among the writers of antiquity, there are none who instruct us more openly in the manners of

their respective times in which they lived, than but on a sudden her looks and her words are those who have employed themselves in satire, changed, she is nothing but fury and outrage, under what dress soever it may appear: as there noise and hurricane. are no other authors whose province it is to enter so directly into the ways of men, and set their miscarriages in so strong a light.

Simonides, a poet famous in his generation, is, I think, author of the oldest satire that is now extant; and, as some say, of the first that was ever written. This poet, who flourished about four hundred years after the siege of Troy, shows by his way of writing, the simplicity, or rather coarseness, of the age in which he lived. I have taken notice, in my hundred-and-sixty-first speculation, that the rule of observing what the French call the Bienséance in an allusion, has been found out of latter years; and that the ancients, provided there was a likeness in their similitudes, did not much trouble themselves about the decency of the comparison. The satires or iambics of Simonides, with which I shall entertain my readers in the present paper, are a remarkable instance of what 1 formerly advanced. The subject of this satire is woman. He describes the sex in their several characters, which he derives to them from a fanciful supposition raised upon the doctrine of preexistence. He tells us that the gods formed the souls of women out of those seeds and principles which compose several kinds of animals and elements; and that their good or bad dispositions arise in them according as such and such seeds and principles predominate in their constitutions, I have translated the author very faithfully, and if not word for word (which our language would not bear), at least so as to comprehend every one of his sentiments, without adding anything of my own. I have already apologized for this author's want of delicacy, and must further premise, that the following satire affects only some of the lower part of the sex, and not those who have been refined by a polite education, which was not so common in the age of this poet.

"In the beginning God made the souls of woman-kind out of different materials, and in a separate state from their bodies.

"The souls of one kind of women were formed out of those ingredients which compose a swine. A woman of this make is a slut in her house and a glutton at her table. She is uncleanly in her person, a slattern in her dress, and her family is no better than a dunghill.

"A second sort of female soul was formed out of the same materials that enter into the composition of a fox. Such a one is what we call a notable discerning woman, who has an insight into everything whether it be good or bad. In this species of females there are some virtuous and some vicious.

"A third kind of women were made up of canine particles. These are what we commonly call scolds, who imitate the animals out of which they were taken, that are always busy and barking, that snarl at every one who comes in their way, and live in perpetual clamor.

"The fourth kind of women were made out of the earth. These are your sluggards, who pass away their time in indolence and ignorance, hover over the fire a whole winter, and apply themselves with alacrity to no kind of business but eating.

"The fifth species of females were made out of the sea. These are women of variable, uneven tempers, sometimes all storm and tempest, sometimes all calm and sunshine. The stranger who sees one of these in her smiles and smoothness, would cry her up for a miracle of good-humor

"The sixth species were made up of the ingre dients which compose an ass, or a beast of bur den. These are naturally exceeding slothful, but, upon the husband's exerting his authority, will live upon hard fare, and do everything to please him. They are however far from being averse to venereal pleasures, and seldom refuse a male companion.

"The cat furnished materials for a seventh species of women, who are of a melancholy, froward, inamiable nature, and so repugnant to the offers of love that they fly in the face of their husband when he approaches them with conjugal endearments. This species of women are likewise sub-, ject to little thefts, cheats, and pilferings.

"The mare with a flowing mane, which was never broke to any servile toil and labor, composed an eighth species of women. These are they who have little regard for their husbands, who pass away their time in dressing, bathing, and perfuming; who throw their hair into the nicest curls, and trick it up with the fairest flowers and garlands. A woman of this species is a very pretty thing for a stranger to look upon, but very detrimental to the owner, unless it be a king or a prince who takes a fancy to such a toy.

"The ninth species of females were taken out of the ape. These are such as are both ugly and ill-natured, who have nothing beautiful in themselves, and endeavor to detract from or ridiculo everything which appears so in others.

The tenth and last species of women were made out of the bee; and happy is the man who gets such a one for his wife. She is altogether faultless and unblamable. Her family flourishes and improves by her good management. She loves her husband, and is beloved by him. She brings him a race of beautiful and virtuous children. She distinguishes herself among her sex. She is surrounded with graces. She never sits among the loose tribe of women, nor passes away her time with them in wanton discourses. She is full of virtue and prudence, and is the best wife that Jupiter can bestow on man."

I shall conclude these iambics with the motto of this paper, which is a fragment of the same author, "A man cannot possess anything that is better than a good woman, nor anything that is worse than a bad one."

As the poet has shown a great penetration in this diversity of female characters, he has avoided the fault which Juvenal and Monsieur Boileau are guilty of, the former in his sixth, and the other in his last satire, where they have endeavored to expose the sex in general, without doing justice to the valuable part of it. Such leveling satires are of no use to the world; and for this reason I have often wondered how the French author above-mentioned, who was a man of exquisite judgment, and a lover of virtue, could think human nature a proper subject for satire in another of his celebrated pieces, which is called the Satire upon Man. What vice or frailty can a discourse correct, which censures the whole species alike, and endeavors to show by some superficial strokes of wit, that brutes are the more excellent creatures of the two? A satire should expose nothing but what is corrigible, and make a due discrimination between those who are and those who are not, the proper objects of it.-L.

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