T II L Gentleman's Mifcellaiiy \ CONSISTING OF ESSAYS, CHARACTERS, NARRATIVES^ ANECDOTES, AND POEMS* MORAL AND ENTERTAINING, CALCULATED FOR THE IMPROVEMENT OF GENTLEMEN IN - EVERY RELATION IX LITE. ^i C^C \ty BY GEORGE WRIGHT, ESQ^. "REITOR OF THE LADY'S MISCELLANY, PLEASING f**v MELANCHOLY, RURAL CHRISTIAN, SiC. ^ \J Omnc tulit punBum qui mifcuit utile dulci. HoR, American Cjetec. *r H. RAatsr for WILLIAM T. CI.AT, T BY niMy T'HOMAS & AtinKEim. L. LA, D. irssr, J. WHITS, Wx* P.. b* L. t and C. ;;,-i';/.j'.Vc ^797- P R E FA C E. HERE are few. if any material points ro fpefting the manners, condud, and converfation of a Gentleman, but what are inilfted on and illultrated in the following pages. To admit the greater variety of fubjefts, fome lefs important, are only {lightly touched upon, while others more interefting, are coniidered and explained at large. The duties of every relation in life, and the bene- fits refulting from the uniform practice of thofe du- ties, are held out and enforced both from examples and experience. To enliven the moral and ferious parts of this Wor, pleafing Narratives, Anecdotes^ and Pcems, are interfperfed, which are intended to ren- der it, agreeable to the utilc duld of the ancients, both PROFITABLE and ENTERTAINING. How far it is calculated to anfwer thefe purpofc-;, muft be left t the decifion of the judicious and difccrning reader. If any apology is thought neceflary for publifhing this Mifccllany, it may be made in die remarks of the - 20516C PREFACE. the Monthly Reviewers on a late fimilar public*. tion of the Editor's, entitled, P leafing Reficcllcm on Life at:.? Manners, " Miicellaneous collections of this kind are become very numerous ; but as they generally conftft of moral pieces, they are, to fay the leaft of them, in- nocent, as well as entertaining. The multiplication, therefore, or fuch conipllements, is of no difTervice to fociety." See MONTHLY REVIEW for Auc. 1788. John-Street, G. W, '//r//23, 1795. CONTENTS.- CONTENTS. Page. DIRECTIONS for reading to advantage 9 'The Benefits of Reading and Rcf.-^k". in younger Life I l The Bankrupt Tradefmxn iuit'. - Misfortune i 3 On Sympathy and GompaJJion : An J 15 Marius, or the Abufe of Rides; a, Qharaftertdhn jj'-oni life - - 20 A Walk in Bedlam Hofpital ; written by a Lady 2 r [ion the Source of Happjnefs ; An E/ay -4 A Frit, 'idly Admonition - 2$ The Benefits ofchriftian Patience under great Diftrefe 26 Virtue, Maifs higheft Interefl : A Soliloquy 2 7 Virtue Enforced on All, from the Hopes and Fears of a Future S'tatti 29 Humanity and Benevolence : An-AddrefstoToiitb 32 Nervous Complaints, the Effetts of Luxury 3^ Approved Maxims worthy of remanbrante and regard 34 Rural Felicity : A Fragment 36 *77; and a fu- ture State U$ The Hermit of the Mountains : An Eaflern Tale 120 Ufeful Qbfervattotu on'tke pafiions of the Mind. By C'l 11 T RP:FLECTIONS OH SYMPATHY AND COMPASSION. Wcc-p with ihoic that wcfp. THE word Sympathy, in its moll proper and primitive fignificatioa, denotes our fellow-feeling 16 THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. with the fufferings of others. It is, in fome fenfe, more universal than that of joy. What we feel does not, indeed, amount to that complete fympathy, to that harmony and correfpondence of fentiment^ which conftitute approbation. We do not weep, ex- claim, and lament, with the fufferer. We are fenfi- ble, on the contrary, of his weaknefs, and of the ex- travagance of his paffion, and yet often feel a very fenlible concern on his account. . But if we do not entirely enter into, and go along with, die joy of a- nother, we have no fort of- regard or fellow-feeling for it. The man who fkips and dances about with that intemperate and thoughtlefs joy which we can- not accompany him in, is the object of our contempt and indignation. Our fympathy with pairt, though- it falls greatly fhortof what is naturally felt by die fuiferer, is gen- erally a more lively and diftincl perception than our lympathy with pleafure. Certain it is, we often ftruggle hard to keep down our fympathy with the forrows of others. For, whenever we are not under the obfervation of the fufferer, we endeavour for our own fake, to fupprcfs it as much as vre can, and yet arc not always iuccefsful. But we never have occafion to mils th-is oppolkion- to our fympathy with joy. We often feel a fympathy with* farrow* when we would willi to b? rid of it ; and we often vniis that with joy when we would be glad to have- it. The man, who, under the greateS .calamities can command his forrow, fecms wc.nhy of the high- cft admiration ; but he, who, in the fulncis of proi- pvrity, can in the lame manner mailer his joy, fecir.s hardly to deil-rvc any praifc. What can be added to the happinrf; of the man vho i.s i-.i health, out of dc'ot, and Ji:ts a clear con- fcience I To one in. this Situation, all acceffions cf . f brtunc ::ia) j-v -.-:!> i.-'j faid to be fupexfluous : But, though THE GENTLEMAN'S though little can be added to this {late, much may be taken from it. Though between this condition and the higheft pitch of human prosperity, tl.e inter- val is but a trifle ; between it and the loweil depth of imlery, the diftance is iinmenfe and prodigknis. Aci- veriity, upon this account, necetfarily depreiFes the mind of the fuffercr much more bclcw its natural ftate, than profperity can elevate him above it. It is, therefore, upon this account, that, however our fympathy with forrow is often a more pungent fenfu- tton than our fympathy with joy, it always falls very fhort of the violence of what is naturally felt by the p'erfon principally concerned. When we attend to the representation ef a tragedy, we ftruggle againft that fympathetic forrow which the entertainment infpires as long as we can, and we give way to it at laft only when we can no long- er avoid it ; if we fhcd tears-, we endeavour to conceal them, and are afraid feft the fpetfatcrs, not entering into this excefllve tendernefs, Ihould regard it as effeminacy and weaknefs. The wretch, whofe misfortunes call upon our compafiion, feels wiih what reluctance we are likely to enter into this for- row, and therefore prcpofes his grief to us with fear and h dilation ; he even fmothers the half cf it, and is afhamed, upon account of this hard-heartedncis of mankind, to give vent to the falneis of his affliction. It is othcrwife with the man v> ho rio^s in joy and fuccefs. Wherever envy does not intcreft us againft h'm, he expects our completed fympatfcy.. He dees not fear, therefore, to announce himlelf with fhcuts cf exultation, in full confidence that we are heartily difpofed to go along with him. How hearty are the acclamations cf the mob who never bear any tnvy to their fuperioraat a tiivarah cr public entry ? And how fedate and moderate is commonly their grief at an execution ? Our forrow B2 at 'l8 THE CEKTLEMAN.'s MISCELLANY.. at a funeral generally amounts to .no more than a: a itemed gravity; but our mirth at a christening, or a. marriage, is always from i\> heart, and without any uifjctation. On the contrary, when we condole with our friends in their afflictions, how-little do we feel, in companion of what they fee\ ? We fit down by them, we look at them, and, whil? they relate to us the ciEcumftances of. their misfortunes, we liflen, it may be, to them with gravity and attention: But while their narration is every moment interrupted by thole 'natural burfts of forrow, which often feem ilino^l to choak them in the midft of it, how far are the languid emotions of our hearts from keeping time to the pungent feelings of theirs ? We may e- vca inwardly reproach ourfelves with our own want of fenubiiity,.md perhaps, upon -that account, work ourfelvcs up into an artificial fympathy ; which, how-- <.-ver, when it is raifed, is .the iliglueil and moft tran-. fitory imaginable, ; and, generally, as foon as we, have left the, room, vanifhes, and is gone for ever. It is upon account of this, dull ienfibility to the afEifiions of others, thajt magnanimity r.midft great ciiltrefs appears always fo divinely graceful. He ap- pears to be more than mortal, who can fupport the moft drea4ful calamities. We are amazed to find lhat he can command himfclf fo entirely* . His firm- nefs, at the fame time,., perfectly coincides with our infenfibility.. There is the mod perfect correfpon- clence between his fentjmejits and our?, and upon that account the moil perfect propriety in his behav- iour. We wonder at that ftrength of mind which is cup.tble cf fo noble and generous an effort ; and this, fentiment of complete fympathy and approbation, mixed and animated with wonder and furprife, con- (iitutcs wh it is properly called admiration. Cato, /urrounded on all fides by his encjnic?, una- ble to rcii.l tlicm, difdaiuino; to fabmit to them, and , reduced, TE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY r$>>> reduced, by the proud maxims of that age, to the- neceffity of deilroying himfelf ; yet, never flu-inking, from his misfortunes, never fupplicating,. with the la- mentable voice of wretchednefs, thofe miferable, iym- pathetic te.irs, which we are always fo unwilling to give ; but, on the contrary, arming himfelf with manly fortitude, and,, the moment before he executes his fatal refolution, giving* with his ufual tranquility, all neceflary orders for the fafety of his friends, ap- pears to Seneca, that great preacher of infenfibility, a fpeftacle, which even the gods themfelves might behold with pleafure and admiration. Whenever we meet, in common life, with any ex- amples of fuch heroic magnanimity, we are always extremely affected. We are more apt to weep and fhed tears for fuch as, in this manner, feem to feel nothing for themfelves, than for thofe who give way to all the weaknefs of forrow ; and, in this particu- lar cafe,, the fympathetic grief of the- fpeclator ap- pears to go beyond the. original paflion,an the pcrfon principally concerned.. The friends of Socrates all. wept when he drank the laft baneful potion, while he himfelf expreffed die gayefl and moft cheerful tran-. quility.. Upon all fuch occafions the fpe&ator makes no ef fort in order to conquej- his fympathetic forrow. He is under no fear that it will tranfport him to any* thing that is extravagant and improper ; he rs rath- er pleafed with the fenfibility of his o'.vn heart, and' gives way to it with complacence and felf-app ro- tation. On the contrary, he always appears* in fome me a-, fure, mean and deipicable, who is funk in forrow and dejection upon account of any calamity of his own. We cannot bring ourfelves to feel for him, what he feels for himfelf, and what, perhaps, we Ihould feel for ourfelves, if in his .Situation j we therefore defpife, him ; 2o THZ CEUTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. him ; unjaftly perhaps. It' i.i\j fcntiment could be regarded as vmjufl, to which we are by nature ir- refiiHbly determined. How did it difgrace the me- mory of the intrepid Duke ef Biron, who had fo oft- en braved death in the field, that he wept upon the fcaffold, when he beheld the flate to which he was f.illrn ; and remembered the favour and the glory from which his own raihnefs had fo unfortunately thrown him ! MARIUS, OR, THE ABUSE OF RICHES : A CHARACTER TAKEN FROM LIFE. MARIUS is a man of a very extenfive fortune, of opulent connexions, and pofleifcd cf health, talents, and every comfort that Fortune, as flie is called, can beftow upon man : his wife is allowed to be one of the moft beautiful, accomplifhed, and amiable women in England. Marius therefore feems apparently to think himielf too happy, and in order to familiar-- izc his niind with misfortune, has connected himielf with a woman of the flage, polfeifed indeed of feme beauty* but without one Ipark of honour, gcneroiity, or tcndernefs. On this woman Marius fquanders immenfe fiuns, Without even obtaining her afiections ; ihe receives the price of her interviews wiih the coolnefs of a common bargain of trnde, and dcfpiles her cuftomer at heart ; nay infults him to hij face, and in tlieprei- ence of others ; but he yet doats upon her, and un- ;at ficklenefs of taite which is peculiar to men of gallantry, comes to his relief, he will probably impair his health and fortune in her fervice. Are thcfe acts of a wife man ? Are mea happy in pro- pqrlion THE GENTLEMAN S MISCELLANY". 21 portion as they are rich*? But Marius is not a fin- g'lilar character. Hundreds every day give proof" that if riches confer happinefs, it is a happincfs of which they are heartily tired, and of which they ftrive to get rid by the quickeft. poffible means. And after every confideratiou of this fubj eel, it will be found that the uie of riches*, as , of every other poffeUipn, ccnfifts in moderation. Lefs than moderation is r.iggardlincfs ; more is in- temperance. The one narrows and confine the heart* the other corrupts and pollutes it. A WALK IN, BEDLAM KOSriTAL. BY A LADY. Some of the lunatics I obferved were playing- at cards, whilil numbers were walking about, eating their dinners in clean wooden bowls, very contented and chserful. One of this clafs much urged me to partake with him. His appearance and behaviour retained much of the gentleman ; ainiJuV his wan- derings he was very polite, but uneafy under ref- traint. He faid," he was ufed very ill to be put un- der confinement, for which no one gave him a rea- fon ; therefore, he urged us to procure his- enlarge- ment, by application to fpme perfons of diftinclioiv and power, to whom he would give us an addreis.. )' inquired the cauie of this lively captive's being in durance, and learned he was a victim to ill-fated r tove .' At our entrance among the /ewff/t? patients (where jno man was permitted to attend us) I addrcffed my- felf to a well-looking matron, and admiring the neat-- nefs * \Veahh never can true happinefs procure: :d aair:ds arc happy the' ihey'i*: poor, : 22 THE GENTLEMAN'S iscr,i,tANT. nefs of her drefs, which was a black taffeta pinned flic told me, filks of that texture were fo conflantljr hitching here and there, that fhe chofe to make a fuit of clothes of it at once, and then it was a court day always. I had converfed with this lady but a few minutes, before fhe discovered the provincial di- alee that f.illV glare, through \\\\di it was wont to view the objects of fenfc. We arc directed by it, to co^vr. 'c with the great Fa- ther of Spirits, which, elevates the foul a!)ovc the icnle of human diilrcfs. At fuch a time, it is a confolatory thought to meditate on what the Saviour of the world fuffU > . :n earth ; how he left the bofom of his* Fad; e right hand of glory, in the ccleltial raanfions, THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. 27 maniions, to endure the complicated diftrefs of pain, penury, and reproach, to redeem us from fin, nailery, and woe. I have been vifiting the manfions of poverty and difeafe, which has given my thoughts a very ferious turn. This day have I feen a divine cf eminent lear- ning, who was lately held in high eileem, now funk by the power of oppreflion and refentment, to abfoiute penury, without a fhilling for fupport, and attacked by a complication of disorders, which renders the un- happy object unable to do any thing to alleviate his diftrefs. This is a fcene which draws very hard upon human- ity ; and thofe perfons who bafk in affluence, and ne- ver turn their feet to the habitations of mifery, nor their ear to its complaints, can have but little idea what their fellow-creatures fuffer, whofe delicacy cf fit- uation will not permit them to be common beg- gars. Well might Job fay, Man is born to trouble as the fparks % upward ; for dangers meet him at his firft '.ntrance into life, and he enters into it crying, which implies pain : and no fooner doth he commence an jt&or on the traniitory ftage, than he is fubject to innu- merable impending evils ; which are often the harbiiL- gcrs of that real gnef, which bedews his way with tears, trom the cradle to grave. Ncr can infant innocence* youthful vivacity, manly ftrength, fapient age, nor yet the benign fmiles of an earthly prince, fecure the man from that numerous train of evils incident to mortality. VIRTUE, MAN's HIGHEST INTEREST. A SOLILOQUY. I FIND myfelf exiPting upon a little fpot, furrcund- eJ every way by un iramcnfe and unknown expauiion. \Viiere 2'8 THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. Where am I ? What fort of place do I inhabit ? Is It txa.flly accommodated in every inflance to my con- venience ? is there no excefs of cold, none of heat, to offend me ? Am I never annoyed by animals, either of my own kind cr a different ? Is every thing fubfer- vient to me, as though I had ordered all myfelf ? No, nothing like it, the farthefl from it poffible. The \vcrld appears not, then, originally made for the pri- vate convenience of me alone ? It does not. But is it not poflibls ib to accommodate it, by my own parti- cular induflry ? If to accommodate man and beait, heaven and earth, if this be out of my power, it is not poffible. What confequences then follows ? or can there be any ether than this ? If I leek an iutereft of my own detached from that of others, I feek an interefl which is chimerical, and can never have ex- iilencc. How then muft I determine ? Have I no intercfl at i\il ? If I have not, I am a fool for flaying here : !; is a fmoky houfe, and the fooner out of it the better. But why no intercfl ? Can I be contented -wtih none but one feparate and detached ? Is a focial intereft, joined with others, fuch an abfurtiity as not to be admitted ? The bee, the beaver, and all the tribes of herding animals, are enough to convince me that the thing is fomewhere at leaft poillble. How, then, am I aUurcd that it is not equally true of man ? Admit it: and what follows; If fo, then honour and jnilice are my intercit ; then the whole train of moral virtues are ray intereil ; without fome portion of which, not even thieves can maintain fo cicty. But, farther ftill ; I flop not here ; I purfue this focial intereft as far as I can trace my ieveral relations. I pals from my own flock, my own neighbourhood,., my own nation, to die whole race of mankind, as dif- psrfed throughout the earth. Am 1 not related to them . THE GENTLEMAN'S fti>scE*L4*f -29 them all, by. the mutual aids of commerce,by the gen- eral intercourfe of arts and letters, and by that com- mon nature cf which we all participate ? Again, I muft have food and clothing. Without a proper genial warmth, I inflantly peril h. Am I not. related, in this view, to the very earth itielf ? to the diftant fun, from whofe beams I derive vigour ? and to that ftupendous courfe and order of the infinite hofts of heaven, by which the times and feafons ever uniformly pafs on ? Were this order once confounded I fhould not probably furvive a moment, fo abfolutely do I depend on this common- general welfare. What, then, have I to do, but to enlarge virtue into piety ? Not only honour and jultice, and what I owe to man, is my intereft ; but gratil.ude alib, acquiefcence, refig- nation, adoration, and all I owe to this great polky, and its great Governor, our common parent. Virtue alone is happinefs below ; And all our knowledge is ourfelves to know. POPE, VIRTUE ENFORCED ON ALL, FROM THE HOPES AND FEARS OF A FUTURE STATE. TO imprefs mankind with- a lively and deep per- fuation that a vicious life will moil certainly lead to eternal niiiery, and the oppoflte to eternal happinefs in another ftate and world, cannot be too frequently made a topic .with thofe, whole peculiar office it is to fet forth the great truths of religion.. How did my foul rejoice within me, on hearing; our curate the ether day expatiate on the joys of fu- turity ! The happinefs cf heaven, he frud, is beyond any thing we can conceive in this ftate cf imperfec- tion. It is a felicity not only perfect ia degree, but perpetual ia duration. As it is a perfect felicity, it C i mull jo THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. be the moft refined, and fpiritual : It mufl con- fiit in the extenfion of our knowledge, and fublima- tion of our love. Our underftandiags will be en- larged and enlightened with a brighter difplay of the divine perfections, v/ith a clearer knowledge of the divine works, in the wonders of creation, of provid- ence, of grace: while, united in the bonds of indU- foluble friendlhip, and glowing with the ardours offe- raphic love, we fhall participate with the heavenly choir in fwelling: the fong of unceaiing gratitude, a- doration, aad praife to tha eternal Fountain and Au- thor of all happinefs. At the fame time, while ab- forbed in this delightful employment, we fhall infen- iibly grow into a refemblance of the Deity We fhall fee God, and we fhall be like Him. And can greater happinefs be conceived, than to be like Him who is the inexhauftible fource of felicity and perfection ? Befldes, in the prefence of God (he continued) there is not only fulnels of joy, but pleafures for ever- more. Indeed, without the addition of an eternal duration, the fum of the heavenly felicity nauft be deficient. It mufl flrike a damp on the joys of the blefTed, to think a time, however remote, was fixed for the period of them: And the more exalted their happinefs were, this thought would give proportiona- ble pain. Divine wifdbm, therefore, hath fo ordained that \vhile the falfe and empty delights of this world are temporary and tranfient, the truer and more fub- ftuntial pleafures of the other fhould be permanent, as they are excellent and that heaven fliould not only be an exceeding but an eternal weight of glory to pofTefs the mind with a full and complete feli- city. Again, how was I fbocked with horror when the fame. . THE CEtrrLEMAN's MISCELLANY gT faine preacher reverfed the pi&ure, and proceeded to defcribe the torments of the damned ! " Their mife- ry," he obferved, " will principally confift in an ex- clufion from the blifsful prefence of God. They fliall have a dtftant fight, indeed* of the heavenly world, but it will be a fight in the fame fituation the rich man in the Gofpel law Paradife with an impafiible gulph between ! A fight that muft ferve only to inflame their felf-condemnation, their difappointment, and defpair .' " Then- mifery will further confift (he added) in a remorfe of conscience ; arifmg from reflections on their paft lives their bafe ingratitude to God their obftinate folly, and perverfenefs intimated by the fcripture expreffion of the worm thatjiever dieth. A worm that will prey upon their minds,, with an infinite- ly keener anguifh, than a worm preys on our mortal flefh. Inftead of the pleafures refulting from extend- ed knowledge, from, the endearing enjoyments of the pureft love, the tendereft friendfhips, and the fub- lime raptures of praife and adoration which ever agi- tate the bofoms of the bleffed ; the accurfed fliall know more, only.to be more miferable ; and by the exercife of the moft diabolical paffions, of envy, ha- tted, malice, and revenge, fhall only ftrive more and more to aggravate each other's torment. This, ad- ded to that blacknefs of darknefs, or the flames of that fire that fliall never be quenched, to which they are doomed mull conflitute a raifery fufficiently dreadful. A mifery,. however, ftilL imbittered by the ingredient its eternal duration. Eternal! how muft this thought fbarpen the edge of the fufferings, and heap up the raeafure of infernal woe ! HUMANITY: 33 THE GENTLEMAN'S HUMANITY AND BENEVOLENCE; AN ADDRESS TO YOUTH. YOUTH is the proper feafon for cultivating the benevolent and humane affections. As a great part of your happinefs is to depend on the connexions which you form with others, it is of highimportance that you acquire betimes the temper and the manners which will render fuch connexions comfortable. Let a fenfe of juftice be the> foundation of all your focial qualities. Engrave on your mind that facred rule, of " doing m all things to others according as you wifh that they fhould do unto you." For this end, imprefs your- felves with a deep fenfe of the original and natural e- quality of men. Whatever advantages of birth or fortune you poffefs, never difplay them with an often-- tatious fuperiority. Leave the fubordinations of rank, to regulate the intercourfe of more advanced years. At prefent it becomes you to acl: among your companions as man with man~ Remember how unknown to you are the viciilltudes of the world; and how often they, on whom igno- rant and contemptuous young men once looked down with fcorn, have rifen to be their fuperiors iu future years. Compaffion is an emotion of which you ought never to be afhamed. Graceful in youth is the tear ef fympathyy and the heart that melts at the tale of woe, Let not eafe and indulgence contract your affec- tions, and wrap you up in felfifh enjoyment. Ac- cuftom yourfelves to think of the diltreiles of hu- man life ; of the folitary cottage, the dying pa- rent, and the weeping orphan. Never fprt with, pain and diftrefs in any of your amufements, nor treat even the meaneH infed with wanton cm- lty, NERVOUS THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. 33 NERVOUS COMPLAINTS THE EFFECTS OF LUXURY. Luxurious indolence generates difeafes. IT is reasonable to fuppofe that the mind Is flmilar to the body, and influenced according as we exercife it ; thus exertion of the body will give it ftrength, and exerciling our judgment and memory will add to our itock of ideas, and form a pleafure not to be tailed by an ignorant barbarian. Nervous complaints are more frequent in what we call civilized countries, and where luxuries are intro- duced, than in thofe where the fuperfluities of life are not fo abundant, and in every country more a- mong the rich th.in the lower claifes of people ; for where the principal care of a man's life conufls irl finding means to iupport himfelf and his family, he is always engaged -in a pleaimg attention,, and' there is but little time for the introduction of a- ny other care on his mind than his daily employ ; which, if laborious, enfures him health, and makes the bed of repofe on which he refts his fatigued limbs, one of the principal comforts of his life* ; if there happens to be a day on which- he refrains from his ufual exertions, he enjoys the pleafures of fatiety ; and even a little idlenefs, as being a novelty, pleaies him. Let us conflder another character, a man who en- joys an ample fortune : He may be fuppofed to make himfelf happy with the idea that there are a number of mechanics and fervants who are ready, for pay, to provide any object or pleafure which his fancy * The ilecp of a labouring man is fweet. CCLSIAST3, V, 34 THE GENTLEMAN'? MISCELLANY; fancy may dictate ; fo far from merely fatlsfymg thofe dcfires which Nature intended he fhculd poifefs for the purpofe of maintaining life and propagating his fpecies, he is pleafed with any invention which can give a poignancy to his daily food ; and (ludies every means to gratify his lull, and give a double relifh to every kind of enjoyment, till at length his mind can only be charmed by every fpecies of luxu- ry ; his fenfes and appetites being repeatedly abuftd by too frequent a repetition of what can give them pleafare, become in fome meafure callous, and at certain times lofe their capability of receiving fatis- faftion. The rich man finds himfelf liftlefs, and complaint of lownefs of fpirits, which conrplaint is generally termed nervous. In fuch cafes the bottle is frequent- ly had recourfe to, which intoxicates the mind and gives a temporary flow of fpirits ; a fublequent low- nefs is the confequence, which renders neceiTary a repetition of the intoxicating draught ; and thus a habit of drinking is eftabliihed, which brings on ma- ny nervous and chronic difeafes, and eventually dei- troys the bell conftitutioos. APPROVED MAXIMS. WORTHY REMEMBRANCE AND REGARD. HYPOCRICY is a homage that vice pays to virtue. Every man, however little, makes a figure in his ril: t education, .and large eftate. MATRIMONIAL INFIDELITY ACCOUNTED FOR. AN ESSAY. LORD A. marries Mifs B. becaufc fne has a good fortune, and ilic weds his lordfmp for a title. The honey-moon paft, fenarate beds take place ; they fcl- dom meet but at meals, and thsn fcarce rccolleft the ceremony was ever faid ; and if they do, it is only to upbraid one -another upon the irathority of being man and wife. ^ This difagreeable tetc-x-tcie being "vcr, he flies to the arris of hi;, mittrefs, to find that cmfc' wife -could not afford him ; and, pro- bably, by way of / taliwis, ihe gtx-s to meet her Ciji-ijb,:,. P.'her Lu 3 }il:ip':; foitunc is nearly exliaufl- ed, and -his lordii.ip ha^i another rich heirefs in vicA ', bly lie -for irim.cnn. to obtain a divorce. If not, lie winks at her infidelity, and is very well .plcafcd to think, h'j has a locum tenetis to take all iUAtrimonuil drudircry o^' lu'a hands ; and th'is by a 1 1 kind T;fE GENTLEMAN'S MKCELLAM-V. . 39 kind "of tacit compact, they may continue in a ftate of" adultery for Ibme years, -without ever upbraiding each other upon this fcore. Again, Lord C, marries Lady D. on the {core of family alliance and connexion. Lord C. a perfect emaciated macaroni, Lady D. a woman of fpirit, vigor, and paffions, finds herfelf deceived in her huf- band, and that ihe might as well have married one of Rackftrow's dolls. Thus, difappointed, in the very prime of life, when the pulfe beats high, and the blood circulates with juvenile warmth through every vein ; may we not fuppofe that opportunity and importunity, in a man worthy of her embraces, may feduce her from the riged path of virtue, and make her yield to a flame, kindled by nature and fanned by inclination* ? The lady cannot, it is true, be vindicated, according to the nice rules of chaltity and honour ; but I think her nominal hufband can have but little reafon to complain ; efpecially, if we find him nightly \vallowing in the (lews of corrup- tion, in the arms of profligate harlots, to gratify an imaginary paffion, which his whims and caprices, fuited to the place, can only awaken. Once more. The Duke of E. weds a moft amia- ble woman, on whom he thinks he has fixed his affec- tions, and fhe entertains the higheft eftee in for him. For ibme time they live in a ftate of connubial felicity* and when he might fay with die poet, Wbiift in the circle of her arms I lay, Whole fuinmers funs roll'd unperceiv'd away j I years for days, I days for moments told j And was furpiis'd to find that I grew old, Se * Youth and A$e % or December and A fay, will ever be a *onira(t, particularly in the marriage ihte, which, upoa ra- t:cnal principles, can never be happily reconciled, 40 THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANV. . So far a fucceflion of happy months hare rolled ; but now, whether from fatiety, or natural propenfity, his favourite amufements preponderate again ft. domeftic felicity. Horfes, hounds, and the tuif, have more charms than the animated Venus de Medicis. Days, weeks, nay months elapfe, whilfl the fair Miranda is forgotten for a fox-chace, or fweepftakes.. Thefe gloomy intervals ihe mull fill up with cards, routs, and coquetry fatal rocks, which too many thought- lefs females have fplit upon. Abfence and neglect on the one hand, a(Fid':itis and purfuit on the other, will probably cr< ,i'ie a ri- val, and fupprefs all thofe virtuous fcruples, from a brcaft that never ineant to .deviate from honour. But as fhe has a potent rival in Chloe, or Cleopatra (on account of their fleetuefs) fo his Grace finds one in Capt. Fairface, and at his return difcovers as much cooinefs in her Grace, as flie experienced in him, during a Jix weeks abfence. If fuch caufes as thefe do not Snfome meafure pal- liate the crime of female infidelity,, they at leaft ac- count for it. And, I am fo far convinced of the na- tural good uifpofition of my fair countrywomen, that I will venture to pronounce; not one in a hundred, I might fay in a thoufand, would go aftray, if it was, not for the unkind behaviour of their hufbands. Let thefe ftrive to merit the affections of their wives, and, there vili (I doubt not) be few, if any, complaint!. , of matrimonial infidelities. THE' GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY* 41 - THE HYPOCRITE ; A PICTURE TAKEN FROM LIFE Beware of Hypocrites. HE who appears a faint, that he miy with greater fafety act as a devil, is, in my opinion, the wcrfl of fmners. There can be no excufe for him ; he can- not even fay with the generality of offenders, I erred' through ignorance, for I knew not what I did. I once knew a man who would frequently difburfe confiderable firms of money in building churches, and other public acts of charity,' where fame might be acquired; and yet, if merit in diftrefs privately iued to him for relief, he was always fo necefiitated, he had not wherewithal to help them. I knew another who ftarved his family, denied them common neceffaries of life, :md preached up mortification for the good of their fouls ; yet would he himielf partake or every thing- voluptuous, at other men's coil. His never-ending harangue was that of abufmg mankind openly ; lafhing their vices, or follies, in the moil ill-natured, grofs, foul-mouthed, and ungen- erous manner ; yet woukh he fawn, cringe, flatter,, and meanly fue for favours from there above him. Here was oftentation, pride, felf-efteera, luxury, avarice, impudence, deceit, and the higheft degree of ill-nature, all cloaked under the fan&ified. preten.cs true piety, 42 THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELB.ANYV THE FOLLY OF INCONSISTENT EXPECTATIONS. THIS world may be confidered as a great mart of commerce, where fortune expofes to our view va- nous commodities ; riches, cafe, tranquilitji, fame, -in- tegrity, knowledge, &c. Every thing is marked at a fettled price. Our time, our labour, our ingenuity, is ib much ready money which we are to lay out to the beft advantage. Examine, compare,., chufe, rejecl, but Hand to your own judgment ; and do not, like children, when you have purchafed one thing, repine that you do not poifefs another which you did not purchafe. Such is the force of well-regulated induflry, that a fteady and vigorous exertion of our faculties, direcled r.p one end, will generally enfure iuccefs. Would you, for inftance, be rich ? Do- you think that {ingle point worth the facrificmg every thing clfe to ? You may then be rich. Thoufands have become ib from the loweft beginnings, by toil, patient diligence, and at- tention lo the minutef! articles of expence and profit. But you muft give up the pleafures of leifure, of a Tacant mind, and of a free unfuipicious temper. *" But I cannot fubmit to drudgery like this, I feel a fpirit above it." It is well ; be above it then j on- ly do not repine that you are not rich. Is knowledge thq pearl of great price ? That too, may be purchafed by fleady application, and lon< folit-.iry hours of iludy and reflection. Beftow thefc^ and you lhall be learned. You are a modell- man, you love quiet and inde- pendence, and hi;Ac a delicacy and referve in your tevnp-jr whlvh -renders it impcflible for you to elbow your way in the world, and be the herald of your own merits. Be content, then, with a modcft retirement^ with*. THE GENTLEMAN'S MI'SCELLAJNT, 43 with the efteem of a few intimate friends, with the praifes of a blamelefs heart, and a delicate ingenuous fpirit and difpofition ; but refign the fplendid duiino tions of the world to thofe who can better fcramble for them. PICTURESQUE DESCRIPTION OF THE VALE OF KESWICK, IN CUMBERLAND. INSTEAD .of the narrow flip of valley which is feen at Dovedale, you have at Kefwick a vaft am- phitheatre, in circumference above twenty miles. In- itead of a meagre riv-ulet, a noble living lake, ten miles round, of "an oblong form, adorned with a va- riety of wooded iflands. The rocks indeed of Dove- dale are finely wild, pointed, and irregular ; but the hills are both little and unanimated ; and the margin of the.brook is poorly edged with weeds, .morafs, and brulhwood. But at Kefwick, you will, on one fide of the lake, fee a rich and beautiful landfcape of cul- tivated fields, riling to the eye in fine inequalities,, with noble groves of oak, happily difperfed, and climbing the adjacent hills, fliade above fhade, in the mofl various and piclurcfqe forms. On the oppofite ihore, you will find rocks and cliffs of ftupendons height, hanging broken over the lake in horrible grandeur, fome of them a thoufand feet high, the woods climbing up their fteep and ihaggy fides, where mortal foot has never yet approached. On thefe dreadful .heights the eagles build their nefts ; a variety of water-falls are feen pouring from their rummies, and tumbling in vaft flieets from rock. to rock ui rude aad terrible naagoificence. While on. 44 TtfE CENTLiMAJi's all fides of this immence amphitheatre the lofty tains rife around, piercing the very clouds, in fhape? as fpiry and fantaftic as the rocks of Dovedale. To this I muft -add the frequent and bold projec- tion of the cliffs into the lake, forming noble bays and promontories. In other parts they finely retire from it, and often open in abrupt chafms or clefts, through which at hand you fee rich and cultivated vales ; and beyond theft 1 , at various diilances, mountain- riling fl- yer mountain ; among which, new profpedts prefent themfelves, in a mift, till the eye is loft in an agreea- ble perplexity. The natural variety of colouring which the feveral objects' produce, is no lefs wonderful and pleafmg ; the ruling tincls in the vallies being thofc of azure, green, and gold ; -yet ever various, arifmg from an intermixture of the" lake; the woods, the grafs, and cornfields. Thefe are finely contrafted by the gray rocks and cliffs ; and the whole heightened by the yellow ftreams of light, the purpls hues and mitty azure of the mountains, * Sometimes a ferene air and clear fey difclofe the tops of the highelt hills ; at other times, you fee the clouds involving their fummits, refting on their fides, or defcending to their bafe, and rolling among th vallies, as in a vaft furnace. When the winds are high, they roar among the cliffs and caverns like peals of thunder ; then, too, the clouds are fcen in raft bodies fweeping along the hills in gloomy grcat- nefs, while the lake joins the tumult, and tofles like a> fea. But in calm weather, the whole fcene becomes new : the lake is a perfect mirror, and the landfcape' in all its beauty : iilands, fields, woods, rocks, and mountains, are feen inverted, and floating on its fur- face. I will 7iov/ carry you to the top of a cliff, where,, if you dare approach the ridge, a new fcene of afton> *f1_ ahineat THE GENTLEMANS iftment prefents itfelf ; where die valley, lake, and iflands, feem lyiag at your ioet ; where this expanfe of water appeal's diminiihed to a. liile pool, amidil the vaft and immeafurable objects that furround it ; for the fumraits of more dlilant hiiis appear beyond thofe you have alreadyjeen : and, hfmg behind each other in fucceiSvc ranges and azure groupes of crag- gy and broken fteeps, form an immenfe and awful picture, which can only-be expreiled by the image of u temneftuous lea of mountains. Let me now condufit you down agtiin to die vaj- ley, and conclude with one circumuance more - which is, that a. wall; by ftill moon-light (at which time the diilant water-falls are heard in all their va- riety of found) among thefe enchanting dales, opens fuch fcenes of delicate beauty, repoie, and fokmnity* as exceed all defcription. RESIGNATION TO PROVIDENCE RECOMMENDED, AS THE DUTY OF ALL. THE darts of adverfe fortune are always levelled at our heads. Some reach us ; fomc graze againil us, and fly to wound our neighbours. Let us there- fore impofe an equal temper on our minds, and pay without murmuring the tribute which we owe to hu- manity : the winter brings cold, and we muft freeze j the fummer returns with heat, and we muft melt : the inclemency of the air diforders our health, and we muft be fick. Here we are expofed to wild beafts, and there to men more favage than the beafts. And ii we efcape the inconveniences and dangers of the air and earth* there are perils by water and perils by re. This tff THE CESTLEMAN'S MISCELLAXIV This eftabliflied courfe of things it is not in otr power to change ; but it is in our power to aflurae fuch a greutnefs of mind as becomes wife and virtu- ous men ; as m;'y enable us to encounter the acci- dents of life with fortitude, and to conform ourfelves to the order of Nature, who governs her great king- dom, the world, by continual mutations. Let us fubmit ourfelves to this order ;- let us be perfuaded that whatever does happen, ought to hap- pen, and never be fo foolilh as to expoiuilate with Nature. The bell refolution we can take is, to fuf- fer with patience what we cannot alter j and to pun- fne, without repining, the road which Providence, who directs every thing, has marked out to us. For itij not enough to follow ; .and he is but a bad fol- dier who fighs, and marches on with reluftancy. We mull receive our orders with fpirit and cheerfulnefs, and not endeavour to flmk out of the poll which is afligned us in this beautiful difpoiition of things, whereof even our fufferiags make a neceflary part. Let us addrfs ourielves to God, who governs all, as Cleanthes did in thofe admirable verfes : P.irent of nature ! Matter of the worH I Where'er thy providence direfls, behold My ftcps with chesrfol rcfignationturu. Fate leads the willing, drags the backward on ; Why fhould I grieve, when grieving I nuift bear ? Or take with guilt, what guiltlefs I might (hare ? t Thus let us fpeak, and thus let us- aft. Refigna- tion to the will of God is true magnanimity. But the fure mark of a pufillanimous and bale fpirit, is to % u S8^ e againft, or ccnfure, the difpenfitions ofPro- Tidencc ; and, inilead of mending our oivn condu^ to fct up for correcting that of our Maker. TUt THE CEWTLEMAtf's M1CCKLLAHV. 4? THE INDIAN AND BRITISH OFFICER: A TRUE STORY. DURING the laft war in America, a company f the Delaware Indians attacked a fmajl detach- ment of the Britilh troops, and defeated them. As the Indians had greatly the advantage of fwiftnefs.of foot, and were eager in the purfuit, very few of the fugitives efcaped ; and thole who fell into the enemy's hands, were treated with a cruelty of which there are not .many examples even in the country. Two of the Indians came up with a ycuug officer, and attacked him with great fury ; as they were rrm- ed with a kind of battle-ax, which they cull a toma- hawk, he had no hope of efcape, and thought only of felling his life as dearly as he could ; but juft at tliig crilis another Indian t:ame up, who fecmed to be ad- vance/I in years, and was armed with a "bow and ar- rows. The old man infhintly drew his bow ; but af- ter having taken his aim at the officer, he faddculy dropped the point of his arrow, and intcrpofed be- tween him and his purfuers, who were about to cut him in pieces they retired with refpech- The old man then took the ofiicer by the hand. foothed him into confidence by cnrdles : and, having conduced him to his hu'c, treated him with a kindnels which did honour to his profeinons. He made him lfs a ilave than a. -o;npanicn y taught him the language of the country, and inftrucled him in the rude arts that are praftifed by the inhabitant?. They lived together in the moft cordial amity ; and die young officer found nothing to regret, but that fcmetimes the old man fix* cd his eyes upon him, and, having regarded him for icnie -4$ TWS GENTLEMAN'S MisctLtA>rr. feme minutes, with a fteady and filent attention, burft into tears. In the mean time the fpring returned ; and the In- dians having recourfe to their arms, again took the field. The old man, who was ftitt vigorous, and well able to bear the fatigues of war, fet out with them, and was accompanied by his prifoner. They marched above two hundred leagues, acrofs the foreft,und came at length to a plain where the Britifh forces were en- camped. The old man fhowed his prifoner the tents at a diftance, at the fame time remarked his counte- nance with the moft diligent attention. " There." fays he, " are your countrymen ; there is the enemy v.'ho wait to give us battle. Remember, that I have fared thy life, that I have taught thee to conftruft a canoe, and to arm thyfelf with a bow and arrows ; to furprife the beaver in the forcft, to wield the toma- h:iv. k, and to fcalp the enemy. What waft thou when I firll took thee to my hut ? Thy hands were thofe of an irfant ; thy were fit neither to procure thee fufte- nance ncr fafety. Thy foul was in utter darknefs-: thou wall ignorant of every thing ; and thou oweft all things to me. Wilt thou then go- over to thy nation, and take up the hatchet againft us :" The officer replied, " That he would rather lofe life own lii'e than take away that of his deliverer." The Indian then bending down his head, and covering his face with both his hands, ilood fame time filent : then .- carncftly at his prifunc-r. h<; i'aid- in a voice that was at once fcftert ." bjf tendernefs and grief, Haft thou a father ?" ' My father," fold the ^ man, " was alive when I left ray-country." is," faid the Indian, "how wretched mult he He panfcd a moment, and then added, " Doft i lion know that I have been a father ? I am a father no more. I faw my fon fall in battle ; he fought at my iidc j 1" ia\v4nm expire ! bu: he died like a man. He THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY, 49 He was covered with wounds when he fell dead at my feet ; but I have revenged him !" He pronounced thefe words with the utmoft vehe- mence ; his body (hook with an univerfal tremor ; and he was almoft ftifled with fighs that he would not fuffer to efcape him. There was a keen reftleffnefs in his eye ; but no tear would flow to his relief. At length he became calm by degrees, and turning to- wards the eaft, where the fun was then rifing, " Doft thou fee," faid he to the young officer, " the beauty of that flcy, which fparkles with prevailing day ? and haft thou pleafure in the fight ?" " Yes," re- plied the young officer, " I have pleafure in the beau- ty of fo fine a flcy." " I have none," faid the In- dian ! and his tears then found their way. A few minutes after he fliowed the young man a magnolia in full bloom. ** Doft thou fee that beau- tiful tree ?" fays he ; " and doft thou look upon it with pleafure ?" " Yes," replied the officer, " I do look with pleafure upon that beautiful tree." " I have pleafure in looking upon it no more," faid the Indian haftily.; and immediately added, " Go, return to thy countrymen,that thy father may itill have pica- fure when he fees the fun rife in the morning, raid the trees bloffom in the fpring." ON- DISSIMULATION AND SINCERITY; A FRAGM DISSIMULATION in youth is the fore-runner cf perfidy in old age. Its firil appearance is the fatal cmen of growing depravity and future fliame. It degrades parts ai^l learning, obfcures the luftre of eve- ry accomplishment, and link;; you into contempt with E God ro THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. God and man. As you value, therefore, the appro- bation of heaven, or the efteem of the world, culti- vate the love of truth. In all your proceedings be direct and confiftent. .Sincerity and candour poflefs the moft powerful charms ; they befpeak univerfal favour, and carry an apology for almoft every failing. The path of truth is a plain and faf e path ; that of falfehood is a per- plexing maze. . . ON ORATORY; OR, PUBLIC SPEAKING. A FRAGMENT. IT is certain that proper geftures and exertions of tke voice c;innot be too much ftuJted by a public orator. They arc a kind of comment to what he litters ; .and enforce every thing he lays, with weak hearers, iictter than the ftrongeft arguments he can make ufe of. They keep the audience awake, and i:x their attention to what is delivered to them ; at tils fume time tir.it they fliow the Speaker is in ear- :u;l, and affected himfelf with what he fo paffionate- ly recommends to others. We are told, that the great Latin orator very much impaired his health by the vehemence of action with which he ufed to deliver himfelf. The Greek orator v.-as likewife fo very famous for this particular ia rhetoric, that ',nc ci'hisantngonifts, \vhcm he had ba- nifhed from Athens, reading over the oration which 'i t i procured his banifhrnent, and feeing his friends admire it, could not forbear a/king them, If they. wer THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLAN-V, 5-1 were fo much affe&ed by the bare reading of it, ho\v much more they would have been alarmed, had they heard him aftually throwing out fuch a florra of elo quence ? THE RURAL PROSPECT : A SOLILOQUY. Reflexive minds are pleas'd with rural fcenes, WHAT a delightful profpecl does this lofty rock afford one who admires the limplicity and magnifi- cence of nature ! What freihnefs in the air ! Every breeze is em- balmed ! What fragrance in the herbs ! They are fpringing around me ; they vegetate the very rock, and cover its fummit and fides with verdure. The day-break begins to diflipate the fhades of night ; but the dawning light comes on, fo gently, that the va- pours are imperceptably difpelled. The dark veil which lately hung upon the brow of the hill, is removed for a mantle perfectly tranfparent. Already one half of' the heavens is illuminated- The birth of a new morning is announced by the voice of animated nature. The rifmg zephyr ruilles among the leaves. From the neighbouring cottages afcend the wreaths of fmoke. The planet Venus, alone, difputcs for a while the empire of the morning ; but, after tbe con- till of a few minutes, (he retires vanquifhed, and leaves the triumph of Aurora complete. And now her tri- umph is indeed rapid. Ah ! too lively an emblem of human happinefs. Nothing fo brilliant while it is advancing j nor any thing fo ihort as its continuance , The 52 THE GENTLEWAN'S MISCELLA-NY. . The tender colours of the morn prefently give place to the more animated fire and hues of noon ! The ra- diant foverign of day feems vertically to dart his glo- ries into the very bowels of the earth. Thus feated upon a jutting of the rock, I am more delighted than in viewing the beft ordered fuite of rooms in the world. Me thinks I could voluntarily yield up the refidue of Efe, to this moral folitude. The panting animals feck the ihade ; the birds make tothemfelves curtains and bowers of the verdent branches ; They all pafs in repole and covert, thofe hours when their food is robbed of its dewy frefhnefs ; but the kindly drops of evening Ihull reflore its reliih... The fun is preparing to fet ; the frefhing zephyrs of the cloimg day attend him ; a light more ibft and delicate defccnds from the tops of the trees ami gilds their molly trunks. I breathe die charming odours, which come wafted to me by the balmy zephyrs. All is fweetnds and ferenity. It feems as if Flora came to this very fpot, to braid her beautiful trelles, to bathe in the ftream that furrounds me, and expand the fra- grance which enriches them. Philofophy,realbn, and innocence, are here met together : Ah ; that I could for ?ver retide on this charming rock> where every ob- jeft endeavours to iix me. Far from the buly, crowded, lov'd refort Of wealth and pomp, and pU: a Cure's frolic band, Let me retire no greater joys I court Than fuch as flow from Nature's bounteous hand. CONTEMPT TBE G^STLEMAN'O MISCELLANY. 53 CONTEMPLATIONS BY MOONLIGHT, Retire, the world (hut oat ; thy thoughts call home. N 1GHT THOUGHTS' I WAS a few evenings fmce indulging in'a contem- plation by moonlight. The beauty of" the firmament, and the balminefs of the air, together with the many objects which were fet ofF with a fort of fhaded filver, all confpired to fill the mind with a ft-ries of moral confiderations on the immense wifdom and benevo- lence of the Deity, who hath in his diviilon of time, fo admirably difpofed the oppofite periods of light and darknefs ; as it would be impoffible to take that repofe which is requiilte to the renovation of nature, while the beams of the fun and the buftle of the world ob- truded ; and not lefs inconvenient, to purfue our com- mon bufmefs or pleafures, under the zenith of meridian obfcurity. No fconer has the day Hint in, than every thing ieems to invite us to fhare the univerfal paufe of na- ture. Creation appears to feel the influence offleep, and furrounding fiience fooths the paffions into a calm while laffitude prepares us for {lumber. It might convince the fceptic, were he to reflect on the ftupen- dous works of the Author of night, and of his great tendernefs and vigilance over us and the weary world in this folemn fcene. While the femes of man are lapt in the fweets of repofe, and every head reclining on its pillow, he ftill guides the fpheres in their motioa, and regulates the planets in their annual rotations. His dews fall filent and falutary on the verdent earth, frefhen the herb, and fuckle the flower, to glad- den the waking morn. He extends his guardian eye, ever the habitable globe, and, without difturbing his creatures, conducts the moon through her circuit ; anct having drawn ihade above '{hade till all is enveloped in. 2 a mid- GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. a midnight gloom, he gradually withdraws the veif, and watches the progrefs of the rofy dawn. Then having unfhadowed the lad appearance of night,he de- lights the world with revifited light, and paints all his benevolence in the eye of the morning ; till all his bleff- mgs are again prefented full and ardent by the glories of hisrifen fun. There is not, I think, any time wherein a good man can fo happily gratify his favourite reflections as mid- night ; when, confcious, warm, and infpired, he be- holds the hemilphere a blaze of worlds, and confiders that his fellow-creatures are reviving their fpirits un- der the influence of fleep, and during that deep, under the immediate guardianftiip of God, whole ihvifible at- tendance he confiders as protecting every abforbed fenfe and clofed eye. His mind enlarges and dilate:; as it revolves thefe mercies, till, elevating itfelf to a pitch of a more fublime and lofty nature, he foars in- to heaven itfelf; and becomes fo far abflra proach, when the paffing-bell ftuill feelingly declare, that the veteran has finilhed his earthly courfe, and the places that lately knew him, know him no more. Happinefs is a plant of celeftial extraction, fet by the hand of God in the centre of this world, which, branches thence by millions of ramifications over every part of it. Its blofibm and fruit may be, and are in a degree, enjoyed by every one who has either the Ik ill, the diicretion, or the induftry, to cultivate i:. In ihort, it grows by nature in every mind, and will flourifh long therein, if not choaked by the weeds of impiety, folly, and perverfenefs. Human happinefs confills in the filent, facred ap- plaufe of a good confcience, and, however varioufly it is purfued, is attainable only by the practice of vir- tue, a decency of manners, and dignity of conduct. From the moment the eye opens on the light* to that in which death draws over its vifion aii eter- nal curtain, our main, and ind-^d only end, is felici- ty- tf ty. To be happy, every padlon, fenfe, perception^ and faculty, every corporeal and moral power, is roufed to its higheft pitch of activity and exertion. Yet it is ama/ing to remark, how the fame beings, in the fame purfuit, fliould vary in their chafe. Every man has in object of blifs congenial to his difpofition ; an enjoyment charafteriftic of his mind and which is feldom or never the favourite pleafurc of any other. Happinefs, like \vit, may be divided into two parts ; that which is mi/, and that which \& foJttafttcaL, : or, like gpld, into the fterling and the bale. Much of what the world honours with the appellation of Fe- licity, is the chimera of an heated imagination ;. and ftill more is the painting of popular folly. Under thefe heads we may arrange the pride of anccftry, the farce of fplendour, the bubble of applaufe, the wafte of magnificence, the apparatus of ftation, and the infolence of birth. Thefe proceed from a mif- take in the means,, and are difappointed of the end. Mankind would be lefs unhappy, would they con- ftantly remember, that they are only beings of a world which like themfelves, is in continual decay ; and that every ftate rnuft inevitably feel more or lefs the tax levied on it by frail mortality. EMILIUS AN0 CLARA ; OR, THE HAPPY PAIR. Eich wa to each a dearer felf. THOMSO N EVERY day, after work Emilius congratulated himfelf upon the hours of relaxation, which permit- ted him to rejoin Clara, in whom he felt, at every ro turn, THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLASV. 59 turn, new attra&ions. Seated at her fide over their frugal blaze, under the thatch of their little cottage, and balancing upon his knees one of his infants, while the other hung harmlefsly at the bread of its mother, he forgot his fatigues ; he forgot that he had been la- bouring ever fince the fun got up, even to his going down : or, even if he did remember his wearinefs, the recollection of exertions by which he fed his babes, faw them innocently eating the bread he had earned, and merited -a tender fmile from his Ckira, rendered the whole more touching, Tranfported by thefe moft agreeable profpefts, nothing difturbed their repofe : "All was truly full." -The hu/Vand, the wife, and/their children, were together. Their imaginations could picture nothing ibfter, nothing happier thanthem- i'elves. The fight of their children always augmented their felicity. They were not lefs touched with an embar- rafsment they perceived in thefe little creatures, while they were ftamrnering to expreis their tendernefs, and while their pains were rewarded by a thoufand cares and carefies. What a'fource of pieafure was it to Emi- 1-ius and Clara, to interpret their wills ! to fatisfy their defires, and to condefcend even to join in theirinnocent paftimes ! Ah! how happy was Emilius, when he felt the ten- der hands of his children flruggling to embrace his own, hardsned as they were by work, and embrowned by the wind-and weather! The fon,one day, war. ca- rious to know the roafon of this: ".And why, papa (faid he ), is not your hand as loft as mine ? Why is it ib hard, papa ?" " In making bread for you and your mother," replied Emiiiu?, with paternal and gentle dignity. " It is, you fee, almoft worn out in the fer- vice." " Oh, oh ! (cried the child,) is that the cafe :' Well, then, by the time it has made us a little more -bread, mine will grow ftout enough to make bread too ; tfo TH-E GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. too ; and then we (hail fee, papa, whofo will be har- deft." The child copied the virtuous pride of the father: Emilius bluftied with joy, and Clara Hied a tear. EXTRAVAGANCE AND GENEROSITY CONTRASTED. \ Spare to fpend, and fpend to fpare. EXTRAVAGANCE is not lefs deftruflive of a man's happin'efs than avarice ; and if it be lefs hate- ful to the world in general, it is more pernicious to private families and intimate connexions. It keeps a man always needy, always in want ; it goes be- yond this, and compels the naturally generous and honeft heart to be guilty of the meaneft peculation. Thus extravegance and fiaihes of generofity, are not at all incompatible qualities in the fame breaft with the moft rapacious avarice. Indeed I never knew a prodigal who was not in feme instances guilty of meannefs. If you would look for the true genero- fity, you will probably find it among thofe, who let; not vanity or the love of pleafure keep them in per- petual necefuty. However paradoxical it might feern, if we fliould fay that a man with forty pounds a year is rich, and at the fame time call one with twice as many thou- fands poor, yet thi., is certainly very often die cafe ; for whatever a man's income be, if he is fatisfied therewith, and can limit his expenfes within its "bounds, he is undoubtedly in happy circumftances. \Vhile he who avaricioufly pines for more, or whofc extravagant expcnfes ftrctch beyond what he has means to fupply, however great his eitate, is ever in poverty, or may juilly fear it. Whatever YHE GiNTLEMAVTS MISCELLANY. Ot "Whatever they may poffefs, people, in reality, with regard to pecuniary circumftances, may be divided iato three clafles ; thofe in a thriving condition, whofe annual income yields a faving beyond rheir ufual ex- -penfe ; thofe whoj perhaps with fome difficulty, keep upon a balance ; and thofe who run into greater ex- penfe than they have means to fupport, without a decay of fortune. REFLECTIONS ON AMUSEMENTS AND DIVERSIONS. Amufement's the word. THE human mind naturally fhudders at the ides of diflblution, and would be unable to fupport itfelt" under this gloomy reflection, did not the profpect of a future ftate of happinefs, beget that fortitude which enables us to entertain the thought with magnanimi- ty. The foul triumphs in the belief of a glorious im- mortality ; and looks down upon this prefent tran- fient life, as the veftibule to a more permanent and durable exiitence. If then we h;ive a better and more folid foundation for our expectations th*n what mortality affords us, the prefent enjoyments of life v/ill be lefs regarded, than the more fubftantial ones to be inherited in the world to come. An attentive furvcy of the nature of man will difcover an eager propensity in him to pkafure, di~ veriion, and novelty ; he is delighted xvith a variety -f amufements, and a diveriity of fcencs. Hence the many different places of er.tcrtamment, devoted to the gratification of this ^actuating defire. The human frame is -compofed Ot different ingre- dicnts, intermixed with the folid and the gay, the fe- "rious and the trirling '; and therefore to apply our- -F *b THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANV. fclves too clofely to the obfervation of ferious objects, without relaxing our minds on neceflary occaiions from bufmefs and ftudy, 'would be attended with gr-at prejudice. For as too much labour diforders and enervates the whole frame, fo too intenfe an application of the mind to ftudious exercifes, weakens its native energy, and creates a kind of ftupefa&ion in our intellectual ftruclure. It is reported of the great Agefilaus, that he fre- quently amufed himfelf with his children, by joining in their puerile fpt>rts : Nor was he afhamed, when furprifed riding on a flick round his own hall. Very .different is the man whofe days are fpcnt in continu- al folitude, who is perpetually employed in ftudious refearches, and in indulging the moft gloomy and melancholy reflections ; he looks down with a fu- percilious arr on all prefent recreations and enjoy- ments, and judging of other men's actions from his r.wn pedantic and narrow notions, condemns them as the refult of die utmoft folly and ilupidity. How miferable is the condition of fuch a mortal ! The moft fuperficial examination will convince us of the anguifh and uneaiinefs in which he is continually involved, who' by his indifcrect behaviour embitters the very fwcets o/ life ; and renders that a curfe, which by a proper ufe and 1 improvement might be a real bl effing. ON THE 'BENEFITS OF EXERCISE. Exercifs increafeth flrcngih. AS man is a compound of foul and body, he is anckr an obligation of a double fcheme of duty ; and as labour and exerc.fe conduce to the health of the' body, fo do ftudy and contemplation to that df Uio j mind tor ftudy ftrcngthens the mind, as exer- cife THE GENTLEM-AN'S MISCELLANY. .3 c-ife does the body. The labour of the bedy frees us from the pains of the mind, and this it is which makes the poor happy. The mind, like the body, grows tired by being too long in one pofture. The end of diverlion is to unbend the foul, deceive the cares, fweeten the toils, and fmooth the ruggednefs of life. As the body is maintained by repletion and eva- cuation, fo is the mind by employment and relaxation. Difficulty ftrengthens the mind, as labour does the body. Life and happinefs confifl in action and em- ployment. Active and maiculine fpirits, in the vi- gour of youth, neither can, or ought to he at reft. If they debar themfelves from a nobler object, their defires will move downwards, and they will feel themfelves actuated by fome low and abject pafliou or purfuit. As the iweeteft rofe grows upon the iharpefl prickles, fo the hardeft labour brings forth the fweeteft profits. The end of labour is reft ; what bi ightnefs is to mil, labour is to idlenefs ; idlenefs is the ruft of the mind, and the inlet to all misfortunes. Diligence is the mother of Virtue. When it is known., fays Plato, hew exercife pro- duces digeftion, and promotes health, comlmefs, and ftrength, there will be no occafion to enjoin the ufe of fuch exercife by a law ; or to enforce an attention to it on the candidates for health, vigour and perfonal charms. THE WISDOM OF PROVIDENCE IN THE VARIETY OF THE SEASONS. WRITTEN IN THE SPRING. ^ IN contemplating on the various fcenes of life, the viciffitudes of the feafons, the perfect regularity, order, and harmony of nature, we cannot but be filled with wonder 44 THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCE-LLANY=. wonder and admiration, at the confummate wifdom* und beneficence of the all-wife and gracious Crea- tor. His confummate wifdom and goodnefs have made the various feafons of the year, perfectly con- fcnant to the refined feelings of man, and peculiarly adapted them to the universal prefcrvation of nature. Dreary winter is paft ; its fevere cold is mitigated ; the returning zephyrs diflblve the fleecy fnow, unlock the frozen dreams, which overflow the extenlive mea- dows, and enrich the teeming earth. At length, the rapid ftreams begin to glide gently within their banks ; the fpacious meadows foon re- ceive their ufual verdure, and the whole face of na- ture aiiumes a cheerful afpecT:. By the refrefhing fhowers and vivifying. power of the genial fun, we behold the rapid and amazing progrefs of vegetation. What is more pleafing to the eye, or grateful to the imagination, than the agreeable and delightfome re- turn of fpring ? The beauties of nature at once expel the gloomy cares of dreary winter. The benign in- fluences of the fun give a brifk circulation to the ani- mal fluids, and happily tend to promote the propaga- tion cf animated nature. In- the fpring we behold the buds putting fcrth their blofToms ; in fummer we meet with the charming profpect of enamelled fields, which promife a rich ptofuupn of. autumnal fruits. Thefo rkKghtful fcenes afTord to man a p!cafiiig arr.ii' enjOymg the bounties of providence, cheir him in aclverfity, and fupport him under th-j various misfortunes incident to human life. In th.- fpring, when we behold plants and flowers peeping out of the ground, reviving, and flouridiing at the ap- !i ' / the vernal fun when we behold th; feed, which the laborious hufiMndman cafts into the earth, ! life, and ri/ing into beauty, from there- maiader of that which j>crifliediR the preceding au- tumn, T*HE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. 65 tumn, we are filled with the mod pleafmg fenfations of the univerfal revivefcence of Nature. The warm and invigorating fun produces myriads of infects, which have been lifelefs through the hoary frofts of winter. The herds now go fortli to graze on the verdant plains. The innumerable flocks quit their folds, with their young, to feed on the diftant mountains. The matin lark, with all the charming choir, whom kind Nature wakes to cheerfulnefs and love, tune their melodious voices to hail the welcome returning fpring. The bufy bee flies over the fields, and extracts the liquid fweets from every flower, How pleaiing ! how wonderful ! are the feenes pre-. fented to our view ! The fpring of the year feems flrikingly emblemat- ical of that grand and univerfal refurrection, which fhallcommenfeatthe final confummation of all things ; may its beauties therefore raife our affections to thofo fuperior regions of blifs, into which the truly virtu- ous fhall then enter, and for ever enjoy an. unfading and eternal fpring.. THE FOLLY OF AVARICE. Man wants but little, nor that little long. Dr. YOUNG. IT is generally found, that he who inherits the for- tune of a mifer, has the paflions of a prodigal ; and if one man collects as a refervoir, his fucceffor plays off as a fountain. By which means, what was be- fore hoarded up carefully, now takes- unto infelf wings, and flies away ; .and as a fquanderer is pret- ty expeditious in his expenfes, that hafte makes up for the loft time, and brings the balance of public good once more upon the equilibrium. F 2 Notwithstanding 66 THE GEMTLE-MAN'S MISCELLANV. Not with flan ding thefe obfervations, we muft allow neither to the fpendthrift nor mifer more merit than is their due. Out of much evil we may extract fome good ; as honey may be extracted from poifons ; and this is the light in which thefe perfons mud be view- Let us forbear to enroll them, on the liil of" fame, amongft the more honourable or valuable or- ders of men. -The prince who ardently ftudies the welfare, the happine/s, and felicity of his people ; the father \vlio trains his family to piety and virtue ; the man of fcience who thinks and writes for the improvement of the human heart, and embellifhment of the hu- man underilanding ; the merchant who increafes our wealth, and advances our pleafure ; the artificer who prefents us with an elegant and ufeful invention ; the private gentlemen who diflufes comfort through his neighbourhood ; and the woman whofe examples ex- tends the influence of goodnefs, whofe integrity infpires .confidence, and whofe beauty animates to tendernefs, are all refpectable characters, and deferve univcrfal re- gard. ON THE EDUCATION OF YOUTH*. AN ESSAY. . 'Tis education forms the youthful mind* For as the bough is bent the tree's inclin'd. IT has been the comparifon of a celebrated author, rhat as marble taken out of the quarry fhows none of its inherent beauties, till it has undergone the labour ' of the polifhcr ; fo education, when it works upon an ingenuous mind, brings out to view every latent perfection, which without fuch helps are never able to make THE GENTLEMAN'S MisCi-LLAhV. 67 make their appearance. And let me add to this ob- fervation, that if we take the trouble to, look around us we fliall find very few, to whom Nature has been fuch a niggard of her gifts, that they are not capable- of fliiaing in one fpherc of fcience or another. Since- then there is a certain bias towards knowledge, in almoit every mind, which may be ftrengthened and' improved by proper care ; I think parents fhould con- fider, in the negledl of fo eilential a point, they do not commit a private injury only, as thereby they ftarve poflerity, and defraud our country, of thofe perfons who, under better management, might perhaps make an eminent figure in the world- Indeed, that the difference to be perceived in the manners and abilities of men proceeds more from edu- cation, than from: any imperfections or advantages derived from their original formation, is a matter fo long agreed on by philofophers, that to advance any thing in favour of it in this place appears altogether mmeceffary. . I cannot help recpllecling a ftcry, related by Plutarch, of Lycurgus, the Spartan law- giver, which will ferve to fet.the matter in a yet ftrong- er light. He took two whelps of the fame litter, a-J.d ordered them to be bred in a quite different manner ; a while after he took an occafion, in an aflembly of the peo- ple, to difcourfe of what great advantage the cuftom- ary practice of wh.oleforne inftruclipns and precepts was to the attainment of virtu.e ; iu the cloie of this harrangue, he told them, he would make an appeal to their fences, and let them fee a. demonftration of. his words, by example. Upon this, the two whelps were ordered to be brought into the hall, and there was fet down to them a diih of fragments, and a live hare. One of tffc dogs (as he had been bred) flies upon the hare, and the other as greedily runs to the fragments* While 68 THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLAKTT. While the people were mufmg to find out the mor- al of this odd proceeding ; " This," fays Lycurgus, *' is purfuant to what I before told you ; for, fee, thefe whelps do as they were bred, and though they were both of the fame litter, yet the diverlity of breeding hath made the one a good hound, and the other a cur, good for nothing, but to lick pots or difhes." Let me add to this obfervation, and example, that youth is the proper and only feafon for education ; for if it be negledted then, it will be in vain to think of remedying the overfight in more advanced years*; it will be too late to think of fowing it, when maturi- ty has rendered the mind ilubborn and inflexible ; and when, inftead of receiving the feeds, it fhoiild be bring- ing forth the fruits of inftruction. But there is one point in the article of education, which is more eflential than any of the reft ; I mean the great care that ought to be taken to form youth to the principles of religion. Vice, if we may be- lieve the general complaint, grows fo malignant now- a-days, that it is almoft impoffible to keep young peo- ple from the fpreading contagion, if we venture them abroad, and truft to chance or inclination, for the choice of their company : it is therefore the reward of virtue!, and a perfect fenfe of their duty to Godf, which are the great and valuable things to be taught them. All other confiderations and accomplishments fhould give way to thefe ; thefe are the folid and fub- ftantial good we fhould labour to implant and fatten in their tender minds, neither fhould we crafe our en- deavours * Youth is the time to learn from, . and nge to teach by, precept and example, 4; Virtue n its ownxcward. t The fear of the Lord is ihe beginning of wildoin. THE GENTLEMAN'* MISCELLANY. '*>$ flavours fo to do till they have attained a true relifli of them, and placed their ftrength, their glory, aiid their pleafure in them. Knowledge of the world is certainly of great im- portance to young people, and methods ihould be ta- Jcen to give them an inlight into the manners of man- kind-; left, when they come to play their feveral parts amongft them, they ihould be at a lofs how to acl, and make a thoufand blunders, which experience alone can put a flop to. But here I mall be told, that ex- pericnce fhould be the grand inftructor, it being impo iible to acquire a perfedl knowledge of the world by any other means than by a.diffufive commerce with. mankind. The obfervation is certainly juft ; however, though precept cannot in this cafe abfolutely fupply the place of example ;, it may be a very -ufeful and requifite pre- parative : as ftudying the mjp of a country, is of great- affiftance to us when we come to make a journey through it. REFLECTIONS OH THE VALUE QF TIME. Time v/afleJ is exJjtcncc, u'd is life D 8 . Yo use, THERE is nothing in this life which we ought to fet a greater value upon than time, and it becomes every one fo to ufe, as to improve it. Many are de- firous of putting off repentance to a future time, yet if they would but recolledt how fleet the minutes are, they Good examples corroborate and eilabliflj good precepts. J9 THE GENTLEMAN SMISCELLAiW.. they never would be fo eager to defer it even anot*i- er day ; for fo uncertain is the life of man, that he, who is to-day in perfect health, may, to-morrow, be opprclTed with ficknefs, and in a few days, be con- veyed to the filent grave. Every yoLmg man Ihould appropriate a portion of the day to his ftudies, and, at the fame time, divell himfelf of every thought which is liable to diftradt his attention : rJbr unlefs we do in our youth make a proper ufe of that time which we ought to dedicate to the improvement of our minds, we lhall find, when we go out into the world, that we have laboured un- der fad defects and difadvantages. But if we are de- firous to imitate the excellent examples which New- ton, Homer, Demofthenes, and other great men af- ford us, we mull apply ourfelves to our ftudies with a fixt attention, fmce it is that alone which will en- able us to arrive at the fummit of knowledge. Had either of thefe been diffracted with trifling thoughts, the rays of genius thus diverging from their proper focus, had loft their efficacy, and pro- cured little or no fame to names now fo celebrated. The ftories of Melancthon and Titus Vefpafian, afford ftriking lectures on the value of time, the one of which was, that whenever he made an appointment, he expected net only the hour, but the minutes to be fixed, that the day might not run out in the idlenefs. of. fufpence. The other was, if at any time a day Lad elapfed, in which he had done no good, he would exclaim, " My friends, I have loft a day." As time, like money, may be loft by unfeafonable profufion, it is the duty of every one to endeavour to imitate the example of thefe great men, that we all may properly efteem its value, and lament the i it, us a mifer would that of his riches. The Uage of life might be. made a perpetual fountain of agreeable and ufeful entertainments, were we to re- gulate , THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. 71 gulate it by a proper diftribution of our time. There ts nothing which unbends the mind more agreeably than the converfation of a well-chofen friend. It eafes and unloads it, clears and improves the under- ftanding, produces in'us ufeful thoughts and knowl- edge ; -and, in a word, finds employment for moft of the vacant hours of life. A gentleman that has a tafte for ;/&, drawing, or painting, afts wifely if he allots a portion of his time to one of thofe pleafmg arts. The cultivation of plants and flowers, an agreeable amufement in a country life, may alfo be found ufeful. to thofe who are poffefTed of that tafte. But of -all the rational amufements of life, there is none- more proper to fill up its vacant fpaces, than reading fome ufeful and. entertaining authors*. Since, then, time cannot be recalled, it becomes every one to be felicitous for the improvement of every part of it ; and let us not hoard up a /hilling with care, whilft that which is above the price of the greateft eftate pafFes by unno- ticed, and confequently unimproved. There is a remarkable inftance of par^mony of time in one of Pliny's Letters, where he gives an ac- count of the various methods he ufed to fill up every vacancy : after feveral employments which he enu- merates, fometimes, fays he, I hunt ; but even then I carry with me a pocket-book, that whilft my fer- vants are bufied in diipofmg of the nets, I may be employed in fcmething that may be ufeful to me in my ftudies ; and that if I mifs of my game, I may at leaft br:ng home forne cf my own thoughts with me, 'and not have the mortification of having caught nothing all day. * A friend, a book, the dealing hours fe cure, And mark them down for wifdotn, THOMSON-, THE THE GENTLEMAN'S THE LAST DYING WORDS OF AN OFFICER IN THE ARMY. Courage in Death. ALL-bcuntiful Heaven ! to \vhofe protecting aim I owe my life in the imminent dangers of battle > and to whom I am indebted for the numerous blef- iings of it, amidft the menaces of avowed enemies, and the fecrct fappings of perfidious friends.- Thine too are the domeftic joys which I have participated with the beft of wives, now, alas ! no more. Juft. Heaven, why am I now torn from the two dear pled- ges of our mutual loves, my beloved daughters, at the very moment too, when I leemcd to pofiefs the means of providing for them, in a manner adequate to a parent's fondeit wifhcs ? The -ways f Heaven are often myfterious, but are always juft and righteous ; no doubts of its good- nefscan pofllbly cloud my departing moments. Oh, favc my children from all the evils to which inno- cence, beauty, and virtue, efpccially if they wear a female form, arc expofed. To my country tco I in- trufl my beloved girls : for I have ferved my coun- try when it needed my help. But, oh ! my chil- dren ! had I not the firmeil afiurance, that Heaven* and ail good men, would be your friends, I fhould feel pangs worfe than the agonies of death which now come faft upon me, to leave you thus unpro- tected and unprovided, to conflict with a wicked and leducing world. 'eft of Beings is the bcfl of beings, and h< \vc\er fcvere the Offerings of the good and virtuous may be, a {fare yourfelves of this, that a ftea- cly adherence in the path of virtuous rectitude will meet an ample reward. Though I have frequently met death in the field, }ic is too ftrong for me now. Oh oh oh " REFLECTIONS THE GEKTl,KMAt;'s 5USCELLAST- 7 .i REFLECTIONS ON REPENTANCE IN THE VIEWS OF DEATH, Better late than never. WHOEVER is advancing toward the end' of lifc,_ ;iud tlirows his thoughts back to what he has fecn, it not experiexced,ii\ his progress through it, will be cc.i- vinced he leaves more evil than good behind him ; and that even the good belonging to this life is ib rax- ed with evil, that however it might beguile the Jirft^ choice, it will hardly ravfo a wifii for the repetition of it. When we reflect on our helplefs painful ftate of infancy the dangers and vices of our youth the cares arid anxieties of manhood and the calamities of old age who can, conllitently, lament, that he ":'> finishing a courfe, which, was it jr.i his power, he 'feels no inclination to repeat ? Collect and weigh the enjoyments and the fuffer- ings of life againil each other, and ere the balance turns, recollect the very fhort fpace'of time in which they are all tranfafled how fliort and iniremembei-- ed is our infancy- how youth has flipped by us w we were laughing -how manhood's work en- our attention, till old ae;e furprifes us unawares : well as eteraal welfare. Then we (liall h our enjoyments without furfeit'mg, and have a true taile of the delights of life, without neglecting tlx; duties of chriftianity. THE REFORMED RAKE*. A STORY FOUNDiU) ON FACTS. LORD AIMW.ELL was born with a great fhare of good ienl'e, which he improved by an applica- tion to ftudy ; an.i being poifcfiad of a. very happy confutation * That a reforiK-d rake may nuke a jor.;i iv.il, .mi, the following flory p vi-< 1 .voud denial - t bti> hidies. ihould net be pcrfuadcd to make trial of it, as it doub'.lcfs is very TITS GETNTLEMAtt'S MISCF.tt ANY. ^9 conftitution and an agreeable perfon, he wan likely to make a very capital figure in the world. After he had beer, feme time at the univerfi ty, his father ient him with a private tutor to make the tour of Europe, in order to enlarge his ideas, and furmount tfoofa pre- judices which we are too apt to entertain againil foreigners. His tutor was a young clergyman of a lively imagination and ftrong paffions ; but who had hypocrify fufficient to prevent his friends and rela- tions difcovering his foibles. But when he was no longer within the compafs of their obfervation, he gave a loofe to aH 'his extravagances ; and finding in his pupil a difpofition not diffimilar to his own, they were fworu friends, and conliant companions. At Paris they made acquaintance with the moft celebrated jrlles do jtye, and opera-girls; aflifted at every fpeclacle where mirth and feftivity reigned, and pafFe4 a winter in one conftant courie of liber- tinifm and diffipatkm.. Lord 'Aim well was detected v/ith the miftreis of a captain of dragoons, who cal- led him to account, when the French officer was run through the fword arm. Upon this occallon, his JLord- ftiip's tutor was his fecond, who behaved with as much gallantry as- if he had been bred to the fword, Hence they departed for Italy, and were at Venice during the carnival. Here they entered into all the fpirit of Italian lux- ury and refinement ; every attainable Mower in the garden of love was culled aad enjoyed, till at length a more than charming bouquet ir.groiTed all his Lord- fhip's attention. He had juil framed a connexion with Signora Calemctti, when he received the news of the death of his father ; and his affairs calling him immediately home, this lady agreed to accompany him in his journey. Upon his Lor.iiliip's arrival in England, he ap- pointed his late tutor his chaplain, regulated all other family .go THS GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANT. family bufinefs very fpeedily, and confined all his fondeit withes to Signora Calemetti. Her reign -was, however, but of a Ihort date ; another miftrefs and another Succeeded ; and finding herfelf flighted, Ihe quitted his hoafe, and tcok refuge under die wing of a certain ricli Welch Baronet. His Lordfhip purfued this courfe of Hcentiouf- ncfs for upwards of two years, during which time he was hurried from reflection, and immerfed in de- bauchery ; till at laft he met, in a private party, the beautiful, the amiable, the accompliihed Mifs L s. Struck with her uncommon charms, lie found the force of her perfections all at once affail him ; de- prived of the power of utterance, he could not even hint to her what he felt he left the company, and having returned home, acquainted his Chaplain with his fituation. The Priefl endeavoured at Erft to rally his paflion ; but finding it too deeply rooted to-be diverted by pleafantry, he undertook to be his Lordftiip's advocate. He accordingly found means to obtain an auciience of die lady, when he intimated to her the.fta.tc of his Lordihip's mind, the violence of his paffion for her, and his ftrong dell re of prefcnting her with his hand. To this fhe replied with great ierenity of temper, " I am not a ftranger to Lord Aimwell's merit, nor am I infeniible of the honour he propofes me ; but I am too well acquainted with his Lordllap's irreg- uhirities to prcmiie myfelf the fmalleft fhare of hap- piucfs from inch an union." Ail remcnllrance was vain, fhe Hill perfifted in thefe fentiments. "When his JLordfbap was informed of her anrvver, he was almofl diftracled, and would probably have committed fome violence upon hisperfon, had he not been carefully watched. He now law his part errors in their ftrongeft light All his fellies, all his vices, crowded THE GEKTLEMAN?S MJSCBtlANT. fc give indulgence to thofe pafliens which are our favourites, and think it fome amends to keep free from thofe vices, to which we have no inclination. We would fain believe that the grutiiying one folly cannot coin ' yc-t, per- haps, in tjiis lies our whole trial. ]f, by the kind- ncis of Heaven, I have an honell means of .procuring the THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. 85 The neceflaries of life, and fo much found common. fenfe, as to value riches only as they are really uicful, what merit is it in me that I do not covet or fteal ? And, if my temper be not irafcible, and no man has malicioufly injured me, what fliould make me hate or injure another ? But if I have fome darling appe- tite to gratify, and to pleafe it facrifice every confi- deration of prudence, juftice, and religion, am I not (fo far as it has pleafed Heaven to try me) a foolifli, immoral, and "Impious man ? By keeping cur paffions under due control, they 'become every day lefs troublefome : but, by indul- gence, they as daily gather flrength, and if they be allowed their fall length of rein, they will foon lead us into fuch exceffes, they will fo warp our reafon as to make us at laft unfeeling, and render us guilty -of fuch aclions, as, in our more innocent ftate, we would have ftmddered at the very thoughts of. We become not only hardened in our firft kind of lin, but one vice is often introductory of others ; and .we are led, nay almoft compelled, to commit fuch crimes as are moft repugnant to our natural difpofitions, and diftreffing to the feelings of our own hearts. Thus are the generous and kind, by running into extravagances, and fo involving themfelves in difficul- ties and diftrefs, forced to become mean, fawning, deceitful, and unjuft ; and into what fhocking fcenes of lewdnefs or cruelty, has not drunkennefs led the naturally virtuous and good-natured man ? Virtue is of herfelf fo lovely, and vice fo naturally loathfome, to the human heart, that no man me- thinks could endure the confcioulnefs of wanting the one, and fhame of being flave to the other, did we not deceive ourfelves by giving falfe names to things. Thus extravagance is called contempt of avarice, and avarice diilike to luxury and wafte. Lewdnefs is called gallantry, and drunkeunefs good fcilowihip ; H or 6 THI; GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. or elfe xre draw a veil over our own deformity of manners, by making partial comparifons betwixt ourfelves and others, as thinking it a kind of negative virtue, that we are not quite fq bad as they. Another way people comfort themfelves under a confcioufnefs of their prefcnt iniquity is, by their l:op-js of future amendment ; but that vice which \ve will not or cannot conquer to-day, will be yet worfe to fubdue to-morrow. Paffion, by being indulged, continually gathers ftrength, while cur power of re- fiilance mull naturally grow weaker. It is one great proof of the immortality of the human foul, that our paflions and defires decay not always %vith our bodily powers to gratify them. How will the fpirits of de- crepid age revive, when talking of what was the dar- ling pvide or plcafures of youth ! How will the drunk- ard repine for liquors, now become tallelcfs in his mouth ; and the lafcivious man " Sullto his niidrcTs hie with feeble knees 1" It is this conuderation which has induced feme, with great reafon, to believe, that it will be in ex- tremity of thefe never-to-be-gratified, thefe ever-long- ing deiires, that the future punishment of the wick- ed is to confift : this, with the confcious dread of an offended God, a mind robbed of every hope, of every virtue, and tortured with malicious envy, rage, and , will be indeed a worm which never never dies. THE BENEFITS OF INDUSTRY An idle man is the Devil's playfellow* TT is the duty of every man to purfuc fomc em- lent which may be beneficial to himfclf and hi? f-imily, or to the ccmmunity of which he is a mem- ber; THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. 87 fcer. Indeed the bulk of mankind are compelled to this from neceffity ; for there are comparatively few whofe circumftances are independent. But even thofc who are in the moft elevated lituations, ought to . employ themfelves in fervices to their friends, their dependants, and their country. The rich cannot be Supported without the labours of the poor, and it is unreafonable that, they fhould derive fach eonildera- ble advantages from the induftry of others, without feme efforts to promote the happinefs of thofe, by whofe labour they are benefited. On thefe principles, and from a conviction that idlenefs was injurious to the conftitutions and morals of men, and very unjuft and mifchievous to Ibcicty, the ancient Greeks and Romans appointed magif- trates to fee that no peribn fpcnt their time in iloth ; arid feverely punifned thofe that thus offended. It was the general cuilom of the Jews to bring up their children to manual labour, how plentiful foever their circumftances were, or how polite foever their education w ,1.3 uJigned to be. On this account v/o find the Apoftle Paul, who had a, learned education, under the greatefl of their rabbies, working a? a unt- :naker. The fume cultcm is ccutiaucd iu other na- tions to this day. A diligent application to feme ufeful employment is a great prefervative againft vice, and a guard againic temptations of various kinds. It is hardly poffible, that any man fhould continue abfolutely unemploy- ed for a long time ; and he that is not doing what he oxight, will be doing what he ought not. An honeib diligence fubclues thcfe fenf'iu-1 diipofitions which arc cherifhcd by floth and indolence. But diligence has not only a tendency to prevent evil, but is naturally productive of the greatcft advan- tages *. Many things, which at ilrit fight appear beyncd' *The hand of the diligent maketh rich, PRUV. x, 4, Ef. THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. beyond our reach, are furmountable by perfevering labour and induftry. What cannot be done by ens ilroke is effected by many ; and application and perfe- vcrance have often fucceeded, even where all other means have failed ; by repeated efforts v. r e may com- pafs in the end, what in the beginning we were, rea-- dy to dcfpah of. ON CONJUGAL LOVE : A FRAGMENT. IN wedlock the loofer paffions of youth are con- folidated into a fettled affection; for the lawful object of love unites every care in itfelf ; and makes even thofe thoughts that were painful before, become de- lightful. When two minds are thus engaged by the ties of reciprocal efte.em, each alternately receiver, and communicates a tranfport that is inconceivable to all, but thofe that are in this fituation ; from hence B that heart-ennobling fclicitudc for one another's weifare,that tender fympathy that alleviates affliction, and that participated pleafure that heightens profper- ity and joy itfelf. This is a full completion of the bleflings of human- ity ; for if reafon and fociety are the characteriftics which diftinguifh us from other animals ; an excel- lence in thefe two gre it privileges of man, which centres in wedlock, mufl raifc us in happinels above the reft of our fpecies. It is here that the nobleft paflions of which the huma.i foul is fufceptible join together, virtuous love i-.-icndihip ; tlie one iupplying it with a conftant nd the other regulating it by the rules o r-.Mlun EVENING. THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLAMY. 89 EVENING, AN ELEGY. THE parting fun reflects its ev'ning ray, And giant fhadows variegate the ground ; The wanton kids forfake their harmleis play, And folemn fdcnce reigns the vale around. Now fancy leads her airy-plumed train. Through mazy walks by gently-purling rllls Now Philomela fweils her mournful (train, And all the grove with fofteil mufic fills. Here,mofs-grown grots and bubbling ilreams are feen, , And gloomy groves in (lately columns rife ; Here fruitful meads cnamell'd all with green, There awful mountains feem to prop the fkies. Now Cynthia gilds the dew-befpangled grove, And carts profufely round her maiden light ; Led by die mufe, thro' lllcnt paths I'll rove, And pleafe my fancy wkh the varied fight. B:no!d that rock that rears its head fo high, In rude magnificence o'erlooks the flood ; See on its top the mangled ruins lie, Where once a cattle's (lately turrets ileod. The creeping ivy fhades each tottering tower, And clafps the ruins with a fond embrace ; The fcreech-owls claim their melancholy bot.'er, And boding ravens hover round the plac.-. How vain the pageantry of worldly things ! And- what is grandeur, but an empty name ? Short-liv'd the glory of the greateR kings, Though flau^hter'd muicn\s ruiii; their ill-get fume. . H 2 e <>o THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. Where is, alas ! the pride of Perfia flown ? The pomp of Rome, with all her empire's o'er, And e'en where Ilium ftood, is fcarcely known, And haughty Carthage now exults no more ( Tints, fmce Ambition yields her certain fate, By Reafon prompted, fure, unerring guide ; Let Virtue bleis thy viiionary ftate, Whofe glory Time nor Envy ne'er can hide. A. I, C A N D E R j OR, T;;K R L C 1. U S E. AN CLEGY. FOE to the woild's purfuit of wealth and fame,. Alcander early frcm the world retir'd, Left to the buf/ throng each boafted aim, Nor aught, fuve peace in folitude, defu'd. Foe to the futile manners of the proud, He chofe an humble virgin tor his own ; A form with Nature's faireil gifts eudow'd, And pure as vernal bloflbms newly blown. Her hand fhe gave, and with it gave a heart, By love engag'd, with gratitude impreil, Free without tolly, prudent without art, With wit accwnplUh/d, aad with virtue bleft. Swift THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY 9* Swift pafs'd the hours ; alas, to pafs no more ! Flown like the thin clouds of a fummer's day; One beauteous pledge the lov'd Eliza bore, The fatal gift forbad the giver's ilay, O the dread fcene ! 'Tis agony to tell, How o'er the couch of pain reclin'd my head ; And took from dying lips the long farewell, The lail, loft parting, ere her fpirit fled. Reftore her, Heav'h ! for once in mercy fpare ; Thus Love's vain prayer in anguifh interpos'd ; And foon Sufpenfe gave place to dumb Deipair, And o'er the paft, Death's fable curtain clos'd. O lovely flow'r, too fair for this rude clime 5 O lovely mom, too prodigal of light ! O tranfient beauties, blafted in their prime ; O tranfient glories funk in fudden night ! Sweet Excellence, by all who knew thee mourn'd j Where is that form, that mind, my foul admir'd 5 That form, with every pleafing charm adorn'd, That mind, with every gentle thought infpir'd ? The face with rapture view'd, I view no more ; The voice with rapture heard, no mere I hear 3 Yet the lov'd features Mem'ry's eyes explore ; Yet the lov'd accents fall on Mem'ry's ear. TRUE j- THE GENTLEMAN S MISCELLANY- TRUE PLEASURE; A1J ESSAY, Oh ! how amiable is benevolence ! THE man whofe heart is replete with pure and unaffected piety, who looks upon the*great Creator of the univerfe, in that jufl and amiable light which' all his works reflect upon him, cannot rail of tailing the fublimeft plca.iu.rc, in contemplating the ftupcn- dous and innumerable effects of his infinite gcodnefs. Whether he looks abroad on the natural or moral world, his reflections mull flill be attended with de- light ; and the fenfe of his own unworthinefs, fo far from lefTening, will increafe his pleasure, while it pla- ces the forbearing kindnefs and indulgence of his Creator in a ftill more interefiing point cfview. Here his mind may dwell upon the prefent, look back to the pall, or ftretch forward into futurity, with equal fatisfacTtion ; and, the more he indulges contem- plation, the higher will his delight arife. Such a dil- po:iiion as this, feems to be the moft fecure founda- tion, on which the fabric of true pleafure can be built. Next to the veneration of the Supreme Being, the love of human kind feems to be the moft promifing fource of- pleafure. And it is a never-failing one to him, who, poflciTed of this piinciple, enjoys all the power of indulging his benevolence ; who makes the fuperiorily of his fortune, his kncwledge, ov his pow- er, fubfervient to the wants of his fellow-creatures a- round him. It is true, there are few whofe power or fortune are fo adequate to the wants of mankind, as to render them capable of perforating a&s of univerful bcne- C'.ace THE GEKTIEMAN'S MISCELLANY. 93. ence ; but a fpirit of univerfal benevolence may be pofTcffed by all ; and the bounteous Author of Nature has not proportioned the pleafure to the greatnefs of the effect, but to the greatnefs of the caufe. The contemplation of the beauties of the univerfe, the cordial enjoyments of friendfliip, the tender de- lights of love, and the rational pleasures of religion, are open to all ; and they each of them feem capable of giving real happincfs.. Thefe being the only foun- tainsjfrom v/hich true pleafure fprings, it is no wonder that many fhould be compelled to fay they have not yet found it ; and ftill cry out, " Who tuitlfooiv us a- nygood P" They feek it in every way but the right way :. they want a heart for devotion, huinanity Y friendjlnp* and love, and a taflc for what is truly beautiful and admirable, ANECDOTES MR. GAINSBOROUGH, THE PAINTER.. MR. GAINSBOROUGH, the landfcape-painter,, was one of the greateft geniufes in his line that ever a- domed any age or nation. His death was occasioned by a wen in the neck, which grew internally, and fo large as to obilrua the pa/Tages. The efFe&s of k became violent,. a few months fince, from a cold caught one morning in Wcftminiler-hall, at the trial of Mr. Hailings. The malady began fo increafe from" this time ; but its fymptoms fo much eluded die fldl! of Dr.Heberden and Mr. John Hunter, that they declared it was no- thing more than a fwelling in the glands, which tho warn* weather would diiperfc. With this profpeft he 94 THE GENTLEMAN'S he went to his cottage near Richmond, where he re- mained for a few which Plautinus, folicited by a variety of other claims, could never think of beftowing. It may be eafily fuppofed, that the referve of our poor proud man was foon conftrued into ingratitude. Wherever Mufidorus appeared, he v/as remarked as the ungrateful man ; he had accepted favours, it was faid, and flill had the infolence to pretend to in- dependence. The event, however, juftificd his con- duct. Plautinus, by mifplaced liberality, at length became poor, and it was then Mufidorus firft thought of making a friend of him. Heifew to the man of difflpated fortune, with an offer of all he had ; wrought under his direction with afliduity ; and, by uniting their talents, both were at length placed in that eafy ftate of life from which one of them had fo unhappily fallen. If anxious cares are ruling in the breaft, And oft deprive the mind of wonted reft, The real friend will bear a willing part, And foothe the care with fympathizing heart. THE PLEAS U R E S AND BENEFITS OF FRIENDSHIP. Where heart meets heart reciprocally foft, Each other's pillow to repofe divine. NIGHT THOUGHTS. FRIENDSHIP is a union of hearts by the, means of virtue and merit, and confirmed by a cer- tain refemblance and conformity of manners. A- brilliant wit, folid and agreeable talents, may gain upon our efteein, but tbey have no right to eur friendfhip, unlefs they are accompanied with virtue. We ought to diftinguiih that which pleafes now and then, from that which will pleafe always. We muft behave with gentleneis and politenefs to thofe with whom we are to live, becaufe we cannot have too many people to willi us well ; but we are not to take the meafures of a lafting friendfnip with any man ex- cept with one, who has a generous noble mind, as well as a found judgment. Caution and manage- ment are abfolutely neceflary in the choice of cur friends ; and we muil not deliver onrfelves up, upon a flight acquaintance. Friendlhips fuddcnly formed, commonly end as foon as they are begun. One of the chief benefits of friendnu'p, is, to com- municate fome fecret charm to every thing that hap- pens in the life of a friend, whether good or bad ; that may leifcn the fenfe of the bad, and raife IE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY". ic raife the fenfe of the good ; fo that no misfortune may be infupportable, nor any pleafure lofl>to him. It confifts alfo in fetting us right in our notions, in correcting our falfe fteps, in favouring our enterprif- es, in making us moderate in our fuccefTes, and, fup- porting us in our adverfity. We muft excufe the faults of our friends j for to expect that our friends (tall have no faults, is as much as to refolve to have friendlhip with nobody. If the reputation of our friends is attacked in their abfence, we mud engage in their defence ; if they are prefent, we mnft feoond them with prudence ; and in private, we ought to have the courage to reprehend them for their faults. Among true friends, there muft be no fuch thing as diftruit ; there muft be no fecrets, except thofe which have been confided in you by a third perfon ; which is a facred truft you are not to divulge upon any confideraticn whatfoever. Let the ties of friend- ihip be ever fo ftricl, yet they have their bounds, and they muft be fubfervient to three principal duties. We are all born fubject to certain obligations ; we owe a duty to God, ,to our country, and laft of all to our family. Thefe feveral duties have their different degrees ; thofe of friendfhip are in the laft rank. As creatures we belong to one great Creator ; as fubjecls, to the ftate ; and as men, to our families. We are born creatures, fubjecls, and kinfmen, but we become friends. We come into the world charged with thefe firft debts, which we are obliged to pay ; preferably to thofe which we contra<5t by our own choice. There are accidents not to be forefeen, which often break friendfhip. In this cafe, we muft take care of being too eafy in liftening to bad fuggeftions, too rigorous to condemn. Reafon and jultice forbid u to condemn any perfon without hearing ; by a much ftronger reafon, common fenfe and humanity exact Io6 THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY.- it of us in the cafe of a friend. We fhould, on tne contrary, with great coolnefs, examine into the truth, and above all, avoid making uie of any fevere terms- in coming to an eclaircifTement ; there are feme who, for want of this difcretion alone, have given wounds to the heart of a friend, which are never to be cured. If after all, one fhould be under an indifpenfable ne- ceflity of breaking off entirely, there are meafures to be kept even in cafe of fuch a rupture. There is a refpecl to be paid to paft friendihip, at the time that it is no more. All noife and eclat mud particularly be avoided, and we ought to take fpecial c.ire that this rupture is neither begun nor followed by pafiion. Above all, we are not to difcover former fecrets. The myftcries of ancient friendfhip mult never be profaned. To conclude : happy is he who can find a true friend, and happy is he who poffeiTes the true qualities neceffary to make a friend. REFLECTIONS ON MARRIAGE. To wed or not to wed, that is the qucflion. MARRIAGE is not only a matter of pofitive inftitution, and of moral obligation, but even of nat- ural inftinft alfo. This latter article I fhall endeav- our to prove, by the means of a certain phyfical pe- culiarity, which fo happily and remarkably diftin- guifhes man from brute. Women may be wives throughout the year ; other females can be miilrefles but for a feaforu This particular, in my opinion, a- mounts pretty nearly to a proof, that Providence, in the great fcheme and ceconomy of the intelledual fyf- tem, THE GENTLEMAK'S MISCELLAUY. 107 tettl, defigned men and women for pairs only, and not to be at liberty to range unbounded, like the beftial herd. This may be permitted to the bull, the buck, the ram, &c. to anfwer the wife purpofes of na- ture ; but man is under no fuch natural neceffity for change. No condition for a man feems more natural than that of marriage ; it is the fole end for which his whole frame and contexture feem calculated ; all his fenfes, with an imperceptible violence, draw him in- to this union ; an union which if entered into under the aufpices of religion and reafon, and cemented by a fimilarity of tempers, proportion of ages, and che- rifhed by mutual complaifance, is productive of the moft folid happinefs ; but where intereft or paflion join their hands, where jarring fentiments and mutual neglects alienate the heart, it is, and ever will be, pro- ductive of real evils. There is, however, no ftate which is entitled to more efteem and honour ; yet of all, perhaps, it meets with the leaft ; this difappointment is owing to the Ipread of debauchery which has eclipfed its dignity, and decries it as a gulf of inevitable dangers; thus being dreaded, it Is defpifed and fhunned. Notwith- ftanding, if marriage be beneficial to mankind at large, it muft evidently be fo for individuals ; the good of the whole being the fame with the good of all its parts. The inconveniences of a fmgle life are in a great meafure necefiary and certain ; but thofe of the con- jugal ftate are accidental and avoidable. Of all who marry, there are few who have any other view thart their own peribn:-^ gratification j intereft promotes marriage with the old, and paffions quickly procure matches for the young. On either fide there is nei- ther love nor cfleem, and from thefe alone muft be derived true happinefs : therefore, it is from the gen- eral THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANV. cral folly of mankind, that their difcontent in mar- riage arifes ; they make a rafh choice without judg- ment or forefight ; without inquiring into the con- formity there is (or fhould be) of opinions, the fimi- larity of manners, reftitude of judgment, or purity of fentiments, and are, confequently, unhappy when it is made. A young man and woman meet by chance, or are brought together by defign : they exchange glances and civilities : they go home and dream of one ano- ther ; having little to divert attention or diverfify thought, they find themfelves uneafy when they are apart, and therefore conclude they fiiall be happy- together ; they marry, and difcover what nothing but voluntary blindnefs had before concealed ; they wear out their days with altercationsj& charge nature with cruelty. Surely all thefe evils might be avoid- ed, by that deliberation and forethought which pru- dence prefcribes to a choice for life. Upon the whole, a married life is always an injtpid) ' a vexatious, or an happy condition ; the firft is, when two people of no genius or tafte meet together, upon fuch a fettlement as has been thought reafonuble by parents and conveyancers, from an exacl valuation of the lands and cafli of both parties ; in this cafe, the young lady's perfon is no more regarded than the houfe, and the improvements, in the purchafe of an eflate. But fhe goes with her fortune, rather than her fortune with her ; thcfe make up the crowd, or the vulgar of the rich, and fill up the num- ber of the human race, without beneficence to thofe below them, or refpe is no more rcafon, that a man's fancy fhould fligma- ti.:o his fenles, tlian that his patience (doubtlefs, to bs tried enongli M-ithout) (hoiild. bear the burden of perpetual farcafms. Tht \vorltl ir, wide enough ; and a man, who has lived to my years a "batchelor, will have T;O need to run a double gantlet, where the wits of the ?K{e declare any one of them a fufficient !:t pic for fatire* Yet, if a homely piece of houfehold fluff fhould fall to my lot, I would of all things take particular r:;re, not to pi ovoke the fatire of my neigh- bours by any overvreeuing reflexions or companions. To be fare, under fuch a difafter, I v.-ould endea- vour to fecurc fome fiddle-faddle grace or other, to commute for my. liberty : good ftpfe, or good houfe- wifcry ; THZ GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANW nr AJfery ; or gcod-humour, or feme other good thing, ilioulcl excuit me to myfelf* at leaft ; andfo long as I find complaifanee -and content at home,my neighbour muft have very little to do, and muft approve him- felf a man ofvaft deficiency, both of bufinefs and wifdom, who will go about to difturb the peace of one that never troubles his head with him, or any thing that belongs to him. If I think my own wife handfomcr, difcreeter, cr a better houiewii'e than his, can it be any addition to my own happinefs, to endeavour to leifen his, by ac- quainting him with my fentiments ? But on the con- i: ary, if" I am confcious to myfclf that we are b. on a level in the matter, as to outward appearanc- at leaft j what a laxnefs of tongue, or what an abfencc ef difcretion fhall I demonftrate, to triumph in ad - vantages, of which I cannot make others fenfible, without expofmg myfelf to the cenfuresand ill-natur- ed . obfervations cf thofc who perhaps would not, without iuch a provocation, ever have troubled their he?.ds \vi:h me ? Sure the height of every man's real enjoyment mult be. in his own donieftic content. He that pretends to be happy without it, deludes himfelf. To enjoy our own with fatisfacticn, and to rejoice in the fatisfaclion cf our neighbours, tainment at winch very few arrive ; arac; : thofe can never be reckoned, who tndeavou, r/thers uneafy in their enjoyments, by a ridiculous cv ttritatiou of their own. ON rrz THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY*. ON POLITE BEHAVIOUR.. TRUE politenefs is the greatefc charm of civtV focicty ; it teaches us to compaffionate the errors and wcaknelles of fome, to bear with patience the whims :md caprices of others, to give into their notions for :< v.-hile, in order to brrng them back afterwards to realbn, by gentle and infmuating methods, accommo- dating ourielves to ihs humours of every body, from a real deiire of pleaiing in general., Widi this view \ve affume every character and form that may pof- fibly contribute to fuccefs ; and though a long prac- tice of complaifance be often a very difagreeable taflc wiih refpect to people of a certain ftamp, we, howev- er, conquer cur repugnance, and are not diverted from our purfuit by their untoward behaviour : how- ever capricious people may be, it is very diflicult for them not to be pleafed with fuch perfevering conde- fcenfion and adiduity. Politenefs, likewife, direcls us to decline the praifes people may be willing to give us, and prompts us to beftow them liberally on others. We are ingenious in expatiating on their amiable and excellent qualities: this is what makes us feel fuch exqusfite and deli- cate pleafure in the company of- polite people or nent, judgment, and pliancy, who know how to accommodate themlclves to our tafte- aiivi dif- pofitions. It is rare to find fo many accompiiiliments united ; we muft not, therefore, wonder that the number of polite perfons, is fo comparatively fmall ; ladies, who arc naturally more mild, complaifant, and grace- ful than men, have likewife more politeneis : and it is chiefly in an intercourfc with them, that men learn TKE GEKTLEMAN r S MISCELLANV. 11$ to be civil and polite, by ftudying to become agree- able to them*. Polite manners render merit pleafmg and lovely : whatever talents we may poiFefs, the want of polite- neis deftroys the efteem which excellent qualities muft otherwife produce. There are fome who have a pe- culiar knack of heightening the folly or abiurdity of others, as well as of exhibiting impertinent behaviour in a new light : this talent is the very reverfe of po* litenefs ; which is indulgent to every body, and which always finds arguments to palliate the conduct of o~ thers, or at leaft to juftify their intentions. Polite perfons have likewiie great addrefs for enter- ing into the tafte and difpoiition of people ; for com- ing at the nature and extent of their capacity, and giving them opportunities of displaying their dif- ferent abilities, they are lefs attentive to fhine in converfation by engroffing it entirely to themfelves, ban to make the merit of others appear more con- fpieuous. ON THE PRIDE OF HIGH BIRTH. Let high birth triumph! what can be more great ? Nothing but merit in a tow cftatc. DR. YOUNG, O"F all the abfurd circumftances by which the mind of man becomes elated, fuvely that of being de- fcended from great or titled anceitors is the moil ri- K 2 diculous ; * Would to God this was always the pleafing COnfeque^ce cf ioUfcourfe between the fcxcs. THE GENTLEMAN'S MiscELtAsv, cliculous ; it i'j impoflible to value ourfelves en any tiling iff meritorious, or that more difplays the vani- ty of the human character ; moft other kinds of pride have forn-j pica to give them countenance, but this ?ia.i none. Riches ibmemay pride themfelves in, be- caafe they give independence ; beauty and drefs may procure admiration ; and efteern will always await on intellectual accomplishments. . But to be defcend- ed from even the moft virtuous characters can never tie confidered as an advantage by the judicious part of mankind, unleft their good qualities, as well as names, were hereditary ; nay, ib far from giving any ::oom to boaft, it muft certainly be a great mortifica- tion to many, to reflect how much they fall fhort of the amiable character which the faithful pen of the hiftorian has'tranfmitted to pofterity. They cannot but know, tbat, to men of fenfe, the comparifon, or rather contrail, muft appear difgraceful ; and that their elevated rank, inflead of procuring them a part cfthat rcipect enjoyed by their progenitors, ferves only to render them the more contemptible. And as high birth can have no reafonable' claim to our reverence and efteem, when unaccompanied by thofe qualities and difpofitions which make a man truly great , ib . to defpife a roan, merely for, the meanncfs of his extraction, fhows equally a want of fenfe and found judgment, and is the peculiar char- ncteriftic of little minds. Yet, though the truth of thefe obfervations is fuftkiendy obvious, though this fpecies of pride is without the Ihadow of a rcalbn to Jupport it, it is aftonilhing to think what an influence it has over the conduct of the generality of .people at. the prefent time. No fooncr does a perfon, an-ived at a ftate of inde- penrlence, by an exertion of his induftry only, appear in any public fccae of life, but the bufy tongue of a icolulv THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLAHV. 115 foolifli curiofity is employed in an inquiry into his family ; and, though he may have imbibed the moft virtuous principles^ .though his genius may be fuch as would render him a valuable acquifition to focie- ty, yet, if he cannot boaft of a long, lift, of honoura-, ble names in his pecligre.e, he is immediately treated with a fupercilious indifference, and deemed unwor- thy to affociate with people of quality. But fhould he dare to carry his thoughts fo high, as to wifh an alliance by marriage with a family of that clafs, in- cited thereto by the tcndereft and mofl fmcere at- tachment to an objeft not infenfible of his merit, and lefs influenced .by that pride which cuftom has made fo powerful an obftacle to, their happinefs, he muft not wonder if the indifference he before experi- enced is. exchanged for contempt. So much for the folly of modern nobility, in valuing themfelves for their high birth, without refpecl to real merit. N one's truly great, but he who's truly good. RATIONAL PROOFS OF THE SOUL's IMMORTALITY AND A FUTURE STATE.. IN A LETTER TO A- MODERN DEIST, AM EXTRACT, It? muft fee fo-Plato, thou reafon'ft well E-lfe whence this pleafing hope, this fond delire, This longing after irr.tnortality ? 'Tis heav'n itfelf that points out an hereafter, And Hitunates eternity toman, ADD ISDN'S CATO} YOU acknov/ledge there is one felf-exiftent Being, and that from Him all derive their exigence, whether rational, animal y vegetable, or nitinlmale ; from what we ii6 T'AT C-ENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY, we fee and know of his works, may we not reafon with fome degree of precrlion, by analogy, to what is lefs certainly underftocd ? Amongft all the works of cre- ation, that come under our cbiervaticn, is there any wafte of powers, abilities, qualities, or properties ? Every plant can receive from, that fmgle fpot, to which it is confined, all that is neceffary for its fup- port and nouriihment ; it fickens by removal, and thrives in proportion to the clbfe adhefion of its fib- rous root to its mother earth : the power of motion, which would have been injurious, is therefore wifely denied, Obferve the various animab, fee how their differ- ent powers, forms, qualities, and clothing are propor- tioned to their different natures/and the different oc- cupations, or climates, they are deftined to. Of what life to the mole would have been the eagle's eye, or to the horfe the tiger's claw, feet to the fiih, or fins to birds ? Not a fuperfuous gift is beftowed, but each fpecies has exactly that form, ,conftruc~lion, and thofe powers, which are moft ufeful, .neceffary, and beft fuited to itfelf. Let us then ga on to examine Mew upon the fame plan : Compare him with all the different kinds of animals over whom he claims, .and exerts a fove- reign power. Some of thefe are made his food, oth- ers neceffary to the comfort and convenience of his life in different capacities ; neither of which could be obtained by the corporeal qualities he is endowed with, the brute creation being all, either by ftrength, fwiftnefs, or the region they inhabit, beyond-the reach of his arm. The fuperior fugacity, therefore, which has enabled him to fupply, by various arts, this natural defect of corporeal powers, was undoubtedly necefiury to his iubliftence ; becaufc without ii he would have beea. the THE GENTLEMAN'S- MISCELLANY. llf the moft defenceless .of all animals equal to himfelf in fize ; unable to procure the fmaller kinds for his food, and an eafy prey to the larger. Suppofmg his whole duration to end with this life, or, at leaft, that no after-confcioufnefs remains, was not. this fort of fagacity, by which he braves the lion's -force, bends to the yoke the ftubborn bullock's neck, breaks to the curb the foaming fteed, overtakes with certain death the diftant bird, or from the rapid ftream drags to the Ihore the fcaly- fry ; : was not, I fay, on fuch a fup- pofition, this fort of fagacity, by which he reigns acknowledged lord of this planet, fufiicient to anfwer all the ends of his creation ? Wherefore then this waile of rational powers ? this capacity of diving into the philofophical difference between matter and fpir- it ? of tracing effe&s up to their probable caufes, and accounting rationally for almost all the phenomena of nature b. To what end is he endowed with the rcafoning fa- culty in a degree fo fuperior to his fellow-mortals here, as to feel . (if the expreBion may be allowed) his derivation from fome eternal exiftence, and form to himfelf not. only a wiih, but even a probable prof- pecT: of immortality ? And that this is the refult of the natural powers of his mind, exclufive of any fup- pofed revelation, is evident from the condant, though doubtful, hope of philofophers in the. earlieft ages of the world, from all the accounts that have been tranfmitted to us. Of what ufe to him-, if confcicnifnefs'Cnds with re piration, is it to fee and admire the eternal beauty of truth, the fitnefs of things, the unalterable differ- ence between right and wrong action, or moral good and evil ; the beauty of. virtue, and the deformity of vice ? And is it reafonable to fuppofe, that in a world wherein we fee every creature below us exactly fuit- ed Ji8 THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANT* ed to the manifeft end of its creation, pofleflmg juft what is neeefTary and uieful to it, and not a fuperflu* ous gift beftowed, that the Creator fhould have been thus wantonly lavifh in the formation of Ma a alone ; and flored his mind with ufelefs faculties, in contra- di&ion to the general plan of creation, which is evi- dently calculated for the utility, convenience, and hap- pinefs of every other fpecics ? Admitting this to be his who'Je duration, how emi- nently \vretchtd is he made by the fuperior powers hebcailscf! Every animal, ry, Hatred, Malice, Revenge, and Defpair, are known to weaken the nerves, retard the circulation, hinder perfpiration, impair digeftion, and to produce fpaims, obilruftions, and hypochondria- cal diforders. Valarius Maximus gives fatal inftances of terror. Violent anger creates bilious, inflamatory, con- vulfive, and apoplectic diforder?, efpecially ' in hot temperaments. Pliny 124 THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. Pliny and Aulus Gellies give, us fatal inflances of extreme joy. Sylla having freed Italy from civil wars, returned to Rome. He faid, he could not fleep the firil night, his foul being tranfported with excefiive joy, as with a flrong and mighty wind. Thofe who brood over cares, are the firft attacked by putrid difeafes, and the hardcft to cure. The hopes of ending their days among their na- tive barren rocks, make the. Switzers fight under any banner. Africans tranfported to the colonies, no fooner caft their eyes on the hated fliores, than they refufe ful- tenance, and often plunge into the main, from a no- tion that their departed fpirits regain their liberty. Can drags reach the feats of fuch difeafes ? What can medicines avail to love-iick minds ? Wounded fpirits who can bear ? Moderate joy, virtue, contentment, hope, and courage, invigorate the nerves, accelerate the fluids, promote perfpiration, and afiift digeflibn. Lord Vcrulam obferves, that cheerfulnefs of fpirits is particularly ufeful when we fit down to meals or (.<<> to reft. " If any violent paffions fhould furprife ; hefe feafons, it would be prudent to defer ea- or going to bed, until the mind recovers its '.I tranquillity." - obfervable, that the perfpiration is larger ,iny vehement paflion of the mind, when the r ody is quiet, than from the ftrongeft bodily excr- ciic, when the mind is calm and compofed. Hence we infer, that thofe who are prone to anger cannot bear much cxcrcife, becaufc the exuberant perfpir ration of both, might wafte the Itrength too faft. DESCRIPTION THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. DESCRIPTION OF A COUNTRY WORK-HOUSE. A FRAGMENT, BEHOLD yon houfe that holds the parifn poor* Whofe walls of mud fcarce bear the broken door ; There, where the putrid vapours flagging play. And the dull 'wheel hums doleful thro' the day* , Children are plac'd who know no parent's, care : Parents, who know no children's love -dwell there ; Heart broken matrons on their joylefs bed, Forfaken wives, and mothers never wed f ; Dejected widows with unheeded tears, And crippled age with more than childhood fears , The lame, the blind, and, far the happieft they ! The moping idiot, and the madman gay j. Here too the fick their final doom receive, Here brought amidft the fcenes of woe to grie.ve ; Here forrowing, they their hours of trouble lean, And the cold charities of man to man ; Whofe parifli laws for ruin'd age provide, While ftrong compuluoa plucks the fcarp from pride ; L 2 But * Th? fpinning-wheel. f The fccnesof mifery and diftrefs generally exhibited" in parifh work-houfes both in town and country, whether occafjoned by unavoidable misfortunes, or the elfeclj of vice, diHipation, or extravagance, are but fo rr.any melancholy pictures of the vanity, folly, and uncertainty of all human cxpeflations and purfuits. * If (as it is often faid) there are p!eaf::rcs in madaefs which none but madmen know, I am well uflurcd the/ arc d ia the enjoyment of them. 126 THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLAKY, But flill that fcarp is bought with many a And pride embitters what it can't deny. Say ye, opprell by fome fantajlic woes, (Sonic jarring nerve that baffles your repofe ?) Who with fad prayers the weary doctor teaze, To name the namelefs ever new difeafe ; Who with mock patience dire complaints endure, . Which real pain and that alone can cure*; How, would ye bear in real pain to lie ; Defpis'd, neglected, left alone to die ? How would ye bear to draw your lateft breath; Where all that's wretched paves the way for death ? Such is that room which one rude beam divides, And naked rafters form the floping fides : Where the vile bands that bind the thatch are feen, And lathes and mud are all that lie between, Save one dull pane that coarfely patch'd, gives way> To the rude tempeft, yet excludes the day : Here, on a matted rlock, with dufl o'erfpread, Tie drooping wretch reclines his languid head. For him no hand the cordial cup applies, Nor wipes the tear thai ftagnates in his eyes ; No friends with foit dilcourfe his pains beguile, Nor promife hope till ficknefs wears a fmilef. But with bare necefTaries fcarce fupply'd, And * How many amon the noble and effluent parts of man- kind are there, who having no real troubles to perplex them, make to themfclves imaginary ones, and confequeatly be- come their own tormentors ? Such perfonsdeferve no pity. } However furroundiog friends may not be able, when we are aftlitted, to remove our pains ; tfeeir fympathy and con vtife may tend greatly to aileviaic them ; well therefore doea a ;ate emir.ent writer fay, ' Poor is the fricnuhfs mailer of a world." DR, YOUNG. THE GENTLEMAN'S MiscttiANYt 127, And rack'd with pain he turns from fide to frdej At evening longing for the morning light, And wilhing every morning it was night, Such fcenes of dire diftrefs, 'tis but too true, A pariih workhoufe oft prefents to view f. A REAL CHRISTIAN DELINEATED. Chriftian is the higheft flyle of itian. NIGHT THOUGHTS, IF a man is proud and ambitious, he cannot be of the true church of Chrift ; for Chrift was lowly, meek, and humble. If a man is cruel, he cannot be, of that church ; for Chrift was tender-hearte d. If a man is unforgiving and revengeful, he cannot be of that church ; for Chrift forgave his enemies, and prayed for them. If you are avaricious, you can-, not be of that church ; for Chrift defpifed riches. If you are vain-glorious, you cannot be of that church ; for Chrift fought not the praife of man, but the glory of God. If you know your brethren to be in diftrefs, and affift them not ( if it is in your power to do it), you cannot be of that church j for Chrift comforted the afflicted, relieved the needy, healed the fick, and even gave his life to fave h,is enemies from deftruftion. If + It is too irue an obfervation,that there are very fcwif any of the excellent public charities the metropolis abounds with tut what are abufed ; the farming, of the poor, as it is gen- erally ftyled, has been the inlet to many flagrant abufesj and thiici'ure fhould not be allowed, jz8 THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. - If you are envious, you cannot be of that church ; for Chrift envied no man's happinefs. If you pafs rafh or evil judgment on die actions of your neigh- bour, you cannot be of that church ; for Chrift judg- ed none unfavourably. If you are luftful, you cannot be of that church ; for Chrift had no unclean defires. If you are a curfer, or fwearer, you cannot be of that church ; for Ghrift took not the name of God in vain. If you are a drunkard, or a glutton, you cannot be of that church ; for Chriil was moderate in all things;};. If you are a liar, you cannot be of that church ; for Chrift always fpoke truth, though he lufFered for it. If you are contentious, you cannot be of that church ; for Chrift was a peace-maker. If you are an idler, you cannot be of that church ; for Chrifl employed his time well, daily going about doing good. If you are a thief, or an unjuft dealer, you cannot be of that church ; for Chrift rendered Crefar his due. If you are a felf-lover, you cannot be of that church*; for Chrift loved others better than him- felf, or he had net died for their fakes. We are apt to fet too great a value on the few good actions of our lives^ and imagine one merito- rious deed fufficient to over-balance numberlefs re- peated crimes : but this is a great miitake, and the error of felfefteem ; for it is not enough that we obey our matter's commands in a few immaterial points, but we muft execute his orders Itri&ly, in ever)' particular, ere we can prove ourfelves his faith- ful : If we bear not the image of Chnft in our tempers, lives, and conduct, we cannot b: his difciples ; they only are his friends who do whatfcever he commandcih. jchn, xv. 14. * A real Chriflian has the feeds of all thefc evils in his corrupt naia-e ; .but grace enables iiim to fubdue them. THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY, t2$ ful fervents. In fhort, if we do not love God above all things, and our neighbours as ourfelves ; we are not of Chrift's church, nor in the leaft entitled to the benefits and bleflmgs he hath promifed to them that love and ferve him f ! Alas! how few real Chriftians there are in the world I THE REPRIEVED MALEFACTOR ; AN AFFECTING SCENE, LATELY EXHIBITED IN NEWGATE. - " A dreadful din vias wont To grate the fcnfe, when enter'd here, from groans, And howls of flaves rondemn'd : from clink of chains. And crafh of rufty bars, and crocking hinges ! And evtr and anon the light was dam'd With frightful faces, and ihe meagre looks Or grim and ghaftly executioners." CON ORE VE. THE tolling of the dreadful bell, fummoning the miferable to pay their forfeited lives to the injured laws of their country, awoke Henry from the firft fleep he had fallen into, fmce he entered the walls of a diimal prifon. Henry had been a merchant, and married the beautiful Eliza in the midft of affluence ; but the capture of our Weil Indi a fleet, in the late Ameri- f It is not being or this, that, or the other fcl or deno- mination among the piofcffors of Chriflianity, that will sonftitute a man a real Chnttian in God^ account ; but lus being poifeir of the iove of Chrift in his heart, and evi- dencing it in bis life and conversation in the world. iga THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLAKT^ can war, was the firft ftroke his houfe received. His creditors, from the nature of the lofs, were for fome time merciful ; but to fatisfy fqme partial demands, he entered into a diilionourable treaty, which being difcovered, Henry was thrown into aloathfome goal. He had offended againfl the laws, and was condem- ned to die. Eliza ponefTed Roman virtues. She would not quit his fide, and with her infant fon, fhe preferred chafing away his melancholy in a dungeon, to her father's houle, which was ftill open to receive her. Their hopes of a reprieve from day to day, had fled; but not before the death-warrant arrived. Grief o- verpowering all other fenfes, Sleep, the balmy ehar- mer of the woes of humanity, in pity to their mife- ries, extended her filken embraces over them, and beguiled the time they had appropriated for prayer ; and Eliza, with the infant, dill continued under her influence. " Father of mercies," exclaimed Henry, " lend thine ear to a fupplicating penitent. Give attention tomyfhort prayer. Grant me forgivenefs, endue me with fortitude to appear before thee : and, O God! ejttend thy mercies to this injured, this bell of thy nts, on whom 1 have entailed undeferved heart- felt woe. Chace not ileep from her, till I am dead." The keeper interrupted his devotion, by warning him to his fate " If there be mercy in you, " repli- eJ Henry, " make no noile, for 1 would not have my dear wife and child awaked till ] am no more." He wept even he, who was inured to mifcry He, who with apathy had till now looked upon dif- frefs, ihed tears at Henry's requeft Nature, for once predominated in a gaoler. At this inftant the child cried ! " O Heavens," faid THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCEXLAN'Y. 131. faici Henry, " I am too guilty to have my prayer heard !" He took up his infant, and fortunately hufhed it again to reft, while the gaoler ftood petri- fied with grief and aftonifhment. At lail he thus broke out " This is too much, my heart bleeds for you, I would I had not feen this day." " What do I hear ?" replied Henry. " Is this an angel, in die garb of my keeper ? Thou art indeed unfit for thy of- fice This is more than I was prepared to hear- Hence, and let me be conducted to my fate. Thefe words awoke the unhappy Eliza ; who, with eagernefs to atone for loft time, began to ap- propriate the few moments left, in fupplicating for her hufband's ialvation. Side by fide the unhappy couple prayed, n.s the -Ordinary advanced to the difmal cell They were too intent on their devotion to obferve him. The holy man came with more comfort than what his function alone could adminifter. It was a reprieve, but with caution he communicated the glad tiding to the loving but haplgfs pair. The effect it had on them was too affecting to be expreffed. Henry's fenfes were overpowered, while Eli/a became frantic with joy She ran to the man of God, then to her child, ere fhe perceived her huf- band apparently lifelefs. He foon inhaled life, from her tender kilTes, while the humane gaoler gladly knocked off his fetters. THE 2 THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. THE DIFFERENT STAGES OF LIFE PLEASINGLY DESCRIBED. HE who, in his YOUTH, improves his hitelleftual powers in the fearch of truth and ufeful knowledge ; and refines and ftrengthens his moral and aftiie pow- ers by the love of virtue, for the fevvice of his friends, his country, and mankind ; who is animated by true glory, exalted by facred friendship forfecia!, and fof- tened by virtuous love for dtW'Jt'ic life ; -who lays his heart open to every other mild and generous affec- tion, and who to all thele adds a fbber mafculine fiety, equally remote frormjnperftiti0n and entbnfiafm ; that MAN enjoys the molt agreeable jcuih ; and lays in the richefl fund for the honourable aftion, and happy enjoyment of the ftic.-cfdh:g periods of life. HE who, in MANHOOD, keeps the paflicns under due reflraint* ; who forms the moft feleJt and virtuous friendfhips ; who fecks after famf, wail.*, and power t in the road of truth and virtue; and, if he cannot find them in that road, generoufly defpiilsthem ; who in his private chai-acter and connexions, gives fulleft {cope to the tender and manly paffions ; and in his public character and connexions ferves his country and mankind, in the moft upright and difinterefted manner ; who, in fine, enjoys the guds of life with the *Thc gratifications of vic'ous pafTionsarc always inflamed fey enjoyment, and cloy with repetition, THE GENTLEHA!l r S MISCEltliNY. !$$ | 'the greateft moderation^, bears its ills with Chriftiaj* ^fortitude ; and in thofe various circumftances of duty ; a.nd trial maintains and exprdfes an habitual rever- ence and love of God ; THAT MAN is the iuortk&fl char- acler in tkisflage of life ; pailes through it "*sitii the -higheft fntisfadtion and dignity ; and paves the way to the moil ea.lv and honotirable old age. FINALLY, HH, who, in the DECLINE OF LIFE, pre- ferves hirnfelf moil exempt from the chagrins inci- dent to that period ; cherilhes kind and ben-joUnt af- ftttions ; ui'es his experience, ivijlio.-n, and authority ia the moil fatherly and venerable manner ; doing acls under afenfe of the iufpeftion, and with a view to the t'f'/jfchition of his Maker ; is conitantly afpiring after immortality, and ripening apace fork; THIS is the happicft OLD-MAN. Such a truly good man may have fome enemies, but he will have more friends ; and having given many marks of private friendfhip or public virtue, he can hardly be deftitute of a patron to protect, or a fanc- tuary to entertain him, or to protector entertain -his children when he is gone.- Though he fhould have little elfe to leave them, he be- queaths them the faireft, and generally the moil unenvied inheritance of a good ?:ame ; which, like iced fown in the field of futurity, v.411 often M raii'e t The truly good man is fatisfied from himfelf, M* clefires are moderate, his wants few ; lie ) cautious withort being jealous or didruftfu! ; careful but not anxious, bufy but not diitrafled ; tie tadcs pleafure vvithout being vicious, and bears pain and affliction without dejcttion or rlifcontcnt; is raifed to power without turning giddv, and feels .ci'anvtv without repining ; being well allured that his heavenly Father will either fullain him under his trouble?, or diutt and over-rule -them for his grcatefl good. 1^4 THTT CEXTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. raife up unfolicited friends, and yield a benevolent hurveft of unexpected charities. J3ut fhould the fragrance of the parent's virtue prove offemive to a perverfe or envious age, or even draw .down periecution on the friendlefs orphans ; there u Or,r in heaven, who will be more than a la- ther to them, and recompcnfe their parent't; virtues by Ihowering down bleffings on them. The thoughts of leaving them in fuch good hands, fuftain the hon- eft parent, and make him fmile even in the agonies of death; being fecure, that that Almighty Friend, who hvts dilptufed fuch a profufion of bounties to himiclt, cannot prove an unkind guardian, or an uc.- faithful triul.ee to his fatherlefs offspring. ON FLATTERY AND TRUTH. Stop not to flatter, tho' thou art paid For it. There is nothing which the majority of the world "is. more fond of than flattery. This adds inexpreffi- ble delight to weak minds, difplays the mod enticing objects in falfe colours, and too often gains the viclo- ry over fmcerity and truth. Where it once gains accei,, we foon become enamoured with it, and fool- Uhly tranfported v.-ith ks dclufive and cnfnaring arts. Abl'urd indeed ! that men ftiould be captivated with fo vain a phantom 1 Though flattery may afford us atranfient:pleafure, yet it is as incomparable to truth as light is to dark- nci's. E::j cricnce convinces us that the one cannot deceive THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCL.LI/AH*. 135" deceive us> whereas the other is of the moft deceit- ful nature, acquires a numerous train of apparent r ricnds, by its enticing deluiions, and would, if poffi- ble, gain the predominancy over every individual; it exhibits every thing delightful to our conception, and endavours to entangle us by every artifice. But how different is fmcerity or truth 1 This inoftimable quality is truly beneficial to all. He who ufes this, lives free from perplexing anxiety and foiici- tude. Hismindiscalm and ferene,his heart void of anyfalfc imaginations, and he enjoys fccnes of undiiturbedre- pofe.. Though flattery may for a time win the affec- tions, yet it is built upon fo ill-grounded a bails, that it is always in danger of falling, and being expofed to public derifion. Whereas truth is blamelefs and well eftabliihed ; entertains us with a proipecl: of fu- ture tranquility, and makes us ever to abound in the fruits of folid joy and inward peace. CHARACTER OF A TRUE GENTLEMAN. A DECENT mein, and elegance of drefs, Words, which at eafs each winning grace exprefs ; A life, where love, with polilh'd wil'dom Ihines, Where wifdom's felf again by love refines ; \Vhere we to chance for friendfhJp never tnift, Nor ever dread from fudden whim, difguft ; The manners geatle and the heart humane, A i$6 THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY-, A nature truly great, but never vain. A wit, that no licentious pertnefs knows, The fenfe, t that Una/Turning candour (hows j . Reafon, by narrow principles uncheck'd, Slave to no party, bigot to no fed ; Knowledge of human life, of learning too, Thence tafte, and truth, which will from tafteenfuej A juft difcernment, with a judgment clear, A i'mile indulgent, and that fmile fmcere ; An humble, though an elevated mind, Its grcateft plsalure but to ferve mankind : Thele will eircem and admiration raii'e, tjivc true delight, and gain unflattering praife. . GRANDEUR NOT NECESSARY TO; HAPPINESS. A FRAGMENT. WHAT true felicity can greatnefs give us, that is not to be met with in a middle ftation of life ? Who- ever knows how to limit himfelf to a moderate fortune is truly rich. If a man meaiures his neceflitiss by nature, he will never be poor ; if by opinion, he never be rich. A man need not to be aphilofopher to contemn grandeur, and to know that riches are of little ufe to the attainment of -true happinefs. . He need only examine what fuch' wealth! and gran- deur amount to in the end ; for if it be evident to him that they cannot procure real felicity, but arc often pernicious to the owners, he will then be con- vinced that a ftate of life wherein a perfon has what i - truly neceffiiry, is far preferable to a flate of fu- j-Trluity and grandeur. . . . . nil /Q> if they had not been bridled by a baftiful nature ; for there are many that have hearts for vice who have not a face for it. Modefty, when a virtue, re- trains us from licentious company and bad enter- prifes ; it teaches us to eftecm merit ; it awes- the- uncivil tongue ; prevents a man from vain boaft- ing ; and makes a wife man not to fcorn but to pity a fool. THE HAPPY MAN. IN all the different fchcmcs mankind purfue,. The end's the fame : 'tis happincfs in view : For tin's, tl;c mariner, while breaking waves Threat inftant death, the dang'rous pafTage brave ;. For this tli* aftrologer, whole fleeplefs nights 1'ix'd to ths tube, explores the ftarry lights ; For this, the mifer lizards liis lliininp; pelf, And to be riMy happy ila'-ve:; himielf ; For thi<:, ibme tread- the flipp'ry paths of ftate, i / 'a:icy bills amurx'd to being great ; Others to d:ft"'n.;ii: })ie;:Hircs give the reins, While difappointirent crowns the'u 4 fvuitlefs pains. All arc cl;ceiv'd who hi re c^peil: to .find Aught that can Satisfy the human mind. ro' the world you'll find ther's nothing cab AtTord, GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. 139 Afford the proper happpinefs of man, That Power alone who gave all beings birth: Who form'd the heavens* and upholds the earth, Whofe word firft made, whofe mercy flill fuitains Thole ^worlds unknown, o'er which his juftice reigus t Whofe' fmrles create eternal joy and peace, Is the true centre of unfading blifs. That man alone obtains the end defir'd, Whofe bofom with immortal love is fir'd ; Who follows happinefs in virtue's road. And fteadily obeys the will of God ; Who will by no temptation be betray'd ; Nor can by fear of punifhment be fway'd j Whofe fixt delign is iledfaJlly purfu'd, To feek his Maker as his chiefcit good : Who by God's holy word his way directs, . Watches each word, and every thought infpecls j Gives up his own to his Creator's mind, To acl:, or fuffer, is alike refjgn'd This man (of Heaven's protection ever fure) ; While thoufands faU'arot/nd, fhall ftand fecure ; While thofe who plac'd their happinefs below, Shall wake from dreams of blifs to endlefs woe. He iliall thro* life be happy, and when death, Ift gaftly form, demands his fleeting breath, Th' exploited fummons he will gladly hear, While confcicus virtue diiupates his fear ; Safely he'll venture thro' the darkfome way, . The dellki'd paflagc to eternal day ; And crowned with glory which iliall never fade, .Enjoy in heaven: that God -he here obey'd*. THE * Hence leara. the real ChriUian is she oaly hajpy man OQ COIth, THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLASW THE RURAL VICAR ; A TRAGMENT. BEING Lift fummer on a tour to the North, I was one evening arreftecl in my progrefs, at the entrance of a fmall rural hamlet, by breaking the fore wheel of my phaeton. This accident rendering it imprac- ticable for me to proceed to the next town, from which I was novfjixteen miles tliftant ; I directed my fteps to a little cottage, at the door of which, in a woodbine arbour fat a man abouty/x^y years- of age, who was folacing hiinfelf with a pipe of tobacco. In the front of his houfe was affixed a fmall board, which I conceived to .contain an intimation, that tra- vellers might there be accommodated. Addrefiinj; rnyfeif, therefore, to the old man, I Irequefted his af- fdiance, which he readily granted ; but on my rnei> tioning an intention of remaining at his houfe all night, he regretted that it was not hi his power, to re- ceive me, and the more fo, as there was no inn in the village. It was not till n^w that I dif- covcrcd my error concerning the board over the door, which contained a r.oii.ication, that my friend was a fchoolmafter, and probably fccretaty to the hamlet. Affairs were in this filup.tioa, wlicn the Vicar made his appearance. He was aboutyTxw.'/yj.aond one of the moft venerable figures I had ever feen ; his time-fil- ver".ri locks fhaded hfs tcmpics, whilil the lines of misfortune, were, alas ! but tooviiiblein lus counr teaancc. Time had in fome meafure foftened, but could not efface them. On feeing my broken equip- age, he adclrctfed me ; and wh-:n he began to fpeak, his countenance was illumined by a fmile. " I pre- lume, oir," fcdd he, that the accident you have GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANV. 141 juft met -frith, will render it impofllble for you to proceed. Should that be the. cafe, you will bs much diftrelfedfor lodgings, the place .affording no accommodation for travellers, as my parishioners are neither willing nor able to fupport an ale-houfe ; and as \fc have but few travellers pafs this way, we have Tittle need of one ; but if you will accept the beft ac- commodation my cottage affords, it is much at your fcrvice." After exprcflmg the grateful fenfe I entertained of his goocUiefs, I joyfully accepted fo detirable an of- fer. As we entered the hamlet, the fun was gilding with his departing beams the village fpire,.whilil a, i rj atl^ breeze refreshed the weary hinds s who, feated beneath the ver. ?rable oaks that overfhadovved their rurtic cottages, were happily repollng themfelves after the fylvan labours of the day. The Vicar's houfe was fro ail, with a thatch-e4 roof: the front was entirely covered with woodbines and honey fuckles, which ft rongly fcented^the cir- carrjambiunt air. A grove of ancient oaks furround- ed the houfe, and preferred the verdure of the adja- cent lawn, through the mid ft of which ran a fmall brook, that gently murmured as it flowed. This, to- gether with the bloating of the fhccp, the lowing of the herds, the village murmurs, and the diftant bark- ings of the trii/ty curs, who were now entering on their oiiiee as guardians of the hamkl, all confpired to entertain the eye, pleafe die ear, aud excite the agreeahld THE 14*. THE fAN^ THE OLD MAN AND HIS DOG. A PATHETIC NARRATIVE, TAKEN FROM AN INCIDENT WHICH REALtY HAPPJNKD A FEW YEARS AGO,- BEING upon- a vifit to a friend near York, as I was one daw walking on the bridge in company with fome ladies, a grey-haired old nrran came towards us ; he fupported himfelf with a ftick ; appeared fo lame, that he could fcarcely walk, and wns followed by a little terrier. On approaching us, he faid, " Good, ladies, will you buy ray dog ?" The ladies aniwep- ing, that tliey did not want a dog ; he came xip to me, and faid ih a more prefimg manner, and with a more ftpplicating tone of voice : " Sir, I befeech you buy my dog !" On my rnAvering likewife that I did not want -one, the old man remained a few minutes leaning on his flick ; and looking at me with an air of difappointment, feemed to reproiich me for declin- ing his requeft, and then uttering a deep figh contin- ued his journey. As he walked oil flowly, before he was out of fight, Louifa, me oi the young ladies, whifpcred me, " Pray Sir, go after liim, and btiy his dog, for the poor mam feems in diftrefs." I accordingly called the old man back, and aflced him v/hat v/as the price of the dog-? " What you pleaie," he returned. " Here is a crciu;:," I replied, ; ' if that will fatisfy you, take it,. and leave me your dog." " The dog is yours," faid- llic old man," and God blefs you with it." " But," *' be vail never fcUow me, how fliall I pre- vent THE GIHTLEMAN^S MlSCELLAST. "JfSf -vent his efcape ?" " True" replied the old man, " he' mult be tied, or he will follow me" He then untied his garter, called "-.7W;;/," took him up in his arms, and placed him upon the parapet of the bridge ; while he was. .fattening the gaiter round his neck, I perceived the hands of 'the old man trembling, which I imputed to his age ; for his countenance did nor change. Having fattened the knot, he inclined his head towards the dog, and fixing his mouth upon his body, remained for a few minutes in that pofture jnotionlefs and without uttering a fmgle word. I approached him, and faid, " Friend, what is the matter <" " Nothing," he anfwered, " but what will loon be forgotten !" and I obfcrved his cheek wet with tears. " Yoxi feem," faid I, " to regret parting with your dog."- " ALis !. it is truly ib ; he is the only friend 1 have wRie -world ; we have never been liparated from eac^TCther. He was my guard on the road when I .was. afleep ; and whenev- er he iaw me fatigued and fuffering, the poor crea- ture licked my face, and feemed to cafe rny pain with his carefTes ;. he loves me fo much, that it is ;but natural -J iliould love him .in return. But all this is nothing to you, he is now yours : :> and he of- fered me the garter which be had juft fattened round his neck. "You mutt have a very bad opinion of me," faid I, '* if you think that I am capable of depriving you of a faithful friend, and the only friend you hajvp in the world." He feemed affected and offered to -return the crown ; but I told him to keep the mo- ney and the dog too. Before I could prevent him, the old mun threw himfelf upon his knees, and ex- .claimcd, " Good Sir, I owe you my life ; hunger ihad reduced me to the moft extreme neceflity." . Thefe espreifions urged my curioiity ; and lead- ing him from one quefHon to another, I Collected the following account : " Thank heaven," he faid, " I have lived fifty years 'by the labour of my hands, and yefterday, for the firft time in my life, -I afked charii ty. I am by trade a carpenter, ;md was fettled at Catterick, till on chopping a piece of wood, 1 cut my leg with an axe, and have been fin-ce incapable of working. I am now going to Sheffield, where I have ri fon, who is employed in the manufactures, and who will not let me want ' for any thing. But ^s the journey is long, and I can fcarcely drag my- felf along on account of my wound, 1 have fpent the little money which I had been able to fave, and iiro obliged to Ixrg for fuftenance : though, as I ilo not look poor, I got but little ; and being eshaufted with hunger, I had nothing but my poor dog." Here his voice faiUaHprn ; and his fobs prevented him from continuing.^" At your age," I replied, " and in this hot weather, and with a bad leg, I can- not liuTcr you to continue fo long a journey on foot ; you will inflame your wound, and render it incura- ble. Follow me ; Providence here offers you an afylum,' where you will find reft, ailiftance,' a-'iJ per- haps a.,cure" The old man faid nothing, but unty- ing his dog, followed me to the infirmary. Fortu- nately the furgeon happened to be in the hotrfe, and on mentioning the poor man's fituation, he immedi- ately looked an he wound, which was highly infla- rlic heat of the we?. 1 . her, and the fatigue journey. " It is fortunate," faid the furgeon, " that he did r.nr ronthue his journeyra lew JioTirs l.itjr, as he nwft have loft his leg, but I can nov/ cure it."" He will then get well':" faid I. < t Yes,** replied the furgeon ; " I will anfwcr for the cure, provided he will continue perfectly quiet." As he Was going up ilatrs, followed by his faith- ful TtfS ENTtEMAN's MISCELLANY. 145 ful terrier, the porter laid hold of Trim, and was preparing to carry him out of the houfe. " Trim," laid, the old man, "may not poor Trim follow me ?" ," It is againft the rules of the houfe," return- ed the matron, " to admit any dogs into the wards." " Alas," replied the old man, " Trim will not be happy if he is not with me, and I fhall not be happy if he is unhappy." "It is a pity to pait gccd friends," exclaimed the furgeon ; " I am convinced that my patient will foon get well, if Trim and lie are not parted." Then, turning to the matron, " For once," he faid, " let us break through the rule-; of the houfe. If Trim behaves well, let him ftay by his mafter's bed." " I will anfv/er," returned the old man, " for Trim's behaviour ; he will lie by me whole hours without flirring from his fitua- tion, and if he may be fuffered to follow me, I am fure he will be as quiet as a moufe." Thefe words interefted every one in favour of Trim ; the porter inftantly fet him down, Trim bounded up flairs with great agility, and as if aware of what had pafled, fawned upon the furgeon, and then qui- etly followed his mafter. Having thus left the old man and his dog in fuch good hands, I returned to the company, and related all that had pafled : all pitied the poor man, and re- joiced at the hopes of his recovery ; but Louiilt firit put half a guinea into my hands ; the remain- der of the company followed her example, fomj gave more and fome lefs ; and I undertook to be the old man's treafurer. Meanwhile the flory circulated, and ever/ one' wiflied to hear the tale of the Old Man and his 7>? Trim. In repeating it I particularly dwelt upon the crown which I offered for the dog, and feveral ironical"./ admired the excels of my gencrcfify.. N ,.iu ' 146 THE GESTLEMAX'S MlJCELLANY. Louifa would fay, " Only a crown for fo ineftimahle a dog !" and her opinion was fure to be adopted by the generality of the company. " And you, Sir," I would fay, " and you, Madam, how much would y; u have given ?" Each perfon mentioned the fum which they would have contributed, augmenting or diminlflung it according to the ferifibility of their hearts ; or die imprefnou which the recital had made upon them. . " Well," I replied, " the old man is n^tfar from hence, and you may now contribute what you would have given in rny place." By thefe means their charity was excited by emu- lation ; a comfortable fum was obtained ; the old man recovered, and I conducted him to the man- f.<\i houfe, almoft as lively and as friflty as his dog. Both were received with general fatisfaclion, poor Trim was the mo ft taken notice of: in his life li'j never received fo many carefles, and from none more than from the charming Louifa. Trim was at firft confounded, but he foon appeared as if he knew why he was fo much careiied. The old man dined and flipped in die fervants' hall, with Trim by his fide. The next morning, he came to take leave of me ; I put into his hands the colle&ion that had been made for him ; and in vain I affured him that I had contributed nothing. " I can never forget," ; med he, " that 1 owe you everything :" in j thefe words he endeavoured to throw him- at my f.xt ; in ftruggling to prevent him, he himfclf iiv.-i my arms, and we embraced and to each other, as if we had been old " Sir," laid he, " you have loaded me \vitli favours, but I fu.ill iifk cf you another favoy-r ; ; me, will you condefcend to kifs i Ihall be happy to .^',nahit my fon that you THE CEXTLEMAS'S MISCELLANY. 147 you have kiffed my dcg. Come, Trim come, the gntleman will do you the honour to carefs you,'' Trim rofe upon his hind legs, and pawed me with his fore feet as I (looped down to pat him ; anJ as I inclined my head, the figure of the old man inclining his head on the dog as I v/as then doing, and thinking that he was embracing him for tnc laft time, prefented itfelf fo forcibly to my imagina- tion, that the tears ftarted from my eyes. " Ah 1" exclaimed the old man, " ah ! you love Trim> I fee ; keep him ; he is ftill your's." " No, my good friend," I replied, " go, and the blefiing of God attend you. I no\v feel myfelf happier than I de- i'crve, and be afiurcd that the iraage'of you and your dog will never be effaced from my recollection." At this moment Loiufa entered the room with a plate of meat for the dog. She fet it down before him, and while Trwwwas feeding, fhe tied round his neck a rofe-colou-red ribband, I faid to the old man, ' There is the perfon to whom your thanks are due ; without her I fhould never have bought your dog ; without her you would never have been cured ; and without her your little favourite Trim would not have been decorated with this rofe-coloured collar." The old man, inftantly taking up. his dog, placed it in Lonifa's arms. " Trim, here is your miftrefs : this, madam, is the only recompence in my power 10 make for your kind favours ;" and feeing the drg flruggling togetloofe, he added, " Trim is not fond of ftrangers, but foon becomes attaclred to thofc lie knows, and who are kiad to him. He is not hand- fnme, but he is a good creature. I am happy in pro- curing for him a kind and affectionate millrcfs." t'o faying, he drew his hand acrofs his eyes, and qu'ttcu the door. Louifa, holding the dog in her arms continued ftroking and carcifing it ; but when the creature 148 THE GEKTLEMAN'S MISCELLANV. creature, inftead of returning her carefles, flruggletl to get loofe* fhe opened the houfe-door, and putting the dog upon the ground, Trim immediately ran af- ter his mailer, and foon overtook him. The old man ftoped, took him up in his arms, and prefled him to his bofom ; then taking off his hat, and waving it as a token of fatisfaction and gratitude, haftened his pace, and in a few minutes both he and trim were out of fight. THE WHISTLE, BY DOCTOR FRANKLIN A TRUE STORY, V/R.ITTES TO KIS NEPHEW. WHEN I was a child, about fcven years old, my friends, .on a holiday, filled rny pocket with hali- pence. I wont directly to a ihop v/here they ibid toys for children ; but being charmed with the found. of the whiflle, that I met with by the way ia the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered him :ill mj money for it. I then came home, :md went whutling ail over the houfe, much pleafed *.vith my whiftle, but difturbing all the family. My brothers and fillers, and coufms, underilanding the bargain I had made, told me I had given four times as much for it as it was worth. This put me in mlud of what good tilings I might have bought with the GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. 749 the reft of the money ; and they laughed at me fo much for *my tolly, that I cried with vexation ; and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the whittle gave me pleafure. This however was- afterwards of ufe to me, the impreffion continuing on my mind, fo that often, when I was tempted to buy fome unneceffary thing, I faid to myfelf, " Do not give too much for the ivhif- tle ;" and fo I faved my money. As I grew up, came into the world, and ob- ferved the actions of men, I thought I met with many, very many, who " gave too much for the whiftle. " When I fawany one ambitions of court favours, facrificing his time in attendance on levees ; his re- pofe, his liberty, his virtue, and perhaps his' friends, to attain it, I have faid to myfelf, " This man give* too much for his whiftle*." When I faw another fond of popularity, conftantly employing himfelf in political buftles, neglecting his own affairs, and ruining them by that neglect ; " He pays, indeed," fays I, " too much for his whiftle." , If I knew a mifefc who gave up every kind of comfortable living, all the pleafure of doing good to others, all the efteem of his fellow-citizens, and the joys of benevolent friendfhip, for the fake of accumu- lating wealth : " Poor man," fays I, " you do in- deed pay too much for your whiftle." N 2 When * If you with to be happy, be not fond of honours, ambitious of power, covetous gf riches, or a-jEhve to piua. lure, ICO THE GENTLEMAN S MISCELLANY. When I meet a man of pleafure, facrificing ev- ery laudable improvement of the mind, or of his fortune, to mere corporeal fenfations ; " Miftak- en man," fays I, " you are providing pain for your- felf, inftcad of pleafure : you give too much for your whiftle." If I fee one fond of fine clothes, fine furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he contracts debts, and ends his career in a prifon ; " Alas," fays I, " he has paid dear, very dear for his whittle." When I fee a beautiful, fweet-tempered girl, mar- ried to an ill-natured brute of a hiiiband : " What a pity it is," fays I, " that fhe has paid fo much for a whidle !" In fhort, I conceived that great part of the miferies of mankind were brought upon them, by the falfe eflimate they had made of the val- ue of tilings, and by their giving too much for their THE THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY- 1.5* THE BENEFITS OF WISDOM AND REPUTATION, IN THE COMMON AFFAIRS OF HUMAN LIFE. IT is a juft observation of a great man, that a- mong all the complaints which are generally made for want of the good things of life, no man ever complains for want of ivifdom.-*- People will readily enough allow that others excel them in perfon, for- tune, rank, or learning ; and will even think it a hardlhip that they have not received fo plentiful a diftribution of thofe things as their neighbours j but, as to'iuifdom (or a prudent management of ourfelVes in worldly affairs), every man fits down fully con- tented with his own dare ; and is fo far from envy- ing his neighbour's excellence, that he rather pities or defpifes him for want of that ample portion which he thinks has been adminillered to himfelf. Our conduA may be confidered in the general, as refpccUng ourfelves, and cur fellow-creatures ; by the firil we confult our private e.ife and convenience j by die fecond, our public character, or reputation ; which conftitute the fum and fubftance of the. good things of life. A man who takes care to prefer vc a general good character, will hardly fail of comparing his ends fome time or other. On the contrary, an ill name hangs over a man like the naked fword over the head of Democles, and he can never be fecure that it will not fall upon him. There are, indeed, iultances of men, who by (what is generally ityled) a good hit in 1^1 THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. in bufinefs, or by the aid of a great fortune, go on" and flourifh in the world, though every one that knows them, both fpeaks and thinks ill of them ; and of others, who are univerfaily efteemed and com- mended for their dili'gence and affability, and yet unfuccefsful intheir attempts and deilgns* ; but thefe perfons mull be ftyled exceptions to a general rule. Sincerity and punctuality are two qualities that add a wonderful luftre to our reputation among our neighbours and acquaintance. It will oftentimes cofl a man very great trouble, and bring him to many inconveniences, to keep up thofe characters; but be the pains ever fo gerat, the reward is anfwer- able. If a man fhould hear himfelf blamed for any proceedings in his conduct relating to his private af- fairj, he may poffibly have good reafon to comfort himfelf with the belief, that thofe who cenfure him, oh this account, are miftaken. But if he finds himfelf difliked for any clefecl: in his outward be- haviour, fuch as for being ill-natured^ morofe, affefled^ conceited, or any fuch faults as may render him dif- agreeable or ridiculous, he has a great deal of rea- fon to attend to fuch reflections, and carefully to ex- amine his conduct by them, in order to reform him- felf ; becaufe fuch things come very properly under the cognizance of thofe AVC have to do with : and, inftead of being offended, as men are very apt to be upon fuch occafions, every one ought to trea- fure up fuch animadversions with great care ; and look upon them as choice admonitions, and ufeful rules, to direct their behaviour by for the future. TRUE *The race is not always to the fwift, nor the battle to the flrong ; fuccefs is only of the Lord, who JS the rewas* dcr of all thole wbc diligently fcek him. THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. 15-5 TRUE HAPPINESS t AN ESSAY. WHOEVER negleas to reflect how happy he is r m order to confider how much happier he might be, by comparing, his own fituation with that of others, ingenioufly contrives to torment himfelf, and' opens a perpetual fource of mifery and difcontent. He will never be at peace, fmce it is impoffible for riches, beauty, ftrength, wifdom, power, and every other blefling, to centre in one man ; and, in truth, if fuch an union were poffible, he would ftill remain in the fame unhappy fituation ; as the dif- quietude of his temper would lead him to reflect:, that he (till wanted many qualities inherent in other animals ; and would perhaps point out to him a fubjeleai\!res for cvery^ nioraeut, and fliall never jjiorc be we, try. of nij ic}t I will T'H*E GENTLEMAN'S M^CE'LLASY. 159 " I will, however, not deviate too fur from the tieaten track of common life, but will try what can be found in female converfation. 1 will marry a wife beatiful as the Houries, ;md wife as Zobeidc ; with her I will live twenty years within the iub- nrbs of Bagdat, in every pleafure that wealth ca purchafe, and fancy can invent. I will then retire to a rural dwelling, pals my lafl days in obfcuritjr iind contemplation .; and lie iilently down on the bed of death. Through my life it fhall be my fettled refolution, never to depend on the fmiles of princes ; nor fland expofed to -the -artifices of courts; I will never pant for public honours, -nor difturb my quiet with affairs of ftate. Such was my fchemc of lite in my younger 'days. " The firft part of my enfuing time was to be fpent in fearch of knowledge, and I know not how I was diverted from rhy defign. I had no vifible impediments without, nor Aifiered any ungovern- able paffions within, I regarded knowledge as the higheft honour and nioiV engaging pleafure ; yet day ftolc on day, and mouth glided after mouth, till I found lh-.it feven years of the firft ten had vanifhed, and left nothing behind them. I no\r poftponed my purpofe of travelling ; for v-*hy- ihould I go abroad Avhile fo much remained to b learned at hornet I therefore immured myfelf &t home for four ycftrs,.and flu died the laws of tho empire. The fame of my knowledge reached even die judges ; I was found able to fpeak upon dcubt- ful queitions, and was commanded to fland at thq ibotitool of the fupreme CaiJfT. L WKS heard with attention, I l was>c*nfuited > wkb confidence, and t!ic love of praife faftened on rhy heart. " I dill wifted to fee diflant countries, liflened with rapture to the relations of .travellers, and refch 'A 160 THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCEILAN*".. refolved to afk my difmifllon that I might feait my foul with novelty ; but my pxefeuce was always iieceflary, and the ftream of bufmefs hurried rae along. Sometimes I was afraid left I fhould be charged with ingratitude ; but I propofed to travel, and therefore would not confine myfelf by marriage. " In my fiftieth year I began to fufpedr. that the time of travelling was part, and thought it beft to lay hold on the felicity yet in my power, and in- dulge myfelf in donteftic pleafures. But at fifty no man eafily finds a woman beautiful as the Hou- ries, and wife as Zobeide. I inquired and rejected, confulted and deliberated j till the Jixty-fecond year made me afhamed of gazing upon girls. I had now nothing left but retirement, and for retirement I never found u time, till difeale forced me from public employment. - " Such was my fckcme, and fuch has been its confequences. With an infatiable third for knowl- edge, I trifled away the years of improvement ; with a refllefs dcfire of feeing different countries, I have always refidcd in the fame city ; with the hlgheft expectation of connubial felicity, I have lived unmarried ; and with unalterable refolutions of contemplative retirement, I am going to die within |he walls of Bagdat." ------ . AN OLD MAN'S ADDRESS TO YOUTH. BY THE LATE JONAS HANWAY, Let none on future time rely, For none can be too young to die, W. YOU will not befurprifed that I fhould prtacb.t 1 am defcending into die vale of years j jou are go-. THE GTENTJUEMAN'S MISCJEXLANY, 161 ing up the hill, to take a view of what I have often feen. Many a long day have I beheld the vanities of of the world. Many of the faults of others are ob- vious to me ; and fo are fome of my own.. Things wear a different afpect in your eyes : If I now offi- cioufly intrude on your gayer hours, I remind you that it is not always faring norfumwer. You 'expect in due time to reach the winter of your .days ; and what do'you imagine will tl:en contribute moft to your comfort, and brighten your profpecl: sbeyond the grave ? You have my fmcereft willies that your, hopes may always bloffom in the fulleft charms of vernal beauty, till in the great progrefsof human wifdom, your paifions being lulled to reft, your enjoyments may become pure as the limpid itream, bright as die meridian fun, and calm as a fummer fea. Some degree of -forrow is the lot of e- very mortal ; but I truil that your profperity will ne- rer be impaired by the want of .virtue, nor your ad" verjjty be devoid of folid confolation. Ere long you mull deliver up your material part to be the iport of elements ; but as Nature in her yearly cxmrfe, reilores the beauty of the fazreft flowers, . though appearing irrevocably loft, your frame being diflblved, will again unite with your angelic fpirit ; and both together I hope, be made perfectly happy in the realms of everlafting blifs and glory, Tho' ag muft&ic t youth O ihen prepare without delay, ?or death, and for the judgment day. W. REFLEC; i6t THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY-. REFLECTIONS ON THE BEING AND PROVIDENCE OF GOD. WHEREVER right conceptions of God and his providence prevail, when he is eonfidered as the in" exhaufted fource of light, love, and joy ; as acting in the joint characters of a father and governor* impart- ing an endlefs variety of capacities to his creatures* and fupplying them with every thing neceflary to their full completion and happinefs ; what venera- tion and gratitude nmft fueh conceptions, thorough- ly believed, excite in the human mind ? How natur- al and delightful muft it be to one whofe heart is o- pen to the perception of truth, and of every thing fair t great, and vate difappointment. FOR.DYCE. THE * The duties we owe to God, as our Creator, Preferver, and daily bcnefaftor, arc reverence, gratitude, love, obedi* ence, rciignation, dtpendance, worlhip, and praife, TUF &JBLIME NATURE AND ADVANTAGES-' OF RELIGION. Religion 1 thou the foul of happinefs ! N I G H T TjH OUGHTS.- RELIGION is the daughter of Heaven, parent or pur virtues, and fource of all true felicity ; ihe alone giveth peace and contentment, diverts the heart of anxious cares, burtts on the mind a flood of joy, and - fheds unmingled and perpetual funfhine in the pious breaft. By her the fpirits of darknefs are baniflied from die earth, and angelic nainifters of grace thick- en uiifeeu die regions of mortality. She promotes love and good-will.. among men, lifts up the head that bangs down, heals -the .wounded fp.irit, diffipates the gloom of forrow, fweetens the cup of afflidion, blunts the fting of dead), and wherever feen, felt, and enjoy- ed, breathes around her an, ever lifting fpring. Reli- gion raifes men above themfelves ; irreligion fmLtf them beneath die brutes ; the one makes them an- gels, die other makes them devils ; this binds them down to a poor pitiable fpeck of perifhable earth ; that opens up a viftato the fkies, and lets, loofe all the principles of an immortal mind, among the glo- rious obja&s of an eternal world. Lift up diy head, O Chriftian ! and look foward to yon caJm. unclouded, regions of mercy, unfullled by vapowrs, . THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. vapours, unruffled by florins ; where celeflial friencf- fhip, the lovelieft form in heaven, never dies, never changes, never cools!' Ere long thou ftialt burft this brittle earthly prifon of the body, break through the fetters of mortality, fpring to endlefs life, and mingle with the Ikies. Corruption has but a limited duration. Happinefs is even now in the bud : a few days, weeks, or years at moft, and that bud fhall be fully blown. Hera virtue droops under a thoufund prefTures ; but, like the earth with the re- furning fprihg, fhall then renew her youth, renew her verdure, and rife and reign in never-fading and undi- minifhed luftre. It does not fignify what thy prof- pefts now are ; or what thy fituation now is. In the prefent world thy heart, indeed, may fob and bleed its laft, before thou fhalt meet with one, who has ei- ther the generofity to relieve, or the humanity to pi- ty thee. Thou haft, however, in the compafllonate Parent of creation, a moil certain refource in the deepeft extremity. Caft thine eyes' but a little be- yond this ftrange, myfterious, and perplexing fcene," which at prefent intercepts, thy views of futurity. Be- hold a bow damped in the darkeft cloud that lowers in the face of heaven, and the whole furrounding he- mifphere brightening as thou approacheft ! Say, does not yon blefTed opening, which overlooks the dark dominion of the grave, more tlian compen- fate all the fighs and fuiferings, which chequer the prefent, intervening fcene ? Lo ! there thy long-loft friend, who ilill lives in thy remembrance, whofe pre- fence gave thee more delight than ail that life could! afford, and whofe abfence coft thee more groans and tears than all that death can take away beckons thee to him, that where he is thoi: mayeft be alfo. " Here," he fays,, " dwell unmingled plea- fures, unpolluted joys, iaexUBguiihable love, immor- tiilj l6kJ THE GENTLEMAN'S tal, unbounded, and unmolefted friendship. All the farrows and imperfection 1 ; of mortality are to us as though they had never been ; and nothing lives in heaven, but pure unadulterated devotion. Our hearts, Dwelled with rupture, ccafo to murmur ; our breads, warm with gratitude, ceule to figh ,-our eyes, charm- ed with celelHal viiions, to fhed tears ; our hands, en- riched with palms of victory, to tremble ; and our hcads, encircled with glory, to ache. We are jull as fate as infinite i-unvov, ;is joyful as infinite fulnefs, and as happy as infinite goodncis, can make us. Ours is peace without moleiiat ion, plsnty without want, health without licknefs, day without night, plca- fure without puin, and life without the leaft mixture or dread of dilfolution." Happy thou,to whom the prefent life has no charm, for which thou canil wifh it to be protracted ! Thy troubles will foon vanifh like a dream, which mocks the power of memory j and what iignify all the {hocks which thy delicate and feeling fpirit can meet with in this tranfitory world ? A few moments lon- ger, and thy complaints will be for ever at aa end ;. thy diieafes of body and mind lhall be felt no more ; .the ungenerous hints of churlifh relations iliall dif- trefs, fortune frown, and futurity intimidate, no -Tnore. Then iliall thy voice, no longer breathing the plaintive ftrains of melancholy, but happily attun- ed to fongs of gladnefs, mingle with the hofts of heaven, in the lad and Aveeteft anthem that ever mortals or immortal fung, " O Deuth ! where is thy fting ? O Grave ! where is thy victory ? Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory- through our Lord Jefus Chrift ; Blefling and hon- our, glory and power, be unto Him that fits on the bbroiie, ;uid unto the Lamb, for ever and ever." ?TE IKT1IMA'U'S THE ADDRESS OF A SKELETON TO MANKIND IN GENERAL, AtfD WELL DESERVING THE REGARD OP ALL. WHY ftart ? the cafe is yours, or will be foon, Some yean perhaps, perhaps another moon ; .Life at its utmofl fpan is but a breath, And they vho longeft dream niuft wake at death*, Like you I once thought every blis fecure, And gold, of every ill the certain cure ; Till fteep'd in forrow and befieg'd with pain, Too late I found all earthly riches vain. JMfeafe with fcorn threw ^back tlie fordid fee, And Death too anfwer'dj " What is gold to me ? Fame, titles, hw)ttrs> thefe I vainly fought, And fools obfequious nurs'd the childilh thought ; Circled with brib'd applaufe and purchas'd praife, J built on endlefs raptures endlefs days ; Till death awak'd me from my dream of pridc^ .And .laid a prouder beggar by my fide. Pleafure * O ye fbns and daughters of mortality ! ye candidates of pleafure and votaries of (iiflipation, whether young or old, rich or poor, noble or unknown ! remember, in the rnidft of life ye are in death ; ere another morning ye may be fum- moned to appear before God in judgment and what think ye will be your final and everlafling doom ! THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLAKY. Pleafure I courted, and obey'd my tafte, While every day did yield fome new repaft ; A loathfome carcafe was myconftant care, And worlds were ranfack'd but for me to Go on, vain man ? to luxury be firm, But know thou feafteft but to fcaft a ivonn*. Farewell ; remember, nor my words defpife, The only happy are the early wife. THE CHOICE AND CRITERION OP TRUE PIETY, i Search the Scriptures* WOULD you wifti, nmidft the great variety of re* ligious fyftems in vogue, to make a right diflinclion, and prefer the left ? Recollect the character of Chrift; keep a fteady eye on that univerfal and permanent good-will to men, in which he lived, by which he fuf- fered, and for which he died. What now would you expeft from a mind fo purely and habitually benign ? la it pofilblo to iuppofe, that a heart thus warm and .irbour a narrow wilh, or Utter a par- '~atime;:t ? Moft luckily, in this point the fullell fatisfaclion * Jeb, xxv. 6. Pfalm, xxii. 6, fatisfa<5Hon is in every man's power. Go, fearch the religion he has left, to die bottom., not in thofe arti- ficial theories, which have done it the moft eifential injury ; nor in their manner who a flume his name* but overlook his example, and who are talking for fi- ver about the merits of his death, at the expence of*, thofe virtues which adorned his life ; not in thofe wild and romantic opinions, which, to make us Curiftians, would make us fools : but in thofe infpir- -ed writings, and in thofe alone, which contain his ge- nuine hiiiory and his blefled gofpel ; and which, in the moft peculiar and exclufive fenfe, are the words of e- ternal life. Read the Scriptures then as you would the LAST WILL of fome deceafed friend, in which you expected a large bequeft ; and tell me, in the fincerity of your foul, what you fee there to circumfcribe the focial affections, to quafh the rifmgs of benevolence, or to check the generous effuuons of humanity. Little- ncfs of mind and narrownefs of temper were cer- tainly no parts of our Saviour's character ; and he enjoins nothing which he did not himfelf uniformly and minutely exemplify. Strange ! that an in- ftitution, which begins and ends in benignity, fhould l>e proftituted to countenance the workings of ma- levolent paffions, fhould produce animofities among thofe whom it was intended to unite ! But there is- not a corruption in the humane heart which has not fometimes borrowed the garb of religion. Ci'.rif- tianity, however is not the Icfs precious to the hon- eft, becaufe knaves and hypocrites have fo long abu- fed her ; and, let bigots and fceptics fay what they plcafe, fhe foftcns and enlarges the heart, warms and impregnates the mind of man, as certainly, ind as (ennbly> as the fun does the earth. P This 170 THE GINTLIMAN'S MISCELLAKT. This CRITERION is as obvious as it is decifive. True humility and benevolence are always acceptable, and always known. Whoever would be thought pious, without thefe genuine fignatures of piety ; be his be- haviour as (larch, and his face as fad and fanclimonious us he will, mark him down for nothing but a hypocrite. He alone whofe bofom fwells with the milk of human kindnefs, who would not lay or do any thing to hurt another for a world ; whofe daily aim and difpofi- tlon is to live foberly, righteoufly, and godly, what- ever fyftem he may adopt, lives under the viiible in- fluence of true goodnefs. Efteem him as a brother and a kinfman : the fame fpirit which lives in you, lives in him : the divine image is Ramped on him, as well as upon you ; and he copies that amiable pat- tern and example, which leads all its followers to izn- mortality and everlafting blifs. AN INTERESTING EPISTLE FROM A MARRIED GENTLEMAN TO HIS WIFE. MORE than twenty years have elapfcd/my deareft Edwina, fmce I had the favour of your hand at the altar ; yet I feel my afleclion as, fttcfrig as ever, and my efteem it ill higher, having been a witnefs to your , fifing THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. 171 fifing above many trying circumftances, in which lei's religion and virtue than you are poflefled of muft have failed. It has been our good fortune, fince the time of out- union, not to be obliged to be feparated from each other, fo long as to have made it neceffary for us to reprcfs our fenlibility with the tedioufnefs of expecta- tion, to regret in vain the want of each other's fup- port, or the long denial of endearing converfe : Hap- py in a domeftic life, we have been divided only by thofe avocations which the care of our family and the duties of my office have rendered unavoidable, and from which we have returned in general more fatisfied with ourfelves, and with freih pleafure to each other. But, my deareft Edwina ! this fcene is not to lafl 4 we muft prepare for an alteration ; it is a theme on which we have often converfed ; death we are ap- pvifed will come, and cut Ihort our profpects, and perhaps overtake us before we have completed half thofe fchemes we had formed for the comfort of our- felves and our deareil connexions. "What then can fupport us under the idea of this Reparation ? What can reconcile us to being torn from thefe pleafmg oc- cupations ? Nothing but the delightful hope of meet- ing again in a future and eternal- world, where thofe feeds of happinefs, which we are now fowing, will be brought to a maturity they can never arrive at here below. O ! whr indulge it. This hope like all thofe which we derive from the pro- iTii'i'sof ihf. Gofpel is given to fupport us in the trial* and temptation to which we areexpofed whilr here below, and will attend ui in every fituation ; in profperity it will guard, in adveHiiy it will cheer us ; and as age advances, and life lofcs it3 value, it will more and more encourage us til) we arrive at the peifcft day. GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. 173 THE PORTRAIT OF A REAL FRIEND, DRAWN FROM LIFE. Friendi grow not thick on every bough. NIGHT THOUGHTS. CONCERNING the man you call your friend- tell me, will he weep with you in the hour of dif- trefs ? Will he faithfully reprove you to your face, for actions for which others are ridiculing or cenfur- ing you behind your back ? Will he dare to fland forth in your defence, when diftra&ion is fecretly aiming its deadly weapons at your reputation ? Will he acknowledge you with the fame cor- diality, and behave to you with the fame friendly attention, in the company of your, fuperiors in rank and fortune, as when the claims of pride or vanity do not interfere with thofe of friendihip ? If misfortune and lofies fbould oblige yon to retire into a walk of life, in .which you cannot appear with the fame diftindion, or entertain your friends with the fame liberality as formerly, will he ftill chink him&lf happy in - Pa your 174 THE CENTLEIflAlis MISCELLANY-, your foeiety, and, inftead of gradually withdraw- ing himfelf from an unprofitable connexion, take pleafure in profefimg himfslf your friend, and cheer- fully afllft you to fupport the burden of your afflic- tions ? \Vhen ficknefs (hall call. you. to retire from the gay and bufy fcerxes of the world, will he follow you into your gloomy retreat,, liilen. with attention to your " tale of fymptoms," and minifter the balm of confolation to your fainting fpirit ? And laftly, when death ihallburil afunder every earthly tie, will he fned a tear upon your grave, and lodge the dear remembrance of your mutual friendfhip in his heart, as a treafure never to be refigned ? The man who will not do all this, may be your companion your flatterer your feducer but, depend on it, he is mot jour friend**.. THE , CONSOLATIONS OF RELIGION NEITHER, FEW IJ-QR. SMALL. This can fupport us all is fea befides, NICUT THOUGHTS. WHILE we are in this probationary ftate of be> ing, we muft encounter difficulties, and- ftruggle with * A real friend is hardly vo be met with either in prof- parity or adverfity, and thcefore juftly compared to an appvation, which many people talk of, but few ever four. THE GENTLEMAN'S M1SCEM.AHV. with" uneafmefs. The heart will often be dlflatisfied we know not why, and reafon will ftand an idle fpec- tator, as if unconfcious of its power. In fuch cafes it ought to be awakened from its lethargy, and reminded of the tafk to which it in appointed. It fhould be informed of the high office it bears in the oeconomy of the foul, and be made ac- quainted with the infidious vigilance of its enemies. But while we languiflv under the un- eafmefs of difcontent, we cannot take a more effeclu- al method to recover our peace, than to confider the infignincancy of every pafllon that centres, and purfuit that terminates here below, Suppofe our earthly aims were diredled to their objecl by the favouring gales of fortune fuppofe our purfuits Ihould be crowned with all the fuccefs that flattering hope affigns them ; yet vain, changeable, and im- potent as we are, the fuccejs would not be worth even a moment's triumph. While the heart turns upon an earthly axis Jike the perilhable ball it loves, it will be va- rioufiy affe&ed by outward influences. Some- times it will bear the fruits of gladnefs, and fometimes be the barren defert of melancholy ; one while it will be ejchilirated by the funfhine of pleafure, and again it will langufli In the gloom of difcontent. The caufe of this is not only that trre human heart is in itfelf changeable and uncertain, deriving its fenfations from conftitutional influences, but that the objects, if they are earthly objefts, on which it depends for happinefs, are liable to va- riation and decay. Hence arifes the fuperibrity of religious views. When our hopes- of happinefs are fixed on one certain event : an event which, though re- mote, cannot be altered by mortal contingencies ; the heart has aa invariable foundation whereon it may fccuxely 1.75 THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANV. fecurely reft. Without this refting place, we fhoulcE f>f toffed to and fro by every wind of fortune, the fport of chance, and the dupes of expectation. To this im- moveable anchor of the foul religion direfts us in the hopes of immortality. We know from the unerring word of divine rev- elation that we fliall exift in another ftate of be- ing, after the diflblution of this ; and we are con- firmed by every benevolent purppfe of Providence in the belief, that our future exiftence fliall be infinitely happy. In this glorious hope the in- tere.fts of a tempprary life are fwallowed up and loft. This hope*, like the ferpent of Aaron, de- vours the mock phantoms which are created by the magic of this world, and at once fliows the vanity of every earthly purfuit. Compared with this profpeft, how poor, how barren would ' every fcene of mortal happinefs appear ! How defpicable at the beft yet how liable to be deftroyed by every ftorm of adverfity ! For, are we not expofed to a thoufand. accidents, the moft tri- fling of which may be fufficient to break a fcheme cf felicity ! Let us conuder thole conditions that are almoft univerfally defired, the dignity of the great, and the affluence of the rich. Are thefe above the reach of misfortune ? Are they exempt from the importunities of care ! Greatnefs is but the object of impertinence and envy ; and. riches create more wants than they are able to gratify. Should then our wifnesleadto thefe, we ihoukT unavoida- bly be difappointed.- The acquifition might for a while foothe our vanity, but we fhould foon figh for the eafe of obfcurity, and envy the content of thofe whom pride would call our vaffals. If wealth or grandeur then cannot afford us liappiaefs, where Jhall we fcek it ? Is it to be found THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLAH?. 177 found in the cell of the hermit ? or does it watch by the taper of folitary learning ? Loves it the fociety of laughing mirth ? or does it affect the penfive pleasures of meditation ? Is it only genuine in the cordiality of friendlhip, or in the lafting tendernefs of conjugal love ? Alas ! this train of alternatives will not do. Should we fly from the troubles of fociety to fomc lonely hermitage, we fliould foon fi-gk for the amufements of the world we had quarrelled with. The ftrongeft mind could not long fupport the burden of uncommuni- cated thought,and the firmed heart would languish in the ftagnation of melancholy. Aflc the folitary fcholar, if ever, in his learned refearches, he be- held the retreat of happinefs Amufement is all that he will pretend to Amufement ! in queft of which the a<5tive powers of the mind are fre- quently worn out, the underftanding enervated by the affiduity of attention, and the memory, overburdened with uneffential ideas. Yet, poffibly, happiheis may mingle with fociety and fwell the acclamations of feftive mirth. No the joy that dwells there cannot be called happinefs ; for the noife of mirth, will vanifh with the echo of the evening, andm 1 ;/ in laughter the heart Is fad. If we are able to diflinguifti the ele- gance of converfation^ we lhall often be difgufted, with the arrogance of pride, or the impertinence of folly j and if not, we may be amufed indeed with, the noife^but can never taftc the true pleufures of fo-. ciety.. As little reafon have we to hope for Lifting hap- pinefs from the engagements of friendihip, or the fweets of love. The condition of human life is at heft fo uncertain, that it is even daugerous to form any connexions that arc dear. The ten* dernefs 178 THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY dernefs of love opens the heart to many fufferingy r to many painful apprehenfions for the health and fafety of its objec"l, and to many uneafy fen- fations both from real and imaginary caufes. For want of a better remedy to thefe evils, the wifdom of ancient philofophers teacheth us to bid a brave defiance to the aflaults both of pleafure and pain j without inftrufling us how to defend the heart from the inroads of forrow, or to guard againft the unfeen ftratagems of diftrefs. But the religion of a Ckriftian affords a nobler and fafer refuge. With the exalted hopes that this prefents to us,- the fu/crings of the prefent time are not worthy to be compared: In . thofe glorious hopes let us bury every anxious thought, the uneafmeis of difcontent, and the folicitude of care. Let us not fink under our light affliftions, which are but for a moment. A very few years, perhaps a few months or days, may bring us into that ftate of being, where care and mifery {hall perplex no more, for ever. Though now ive may kavt our led in darknefi, and our pillow on the thorn, yet the time draweth nigh irhen we (hall tafte of life without anguifh, and enjoy the light without bitternefs of foul. We are hourly haftening to that fcene of exiftence, inters the wicked ceafe from troubling, and where the weary are at fejl ; where hope fhall no more be cut olf by difappointment, and where the diftrefles of time are forgotten in the cndlefs joys of eter- nity. LANGHORNE, MERCY , ems GENTLEMAN'S MISCELIAH*. 175 MERCY AND JUSTICE, HAPPILY UNITED. God all mercy is a God unjuft. NIGHT THOUGHTS, JESUS CHRIST, when he was hanging on the crofs, thus prayed for the Jews who crucified him ; Father, forgive them ; for they knoiu not ivhat yley do. As if he had faid, they know not that I am thy Son, come down from heaven to bring the truth to them ; to redeem them from Satan's fiavery, and Jfrom eternal deftrudlion. They be- lieve me to be a mod notorious liar ; an in- fringer on their liberties ; and a blafphemer of thy holy name. For this they have perfecuied me ; and for this do they crucify me ; and therefore, Father, I pray thee to forgive their ignorance and blindnefs ; I pray thee to forgive them becatife they know not what they do. Here Chrilt was merciful, without being unjuft ; for certainly, though their very blindnefs was a crime and a dreadful one too ; yet it was not fo heinous, as it would have been, had they really known what they were doing ; and therefore it was not beyond the reach of mercy. But had he faid, Father, thefe peo- ple know me to be tlay Son ; they know that I came down from heaven to bring the truth to them; to THE GENTLEMAS'S MISCEtLANV, to redeem them from Satan's flavery, and eternal dam- nation-they know I am no liar ; no infringer en their liberties j no blafphemer of thy holy name, but the true: Son of the everiafting Father : and notwkh- ftanding this, have they perfecuted me, and do they crucify me ; yet do I pray thee, Father, to for- give them. Had he laid this, his mercy would have t>e>in as great a crime, as any they committed ; he would have finned againft his Father, in wifhir.g him to do an unjuli: thing. He would have been him- 4elf an encourager of vke, and defiring his father to be die fame. His mercy would have been injuftice. But he faid not fo ; but, Father, forgive them, for they knonv ??st ivkat they do, Chrift forgave Judas who betrayed him, for the very lame renfon ; for certainly, Judas no more believed, till after Chrift was crucified, that he was truly the Son of God, than he believed him to be the King of the Jews : he took him for a conjurer (for in thofe days there were many fuch), and told the officers when, they came to feize him, that if they did not take great care, he would efcape from them by the help of his magic arts. Amongit mnny errors, there is one very prevalent with men, ai;d even die befl of men too. They afiert that it is die a-;Y/only that makes a thing criminal ; therefore, though a man commits a crime, if he be- lievrs that what he does is not criminal ; it fhall not be fo in the fight of God ; neither ihallhe be punifli- edfor it. This is falfe : and a very dangerous error ; for his not knowing it to be a crime, is almoit as great a one, as he can well commit. Becaufe there is no know- iecigc necclfary to falvation, that is not within man's ' ; therefore his not feeking that knowledge is a crime. ^ THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. 181 If the aw/// only made the thing criminal, few would be guilty ; for few are fo impartial to therafelves, as to believe they are in the wrong. If your enemy repents him of his fault ; acknow- ledges it ; endeavours to make reftitution ; and by the fmcerity of his penitence, gives you room to think he will offend no more in the fame manner ; you muft forgive him, nay, ferve him too, if in your power ; or you will be unmerciful ; and that mercy you deny, fhall be denied to you again. If he is hardened ; will not fee his erf or ; makes no acknowledgement ; no reftitution ; and proves fey this, that he will flill perfift in doing you an injury ; you are then to execute ftrift juftice on him, fo far as to preferve, or juilify yourfelf ; and to deprive him of the power to do further injury to either you, or your neighbour, other- wife, you will be anfwerable for the crimes which he commits. Yet even here, you are to keep a fteady eye, ou juftice only ; you muft look on nothing ell'e ; you muft not bear him malice ; you mull not think of -revenge, or purfue any underhand method* to obtain it ; you muft not belie him, fcandalize him, or infult over his misfortunes ; you mult not do him any private injury ; -wrong him in any manner ; or aft. any kind of outrage againfl him. Your conduct muft be fair, and open ; the dictates of pure juftice, end felf-prefervauon, and nothing elfe ; otherwife, you are more criminal than he ; becaufe you are yourfelf committing the very fame crimes for which you puuilli him. i?z THE CLNTLEMAN'S MISCELLANV. I had much rather fee my enemy repent, and mend his faults, than fee him punifhed for them ; becaufe this puts it in my power to be merciful : be- fidcs, by forgiving, and even ferving, thofe who do us an injury, we often make to ourfelves the moft fmcere and unfKaken fricndfhips. For he who has a foul capable of feeling himfelf in the wrong, and ac- knowledging his error, mu ft have fome fenfe of virtue and will be rriore deeply ftruck by an obligation from the perfon he has injured, than -he could be, even by the hand of the executioner. I was once moil grofsly affronted by a young gentleman, Avhom fome time after I 'had it greatly in my power to ferve ; -he came into a houfe where I was, and directing his difcourfe to the reft of the com- pany, told them in my prefence, wherein it lay fo much in my power to ailift him : but added he, I cannot have the impudence to afk him, or expect that -he will do it, after the. fcandalous manner in which I have behaved to him. I made not the leaft reply, but a few days after- ward's did the bufmefs ; and fent for him to pay him a confiderable fum of money I had received. When he faw the money, and found what I had done, he bnrft into a flood of tears. None of my pretended friends, cried he, would ftir to fcrve me j and the greateft enemy I had in the world, has faved me from dcftru&ian ....... He wont away, without being able even to thank me, or utter a word more ; and from that hour to the hour of his death, 1 never had a more fmccre friend all occasions. RURAL THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY RURAL FELICITY. & MORAL PICTURE DRAWS FROM MUMBLE LIFE. ALL hail to thce ! then peaceful lone retreat i. Welcome this rude uncultivated fpot ! Where hofpitality has fix'd her feat, In humble Poverty's fequefter'd cot. Thofe barren hills that bound yon dreary rocks, That folitary {beam meand'ring flow, This little pafture, and the fcanty flocks, Have charms which opulence may never know. By fervile tribes and fortune's minions fcorn'd, Remote from crowds, on fchemes of grandeur bent* Here fimple Nature, fweetly unadorn'd, Dwells with her handmaids, Virtue and Content. Within this lowly Imt, whofe tottering roof Seems juft departing from its time-worn thatch, A gen'rous pair, companion's nobleft proof, For ev'ry trav'ller lift the friendly latch. Tho' fmall their income, ample is their mind, With few pofleffions they've abundant wealth ; In Nature's bounteous lap they daily find Life's choiceftbleffings, Innocence and Health. Together 184 THE GENTLEMAN 3 ? MISCELLANY 1 ,, . Together once they trod its early ftage, Together now they journey down the vale ; Paft fcenes of youth endear approaching age, And waft them onward with a gentle gale. One beauteous maid, dear pledge of nuptial love, With artlefs prattle ev'ry care beguiles ; She, while her parents cherifh and improve, Cheers all their thoughtful houfs with infant fmiles. For her alone they wear afhort-liv'd gloom, Her future weal ftill anxious to fecure ; Content, when fummon'd to their final doom, To leave her koneft, tho' they leave her poor. ** O facced wedlock ! flame for ever bright ! Perpetual fource of untumultuous joy ! Pure, lilent ftream ! that flows with new delight, Blifs ftill increafing, fweets that never cloy ; 'Midfl buftling throngs, thy foft endearments charm, Reitrain the hufband, and protect the wife ; But chief thy chafte connubial raptures warm The peaceful current of unruffled life." There the mild tranfports of the focial hour, l''orbid each ill completed wifh to roam, Beft pleasM to feek retirement's halcyon bow'r,. And rear their ripening progeny at home. Approach this rural fcene, ye little Great, Ye ever roving, ever thoughtlefs crew, Sulpond awhile magnificence and ftate, To leaxu contentment from the happy few. Come*. THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. Come, wearied Indigence, forget thy woes, This faithful cottage harbours no dif guile ; Here, undifturb'd, enjoy a calm repole, And tafle that comfort which the world denies. DESULTORY REMARKS ON THE SAILINGS OF HUMAN NATURE. -WITH EXAMPLES TAKEN FROM LIFE. Gwtior et pulchro yenicns in corporc virtus. VIRGIL; IT has long been my chief amufement to anal* yee mankind, to ftrip them of every adventitious advantage ; to confider them, ist, merely as men ;, zdly, as members of fociety ; and 3dly, to clothe them with their accidental, natural, and acquired iufecl dies. Come> THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY- Come, lovely nymph ! and range the fields with mey To fpring the partridge from the guileful foe, From fecretfnares the ftruggling bird to free, And flop the hand uprais'd to give the blow. And when the air with heat meridian glows, And nature droops beneath the fcorching gleam,. Let us, flow wandering where the current flows, Save finking flies that float along the dream. Or turn to nobler, greater tafks thy care. To me thy fympathetic gifts impart ; Teach me in friendship's woes to claim a fliare ; And juftly boaft the generous feeling heart*. Teach me to footh the helplefs orphan's grief, With timely aid the widow's tears afluage, To mifery's moving cries to yield relief, And be the fure fupport of drooping age. So when the cheerful fpring of life fhall fade. And finking nature owns the dread decay, Some foul congenial then may lend its aid, And 'gild the clofe of life's eventful day. * Sympathy and compaflion arc the offspring of Heaven to weep with item that weep it the duty oi all. REMARKABLE BXNTLEMAH'S MISCELLANY. REMARKABLE INSCRIPTION OH A TOMB-STONE, AT GREEN-BAY, JAMAICA, HERE lieth die body of Lewis Gauldy, Efq. who departed this life at Port Royal, Dec. 22, 1739* aged 80. He was born at Montpelier, in France, but left that country for his religion, and came to fettle in this ifland, when he was fwallowed up in the great earthquake in 1692, and by the providence of God was by another fhock thrown into the* fea, and miraculoufly faved by fwimming, until a boat took him up. He lived many years after in great repu- tation, beloved by all that knew him, and much la- mented at his death. God moves in a myflerious way, His wonders to perform ; He plants hisfootfleps in the fea, And rides upon the ftorm. EMPLOYMENTS 192- THB CESTLEMAN S EMPLOYMENTS SUITED TO GENTLEMEN, WHETHER IN TOWN OR COUNTRTi TO PREVENT TIME BEING A BURDEN TO THEM. *Tis a difficult thing to be idle and innocent. PERSONS who hy birth, marriage, death of re- latives, or fuccefs in bufmefs, are become the poflef- ibrs of independent fortunes, and confequently en- titled gentlemen ; may experience it dufficult, at times, to find employments for the many leifure hours they apparently have upon their hands from day to day. But this I apprehend would feldom be the cafe, if the duties we owe to our Creator, ourfelves, and our fellow-creatures, were properly attended to and re- garded. The dictates of piety, virtue, benevolence, and hu- manity, will ever fuggeft ample matter for the exer- cife of our mental powers and faculties ; while at the fame time they may fuitably point out to us objects well deferving our notice and purfuit. Reflections on the works of creation daily prefer.t- d to our view ; reading judicious and approved au- thors on moral and entertaining fubjccts, fuch as hlf- tory, geography, ajlronomy, pkilojopby, and the polite arts ; writing letters to felect friends ; or, if there is a ta'tc for it, tlrtivitjg, dcf'gring fiftures, painting-, and THE QEHTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. 193 and mujtc ; walking or riding out when the weather permits ; converfation with perfons of learning, inge*- nuity, and experience ; finding out and relieving the -neceffitous and diftreft*; thefe are mnpcent, rational, and commendable employments, excrcifes, and recre- ations, fit for gentlemenf whether in town or coun- try, and in all feafons of the year ; which may, keep both the mind and body ufefully engaged at all times, and promote health, cheerfulnefs, and the benefit of fociety in general. As habits of indolence and inactivity cannot be too carefully avoided, by the poffeilbrs of wealth and a- bundance ; fo ufeful, praifeworthy, and ornamental accomplifhments and purfuits cannot be too zeatouf- ly encouraged and promoted ; as truly beneficial to individuals in particular, and the community at large. G. W ON * 'Tis more blefied to give then to rrctil't ; the inward fatijfaftion and complacency naturally attending the reliev- ing a worthy objeft of compaflion, is truly its own reward. tThe real gentleman will be as choice of hisamufefnents and recreations, as of his company and connexions ; he will be as careful not todifgrace his chara&er by the diverfiont he countenances and partakes of, as of the perfons he chafes as his intimate friends ; well adured, either of them may (if improper) rain his character, reputation, aud tftate. R 194 TRF GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. ON CONTEMPT, OR DESPISING OUR INFERIORS. Defpifc no one, but look at home. THAT which conflitutes an objel of contempt to the ill-natured and malevolent, becomes the object of other paffions to a worthy and good-natured man ; for in fuch a perfon,\vickednefs and vice muft always raife hatred and abhorrence ; while weaknefs and fol- ly will ever be fure to excite pity and compaflion. However deteftable this quality, which is a mix- ture of pride and ill-nature, may appear when con- Adored in the fcrious fchool of Heraclitus, it will prefent no lefs abfurd and ridiculous an idea to the laughing feet of Democritus, efpecially as we may obierve, tliat the meaneft and bafeft of all hu- man beings are generally the moft forward to de- fpife others. So that the moil contemptible are generally the moft contemptuous. As a good man, as I have before obferved, will give no entertainment to any fuch a paffion ; fo neither will a fcnfible man, I am well perfuaded, find much opportunity to exert it. If men would make but a moderate ufe of that felf-examination, which philofophers and divines have recommended to them, it would tend greatly to the cure of this difpofition. Their contempt would then perhaps as their charity is faid to do, begin at home. To fay the truth, a man hath this better chance of defpifmg himfclf, than he hath of defpifmg others, as he is likely to know himfrlf bcft. .... Contempt THE GENTLEMAN'S Contempt is generally mutual : there is fcarce any- one man who defpifes another, without being at the fame time defpifed by him, of which I ihall endeav- our to produce fome few inftances. As the right honourable lord Squanderfield,at the head of a vail retinue, pafles by Mr. M. Buckram, citizen and taylor, in his chaife and one, " See there I" fays my lord, with an air of the higheft contempt, " that rafcal Buckram, with his fat wife : I fuppofe he is going to his country houfe, for fuch fellows mull have their country houfe, as well as their vehicle.-. Thefe are the ralcals that complain of want of trade." Buckram, on the other hand, is no fooner recovered from the fear of being run over, before he could get cut of the way ; than, turning to his wife, he cries, " Very fine, faith ! an honeft citizen is to be run over by fach fellows as thefe, who drive about their coach- es and fix with other people's money. See, my dear, what an equipage he has got, and yet lie cannot find money to pay an honeft tradefman. He is above an hundred pounds deep in my books ; how I defpife fuch lords !" Lady Fanny Ranturii, from the fide-box, calling her eyes on an honeft pawnbroker's wife below her, bids lady Betty her companion take notice of that creature in the pit ; "Did you ever fee, lady Betty," fays flie, " fuch a ftrange wretch ? how the awkward' monfler is dreired ?" The good woman at the farce; time furveying lady Fanny, and offended, perhaps, at a fcornful frnile, which flie fees in her countenance, whifpers her friend, " Obierve lady Fanny Rantum. As great airs as that fine lady gives herfelf, my hui- band hath all her jewels under lock and key ;.what a contemptible thing is pior quality !" Is there on earth a greater objeft of contempt than the poor fcholar to a fplendid beau ? unlefs perhaps the 196 THE GENTLEMAN'S MWCELLANT.. the fplendid beau to the poor fcholar ! Tlie philofo- pher and the world ; the man of bufmefs and the man. of pleafure ; the beauty and the wit ; the hypocrite and the profligate ; the covetous and the fquanderer ; are all alike inftances of this reciprocal contempt. Take the fame obfervations into the loweft life, and we (hall find the fame pronenefs to defpife each other. The common foldier, who hires himfelf out to be fhot at for five-pence a day, who is the only flave in a free country ; and is liable to be fent to any part of the world without his confent ; and whilft at home fubjeft to the fevered punifhments, for offences which are not to be found in our law books ; yet this noble perfonage looks with a contemptuous air on all his brethren of that order in the commonwealth, wheth- er of mechanics or hufbandmen, from whence he was himfelf taken. On the other hand, however adorn- ed with his brick-duft coloured coat, and bedaubed v/ith worftcd lace of a penny a yard, the very gentle- man foldier is as much defpifed in his turn, by the v/hiftling carter, who comforts himfelf, that he is a free-born Englifhman, and will live with no mafter any longer than he likes him ; nay, and though he never was worth ten pounds in his life, is ready to anfwer a captain, if he offends him, " D n you, Sir, who are you ? is it not we that pay you :" This contemptuous difpolltion is in reality the fure attendant on a mean and bad mind in every fta- tion ; on the contrary, a great and good man will be free from it, whether h* be placed at the top or bot- r. .ni of life. I was therefore not a little pleafed with u rebuke lately given by a blackihoe boy to another,, who had exprefied his contempt of one of the modern town-fmarts : " Why fhouhi you defpife him, Jack ?" fiu! the li-)iv.-!h lad : "we are all v.hat the Lord i to make us." TOM THE QENTLEMAK'S MISCELLANY. 197 T;OM TURF ; A NEWMARKET CHARACTER, A man with more money than wit. TOM TURF is pofftfled of an eftate of fifteen hundred pounds a. year, which is juftfufficieut to fur- niih him with a variety of riding frocks, jockey boots,, fmart hats, and coach whips. Tom's great ambi- tion is to be deemed ajemmyjefloru} ; he therefore ap- pears always in a morning in a Newmarket frock, a fuort bob wig, neat buckikin breeches, and white filk dockings. He keeps a pkaeton and four handfome bays, a ftable cf hunters, and a , pack of hounds in the country. The reputation of being a good coachman, and driv- ing a fet ofhorfes with ik ill ; or, in his own phrafe* doing bis bujinefs ive//, he efteems the greateft charac- ter in life ; and thinks himfelffeated on the very pin- nacle of glory, when he is mounted in a high chaife at a horfe-race. Newmarket has not a more aftive fpirit ; he is there, frequently his own jockey, and al- ways boafts, as a fingular accomplilhment, that l:s does not ride above eight ftone and a half. He is a little man not of a very healthy confti- tution, but wiflies to be thought capable cf the greateft fatigue, and is perpetually laying wagers of the vaft jour rues he can perform . in a day. He E.2 has 198 THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANV has likewife an ambition to be reckoned a man of confummate-debauch, and endeavours to make you believe, that he never goes to bed without firft. drinking three or four bottles of claret, lying with as many wh es, and knocking down as many watch- men*. He very often comes drunk into one or the theatres, about the middle of the third aft, and heroically expofes himfelf to the hifles of both the galleries. When he meets you, he generally begins with defcribing his laft night's debauch, or relates the arrival of a new wh re upon the town, or enter- tains you with the exploits of his bay cattle ; and if you decline converfmg with him on thefe improv- ing fubjecls, he fwears you are a fellow of no foul or genius, and ever afterwards Ihuns your company. From fuch defpicable characters, good Lord deli- ver us. ON A LIFE OF PLEASURE. J-ROM A YOUNG LADY JN DORSETSHIRE TO HER FRIEND IN LONDON. I WRITE, my dear friend, from this agreeable folitude ; the meadows and gardens, the thick gloom of the trees, the daihing of the cafcade ; all thefe objects, fo unufual to me, give an agreeable fort of melancholy to the mind. Among * Thefe exploits are leading features in the charaQer of a modem young man of fpiiit. THE GEKTLTMAU'S MISCELLANY. Among very different fcenes and different com pany, my fair correfpondent, I doubt not, pafct her days. At one period fhe receives company, at another (he is dreffing for the opera. One hour fhe liftens to the jefts of fomt petitmaitre, and the next to the vivacity of her female vifitants. When fhe lies down to reft, her thoughts are engrofled all en- grofled by plays, row/jr, aufiions, and chard-tables. It is no wonder if the devotions of the evening are wholly neglected, or at leaft performed in a flight and carelefs manner. Could my dear Sophia have imagined twelve months fmce, that I fhould have fent her fuch a letter ? But I have not now taken up the pen in a vein of raillery. I am of late grown more than ordinarily penfive. Much of my paft time has been fpent, I muft acknowledge with regret, in diffipa- tion and falfe pleafure. I am now refolved, with the affiftance of divine wifdom, to aft like a being endowed with rational faculties, and formed to live for ever. I perufe, with the greateft diligence, night and morning, the facred writings ; and am quite enamoured with the excellence of the pre- cepts contained in them ; and with the exalted idea they give of our Creator, Preferver, and Re- deemer. Ye gay companions of my former life ! your dream of happinefs will very fpeedily vanifh away like the dew of the morning. Why will ye pcr- fift in your thoughtlefs courfe ? " Be afuired the years will foon draw nigh, when ye fhall have no pleafure in them : and the days when the keepers of the houfe fhall tremble, and the ftrong men bow themfelves ; when the mourners fhall go about the greets ; when the dull fhall return to its native duft, iji GISTLEMAN'S MISCELLANT. and the fpirit to God who gave it." The tolling knell often proclaims the demife of an intimate friend or neighbour ; but you hear it void of fenfibi- lity and reflection. The retrofpecl of a life fpent in gaiety and amufe- ment will afford no complacence, no ferenity in the views of death* ; but the retrofpect of a life of ra- tional devotion will be truly delightful even at that awful crifis. " The hour is.come (the believer may then fey), the happy hour I have fo ardently ex- pected. I have learned to acquiefce in every dif- pofal of infinite wifdom. What is perfecution or exile, or even death itfelf, to the real Chriftian ? What are the beft delights of human life ? Mere anxiety and vexation ; but the delights of futurity have no diminution, and are fuch as I cannot, in the prefent mode of exifterice, form any competent idea of; May my dear Sophy be perfuaded to fteal from the giddy multitude, and enjoy that beft of con- verfe, which fallible and weak-fighted human be- ings are too apt to neglecl or defpife converfc with her own heart. Hence ftie will learn humil- ity, refignation, penitence, and gratitude f. May all her devout exercifes be more acceptable than- incenfe from the altar, to that Power who is ever willing to hear, and to fulfil the requefts of the fin- cerely penitent; lam, dear friend, your -real well-wifher, &c. MATILDA. F. Winbourn, Dorfdflnre. *The propriety of this lady's fentiments no gentleman in his tight I'cnles can deny. f Good was the advice of King David, Commune with tAj ew Atari Pfalra iv. 4. THE GEHTtEMAH** MISCELLANY. THE INCONVENIENCES OF A COUNTRY LIFE, AN EXTRACT. THE witty duke of Buckingham, meeting one day with a marling dog in the itreets, faid, " D n you, I wiih you was married, and fettled in the country ;" which the duke thought the greateil curie he could with any one. As I have lately re- moved there for cheapnefs, I will relate what I have met with. A friend I had confulted, hired for me a fmali farm, which he faid would aflitt me in houfekeeping ; and my wife was pkafed with the thoughts of having her own pigs and poultry. I found the country as full of brutality as dirt ; there is not more clay in the roads than knavery in the inhabitants ; and the whole fo fortified in ruftic impudence, that I proteft the hackney-coachman and draymen in London are better companions. The cows I bought had flunk their calves, the fheep were rotten, the horfes broken- winded, the hogs mangy, and die poultry had the droop ; yet they were all fold to me with the greatcit afleverations of perfection. Then, as to provifions, the butcher calls once a week, to know what meat you want, and that day fe'nnight brings you. a buttock of beef of 3olb. weight, when ten was all you wanted ; and as the family is fmall, he gives you meat not much better than carrion, but does not forget to charge the high- eft 20* THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY, eft price for it. As to fifii, \ve get none but what (links, though only ten miles from the fea; and my landlord lhc\ved me a very pretty pond, as he called it, which would at any time, he faid, afford me * difli of fifh. This coft me 403. for a net, in order to get fifteen penny worth of carp, as big as my finger. Another recommendation of his farm was its be- ing fituated in a fne fporting country; I had a mind to try it ; and therefore bought a dog and a gun ; and going out one morning, was met by the fquire's gamekeeper, \vho defired me to walk home immedi- ately, or he mull ilioot my dog. Well, to be fure, there is no end of the happinefs of the country : I lately took to gardening, and had fcarce cropped my kitchen ground, before a neighbouring fquire rode his fox-hounds through it ; and upon my confulting a lawyer for a profecution, I found the matter would be tried by a jury of fox-hunters. Every fellow in the neighbourhood marks you for his prey, and will treat you with infolence, if you do not pay in every thing through the nofe, like a lord or a nabob. One had need be made of money, for the mo- ment there is a want of this, our cattle are pounded, the pigs worried, the fences broken down, and our hen-roofts robbed. A pretty life for a man of fmall fortune! No, no, let none but men of wealth think of it ; I could live in town upon one hundred' pounds a year, much better than in the country upon three; e- very pig I have killed has coft me a guinea ; and I had better pay five fnillings a-Lcad for poultry, than bring them up at home , . So much for gentlemen farmers. THE -THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELIANY. TWE HUMBLE AND CONTENTED MAN. A POEM> ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND. A FLOW of good fpirits I've feen, with a f mile, To worth make a fhallow pretence ; And the chat of good-breeding witheafe for awhile May pafs for good-nature and fenfe ; But where is the 'bofom untainted by art, The judgment fo modeft and ftaid, That union fo rare of the head and the heart, Which fixes the friends it has made ? Should fortune capricioufly ceafe to be coy, And in torrents of plenty defcend ; I doubtlefs like others fhould clafp her with joy, And my wants and my wifhes extend*. 3ut fmce 'tis deny'd me, and Heaven bed knows Whether kinder, to grant it or not, 'Say why fhould I vainly diilurb my repofe, And peevifnly carp at my lot ? Many men of lefs worth you good nattir'dly cry- To fplendour and opulence foar : Suppofe I allow it, yet, pray Sir, am I Lefs happy becaufe they are more ? *It is generally obferved, our willies enlarge as our wealth increafcs. TI " Nor e'er may my pride or my folly reflect On the fav'rites whom fortune has made, Regardlels of thoufands who pine with negleft, In penlive obicurity's (hade, With whom, when comparing the merit I boaft, Tho J rais'd by indulgence to fame, I fmk in conruiion bewilder* d and loft, And I wonder I am what I am ; And what are thefe wonders, thefe bleffings refin'd, Which fplendour and opulence fhower ? The health of the body, and peace of the mind, Are things which are out of their power. To Contentment's calm funfliine, the : lot of the few^ Can infolent Grfcatne'fs pretend ? Or can it beftow what I boaft of in you, That blefling of bleffings a friend ? ON THE PLEASURES AND ADVANTAGES OF READING AND CONVERSATION, IN THE SUPERIOR WALKS OF LIFE. At the head of all the pleafures whirr OTKT them* felves to the man of liberal education, may confi- dtntly be placed that derived from books. In variety* durability* THE GEKTLEMAN'S MISCELLAN*- i& durability, and facility of attainment, no other can ftand in competition with it. Imagine that we had it in our power to call up the fhades of the greatelt and wifeft men that ever exifled, and oblige them to converfe with us on the moft interefting topics what an ineftimable privilege fhould we think it ! how fuperior to all common enjoyments ! But in a well-furniihed library we, in fait, poflefs this pow- er. We can. queftion Xenophon and Casfar on their campaigns, make Demofthenes and Cicero plead before us, join in the audience of Socrates and Plato, and receive derrtonftrations from Euclid and New- ton*. In books v. r e have the 'choiceft thoughts of the ableft me'n in their bed drefs. We can at plea- fure exclude dulnefs and impertinence, and open our doors to wit and good fenfe alone. If domeftic enjoyments have contributed in the firft degree to the happincfsof my life (and I fhould be ungrateful not to acknowledge that they have), the pleafures of reading have beyond all queflion held the fecond place. Without books I have never been able to pafs fcarce a firigle day to my entire fa'Jsfaction ; with them, no day has been fo dull as not to have Its pleafure. Even pain and ficknefs have for a time been charmed away by them. By the eaiy provifion of a book, I have frequently worn through long nights and days of pain, with all the difference in my feelings between calm content and fretful impatience. Such occurrences have afforded me fall proof of the pofli bility of being cheaply pleafed and inArufted at ths 'fame time. S Reading *Wcft may it be aflerted by an eminent writer, by reading Vre converfe with the dead, by tonverfation wilh the living, Rnd by -coMcmftationvthh cUrfclves. THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. Reading may m every fenfe be called a c kcup JUfmw* mem. A tafte for books, indeed, may be made expen- five enough ; but that is only where there is a tafte for fine editions, bindings, paper, and type*. Learn to diitinguifh between books to be perufid, and books to be pujjeffed. Of the former, you may find an ample (lore in every fubfcription library, the proper ufe of which to a fcholar is to furnifli his mind, without loading his {helves. No apparatus, no appointment of time and place, is neceflary for the enjoyment of reading. From the midftof buftle and bufmefs you may, in an inftant, by the magic of a book plunge intofcenes of remote ages and coun- tries, and difengage yourfelf from prefent care andfa- tigue. "Sweet pliability of man's fpirit," (cries Sterne, on relating an Occurrence of this kind in his Sentimental Journey,) "that can at once furrendef itfelf to illufions, which cheat expectation and forrow of their wearifome moments ! The next of the rational pleafures of life that I (hall point out, is that of ccmcrj'ation. This is a pleafure of higher zeft than that of reading ; fmce in converf- ing we not only receive the fentiments of others, but impart our own, and from tin's reciprocation a fpirit and intereft arifc, which books cannot give in an equal degree* Fitnefs for converfation muft depend on the ftore of ideas laid up in the mind, and the faculty of communicating them. Thefe, in a great degree, are the refults of education and the habit of fociety : and to a certain point they arc favoured by fuperiority of condition. But this is only to a certain point ; for when you arrive at that clafs in which fenluality, in- dolence, and diffipation, are foflercd by excefs of opu* lence, * Books {honld be chofen for the goodfen/t they contain,, tnd net for their binding, be it ever fo good* THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLAHTT. 20,7 fence*, you lofe more by diminifhed energy of mind than you gain by fuperior refinement of manners and elegance of AN ORIGINAL LETTER JROM PR. JOHNSON TO AN INTIMATE FRIEND, ON THE DEATH OF HIS WIFE. DEAR si a, March 17, 1752. NOTWITHSTANDING the warnings of philo- fophers, and the daily examples of lolfes and misfor- tunes which life forces upon us, fuch is the abforptioa ef our thoughts in the bufinefs of the prefent day fuch the refiguation of our reafon to empty hopes of future felicity or fuch our unwillingnefs to forefee what we dread, that every calamity comes fuddenly upon us, and not only profits us as a burden but cruih- es as a blow. There are evils which happen out of the common courfe of nature, agamil which it is no reproach not to be provided. A fiaih of lightning intercepts the traveller in his way. The concuiiion of an earth- quake heaps the ruins of cities upon their inhabitants. But other miferies time brings, though iilently, yet vilibly forward, by its own lapfe, which yet approach- es urueen, b.ecaufe we turn our eyes- away : andfeize us * This Is too often the c*fc awoug the great* 2o8 THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY, us unrcfifteci, bccaufe we could not arm ourfelvoi; u- gainft them, hut by fetting them before us. That it is in vain to fhrink from what cannot be a- voided, and to hide that from ourfelves which mult fometiraes be found, is a truth which we all know, but which all negleft ; and perhaps none more than the fpeculative reafbner, whofe thoughts are always from home, whofe eye wanders over life, whofe f:m- cy dances after meteors of happinefs kindled by it- lelf, and who examines every thing rather than his own ftate. Nothing is more evident than that the decays of age muft terminate in death. Yet there is no man (fays Tully) who does not believe that he may yet live another year ; and there is none who does not up- cn the fame principle, hope another year for his parent or friend : but the fallacy will be in time detected ; the loft year, the loft day, will come ; it has come, aid is paft. " The life which made my own life pieafant is at an end, and the gates of death arc fliut upon my profpecls." The lofs of a friend, on whom the heart was fir- ed, to whom every wifh and endeavour tended, is a ftate of defolation in which the mind looks abroad impatient of itfclf, and finds nothing but emptinefs and horror. The blamelefs life the artleis tender- the pious fimplicity the modeft refignatiou the patient fickncfs, and the quiet death are re- membered- only to add value to the lofs to aggra- vate regret for what cannot be amended to deepen i'rrcw for v.-liat cannot be recalled.. Thefe are the calamities by which Providence .-'gages us from the love of life. Oth> rtitude may repel, or hope may mitigate ; but irreparable privation leave? nothing to cxercife re- 1'ylutioa, or flatter expectation. The dead cannot return. THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELEANY, 20$ feturn, and nothing is left us here but languifhment and grief. Yet fuch is the courfe of " nature, th,at whoever lives long muft outlive thofe whom he Io>e.s and honours. Such is the condition of our prefent>f- tence, that life- muft one time lofe its afibciations, and every inhabitant of the earth mull walk down- ward to the grave alone and unregarded, without any partner of his joy or grief, without any inter- cited witnefs of his misfortunes or fuccefs. Misfor- tunes indeed he may yet feel, for where is the bottom r-f the mifery of man I but what is fuccefs to him who has none to enjoy it ? Happinefs is not found inyP/^contemplation ; it is perceived only when it is reflected from another. We know little of the ftate of departed fouls, necaufe fuch knowledge is not neceflary to a good life. Reafon deferts us at the brink of the grave, and gives no farther intelligence. Revelation is not wholly filent : " There is joy among the angels of heaven over aftnner that repenteth." And i'ure- ly the joy is not incommunicable to fouls difentan- gled from the body, and made like angels. Let hope, therefore, dictate, what Revelation does not confute that the union of ibuls may ftill remain } and that we, who are flruggling with fin, forrow, and infirmities, may have One part in the attention and kindnefs of thofe who have finifhed their courfe, and are now receiving their rewad. Thefe are the great occafions which force the mind to take refuge in religion. When we have no help in ourfelves, what can remain but that we lookup to a higher and a greater Power ? And to what hope may we not raife our eyes and hearts, whea we coniider that the greaieft power is tke bcft ? 82 . Surely iio THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. Surely there is no man who, thus afflicted, does not feek fuccour in the Gofpel, which has brought life and immortality to light ? The precepts of Epi- curus, which teach us to endure what the laws of the univerfe make necciTary, may filence, but not content us. The dictates of Zeno, who commands us to look with indifference on abilract things, may difppfe us to conceal our forrow, but cannot afluage k. Real alleviation of the lofs of friends, and ra- tional tranquility in the profpeft of our own diflblu- tion, can be received pnly from' the promife of Him in whofe hands are life and death ; and from the af- iurances,of another and better ftate, in which all tears will be wiped from our eyes, and the whole foul ihall be filled with joy Philofophy may infufe ftubborn- nefs, but Religion only can give patience. SAM. JOHNSON, . ON THE PLEASURES OF BENEVOLENCE. TO guard againil the fatal cfFccls which difap- ^o'mtmcnts arc apt to have upon the mind, is a point .of the utinoft confequence towards palling through life with any tolerable degree of comfort ' and fatis- fa&ion ; for difappointnicnts, more or lefs, muft be the lot of all. At the firft entrance into the world, when the im- agination is adivc, the nilecHons warm, and the heart a Itranger to deceit, and confequcnUy to fufpicion^ wliat OCJightful dreams of happinefs arc formed ! gr muy be Uie objeA in which that happinefs THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY-. 211 isfuppofed to confift, that object is purfued with ar- dour: the gay and'thoughtlefs feek tor it in diilipa- tion and aniufem'tnt ; . the ambitious in power, fame, and honours ; the affectionate in love and friendfhip : but how few are there who find in any of theie ob- jects that happinefs which they expected ! Pleafure, fame, riches, &c. even when they are ob- tained, ilill leave a void in the foul,which continually reminds the poiFeiibr that this is not the happincfs for which he was formed, and even the beft affections are liable to numberlefs difappointments, and' often' productive of the fevereft pangs. The unfufpectihg heart forms attachments before' reafon is capable of judging, whether the objects of them are fuch as are qualified to make it happy; and it often happens, . that the fatal truth is not discovered till the affections are engaged too far to be recalled, and then the difappointment muft prove a lafting for- row. The young are too apt 'to fancy that the affection's of their hearts will prove the fource of nothing but pleafure ; thofe who are father advanced ia life, arc much too apt to run into the contrary extreme. Ths error of the. firil, even taking it in the worft light, is productive of fome pleasure, as well as pain ; that of the laffc ferves only to throw a damp over every pleafure, and can be productive of nothing but pain. It leads indeed to the moft fatal confequences fmcc it tends to make felf the only object ; and the heart which is merely ielfifh, muft ever be incapable of virtue and of happinefs, and a ftrangcr to all the folid joys of. affection ami benevolence ; without which the happiell ftate in this world muft be infipid, and with which even the fevereft afflictions may be ea- fily fupported. In zu THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY, In every ftate of life, in fpite of every difap* pointment, thefe fhould'ftill be cherifhed and encour- aged" ; for though they may not always beftow fuch pleafures as the romantic imaginations of youth had: painted, yet they will ftill beftow fuch as can be found in nothing elfe in this world. Thofe who are freed from cares and anxieties,- who are furrounded by all the means of enjoy- ment, and whofe pleafures prefent them/elves with- out being fought for, are often unhappy in the midft of all ; merely becaufe that activity of mind, in the proper exercife of which our happinefs confifts, has in them no objtft on which it may be employ- ed. But when the heart is fmcerely and affec- tionately interefted for the good cf others, a* new fcene of aftion is continually open, every moment may be employed, in fome pleafmg and ufeful purfuit. New opportunities of doing good are continually prefenting thcmfelves ; new fchemes are formed and" ardently purfued ; and even when they do not fuc- ceed, though the difappointment may give pain, yet the pleafure of felf-apprcbalion will remain ; and the purfuit will be remembered with fatisfaction. The next opportunity, which offers itfelf will be readily embraced, and will furnilh a fr.efh fupply of plea- fures ; fuch pleafures as are fecure fi om that veari- nefs and difguft, which fooner or later are the confequences of all fuch enjoyments as tend mere- ly to gfatify the felfiih paffions and inclinations ; and which always attend on an inaclive ftate of mind, from whatever caufe it may prpceed. Even in the moft trifling fcenes of common life, the truly benevolent may find many phafures which would pafs unnoticed by others ; and in a converfa-- tion, which to the thoughtlefs and inattentive would' affof 1 only a trifling arauicmcnt, or pcrliaps no a^ mufemeut THE CEiTTLEMAs's MISCELLANY.. 2IJ mufement, at all, they may find many fubje&s for pleafmg and ufeful reflections, which may conduce both te their happinefs and advantage. It is a pleafmg as well as ufeful exercife to the mind, to difcover real merit, through the veil which humility and modefty throw over it*; and to admire true greatrsefs of foul, even in the meaneft fitua- ations in life ; or when it exerts itfelf on occasions fuppofed to be trifling, and therefore, in general, but little attended to or regarded. ON THE LOVE OF LIFE, AN ESSAY., Our wifhcs lengthen as our fun declines. NIGHT THOUGHTS, AGE, that leiTens the enjoyments of life, increafes our defire of living. Thole clangers which in the vigour of youth we had learned to defpife, aiTume new terrors as we grow old. Our caution increaf- ing as our years increafe, fear at laft becomes the prevailing patfion of the mind, and the fmall remain- der of life is taken up in ufelefs efforts to keep off our end, or provide for a continued exigence. Strange contradiction in our nature, and to which even the wife are liable ! If I Ihould judge of that part of life which lies -before me by that which I have * There is no real merit without this veil. 214. THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLANY. have already feen, the profpeft is hideous. rience tells me that my paft enjoyments have brought no real felicity, and fenfation allures nie, that thofe I have felt are ftronger than thofe which are yet to come. Yet experience and fenfation in vain per- fuade ; hope, more powerful than either, drefles out the diftant profpeft. in fancied, beauty; fome hap- pinefs in long perfpective, ftill beckons me to pur- fue ; and like a lofmg gamefter, every new dif- appointment increafes my ardour to continue the game. Whence then is this increafed love of lifei which grows upon us with our years ? whence comes it that we thus make greater efforts to preferve our exiftence, at a period when it becomes fcarce worth the keeping ? Is it, that Nature, attentive to the pre- fervation of mankind, increafes our wifhes to live,- while fhe lefTens our enjoyments ? and as fhe robs the fenies of every, plcafure, equips Imagination in the fpoils ? Life would be infupportable to an old man, who, loaded with infirmities, feared death no more than when in the vigour of manhood ; the numberlefs calamities of decaying nature, and the confcioufnefs of furviving every pleafure and en- joyment, would at once induce him with his own hand to terminate the fcene of mifery ; but happily the contempt of death forfakes him, at a time when it could only be prejudicial ; and life acquires an imaginary value, in proportion as its real value is no more. Our attachment to every objeft around us increa- fes, in general from the length of our acquaintance yith it*." I would not chufe," fays a French philofo : : pher, * The longer we know our friends, and find them to be really (cub, the mote uawilling we fliall be to pan with them. THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCEILANV. pher, " to fee an old poll pulled up with which I had been long acquainted." A mind long habitua- ted to a certain fet of objects, infenfibly be comes fond of feeing them ; vifits them from habit, and parts from them with reluctance : from hence proceeds the avarice of the old in every kind of pofleffion ; they love the world and all that it produces ; they love life and all its advantages ; not merely bccaufe it gives them pleafUre, but becaufe they have knowa it long. SONNET TO TIME, INSATIATE Defpot! whofe refiftlefs arm Shatters the loftieft fabric from its bafe ; And tears from beauty ev'ry magic charm, And robs proud Nature of her lovelieft grace I Still art thou kind ; for as thy pow'r prevails, And age comes onward, menacing decay ; As warmth expires, and numbing froft aflails, And life's faint lamp prefentsa quiv'ring ray > *Tis thine to reconcile the tranquil bread, To prove that fublumry joys are vain; To turn from pomp, and all its tinfel train, And feek the filent paths of fflf/zfa/reft ; Bo, from the deadlieft poifon, cliymic art Extra&s a healing balm to tranquilize the heart. DESCRIPTION THE GENTLEMAN'S MISCELLAKY.. DESCRIPTION OF EVENING. WRITTEN IN THE COUNTRY. THE eve's in duficy mantle dreft, The day's laft gleam juft ftreaks the Weft-j Till flov.'ly finking from the hills, A dcep'ning fhade the profpeft fills. No fourtd to ftrike the ear doth move* From rural pipe or vocal grove ; The flocks and herds to reft are gone* The hamlet's wonted fports are done. The gathering clouds now cloie arrange, As waiting for the coming change ; Till Luna and her train in light, The fobcr erening yields to night. A 000 033 937 4