if we want the vigour and refolution neceffary for the ⚫ exerting them. Death brings all perfons back to an equality; and this image of it, this flumber of the mind, leaves no difference between the greatest genius and the meaneft understanding: a faculty of doing things remarkably praise-worthy thus concealed, is of no more use to the owner, than a heap of gold to the man who dares not use it.

'To-morrow is ftill the fatal time when all is to be rectified: to-morrow comes, it goes, and ftill I please myself with the fhadow, whilft I lose the reality; unmindful that the prefent time alone is ours, the future is yet unborn, and the paft is dead, and can only live, 6 as parents in their children, in the actions it has pro

duced.

The time we live ought not to be computed by the number of years, but by the ufe that has been made of it; thus it is not the extent of ground, but the yearly rent which gives the value to the estate. Wretched and thoughtless creatures, in the only place where covetoufnefs were a virtue we turn prodigals! Nothing lies upon our hands with fuch uneafinefs, nor has there been • fo many devices for any one thing, as to make it slide away imperceptibly and to no purpofe. A fhilling fhall be hoarded up with care, whilft that which is above the price of an eftate, is flung away with difregard and contempt. There is nothing now-a-days fo much avoided, as a folicitous improvement of every · part of time; it is a report must be fhunned as one • tenders the name of a wit and a fine genius, and as one fears the dreadful character of a laborious plodder: but notwithstanding this, the greatest wits any age ⚫ has produced thought far otherwife; for who can think either Socrates or Demofthenes loft any reputation, by their continual pains both in overcoming the defects and improving the gifts of nature. All are acquainted with the labour and affiduity with which Tully acquired his eloquence. Seneca in his letters to Lucilius affures him, there was not a day in which he did not either write fomething, or read and epitomize fome good author; and I remember Pliny in one of his letters, where he gives an account of the various methods

་

• he

N° 316 he used to fill up every vacancy of time, after several • employments which he enumerates; fometimes, fays he, I hunt; but even then I carry with me a pocket-book, that whilft my fervants are bufied in difpofing of the nets and other matters, I may be employed in fomething that may be useful to me in ftudies; and that if I mifs of my game, I may at the least bring home fome of my own thoughts with me, and not have the mortification of having caught nothing all day.

Thus, Sir, you fee how many examples I recal to mind, and what arguments I ufe with myfelf, to re< gain my liberty: but as I am afraid it is no ordinary perfuafion that will be of fervice, I fhall expect your thoughts on this fubject, with the greatest impatience, efpecially fince the good will not be confined to me alone, but will be of univerfal ufe. For there is no hopes of amendment where men are pleafed with their • ruin, and whilft they think laziness is a defirable cha⚫racter: whether it be that they like the state itself, ́or that they think it gives them a new luftre when they ⚫ do exert themselves, feemingly to be able to do that without labour and application, which others attain to but with the greatest diligence.

I am, Sir,

• Madam,

Your most obliged humble fervant,

Clytander to Cleone.

• Samuel Slack.

Permiflion to love you is all that I defire, to conquer all the difficulties thofe about you place in my way, to furmount and acquire all thofe qualiscations " you expect in him who pretends to the honour of being,

Auguftus, a few moments before his death, asked

his friends who stood about him, if they thought he had acted his part well; and upon receiving fuch an answer as was due to his extraordinary merit," Let "me then," fays he, "go off the ftage with your ap"plaufe;" ufing the expreffion with which the Roman actors made their exit at the conclufion of a dramatic

piece. I could wish that men, while they are in health, would confider well the nature of the part they are engaged in, and what figure it will make in the minds of thofe they leave behind them: whether it was worth coming into the world for; whether it be fuitable to a reasonable being; in fhort, whether it appears graceful in this life, or will turn to an advantage in the next. Let the fycophant, or buffoon, the fatirift, or the good companion, confider with himself, when his body fhall be laid in the grave, and his foul pafs into another state of existence, how much it would redound to his praise to have it faid of him, that no man in England eat bet ter, that he had an admirable talent at turning his friends. Into ridicule, that no body out-did him at an ill-natured jeft, or that he never went to bed before he had dispatched his third bottle. Thefe are, however, very common funcral orations, and elogiums on deceafed perfons who have acted among mankind with fome figure and reputa tion.

But if we look into the bulk of our fpecies, they are fuch as are not likely to be remembered a moment after their difappearance. They leave behind them no traces of their existence, but are forgotten as though they had never been. They are neither wanted by the

poora

poor, regretted by the rich, nor celebrated by the learned. They are neither miffed in the commonwealth, nor lamented by private perfons. Their actions are of no fignificancy to mankind, and might have been performed by creatures of much lefs dignity than those who are diftinguished by the faculty of reafon. An eminent. French author fpeaks fomewhere to the following purpofe; I have often feen from my chamber-window two noble creatures, both of them of an erect countenance and endowed with reafon. These two intellectual beings are employed from morning to night, in rubbing two fmooth stones one upon another; that is, as the vulgar phrafe it, in polishing marble.

My friend, Sir Andrew Freeport, as we were fitting in the club last night, gave us an account of a fober citizen, who died a few days fince. This honeft man being of greater confequence in his own thoughts, than in the eye of the world, had for fome years paft kept a journal of his life. Sir Andrew fhewed us one week of it. Since the occurrences fet down in it mark out fuch a road of action as that I have been speaking of, I fhall present my reader with a faithful copy of it; after having firft informed him, that the deceafed perfon had in his youth been bred to trade, but finding himself not fo well turned for business, he had for feveral years laft paft lived altogether upon a moderate annuity.

MONDAY, eight of the clock. I put on my clothes, and walked into the parlour.

Nine of the clock ditto. Tied my knee-ftrings, and washed my hands.

Hours ten, eleven and twelve. Smoked three pipes of Virginia. Read the Supplement and Daily Courant. Things go ill in the north. Mr. Nifby's opinion thereupon.

One of the clock in the afternoon. Chid Ralph for millaying my tobacco-box.

Two of the clock. Sat down to dinner. Mem. Too many plumbs, and no fuet.

From three to four. Took my afternoon's nap.
From four to fix. Walked into the fields.
S. S. E.

Wind,

From

From fix to ten.

about the peace.

Ten of the clock. Went to bed, slept found.

TUESDAY, being holiday, eight of the clock. Rofe as ufual.

Nine of the clock. Wafhed hands and face, fhaved, put on my double-foaled shoes.

Ten, eleven, twelve. Took a walk to Iflington.
One. Took a pot of mother Cob's mild.

Between two and three. Returned, dined on a knuckle of veal and bacon. Mem. Sprouts wanting. Three. Nap as ufual.

From four to fix.

Coffee-house.

difh of twift. Grand vifier ftrangled.

Read the news. A

From fix to ten. At the club. Mr. Niby's account of the great Turk.

Ten. Dream of the grand vifier. Broken fleep.

WEDNESDAY, eight of the clock. Tongue of my fhoe-buckle broke. Hands but not face.

Nine. Paid off the butcher's bill. Mem. To be allowed for the laft leg of mutton.

Ten, eleven. At the coffee-house.

the north.

went.

More work in

Stranger in a black wig asked me how stocks

From twelve to one. Walked in the fields. Wind to the fouth.

From one to two.

Smoked a pipe and an half.

Two. Dined as ufual. Stomach good.

Three. Nap broke by the falling of a pewter, dish. Mem. Cook-maid in love, and grown carelefs.

From four to fix. At the coffee-houfe. Advice from Smyrna, that the grand vifier was first of all strangled, and afterwards beheaded.

Six of the clock in the evening. Was half an hour in the club before any body elfe came. Mr. Niby of opinion that the grand vifier was not ftrangled the fixth inftant

Ten at night. Went to bed. Slept without waking until nine next morning.

THURSDAY,