minent among men? There is not any circum-action. I have in the next place shown from stance in Cæsar's character which gives me a many considerations, first, that fame is a thing greater idea of him, than a saying which Cicero tells us he frequently made use of in private conversation, "That he was satisfied with his share of life and fame." "Se satis vel ad naturam, vel ad gloriam vixisse." Many indeed have given over their pursuits after fame, but that has proceeded either from the disappointments they have met in it, or from their experience of the little pleasure which attends it, or from the better informations or natural coldness of old age; but seldom from a full satisfaction and acquiescence in their present enjoyments of it. Nor is fame only unsatisfying in itself, but the desire of it lays us open to many accidental troubles which those are free from, who have no such a tender regard for it. How often is the ambitious man cast down and disappointed, if he receives no praise where he expected it? Nay, how often is he mortified with the very praises he receives, if they do not rise so high as he thinks they ought; which they seldom do unless increased by flattery, since few men have so good an opinion of us as we have of ourselves? But if the ambitious man can be so much grieved even with praise itself, how will he be able to bear up under scandal and defamation? for the same temper of mind which makes him desire fame makes him hate reproach. If he can be transported with the extraordinary extraordinary praises of men, he will be as much dejected by t their censures. How little, therefore, is the happiness of an ambitious man, who gives every one a dominion over it, who thus subjects himself to the good or ill speeches of others, and puts it in the power of every malicious tongue to throw him into a fit of melancholy, and destroy his natural rest and repose of mind; especially when we consider that the world is more apt to censure than applaud, and himself fuller of imperfections than virtues. We may further observe, that such a man will be more grieved for the loss of fame, than he could have been pleased with the enjoyment of it. For though the presence of this imaginary good cannot make us happy, the absence of it may make us miserable because in the enjoyment of an object we only find that share of pleasure which it is capable of giving us, but in the loss of it we do not proportion our grief to the real value it bears, but to the value our fancies and imaginations set upon it. So inconsiderable is the satisfaction that fame brings along with it, and so great the disquietudes to which it makes us liable. The desire of it stirs up very uneasy motions in the mind, and is rather inflamed than satisfied by the presence of the thing desired. The enjoyment of it brings but very little pleasure, though the loss or want of it be very sensible and afflicting; and even this little happiness is so very precarious, that it wholly depends upon the will of others. We are not only tortured by the reproaches which are offered us, but are disappointed by the silence of men when it is unexpected; and humbled even by their praises.-C. No. 257.] SATURDAY, DECEMBER 25, 1711 No slumber seals the eye of Providence, Present to every action we commence. - HOBEUS. THAT I might not lose myself upon a subject of 60 great extent as that of fame, I have treated it in a particular order and method. I have first of all considered the reasons why Providence may have implant d in our mind such a principle of difficult to be obtained, and easily to be lost; secondly, that it brings the ambitious man very little happiness, but subjects him to much uneasiness and dissatisfaction. I shall in the last place show, that it hinders us from obtaining an end which we have abilities to acquire, and which is accompanied by fullness of satisfaction. I need not tell my reader, that I mean by this end, that happiness which is reserved for us in another world, which every one has abilities to procure, and which will bring along with it "fullness of joy, and pleasures for evermore." How the pursuit after fame may hinder us in the attainment of this great end, I shall leave the reader to collect from the three following considerations: First, Because the strong desire of fame breeds several vicious habits in the mind. Secondly, Because many of those actions, which are apt to procure fame, are not in their nature conducive to this our ultimate happiness. Thirdly, Because if we should allow the same actions to be the proper instruments, both of acquiring fame, and of procuring this happiness, they would nevertheless fail in the attainment of this last end, if they procceded from a desire of the first. These three propositions are self-evident to those who are versed in speculations of morality. For which reason I shall notenlarge upon them, but proceed to a point of the same nature, which may open to us a more uncommon field of speculation. From what has been already observed, I think we may make a natural conclusion, that it is the greatest folly to seek the praise or approbation of any being, except the Supreme, and that for these two reasons; because no other being can make a right judgment of us, and esteem us according to our merits; and because we can procure no considerable benefit or advantage from the esteem and approbation of any other being. In the first place, no other being can make a right judgment of us, and esteem us acccording to our merits. Created beings see nothing but our outside, and can therefore only frame a judgment of us from our exterior actions and behavior; but how unfit these are to give us a right notion of each other's perfections, may appear from several considerations. There are many virtues, which in their own nature are incapable of any outward representation; many silent perfections in the soul of a good man, which are great ornaments to human nature, but not able to discover themselves to the knowledge of others; they are transacted in private without noise or show, and are only visible to the great Searcher of hearts. What actions can express the entire purity of thought which refines and sanctifies a virtuous man? That secret rest and contentedness of mind, which gives him a perfect enjoyment of his present condition? That inward pleasure and complacency which he feels in doing good? That delight and satisfaction which he takes in the prosperity and happiness of another? These and the like virtues are the hidden beauties of a soul, the secret graces which cannot be discovered by a mortal eye, but make the soul lovely and precious in his sight from whom no secrets are concealed. Again, there are many virtues which want an opportunity of exerting and showing themselves in actions. Every virtue requires time and place, a proper object and a fit conjecture of circumstances, for the due exercise of it. A state of poverty obscures all the virtues of liberality and munificence. The patience and fortitude of a martyr and confessor lie concealed in the flourishing times of Christianity. Some virtues are only seen in affliction, and some in prosperity; some in a private, and others in a public capacity. But the great Sovereign of the world beholds every perfection in its obscurity, and not only sees what we do, but what we would do. He views our behavior in every concurrence of affairs, and sees us engaged in all the possibilities of action. He discovers the martyr and confessor without the trial of flames and tortures, and will hereafter entitle many to the reward of actions which they had never the opportunity of performing. Another reason why men cannot form a right judgment of us is, because the same actions may be aimed at different ends, and arise from quite contrary principles. Actions are of so mixed a nature, and so full of circumstances, that Let the ambitious man, therefore, turn all his desire of fame this way; and, that he may propose to himself a fame worthy of his ambition, let him consider, that if he employs his abilities to the best advantage, the time will come when the Supreme Governor of the world, the great Judge of mankind, who sees every degree of perfection in others, and possible perfection in himself, shall proclaim his worth before men and angels, and pronounce to him in the presence of the whole creation that best and most significant of applause, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant, enter thou into thy Master's joy."-С. as men pry into them more or less, or observe No. 258.] WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 26, 1711. some parts more than others, they take different hints, and put contrary interpretations on them; so that the same actions may represent a man as hypocritical and designing to one, which make him appear a saint or hero to another. He, there fore, who looks upon the soul through its outward actions, often sees it through a deceitful medium, which is apt to discolor and pervert the object; so that, on this account also, he is the only proper judge of our perfections, who does not guess at the sincerity of our intentions from the goodness of our actions but weighs the goodness of our actions by the sincerity of our intentions. But further, it is impossible for outward actions to represent the perfections of the soul, because they can never show the strength of those principles from whence they proceed. They are not adequate expressions of our virtues, and can only Divide et impera. Divide and rule. PLEASURE and recreation of one kind or other are absolutely necessary to relieve our minds and bodies from too constant attention and labor: where therefore public diversions are tolerated, it behooves persons of distinction, with their power and example, to preside over them in such a manner as to check anything that tends to the corruption of manners, or which is too mean or trivial for the entertainment of reasonable creatures. As to the diversions of this kind in this town, we owe them to the arts of poetry and music. My own private opinion, with relation to such recreations, I have heretofore given with all the frankness imaginable; what concerns those arts at present the reader shall have from my correspond show us what habits are in the soul, without dis-ents. The first of the letters with which I acquit covering the degree and perfection of such habits. They are at best but weak resemblances of our intentions, faint and imperfect, that may acquaint us with the general design, but can never express the beauty and life of the original. But the great Judge of all the earth knows every different state and degree of human improvement, from those weak stirrings and tendencies of the will which have not yet forined themselves into regular purposes and designs, to the last entire finishing and consummation of a good habit. He beholds the first imperfect rudiments of a virtue in the soul, and keeps a watchful eye over it in all its progress, until it has received every grace it is capable of, and appears in its full beauty and per fection. Thus we see, that none but the Supreme Being can esteem us according to our proper merits, since all others must judge of us from our outward actions; which can never give them a just estimate of us, since there are many perfections of a man which are not capable of appearing in actions; many which. allowing no natural incapacity of showing themselves, want an opportunity of doing it; should they all meet with an opportunity of appearing by actions, yet those actions maybe misinterpreted, and applied to wrong principles: or, though they plainly discovered the principles from whence they proceeded, they could never show the degree, strength, and perfection of those principles. And as the Supreme Being is the only proper myself for this day, is written by one who proposes to improve our entertainments of dramatic poetry, and the other comes from three persons, who, as soon as named, will be thought capable of advancing the present state of music. "MR. SPECTATOR, "I am considerably obliged to you for your speedy publication of my last in yours of the 18th instant, and am in no small hopes of being settled in the post of Comptroller of the Cries. Of all the objections I have hearkened after in public coffee-houses, there is but one that seems to carry any weight with it, viz: That such a post would come too near the nature of a monopoly. Now, Sir, because I would have all sorts of people made easy, and being willing to have more strings than one to my bow; in case that a comptroller should fail me, I have since formed another project, which being grounded on the dividing of a present monopoly, I hope will give the public an equivalent to their full content. You know, Sir, it is allowed, that the business of the stage is, as the Latin has it, jucunda et idonea dicere vitæ. Now, there being but one dramatic theater licensed for the delight and profit of this extensive metropolis, I do humbly propose, for the convenience of such of its inhabitants as are too distant from Coventgarden, that another theater of ease may be erected in some spacious part of the city; and that the direction thereof may be made a franchise in fee judge of our perfections, so he is the only fit re- to me and my heirs forever. And that the town upon daring his government; and had he not entertainment as the Italian music grafted upon been bolted out of his trap-doors, his garrison English poetry. For this end, Mr. Dieupart and might have held out forever; he having by long Mr. Haym, according to their several opportunipains and perseverance arrived at the art of ma- ties, promoted the introduction of Arsinoe, and did. king his army fight without pay or provisions. I it to the best advantage so great a novelty would. must confess it is with a melancholy amazement I see so wonderful a genius laid aside, and the ticulars of the just complaints we all of us have warder of them. This is a consideration that comes home to our interest, as the other adapts itself to our ambition. And what could the most aspiring, or the most selfish man desire more, were he to form the notion of a Being to whom he would recommend himself, than such a knowledge as can discover the least appearance of perfection in him, and such a goodness as will proportion a reward to it? may have no jealousy of my ever coming into a union with the set of actors now in being, I do further propose to constitute for my deputy my near kinsman and adventurer, Kit Crotchet, whose long experience and improvements in those affairs need no recommendation. It was obvious to every spectator, what a quite different foot the stage was * Christopher Rich. late slaves of the stage now become its masters; dunces that will be sure to suppress all theatrical entertainments and activities that they are not - able themselves to shine in! " Every man that goes to a play is not obliged allow. It is not proper to trouble you with par to make; but so it is, that without regard to our obliging pains, we are all equally set aside in the present opera. Our application, therefore, to you is only to insert the letter in vour paper, that the town may know we have all three joined together to have either wit or understanding; and I insist to make entertainments of music for the future upon it, that all who go there should see some- at Mr. Clayton's house in York-buildings. What thing which may improve them in a way of which we promise ourselves, is to make a subscription they are capable. In short, Sir, I would have of two guineas, for eight times; and that the en something done, as well as said, on the stage. A tertainment, with the names of the authors of the man may have an active body, though he has not a quick conception; for the imitation therefore of such as are, as I may so speak, corporeal wits, or nimble fellows, I would fain ask any of the present mismanagers, why should not rope-dancers, vaulters, tumblers, ladder-walkers, and posturemasters appear again on our stage? After such a poetry, may be printed, to be sold in the house, with an account of the several authors of the vocal as well as the instrumental music for each night; the money to be paid at the receipt of the tickets, at Mr. Charles Lillie's. It will, we hope, Sir, be easily allowed, that we are capable of undertaking to exhibit, by our joint force and dif representation, a five-bar gate would be leaped ferent qualifications, all that can be done in muwith a better grace next time any of the audience sic; but lest you should think so dry a thing as went a hunting. Sir, these things cry aloud for an account of our proposal should be a matter un reformation, and fall properly under the province of Spectator-general; but how indeed should it be otherwise, while fellows (that for twenty years together were never paid but as their master was in the humor) now presume to pay others more than ever they had in their lives; and in contempt of the practice of persons of condition, have the insolence to owe no tradesman a farthing at the end of the week. Sir, all I propose is the public good; for no one can imagine I shall ever get a private shilling by it; therefore I hope you will recommend this matter in one of your this week's papers, and desire, when my house opens, you will accept the liberty of it for the trouble you have received from, "Sir, your humble Servant, "RALPH CROTCHET." worthy of your paper, which generally contains. something so of public use, give ive us leave to say, that favoring our design is no less than reviving an art which runs to ruin by the utmost barbarism under an affectation of knowledge. We aim at establishing some settled notion of what is music, at recovering from neglect and want very many families who depend upon it, at making all foreigners who pretend to succeed in England to learn the language of it as we ourselves have done, and not to be so insolent as to expect a whole nation, a refined and learned nation, should submit to learn theirs. In a word, Mr. Spectator, with all deference and humility, we hope to behave ourselves in this undertaking in such a manner, that all Englishmen, who have any skill in music may be furthered in it for their profit or diversion by what new things we shall produce; "P. S. I have assurances that the trunk-maker never pretending to surpass others, or asserting will declare for us." "MR. SPECTATOR, "We whose names are subscribed, think you the properest person to signify what we have to offer the town in behalf of ourselves and the art which we profess, music. We conceive hopes of your favor from the speculations on the mistakes which the town run into with regard to their pleasure of this kind; and believing your method of judging is, that you consider music only valuable, as it is agreeable to, and heightens the purpose of poetry, we consent that it is not only the that anything which is a science is not attainable by all men of all nations who have proper genius for it. We say, Sir, what we hope for, it is not expected will arrive to us by contemning others, but through the utmost diligence recommending ourselves. We are, Sir, true way of relishing that pleasure, but also that No. 259.] THURSDAY, DECEMBER 27, 1711. without it a composure of music is the same thing as a poem, where all the rules of poetical numbers are observed, though the words have no sense or meaning; to say it shorter, mere musical sounds are in our art no other than nonsense verses are in poetry. Music, therefore, is to aggravate what is intended by poetry; it must always have some passion or sentiment to express, or else violins, voices, or any other organs of sound, afford an entertainment very little above the rattles of children. It was from this opinion of the matter, that when Mr. Clayton had finished his studies in Italy, and brought over the opera ef Arsinoe, that Mr. Haym and Mr. Dieupart, who had the honor to be well known and received among the nobility and gentry, were zealously inclined to assist by their solicitations, in introducing so elegant an Quod decet honestum est, et quod honestum est decet. What is becoming is honorable, and what is honorable is becoming. THERE are some things which cannot come un der certain rules, but which one would think could not need them. Of this kind are outward civilities and salutations. These, one would imagine, might be regulated by every man's common sense, without the help of an instructor: but that which we call common sense suffers under that word: for it sometimes implies no more than that faculty which is common to all men, but sometimes signifies right reason, and what all men should consent to. In this latter acceptation of the phrase, it is no great vender people err so much against it, since it is not every one who is feared he should not be able to go through those possessed of it, and there are fewer, who against required toward one another: as to this point he common rules and fashions, dare obey its dictates. As to salutations, which I was about to talk of, I| observe, as I stroll about town, there are great enormities committed with regard to this particular. You shall sometimes see a man begin the offer of a salutation, and observe a forbidding air, or escaping eye, in the person he is going to salute, and stop short in the poll of his neck. This in the person who believed he could do it with a good grace, and was refused the opportunity, is justly resented with coldness the whole ensuing season. Your great beauties, people in much favor, or by any means or for any purpose overflattered, are apt to practice this, which one may call the preventing aspect, and throw their attention another way, lest they should confer a bow or a courtesy upon a person who might not appear to deserve that dignity. Others you shall find so obsequious, and so very courteous, as there is no escaping their favors of this kind. Of this sort may be a man who is in the fifth or sixth degree of favor with a minister. This good creature is resolved to show the world, that great honors cannot at all change his manners; he is the same civil person he ever was; he will venture his neck to bow out of a coach in full speed, at once to show he is full of business, and yet not so taken up as to forget his old friend. With a man who is not so well formed for courtship and elegant behavior, such a gentleman as this seldom finds his account in the return of his compliments; but he will still go on, for he is in his own way, and must not omit; let the neglect fall on your side, or where it will, his business is still to be well-bred to the end. I think I have read, in one of our English comedies, a description of a fellow that affected knowing everybody, and for want of judgment in time and place, would bow and smile in the face of a judge sitting in the court, would sit in an opposite gallery and smile in the minister's face as he came up into the pulpit, and nod as if he alluded to some familiarities between them in another place. But now I happen to speak of salutation at church, I must take notice that several of my correspondents have importuned me to consider that subject, and settle the point of decorum in that particular. I do not pretend to be the best courtier in the world, but I often on public occasions thought it a very great absurdity in the company (during the royal presence) to exchange salutations from all parts of the room, when certainly common sense should suggest, that all regards at that time should be engaged, and cannot be diverted to any other object, without disrespect to the sovereign. But as to the complaint of my correspondents, it is not to be imagined what offense some of them take at the custom of saluting in places of worship. I have a very angry letter from a lady, who tells me of one of her acquaintance, who, out of mere pride and a pretense to be rude, takes upon her to return no civilities done to her in the time of divine service, and is the most religious woman, for no other reason than to appear a woman of the best quality in the church. This absurd custom had better be abolished than retained; if it were but to prevent evils of no higher a nature than this is; but I am informed of objections much more considerable. A dissenter of rank and distinction was lately prevailed upon by a friend of his to come to one of the greatest congregations of the church of England about town. After the service was over, he declared he was very well satisfied with the little ceremony which was used toward God Almighty; but at the same time he was in a state of despair, and feared he was not well-bred enough to be a convert. There have been many scandals of this kind given to our Protestant dissenters, from the outward pomp and respect we take to ourselves in our religious assemblies. A Quaker who came one day into a church, fixed his eye on an old lady with a carpet larger than that from the pulpit before her, expecting when she would hold forth. An anabaptist who designs to come over himself, and all his family, within a few months, is sensible they want breeding enough for our congregations, and has sent his two eldest daughters to learn to darce, that they may not misbehave themselves in church. It is worth considering whether, in regard to awkward people with scrupulous consciences, a good Christian of the best air in the world ought not rather to deny herself the opportunity of showing so many graces, than keep a bashiul proselyte without the pale of the church.-T. No. 260.] FRIDAY, DECEMBER 28, 1711. Singula de nobis anni prædantur euntes. HOR. 3 Ep. ii, 55. Years following years steal something every day, At last they steal us from ourselves away.-POPE. "MR. SPECTATOR, "I AM now in the sixty-fifth year of my age, and having been the greater part of my days a man of pleasure, the decay of my faculties is a stagnation of my life. But how is it, Sir, that my appetites are increased upon me with the loss of power to gratify them? I write this like a criminal, to warn people to enter upon what reformation they please to make in themselves in their youth, and not expect they shall be capable of it from a fond opinion some have often in their mouths, that if we do not leave our desires, they will leave us. It is far otherwise; I am now as vain in my dress, and as flippant, if I see a pretty woman, as when in my youth I stood upon a bench in the pit to survey the whole circle of beauties. The folly is so extravagant with me, and I went on with so little check of my desires or resignation of them, that I can assure you, I very often, merely to entertain my own thoughts, sit with my spectacles on, writing love-letters to the beauties that have been long since in their graves. This is to warm my heart with the faint memory of delights which were once agreeable to me: but how much happier would my life have been now, if I could have looked back on any worthy action done for my country? if I had laid out that which I profused in luxury and wantonness, in acts of generosity or charity? I have lived a bachelor to this day; and instead of a numerous offspring, with which in the regular ways of life I might possibly have delighted myself, I have only to amuse myself with the repetition of old stories and intrigues which no one will believe I ever was concerned in. I do not know whether you have ever treated of it or not; but you cannot fall on a better subject, than that of the art of growing old. In such a lecture you must propose, that no one set his heart upon what is transient; the beauty grows wrinkled while we are yet gazing at her. The witty man sinks into a humorist imperceptibly, for want of reflecting that all things around him are in a flux, and continually changing; thus he is in the space of ten or fifteen years surrounded by a new set of people, whose manners are as natural to them as his delights, method of thinking and mode of living, were formerly to him and his friends. But the mischief is, he looks upon the same kind of error which he himself was guilty of with an eye of scorn, and with that sort of illwill which men entertain against each other for different opinions. Thus a crazy constitution and an uneasy mind is fretted with vexatious passions for young men's doing foolishly what it is folly to do at all. Dear Sir, this is my present state of mind; I hate those I should laugh at, and envy those I contemn. The time of youth and vigorous manhood, passed the way in which I have dispos ed of it, is attended with these consequences; but to those who live and pass away life as they ought, all parts of it are equally pleasant; only the memory of good and worthy actions is a feast which must give a quicker relish to the soul than ever it could possibly taste in the highest enjoyments or jollities of youth. As for me, if I sit down in my great chair and begin to ponder, the vagaries of a child are not more ridiculous than the circumstances which are heaped up in my memory; fine gowns, country dances, ends of tunes, interrupted conversations, and midnight quarrels, are what must necessarily compose my soliloquy. I beg of you to print this, that some ladies of my acquaintance, and my years, may be persuaded to wear warm nightcaps this cold season; and that my old friend Jack Tawdry may buy him a cane, and not creep with the air of a strut. I must add to all this, that if it were not for one pleasure, which I thought a very mean one until of very late years, I should have no one great satisfaction left; but if I live to the tenth of March 1714, and all my securities are good, I shall be worth fifty thousand pounds. "MR. SPECTATOR, "I am, Sir, "Your most humble servant. "JACK AFTERDAY." "You will infinitely oblige a distressed lover, if you will insert in your very next paper the following letter to my mistress. You must know, I am not a person apt to despair, but she has got an add humor of stopping short unaccountably, and as she herself told a confidant of hers, she has cold fits. These fits shall last her a month or six weeks together; and as she falls into them without provocation, so it is to be hoped she will return from them without the merit of new services. But life and love will not admit of such intervals, there fore pray let her be admonished as follows: "MADAM, "I love you, and honor you; therefore pray do not tell me of waiting until decencies, until forms, until humors, are consulted and gratified. If you have that happy constitution as to be indolent for ten weeks together, you should consider that all that while I burn in impatience and fevers; but still you say it will be time enough, though I and you too grow older while we are yet talking. Which do you think the most reasonable, that you should alter a state of indifference for happiness, and that to oblige me: or I live in torment, and that to lay no manner of obligation on you? While l indulge your insensibility I am doing nothing; if you favor my passion, you are bestowing bright desires, gay hopes, generous cares, noble re solutions and transporting raptures upon, "Madam, "Your most devoted, humble Servant." "MR. SPECTATOR, "Here is a gentlewoman lodges in the same house with ne, that I never did any injury to in No. 261.] SATURDAY, DECEMBER 29, 1711. Wedlock's an ill men eagerly embrace. My father, whom I mentioned in my first speculation, and whom I must always name with honor and gratitude, has very frequently talked to me upon the subject of marriage. I was in my younger years engaged partly by his advice and partly by my own inclinations, in the courtship of a person who had a great deal of beauty, and did not at my first approaches seem to have any aversion to me; but as my natural taciturnity hindered me from showing myself the best advantage, she by degrees began to look upon me as a very silly fellow, and being to being resolved to regard merit more than anything else in the persons who made their applications lications to her, she married a captain of dragoons s who happened to be beating up for recruits in those parts. This unlucky accident has given me an aversion to pretty fellows ever since, and discouraged me from trying my fortune with the fair sex. The observations which I made at this conjuncture, and the repeated advices which I received at that time from the good old man above-mentioned, have produced the following essay upon love and marriage. The pleasantest part of a man's life is generally that which passes in courtship, provided his passion be sincere, and the party beloved kind with discretion. Love, desire, hope, all the pleasing emotions of the soul rise in the pursuit. It is easier for an artful man who is not in love, to persuade his mistress he has a passion for her, and to succeed in his pursuits, than for one who loves with the greatest violence. True love has ten thousand griefs, impatiencies, and resentments, that render a man unamiable in the eyes of the person whose affection he solicits; beside that it sinks his figure, gives him fears, apprehensions, and poorness of spirit, and often makes him appear ridiculous where he has a mind to reconainend himself. Those marriages generally abound most with love and constancy, that are preceded by a long courtship. The passion should strike root, and gather strength before marriage be grafted on it. A long course of hopes and expectations fixes the idea in our minds, and habituates us to a fondness of the person beloved. There is nothing of so great importance to us, as the good qualities of one to whom we join ourselves for life; they do not make our present state agreeable, but often determine our happiness to all eternity. Where the choice is left to friends, the chief point under consideration is an estate; where the parties choose for themselves, their thoughts turn most upon the person. They have both their reasons. The first would procure many conveniences and pleasures of life to the party whose 1 |