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deceived. There are a thousand familiar disputes he is not able tu bestow anvinmg. Unarity tne: efore which reason never can decide; questions thai elude is a habit of goog-will. cr benevolence, in the soul, investigation, and make logic ridiculous cases; where which disposes us to the love, assistance, ana relief something must be done, and where little can be said. of mankind, especiaily of those who stand in need oi Consider the state of mankind, and inquire how few it. The poor man who has this excellent frame of can be supposed to act upon any occasion, whether mind is no less entitled to the reward of this virtue small or great, with all the reasons of action present than the man who founds a college. For my own to their minds. Wretched would be the pair above part, I am charitable to an extravagance this way. all names of wretchedness, who should be doomed I never saw an indigent person in my life without to adjust by reason, every morning, all the minute reaching out to him some of this imaginary relief. I details of a domestic day.

cannot but sympathize with every one I meet that is “ Those who marry at an advanced age will prob- in aMiction; and if my abilities were equal to my ably escape the encroachments of their children; wishes, there should be neither pain nor poverty in but, in diminution of this advantage, they will be the world. likely to leave them, ignorant and helpless, to a guar. To give my reader a right notion of myself in this dian's mercy; or, if that should not happen, they particular, I shall present him with the secret history must at least go out of the world before they see of one of the most remarkable parts of my life. those whom they love best either wise or great.

I was once engaged in search of the philoso“From their children, if they have less to fear, pher's stone. It is frequently observed of men who they have less also to hope, and they lose, without have been busied in this pursuit, that though they equivalent, the joys of early love, and the conven- have failed in their principal design, they have how. ience of uniting with manners pliant, and minds sus- ever made such discoveries in their way to it as have ceptible of new impressions, which might wear away sufficiently recompensed their inquiries. In the same their dissimilitudes by long cohabitation, as soft manner, though I cannot boast of my success in that bodies, by continual attrition, can form their surfaces affair, I do not repent of my engaging in it, because to each other.

it produced in my mind such an habitual exercise of “I believe it will be found that those who marry charity as made it much better than perhaps it would late are best pleased with their children, and those have been had I never been lost in so pleasing a dewho marry early with their partners.”

lusion. “The union of these two affections,” said Rasselas, As I did not question but I should soon have a * would produce all that could be wished. Perhaps new Indies in my possession, I was perpetually taken there is a time when marriage might unite them, a up in considering how to turn it to the benefit of sime neither too early for the father, nor too late for mankind. In order to it I employed a whole day in . the husband.”

walking about this great city to find out proper places “ Every hour," answered the Princess, “confirms for the erection of hospitals. I had likewise enter. my prejudice in favor of the position so often uttered tained that project, which has since succeeded in by the mouth of Imlac. “That nature sets her gifts another place, of buiiding churches at the coort. on the right hand and on the left.' Those conditions end of the town, with this only difference, that in. which flatter hope and attract desire, are so con. stead of fifty, I intended to have buiit a hundred, and stituted that, as we approach one, we recede from to have seen them all finished in less than one year. another. There are goods so opposed that we cannot I had with great pains and application got together seize both, but, by too much prudence, may pass a list of all the French Protestants; and, by the best acbetween them at too great a distance to reach either. counts I could come at, had calculaced the value of This is often the fate of long consideration; he does all those estates and effects which every one of them nothing who endeavors to do more than is allowed had left in his own country for the sake of his relig. to humanity. Flatter not yourself with contrarieties ion, being fully determined to make it up to him, and of pleasure. Of the blessings set before you make return some of them double of what they had lost. your choice and be content. No man can taste the As I was one day in my laboraiury, my operator, fruits of autumn while he is delighting his scent who was to fill my coffers for me, and used to foot it with the flowers of spring; no man can, at the same

from the other end of the town every morning, time, fill his cup from the source and from the mouth complained of a sprain in his leg that he had met of the Nile."

with over-against St. Clement's Church. This so

affected me, that as a standing mark of my gratitude THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE. to him, and out of compassion to the rest of my

fellow-citizens, I resolved to new.pave every street Charity is a virtue of the heart, and not of the within the liberties, and entered a memorandum in hands, says an old writer. Gifts and alms are the my pocket book accordi:g!y. About the same time expressions, not the essence, of this virtue. A man I entertained some thoughts of inending all the may bestow great sums on the poor and indigent highways on this siue the 'i weed, and of making without being charitable, and may be charitable when all the rivers in England navigable.

RICHARD STEELE.

But the project I had most at heart was the settling “ I have locked up the laboratory, and laid the key upon every man in Great Britain three pounds a under the door." year (in which sum may be comprised, according to I was very much shocked at the unworthy treatSir William Pettit's observations, all the necessities ment of this man, and not a little mortified at my of life), leaving to them whatever else they could get disappointment, though not so much for what I my. by their own industry to lay out on superfluities. self as what the public suffered by it. I think, how

I was about a week debating in myself what I ever, I ought to let the world know what I designed should do in the matter of impropriations, but at for them, and hope that such of my readers who find length came to a resolution to buy them all up, and they had a share in my good intentions will accept restore them to the church.

the will for the deed. As I was one day walking near St. Paul's, I took some time to survey that structure, and not being

WINTER IN LONDON. entirely satisfied with it, though I could not tell why,

DOUGLAS JERROLD. I had some little thoughts of pulling it down, and building it up anew at my own expense.

The streets were empty. Pitiless cold had driven For my own part, as I have no pride in me, I in- all who had the shelter of their own roof to their tended to take up with a coach and six, half a dozen homes; and the northeast blast seemed to howl in footinen, and live like a private gentleman.

triumph above the untrodden snow. Winter was at It happened about this time that public matters the heart of all things. The wretched, dumb with looked very gloomy, taxes came hard, the war went excessive misery, suffered, in stupid resignation, the on heavily, people complained of the great burdens tyranny of the season.

Human blood stagnated in that were laid upon them. This made me resolve to the breast of want; and death in that despairing set aside one morning to consider seriously the hour, losing its terrors, looked in the eyes of many a state of the nation. I was the more ready to enter on it wretch a sweet deliverer. It was a time when the because I was obliged, whether I would or no, to sit very poor, barred from the commonest things of at home in my morning-gown, having, after a most earth, take strange counsel with themselves, and in incredible expense, pawned a new suit of clothes, and the deep humility of destitution believe they are the a full bottomed wig, for a sum of money, which my

burden and the offal of the world. operator assured me was the last he should want to It was a time when the easy, comfortable ran, bring all our matters to bear. After having con- touched with finest sense of human suffering, rives sidered many projects, ! at length resolved to beat from his abundance; and, whilst bestowing, lives the common enemy at his own weapons, and laid a almost ashamed that, with such widespread misery scheme which would have blown him up in a quarter circled around him, he has all things fitting, all things of a year had things succeeded to my wishes. As I grateful. The smitten spirit asks wherefore he is not was in this golden dream somebody knocked at my of the multitude of wretchedness; demands to know door. I opened it, and found it was a messen- for what especial excellence he is promoted above the ger that brought me a letter from the laboratory. The thousand thousand starving creatures; in his very fellow looked so miserably poor that I was resolved tenderness for misery, tests his privilege of exempto make his fortune before he delivered his message. tion from a woe that withers manhood in man, bow. But seeing he brought a letter from my operator, I ing him downward to the brute. And so questioned, concluded I was bound to it in honor, as much as a this man gives in modesty of spirit- in very thank. prince is, to give a reward to one that brings him the fulness of soul. His alms are not cold, formal charfirst news of a victory. I knew this was the long ex. ities; but reverent sacrifices to his suffering brother. pected hour of projection, and which I had waited It was a time when selfishness hugs itself in its for with great impatience above half a year before. own warmth, with no other thoughts than of its In short, I broke open my letter in a transport of joy, pleasant possessions, all made pleasanter, sweeter, by and iound it as follows:

the desolation around; when the mere worldling re“Sir:-After having got out of you everything joices the more in his warm chamber, because it is you can conveniently spare, I scorn to trespass upon so bitter cold without; when he eats and drinks with your generous nature, and therefore must ingenuous- whetted appetite, because he hears of destitution ly confess to you that I know no more of the philoso: prowling like a wolf around his well-barred house, pher's stone than you do. I shall only tell you for when, in fine, he bears his every comfort about him your comfort, that I could never yet bubble a block- with the pride of a conqueror. A time when such a head out of his money. They must be men of wit man sees in the misery of his fellow-beings nothing and parts who are for my purpose. This made me save his own victory of fortune-his own successes apply myself to a person of your wealth and ingenu- in a suffering world. To such a man, the poor are ity. How I have succeeded you yourself can best but the tattered slaves that grace his triumph. tell.-Your humble Servant to command,

It was a time, too, when human nature often THOMAS White." shews its true divinity, and with misery like a gar.

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GOOD BREEDING.

LORD CHESTERFIELD.

ment clinging to it, forgets its wretchedness in sympathy with suffering. A time when, in the cellars and garrets of the poor, are acted scenes which make the noblest heroism of life; which prove the immor. tal texture of the human heart not wholly seared by the branding-iron of the torturing hours. A time when in want, in anguish, in throes of mortal agony, some seed is sown that bears a flower in heaven.

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LIFE'S APOGEE.

HONORE DE BALZAC.

Every life has its apogee—a period during which the causes which operate are in exact proportion with the results they produce. This high noon of existence, in which every moving force is in equilibrium and is manifested in its highest state, is common, not only to organize beings, but to cities, nations, ideas, institutions, trades, enterprises; all of which like noble families and dynasties, spring up, come to perfection, and fall. Whence comes the severe impartiality with which this theme of increase and decay is applied to all earthly organizations ? For death itself, in times of plague or epidemic, now advances, now slackens its course now revives and now sleeps. Our globe itself is perhaps a mere rocket, a little more durable than the rest. History, is perpetually repeating the causes of the greatness and decline of everything that has been seen on earth, ought, one would think, to warn man. kind of the proper time to arrest the play of their faculties; but neither conquerors nor actors, neither women nor authors, ever listen to its salutary voice.

Cesar Birotteau, who should have regarded himself as having arrived at the apogee of his fortunes, chose to consider this halting-time as a new point of departure. He did not know—and neither nations nor kings have sought to write them in ineffaceable characters—the causes of the downfalls with which history is rife, and of which both mercantile and sovereign houses have furnished such terrible examples. Why should not new pyramids be erected, to keep continually before the world this principle, applicable not only to the politics of nations but to the economy of private individuals, that whenever the effect produced has ceased to be in direct connection and in equal proportions with its cause, disorganization has begun Such movements, however, are everywhere to be seen, in the traditions and stories which speak to us of the past, which embody the caprices of ungovernable destiny, whose hand effaces our dreams and shows us that the greatest events are summed up in an idea. Troy and Napoleon are nought but poems. May this history be the poem of the obscure domestic vicissitudes in behalf of which no voice has been raised, ail destitute, as they appear, of greatness; while on the contrary, and for the same reason, they are immense. We are not now treating of individual woes, but of the sufferings of a people.

A friend of yours and mine has very justly defined good breeding to be “the result of much good sense, some good nature, and a little self-denial for the sake of others, and with a view to obtain the same indulgence from them.” Taking this for granted as I think it can not be disputed—it is astonishing to me that anybody, who has good sense and good nature, can essentially fail in good breeding. As to the modes of it, indeed, they vary according to persons, places, and circumstances, and are only to be acquired by observation and experience; but the substance of it is everywhere and eternally the same. Good manners are to particular societies what good morals are to society in general—their cement and their security. And as laws are enacted to enforce good morals, or at least to prevent the ill effects of bad ones, so there are certain rules of civility, universally implied and received, to enforce good manners and punish bad ones. And indeed there seems to me to be less difference, both between the crimes and punishments, than at first one would imagine. The immoral man, who invades another's property, is justly hanged for it; and the ill-bred man, who by his ill manners invades and disturbs the quiet and comforts of private life, is by common consent justly banished society. Mutual complaisances, attentions, and sacrifices of little conveniences, are as natural an implied compact between civilized people as protection and obedience are between kings and subjects; whoever, in either case, violates that compact, justly forfeits all advantages arising from it. For my own part, I really think that, next to the consciousness of doing a good action, that of doing a civil one is the most pleasing; and the epithet which I should covet the most, next to that of Aristides, would be that of well bred.

EVIL SPEAKING.

JOHN SELDEN—"TABLE TALK." 1. He that speaks ill of another, commonly before he is aware, makes himself such a one that he speaks against; for if he had civility or breeding, he would forbear such kind of language.

2. A gallant man is above ill words. An example we have in the old lord of Salisbury, who was a great wise man. Stone had called some lord about court, fool; the lord complained, and has Stone whipped; Stone cries: “I might have called my lord of Salisbury fool often enough before he would have had me whipped.”

3. Speak not ill of a great enemy, but rather give him good words, that he may use you the better if you chance to fall into his hands. The Spaniard did this when he was dying; his confessor told him, to work him to repentance, how the devil tormented the wicked that went to hell; the Spaniard replying,

called the devil, my lord: “I hope my lord the devil at the rich man's girdle, that they clog him with is not so cruel.” His confessor reproved him. “Ex- weary days and restless nights, even when others cuse me,” said the Don, "for calling him so; I know sleep quietly. We see but the outside of the rich not into what hands I may fall; and if I happen into man's happiness; few consider him to be like the his, I hope he will use me the better for giving him silkworm, that, when she seems to play, is at the good words."

very same time spinning her own bowels, and con

suming herself; and this many rich men do, loading THANKFULNESS.

themselves with corroding cares, to keep what they

have probably unconscionably got. Let us therefore ISAAC WALTON-" THE COMPLETE ANGLER.”

be thankful for health and competence, and, above “Well, scholar, having now taught you to paint all, for a quiet conscience. Let not the blessings we your rod, and we having still a mile to Tottenham receive daily from God make us not to value, or not High Cross, I will, as we walk towards it in the cool praise Him, because they be common; let us not shade of this sweet honeysuckle hedye, mention to

forget to praise Him for the innocent mirth and you some of the thoughts and joys that have posses

pleasure we have met with since we met together. ed my soul since we met together. And these

What would a blind man give to see the pleasant thoughts shall be told you, that you also may join rivers, and meadows, and lowers, and fountains that with me in thankfulness to the Giver of every good

we have met with since we met together? I have and perfect gift for our happiness. And that our

been told, that if a man that was born blind could obpresent happiness may appear to be the greater, and

tain to have his sight for but only one hour during we the more thankful for it, I will beg you to con

his whole life, and should, at the first opening of his sider with me how many do, even at this very time,

eyes, fix his sight upon the sun when it was in his lie under the torment of the stone, the gout, and

full glory, either at the rising or setting of it, he toothache; and this we are free from. And every

would be so transported and amazed, and so admire misery that I miss is a new mercy; and therefore let

the glory of it, that he would not willingly turn his us be thankful. There have been, since we met,

eyes from the first ravishing object to behold all the others that have met disasters of broken limbs; some

other various beauties this world could present to have been blasted, others thunder-strucken; and we

him. And this, and many other like blessings, we have been freed from these and all those many other

enjoy daily. And for most of them because they be miseries that threaten human nature; let us therefore

so common, most men forget to pay their praises; rejoice and be thankful. Nay, which is a far greater

but let not us, because it is a sacrifice so pleasing to mercy, we are free from the insupportable burden of

Him that made that sun and us, and still protects us accusing, tormenting conscience-a misery that none

and gives us flowers and showers, and stomachs, and can bear; and therefore let us praise Him for His

meat, and content, and leisure to go a fishing. preventing grace, and say, Every misery that I miss is a new mercy. Nay let me tell you, there be many

SLEEP. that have forty times our estates, that would give the greatest part of it to be healthful and cheerful like us, who, with the expense of a little money, have ate and For do but consider what an excellent thing sleep drank, and laughed, and angled, and sung, and slept is: it is so inestimable a jewel that, if a tyrant would securely; and rose next day, and cast away care, and give his crown for an hour's slumber, it cannot be sung, and laughed, and angled again, which are bought: of so beautiful a shape is it that, though a blessings rich men cannot purchase with all their man live with an empress, his heart cannot be at money. Let me tell you, scholar, I have a rich quiet till he leaves her embracements to be at rest neighbour that is always so busy that he has no with the other; yea, so greatly are we indebted to leisure to laugh; the whole business of his life is to get this kinsman of death, that we owe the betier tribu. money, and more money; he is still drudging on, tary half of our life to him; and there is good cause and says that Solomon says, “The hand of the dili- why we should do so; for sleep is that golden chain gent maketh rich;" and it is true indeed; but he that ties health and our bodies together. Who como considers not that it is not in the power of riches to plains of want, of wounds, of cares, of great men's make a man happy: for it was wisely said by a man oppressions, of captivity, whilst he sleepeth? Beg. of great observation, “That there be as many miser. gars in their beds take as much pleasure as kings. ies beyond riches as on this side of them.” And yet Can we therefore surfeit on this delicate ambrosia? God deliver us from pinching poverty, and grant Can we drink too much of that, whereof to taste too that, having a competency, we may be content and little tumbles us into a churchyard; and to live it thankful! Let us not repine, or so much as think the but indifferently throws us into Bedlam? No, no. gifts of God unequally dealt, if we see another abound Look upon Endymion, the moon's minion, who slept with riches, when as God knows the cares that are threescore and fifteen years; and was nut a hair the the keys that keep those riches hang often so heavily

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worse for it!

THOMAS DEKKER.

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