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this story might be impertinent in this place,
wherein I speak of those things. Beside that the
example deserves to be taken notice of, as it con-
tains a most certain proof of the immortality of
the soul, and of Divine Providence. If any man
thinks these facts incredible, let him enjoy his
own opinion to himself, but let him not endeavor
to disturb the belief of others, who by instances
of this nature are excited to the study of virtue.
L.

No. 111.] SATURDAY, JULY 7, 1711.
Inter silvas academi quærere verum.
HOR. 2 Ep. ii, 45.

He does not seem born to enjoy life, but to deliver it down to others. This is not surprising to con sider in animals, which are formed for our use, and can finish their business in a short life. The silkworm, after having spun her task, lays her eggs and dies. But a man can never have takes. in his full measure of knowledge, has not time to subdue his passions, establish his soul in vir tuc and come up to the perfection of his nature, before he is hurried off the stage. Would an infinitely wise Being make such glorious creatures for so mean a purpose? Can he delight in the production of such abortive intelligences, such short-lived reasonable beings? Would he give us THE course of my last speculation led me in- talents that are not to be exerted? capacities that sensibly into a subject upon which I always medi- are never to be gratified? How can we find that tate with great delight; I mean the immortality wisdom, which shines through all his works in of the soul. I was yesterday walking alone in the formation of man, without looking on this one of my friend's woods, and lost myself in it World as only a nursery for the next, and believ very agreeably, as I was running over in my minding that the several generations of rational creathe several arguments that established this great tures, which rise up and disappear in such quick point, which is the basis of morality, and the successions, are only to receive their first rudisource of all the pleasing hopes and secret joys ments of existence here, and afterward to be transthat can arise in the heart of a reasonable creature. planted into a more friendly climate, where they I considered those several proofs, drawn: may spread and flourish to all eternity!

To search for truth in academic groves.

First, from the nature of the soul itself, and

particularly its immateriality, which, though not absolutely necessary to the eternity of its duration, has, I think, been evinced to almost a de

monstration.

Secondly, from its passions and sentiments, as particularly from .ts love of existence, its horror of annihilation, and its hopes of immortality, with that secret satisfaction which it finds in the practice of virtue, and that uneasiness which follows in it upon the commission of vice.

Thirdly, from the nature of the Supreme Being, whose justice, goodness, wisdom, and veracity, are all concerned in this great point.

But among these and other excellent arguments for the immortality of the soul, there is one drawn from the perpetual progress of the soul to its perfection, without a possibility of ever arriving at it; which is a hint that I do not remember to have seen opened and improved by others who have written on this subject, though it seems to me to carry a great weight with it. How can it enter into the thoughts of man, that the soul, which is capable of such immense perfections, and of receiving new improvements to all eternity, shall fall away into nothing almost as soon as it is created? Are such abilities made for no purpose? A brute arrives at the point of perfection that he can never pass: in a few years he has all the endowments he is capable of: and, were he to live ten thousand more, would be the same thing he is at present. Were a human soul thus at a stand in her accomplishments; were her faculties to be full blown, and incapable of farther enlargements, I could imagine it might fall away insensibly, and drop at once into a state of annihilation. But can we believe a thinking being, that is in a perpetual progress of improvements, and traveling on from perfection to perfection, after having just looked abroad into the works of its Creator, and made a few discoveries of his infinite good ness, wisdom, and power, must perish at her first setting out, and in the beginning of her inquiries? A man, considered in his present state, seems ouly sent into the world to propagate his kind. He provides himself with a successor, and immediately quits his post to make room for him.

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There is not, in my opinion, a more pleasing and triumphant consideration in religion than this of the perpetual progress which the soul makes toward the perfection of its nature, without ever arriving at a period in it. To look upon the soul as going on from strength to strength, to consider that she is to shine forever with new accessions of glory, and brighten to all eternity; that she will be still adding virtue to virtue, and knowledge to knowledge; carries in it something wonderfully agreeable to that ambition which is natural to the Nay, it must be a prospect pleas mind of man. ing to God himself, to see his creation forever beautifying in his eyes, and drawing nearer to him, by greater degrees of resemblance.

Methinks this single consideration of the procient to extinguish all envy in inferior natures, gress of a finite spirit to perfection, will be suffi and all contempt in superior. That cherubim, which now appears as a God to a human soul, knows very well that the period will come about in eternity, when the human soul shall be as perfect as he himself now is: nay, when she shall much as she now falls short of it. It is true, the look down upon that degree of perfection, as higher nature still advances, and by that means of being; but he knows that how high soever preserves his distance and superiority in the scale the station is of which he stands possessed at present, the inferior nature will at length mount up to it, and shine forth in the same degree of glory.

With what astonishment and veneration may hidden stores of virtue and knowledge, such inwe look into our own souls, where there are such exhausted sources of perfection? We know not the heart of man to conceive the glory that will yet what we shall be, nor will it ever enter into dered with its Creator, is like one of those mabe always in reserve for him. The soul, consithematical lines that may draw nearer to another for all eternity without a possibility of touching it; and can there be a thought so transporting, as to consider ourselves in these perpetual ap proaches to him, who is not only the standard of perfection but of happiness!-L.

Those lines are what the geometricians call the asymp totes of the hyperbola, and the allusion to them here is, per haps, one of the most beautiful that has ever been made

No. 112.] MONDAY, JULY 9, 1711.

First in obedience to thy country's rites,
Worship th' immortal gods.-PYTHAG.

I AM always very well pleased with a country Sunday, and think, if keeping holy the seventh day were only a human institution, it would be the best method that could have been thought of for polishing and civilizing of mankind. It is certain, the country people would soon degenerate into a kind of savages and barbarians, were there not such frequent returns of a stated time, in which the whole village meet together with their best faces, and in their cleanest habits, to converse with one another upon different subjects, hear their duties explained to them, and join together in adoration of the supreme Being. Sunday clears away the rust of the whole week, not only as it refreshes in their minds the notions of religion, but as it puts both the sexes upon appearing in their most agreeable forms, and exerting all such qualities as are apt to give them a figure in the eye of the village. A country fellow distinguishes himself as much in the churchyard, as a citizen does upon the 'Change, the whole parishpolitics being generally discussed in that place either after sermon or before the bell rings.

church. The knight walks down from his seat in the chancel between a double row of his tenants, that stand bowing to him on each side; and every now and then inquires how such a one's wife, or mother, or son, or father do, whom he does not see at church; which is understood as a secret reprimand to the person that is absent.

The chaplain has often told me that, upon a catechising day, when Sir Roger has been pleased with a boy that answers well, he has ordered a Bible to be given to him next day for his encouragement; and sometimes accompanies it with a flitch of bacon to his mother. Sir Roger has likewise added five pounds a year to the clerk's place; and that he may encourage the young fellows to make themselves perfect in the church service, has promised upon the death of the present incumbent, who is very old, to bestow it according to merit.

The

The fair understanding between Sir Roger and his chaplain, and their mutual concurrence in doing good, is the more remarkable, because the very next village is famous for the differences and contentions that arise between the parson and the squire, who live in a perpetual state of war. parson is always preaching at the squire; and the squire, to be revenged on the parson, never comes My friend Sir Roger, being a good churchman, to church. The squire has made all his tenants has beautified the inside of his church with seve- atheists and tithe-stealers; while the parson inral texts of his own choosing. He has likewise structs them every Sunday in the dignity of his given a handsome pulpit-cloth, and railed in the order, and insinuates to them, in almost every communion table at his own expense. He has often sermon, that he is a better man thar his patron. told me, that at his coming to his estate he found In short, matters are come to such an extremity, his parishioners very irregular: and that in order that the squire has not said his prayers either in to make them kneel and join in the responses, he public or private this half year; and the parson gave every one of them a hassock and a common-threatens him, if he does not mend his manners, prayer book and at the same time employed an to pray for him in the face of the whole conitinerant singing-master, who goes about the coun- gregation. try for that purpose, to instruct them rightly in the tunes of the Psalms; upon which they now very much value themselves, and indeed outdo most of the country churches that I have ever heard.

As Sir Roger is landlord to the whole congregation, he keeps them in very good order, and will suffer nobody to sleep in it beside himself; for if by chance he has been surprised into a short nap at sermon, upon recovering out of it he stands up and looks about him, and if he sees anybody else nodding, either wakes them himself or sends his servants to them. Several other of the old knight's particularities break out upon these occasions. Sometimes he will be lengthening out a verse in the singing Psalms half a minute after the rest of the congregation have done with it; sometimes, when he is pleased with the matter of his devotion, he pronounces amen three or four times to the same prayer; and sometimes stands up when everybody else is upon their knees, to count the congregation, or see if any of his tenants are missing.

I was yesterday very much surprised to hear my old friend, in the midst of the service, calling out to one John Matthews to mind what he was about, and not disturb the congregation. This John Matthews it seems is remarkable for being an idle fellow, and at that time was kicking his heels for his diversion. This authority of the knight, though exerted in that odd manner which accompanies him in all the circumstances of life, has a very good effect upon the parish, who are not polite enough to see anything ridiculous in his behavior; beside that the general good sense and worthiness of his character make his friends observe these little singularities as foils that rather set off than blemish his good qualities.

As soon as the sermon is finished, nobody presumes to stir till Sir Roger is gone out of the

Feuds of this nature, though too frequent in the country, are very fatal to the ordinary people, who are so used to be dazzled with riches, that they pay as much deference to the understanding of a man of an estate, as of a man of learning; and are very hardly brought to regard any truth, how important soever it may be, that is preached to them, when they know there are several men of five hundred a year who do not believe it.-L.

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Her looks were deep imprinted in his heart. In my first description of the company in which I pass most of my time, it may be remembered, that I mentioned a great affliction which my friend Sir Roger had met with in his youth; which was no less than a dissappointment in love. It happened this evening, that we fell into a very pleasing walk at a distance from his house. As soon as we came into it, "It is," quoth the good old man, looking round him with a smile,

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very hard, that any part of my land should be settled upon one who has used me so ill as the perverse widow did; and yet I am sure I could not see a sprig of any bough of this whole walk of trees, but I should reflect upon her and her severity. She has certainly the finest hand of any woman in the world. You are to know, this was the place wherein I used to muse upon her; and by that custom I can never come into it but the same tender sentiments revive in my mind, as if I had actually walked with that beautiful creature under these shades. I have been fool enough to carve her name on the bark of several of these trees; so unhappy is the condition of men in love, to attempt the removing of their passion by the

methods which serve only to imprint it deeper. She has certainly the finest hand of any woman in the world."

Here followed a profound silence; and I was not displeased to observe my friend falling so naturally into a discourse which I had ever before taken notice he industriously avoided. After a very long pause, he entered upon an account of this great circumstance in his life, with an air which I thought raised my idea of him above what I had ever had before; and gave me the picture of that cheerful mind of his, before it received that stroke which has ever since affected his words and actions. But he went on as follows:

first steps toward love, upon the strength of her own maxims and declarations.

"However, I must need say, this accomplished mistress of mine has distinguished me above the rest, and has been known to declare Sir Roger de Coverley was the tamest and most humane of all the brutes in the country. I was told she said so by one who thought he rallied me; but upon the strength of this slender encouragement of being thought less detestable, I made new liveries, newpaired my coach-horses, sent them all to town to be bitted, and taught to throw their legs well, and move all together, before I pretended to cross the country, and wait upon her. As soon as I thought "I came to my estate in my twenty second muy retinue suitable to the character of my fortune year, and resolved to follow the steps of the and youth, I set out from hence to make my admost worthy of my ancestors who have inhabited dresses. The particular skill of this lady has ever this spot of earth before me, in all the methods | been to inflame your wishes, and yet command reof hospitality and good neighborhood, for the spect. To make her mistress of this art, she has sake of my fame; and in country sports and re- a greater share of knowledge, wit, and good sensecreations, for the sake of my health. In my than is usual even among men of merit. Then twenty third year I was obliged to serve as she she is beautiful beyond the race of women. If riff of the county; and in my servants, officers, you will not let her go on with a certain artifice and whole equipage indulged the pleasure of a with her eyes, and the skill of beauty, she will young man who did not think ill of his own arm herself with her real charms, and strike you person) in taking that public occasion of showing with admiration instead of desire. It is certain my figure and behavior to advantage. You may that if you were to behold the whole woman, there easily imagine to yourself what appearance I made, is that dignity in her aspect, that composure in who am pretty tall, rode well, and was very well her motion, that complacency in her manner, that dressed, at the head of a whole country, with if her form makes you hope, her merit makes you music before me, a feather in my hat, and my horse fear. But then again, she is such a desperate well bitted. I can assure you I was not a little scholar, that no country gentleman can approach pleased with the kind looks and glances I had from her without being a jest. As I was going to tell all the balconies and windows as I rode to the hall you, when I came to her house I was admitted to where the assizes were held. But, when I came her presence with great civility; at the same time there, a beautiful creature in a widow's habit sat she placed herself to be first seen by me in such in court to hear the event of a cause concerning an attitude, as I think you call the posture of a her dower. This commanding creature (who was picture, that she discovered new charms, and I at born for the destruction of all who beheld her) last came toward her with such an awe as made put on such a resignation in her countenance, me speechless. This she no sooner observed but and bore the whispers of all around the court she made her advantage of it, and began a diswith such a pretty uneasiness, I warrant you, and course to me concerning love and honor, as they then recovered herself from one eye to another, both are followed by pretenders and the real votauntil she was perfectly confused by meeting some- ries to them. When she discussed these points thing so wistful in all she encountered, that at in a discourse which, I verily believe, was as last, with a murrain to her, she cast her bewitch-learned as the best philosopher in Europe could ing eye upon me. I no sooner met it but I bowed possibly make, she asked me whether she was so like a great surprised booby; and knowing her happy as to fall in with my sentiments on these cause to be the first which came on, I cried, like important particulars. Her confidant sat by her, a captivated calf as I was, Make way for the and upon my being in the last confusion and defendant's witnesses.' This sudden partiality silence, this malicious aid of hers, turning to her, made all the country immediately see the sheriff says, 'I am very glad to observe Sir Roger pauses also was become a slave to the fine widow. Dur- upon this subject, and seems resolved to deliver ing the time her cause was upon trial, she be- all his sentiments upon the matter when he pleases haved herself, I warrant you, with such a deep to speak.' They both kept their countenances, attention to her business, took opportunities to and after I had sat half an hour meditating how have little billets handed to her counsel, then to behave before such profound casuists, I rose up would be in such a pretty confusion, occasioned, and took my leave. Chance has since that time you must know, by acting before so much com- thrown me very often in her way, and she as often pany, that not only I, but the whole court was has directed a discourse to me which I could not prejudiced in her favor; and all that the next understand. This barbarity has kept me ever at heir to her husband had to urge was thought so a distance from the most beautiful object my eyes groundless and frivolous, that when it came to ever beheld. It is thus also she deals with all her counsel to reply, there was not half so much mankind, and you must make love to her as you said as every one beside in the court thought he would conquer the sphinx, by posing her. But could have urged to her advantage. You must were she like other women, and that there were understand, Sir, this perverse woman is one of any talking to her, how constant must the pleasure those unaccountable creatures that secretly rejoice of that man be, who could converse with such a in the admiration of men, but indulge themselves creature. But, after all, you may be sure her in no farther consequences. Hence it is that she heart is fixed on some one or other: and yet I have has ever had a train of admirers, and she removes been credibly informed-but who can believe half from her slaves in town to those in the country, that is said?--after she had done speaking to me, according to the seasons of the year. She is a she put her hand to her bosom, and adjusted her reading lady, and far gone in the pleasures of tucker: then she cast her eyes a little down, upon friendship. She is always accompanied by a my beholding her too earnestly. They say she confidant, who is witness to her daily protestations sings excellently: her voice in her ordinary speech against our sex, and consequently a bar to her has something in it inexpressibly sweet.

You

must know I dined with her at a public table the day after I first saw her, and she helped me to some tansy in the eye of all the gentlemen in the country. She has certainly the finest hand of any woman in the world. I can assure you, Sir, were you to behold her, you would be in the same condition; for as her speech is music, her form is angelic. But I find I grow irregular while I am talking of her; but indeed it would be stupidity to be unconcerned at such perfection. Oh, the excellent creature! she is as inimitable to all women,

as she is inaccessible to all men."

I found my friend begin to rave, and insensibly led him toward the house, that we might be joined by some other company; and am convinced that the widow is the secret cause of all that inconsistency which appears in some part of my friend's discourse; though he has so much command of himself as not directly to mention her, yet accord ing to that of Martial, which one knows not how to render into English, dum tace: hanc loquitur. I shall end this paper with that whole epigram, which represents with much humor my honest friend's condition :

Quicquid agit Rufus, nihil est, nisi Nævia Rufo,
Si gaudet, si flet, si tacet, hanc loquitur:
Coenat, propinat, poscit, negat, anauit, una est
Nævia: si non sit Nævia, mutus erit
Scriberet hesterna, patri cum luce salutem,

Nævia lux, inquit, Nævia numen, ave.-Epig. i, 69.

Let Rufus weep, rejoice, stand, sit, or walk,
Still he can nothing but of Nævia talk;
Let him eat, drink, ask questions, or dispute,
Still he must speak of Nævia, or be mute.
He wrote to his father, ending with this line-
I am, my lovely Nævia, ever thine.

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-The dread of nothing more Than to be thought necessitous and poor.-POOLY. ECONOMY in our affairs has the same effect upon our fortunes which good breeding has upon our conversation. There is a pretending behavior in both cases, which instead of making men esteemed, renders them both miserable and contemptible. We had yesterday, at Sir Roger's, a set of country gentlemen who dined with him: and after dinner the glass was taken, by those who pleased, pretty plentifully. Among others I observed a person of a tolerable good aspect, who seemed to be more greedy of liquor than any of the company, and yet methought he did not taste t with delight. As he grew warm, he was suspicious of everything that was said, and as he advanced toward being fuddled, his humor grew worse. At the same time his bitterness seemed to be rather an inward dissatisfaction in his own mind, than any dislike he had taken to the company. Upon hearing his name, I knew him to be a gentleman of a considerable fortune in this country, but greatly in debt. What gives the unhappy man this peevishness of spirit is, that his estate is dipped, and is eating out with usury; and yet he has not the heart to sell any part of it. His proud stomach, at the cost of restless nights, constant inquietudes, danger of affronts, and a thousand nameless inconveniences, preserves this canker in his fortune, rather than it shall be said he is a man of fewer hundreds a year than he has been commonly reputed. Thus he endures the torment of poverty, to avoid the name of being less rich. If you go to his house, you see great plenty; but served in a manner that shows it is all unnatural, and that the master's mind is not at home. There is a certain waste and carelessness

in the air of everything, and the whole appears but a covered indigence, a magnificent poverty. That neatness and cheerfulness which attend the table of him who lives within compass, is wanting, and exchanged for a libertine way of service in all about him.

This gentleman's conduct, though a very com mon way of management, is as ridiculous as that officer's would be, who had but few men under his command, and should take the charge of an extent of country rather than of a small pass. To pay for, personate, and keep in a man's hands, a greater estate than he really has, is of all others the most unpardonable vanity, and must in the end reduce the man who is guilty of it to dishonor. Yet if we look round us in any county of Great Britain, we shall see many in this fatal error; if that may be called by so soft a name, which proceeds from a false shame of appearing what they really are, when the contrary behavior would in a short time advance them to the condition which they pretend to.

Laertes has fifteen hundred pounds a year; which is mortgaged for six thousand pounds; but it is impossible to convince him, that if he sold as much as would pay off that debt, he would save four shillings in the pound, which he gives for the vanity of being the reputed master of it. Yet if Laertes did this, he would perhaps be easier in his own fortune; but then Iras, a fellow of yesterday, who has but twelve hundred a year, would be his equal. Rather than this should be, Laertes goes on to bring well-born beggars into the world, and every twelvemouth charges his estate with at least one year's rent more by the birth of a child.

Laertes and Irus are neighbors, whose way of living are an abomination to each other. Irus is moved by the fear of poverty, and Laertes by the shame of it. Though the motive of action is of so near affinity in both, and may be resolved inte this, "that to each of them poverty is the greatest of all evils," yet are their manners widely different. Shame of poverty makes Laertes launch into unnecessary equipage, vain expense, and lavish entertainments. Fear of poverty makes Irus allow himself only plain necessaries, appear without a servant, sell his own corn, attend his laborers, and be himself a laborer. Shame of poverty makes Laertes go every day a step nearer to it; and fear of poverty stirs up Irus to make every day some farther progress from it.

These different motives produce the excesses which men are guilty of in the negligence of and provision for themselves. Usury, stock-jobbing, extortion, and oppression, have their seed in the dread of want: and vanity, riot, and prodigality, from the shame of it; but both these excesses are infinitely below the pursuit of a reasonable creature. After we have taken care to command so much as is necessary for maintaining ourselves in the order of men suitable to our character, the care of superfluities is a vice no less extravagant than the neglect of necessaries would have been before.

Certain it is, that they are both out of nature, when she is followed by reason and good sense. It is from this reflection that I always read Mr. Cowley with the greatest pleasure. His magnanimity is as much above that of other considerable men, as his understanding; and it is a true distinguishing spirit in the elegant author who pub. lished his works, to dwell so much upon the temper of his mind and the moderation of his desires. By this means he has rendered his friend as amiable as famous. That state of life which bears the

Viz: the land tax.

face of poverty with Mr. Cowley's great vulgar, which it is composed, and to give their solid parts is admirably described and it is no small satis-a more firm and lasting tone. Labor or exercise faction to those of the same turn of desire, that he produces the authority of the wisest men of the best age of the world, to strengthen his opinion of the ordinary pursuits of mankind.

It would methinks be no ill maxim of life, if, according to that ancestor of Sir Roger whom I lately mentioned, every man would point to himself what sum he would resolve not to exceed. He might by this means cheat himself into a tranquillity on this side of that expectation, or couvert what he should get above it to nobler uses than his own pleasures or necessities. This temper of mind would exempt a man from an ignorant envy of restless men above him, and a more inexcusasable contempt of happy men below him. This would be sailing by some compass, living with some design; but to be eternally bewildered in prospects of future gain, and putting on unneces sary armor against improbable blows of fortune, is a mechanic being which has not good sense for its direction, but is carried on by a sort of acquired instinct toward things below our consideration, and unworthy our esteem. It is possible that the tranquillity I now enjoy at Sir Roger's may have created in me this way of thinking, which is so abstracted from the common relish of the world: but as I am now in a pleasing arbor surrounded with a beautiful landscape, I find no inclination so strong as to continue in these mansions so remote from the ostentatious scenes of life; and am at this present writing philosopher enough to conclude with Mr. Cowley:

If e'er ambition did my fancy cheat
With any wish so mean as to be great;
Continue, Heav'n, still from me to remove
The humble blessings of that life I love.
T.

T.

Juv., Sat. x, 356.

No. 115.] THURSDAY, JULY 12, 1711. -Ut sit mens sana in corpore sano. Pray for a sound mind in a sound body. BODILY labor is of two kinds, either that which a man submits to for his livelihood, or that which he undergoes for his pleasure. The latter of them generally changes the name of labor for that of exercise, but differs only from ordinary la

bor as it rises from another motive.

A country life abounds in both these kinds of labor-and for that reason gives a man a greater stock of health, and consequently a more perfect enjoyment of himself, than any other way of life. I consider the body as a system of tubes and glands, or, to use a more rustic phrase, a bundle of pipes and strainers, fitted to one another after so wonderful a manner as to make a proper engine for the soul to work with. This description does not only comprehend the bowels, bones, tendons, veius, nerves, and arteries, but every muscle, and every ligature, which is a composition of fibers, that are so many imperceptible tubes or pipes interwoven on all sides with invisible glands

or strainers.

This general idea of a human body, without considering it in the niceties of anatomy, lets us see how absolutely necessary labor is for the right preservation of it. There must be frequent motions and agitations, to mix, digest, and separate the juices contained in it, as well as to clear and cleanse that infinitude of pipes and strainers of

*Hence, ye profane, I hate ye all, Both the great vulgar and the small. COWLr's Paraphr. of IIoR. 3 Od. i.

ferments the humors, casts them into their proper channels, throws off redundancies, and helps nature in those secret distributions, without which the body cannot subsist in its vigor, nor the soul act with cheerfulness.

I might here mention the effects which this has upon all the faculties of the mind, by keeping the understanding clear, the imagination untroubled, and refining those spirits which are necessary for the proper exertion of our intellectual faculties, during the present laws of union between soul and body. It is to a neglect in this particular that we must ascribe the spleen, which is so frequent in men of studious and sedentary tempers, as well as the vapors, to which those of the other sex are so often subject.

Had not exercise been absolutely necessary for our well-being, nature would not have made the body so proper for it, by giving such an activity to the limbs, and such a pliancy to every part as necessarily produce those compressions, extensions, contortions, dilations, and all other kinds of motions that are necessary for the preservation of such a system of tubes and glands as has been before mentioned. And that we might not want inducements to engage us in such an exercise of the body as is proper for its welfare, it is so ordered that nothing valuable can be procured without it. Not to mention riches and honor, even food and raiment are not to be come at without the toil of the hands and the sweat of the brows. Providence furnishes materials, but expects that we should work them up ourselves. The earth must be labored before it gives its increase; and when it is forced into its several products, how many hands must they pass through before they are fit for use? Manufactures, trade, and agriculture, naturally employ more than nineteen parts of the species in twenty; and as for those who are not obliged to labor, by the condition in which they are born, they are more miserable than the rest of mankind, unless they indulge themselves in that voluntary labor which goes by the name of exercise.

My friend Sir Roger has been an indefatigable man in business of this kind, and has hung several parts of his house with the trophies of his former labors. The walls of his great hall are covered

with the horns of several kinds of deer that he has killed in the chase, which he thinks the most valuable furniture of his house, as they afford him frequent topics of discourse, and show that he has not been idle. At the lower end of the hall is a large otter's skin stuffed with hay, which his mother ordered to be hung up in that manner, and the knight looks upon it with great satisfaction, because it seems he was but nine years old when his dog killed him. A little room adjoining to the hall is a kind of arsenal filled with guns of several sizes and inventions, with which the knight has made great havoc in the woods, and destroyed many thousands of pheasants, partridges, and woodcocks. His stable-doors are patched with noses that belonged to foxes of the knight's own hunting down. Sir Roger showed me one of them that for distinction sake has a brass nail struck through it, which cost him about fifteen hours riding, carried him through half a dozen counties, killed him a brace of geldings, and lost above half his dogs. This the knight looks upon as one of the greatest exploits of his life. The perverse widow, whom I have given some account of, was the death of several foxes: for Sir Roger has told me, that in the course of his amours he patched the western door of his

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