'that fine House and Seat came into the next hands, it ⚫ would revive his Memory, as a Person who knew how to enjoy them, from Obfervation of the Rufticity and Ignorance of his Succeffor. Certain it is that a Man may, if he will, let his Heart clofe to the having no regard to any thing but his dear felf, even with exclu'fion of his very Children. I recommend this Subject 'to your Confideration, and am, SIR, Your most humble Servant, T. P Mr. SPECTATOR, London, Sept. 26, 1712. AM just come from Tunbridge, and have fince my return read Mrs. Matilda Mohair's Letter to you: • She pretends to make a mighty Story about the Diverfion of Swinging in that Place. What was done, was only among Relations; and no Man fwung any Woman who was not fecond Coufin at fartheft. She is pleased to say, care was taken that the Galants tied the Ladies Legs 'before they were wafted into the Air. Since she is fo fpiteful, I'll tell you the plain Truth; There was no fuch Nicety obferved, fince we were all, as I just now told you, near Relations; but Mrs. Mohair herself has been fwung there, and the invents all this Malice, be• cause it was observed the has crooked Legs, of which I was an Eye-Witness. Mr. SPECTATOR, Your bumble Servant, Richard Shoeftring. Tunbridge, Sept. 26, 1712. W E have juft now read your Paper, containing Mrs. Mohair's Letter. It is an Invention of her own from one end to the other; and I defire you would print the inclofed Letter by itself, and fhorten it so as to come within the compafs of your Half Sheet. She is the most malicious Minx in the World, for all fhe looks fo innocent. Don't leave out that Part about her being in love with her Father's Butler, which makes her fhun Men; for that is the trueft of it all. Your bumble Servant, P. S. She has crooked Legs. Sarah Trice. Mr. • Courfe of Life, they fupported the Dignity of human. Nature, which then fuffers the greatest Violence wher the Order of things is inverted; and in nothing is it more remarkably vilify'd and ridiculous, than when Feeblenefs prepofterously attempts to adorn itself with that outward Pomp and Luftre, which ferve only to fet off the Bloom of Youth with better Advantage. I was infenfibly carried into Reflexions of this natute, by juft now meeting Paulino (who is in his Climacteric) be⚫ deck'd with the utmoft Splendor of Drefs and Equipage, ⚫ and giving an unbounded Loose to all manner of Pleafure, whilft his only Son is debarr'd all innocent Diverfion, and may be feen frequently folacing himself in the • Mall with no other Attendance than one antiquated ⚫ Servant of his Father's for a Companion and Director. IT is a monftrous want of Reflexion, that a Man cannot confider, that when he cannot refign the Pleasures of Life in his decay of Appetite and Inclination to them, his Son muft have a much uneafier Task to refift the Impetuofity of Growing Defires. The skill therefore should, methinks, be to let à Son want no lawful Diverfion, in proportion to his future Fortune, and the Figure he is to make in the World. The firft Step towards Virtue that I ⚫ have obferved in young Men of Condition that have run into Exceffes, has been that they had a regard to their Quality and Reputation in the Management of their ⚫ Vices. Narrow nefs in their Circumftances has made many Youths, to fupply themselves as Debauchees, com· mence Cheats and Rafcals. The Father who allows his Son to his utmoft Ability avoids this latter Evil, which as to the World is much greater than the former. But the contrary Practice has prevail'd fo much among fome Men, that I have known them deny them what was ⚫ merely neceffary for Education fuitable to their Quality. • Poor young Antonio is a lamentable Inftance of ill Con a duct in this kind. The young Man did not want natural • Talents; but the Father of him was a Coxcomb, who af'fected being a fine Gentleman fo unmercifully, that he ⚫ could not endure in his fight, or the frequent mention of one, who was his Son, growing into Manhood, and thrusting him out of the gay World. I have often thought the Father took a fecret Pleasure in reflecting that when that 6 that fine House and Seat came into the next hands, it ' would revive his Memory, as a Person who knew how to enjoy them, from Obfervation of the Rufticity and Ignorance of his Succeffor. Certain it is that a Man may, if he will, let his Heart clofe to the having no regard to any thing but his dear felf, even with exclufion of his very Children. I recommend this Subject Confideration, and am, to your SIR, Your most humble Servant, T. P Mr. SPECTATOR, I London, Sept. 26, 1712. A M just come from Tunbridge, and have fince my return read Mrs. Matilda Mohair's Letter to you: ⚫ She pretends to make a mighty Story about the Diverfion of Swinging in that Place. What was done, was only among Relations; and no Man fwung any Woman who was not fecond Cousin at fartheft. She is pleased to say, care was taken that the Galants tied the Ladies Legs 'before they were wafted into the Air. Since the is fo fpiteful, I'll tell you the plain Truth; There was no fuch Nicety obferved, fince we were all, as I just now told you, near Relations; but Mrs. Mohair herself has ⚫ been fwung there, and the invents all this Malice, be⚫ cause it was observed she has crooked Legs, of which ⚫ I was an Eye-Witnefs. Your humble Servant, 6 Mr. SPECTATOR, WE Richard Shoeftring. Tunbridge, Sept. 26, 1712. E have juft now read your Paper, containing Mrs. Mohair's Letter. It is an Invention of her own from one end to the other; and I defire you would print the inclofed Letter by itself, and fhorten it so as to come within the compafs of your Half Sheet. She • is the most malicious Minx in the World, for all she looks fo innocent. Don't leave out that Part about her being in love with her Father's Butler, which makes her fhun Men; for that is the trueft of it all. • Course of Life, they fupported the Dignity of human Nature, which then fuffers the greateft Violence wher the Order of things is inverted; and in nothing is it more remarkably vilify'd and ridiculous, than when Feeblenefs prepofterously attempts to adorn itself with that outward Pomp and Luftre, which ferve only to fet off the Bloom of Youth with better Advantage. I was infenfibly carried into Reflexions of this natute, by just now meeting Paulino (who is in his Climacteric) be⚫ deck'd with the utmoft Splendor of Drefs and Equipage, ⚫ and giving an unbounded Loose to all manner of Pleafure, whilft his only Son is debarr'd all innocent Diverfion, and may be feen frequently folacing himself in the • Mall with no other Attendance than one antiquated Servant of his Father's for a Companion and Director. IT is a monftrous want of Reflexion, that a Man cannot confider, that when he cannot refign the Pleasures ⚫ of Life in his decay of Appetite and Inclination to them, his Son must have a much uneafier Talk to refift the Impetuofity of Growing Defires. The fkill therefore should, 'methinks, be to let a Son want no lawful Diverfion, in proportion to his future Fortune, and the Figure he is to ⚫ make in the World. The firft Step towards Virtue that I ⚫ have obferved in young Men of Condition that have run into Exceffes, has been that they had a regard to their Quality and Reputation in the Management of their • Vices. Narrownefs in their Circumftances has made many Youths, to fupply themselves as Debauchees, com· mence Cheats and Rafcals. The Father who allows his Son to his utmoft Ability avoids this latter Evil, which as to the World is much greater than the former. But the contrary Practice has prevail'd fo much among fome Men, that I have known them deny them what was merely neceffary for Education fuitable to their Quality. Poor young Antonio is a lamentable Inftance of ill Conduct in this kind. The young Man did not want natural Talents; but the Father of him was a Coxcomb, who affected being a fine Gentleman fo unmercifully, that he ⚫ could not endure in his fight, or the frequent mention of one, who was his Son, growing into Manhood, and thrufting him out of the gay World. I have often thought the Father took a fecret Pleasure in reflecting that when that that fine House and Seat came into the next hands, it ' would revive his Memory, as a Person who knew how to enjoy them, from Obfervation of the Rufticity and Ignorance of his Succeffor. Certain it is that a Man may, if he will, let his Heart clofe to the having no regard to any thing but his dear felf, even with exclu'fion of his very Children. I recommend this Subject Confideration, and am, C to your SIR, Your most humble Servant, T. P Mr. SPECTATOR, I AM juft come from Tunbridge, and have fince my return read Mrs. Matilda Mohair's Letter to you: ⚫ She pretends to make a mighty Story about the Diverfion of Swinging in that Place. What was done, was only among Relations; and no Man fwung any Woman who was not fecond Cousin at fartheft. She is pleased to say, care was taken that the Galants tied the Ladies Legs 'before they were wafted into the Air. Since he is fo fpiteful, I'll tell you the plain Truth; There was no fuch Nicety obferved, fince we were all, as I juft now told you, near Relations; but Mrs. Mohair herself has been fwung there, and the invents all this Malice, be⚫ cause it was observed the has crooked Legs, of which I was an Eye-Witness. Your humble Servant, Richard Shoeftring. Mr. SPECTATOR, WE Tunbridge, Sept. 26, 1712. E have just now read your Paper, containing Mrs. Mohair's Letter. It is an Invention of her Own from one end to the other; and I defire you would print the inclofed Letter by itself, and fhorten it fo as to come within the compafs of your Half Sheet. She is the most malicious Minx in the World, for all she looks fo innocent. Don't leave out that Part about her being in love with her Father's Butler, which makes her fhun Men; for that is the trueft of it all. Your bumble Servant, P. S. She has crooked Legs. Sarah Trice. Mr. |