reader an idea of a person blameless only, or only laudable for such perfections as extend no farther than to his own private advantage and reputation.

But when I speak of you, I celebrate one who has had the happiness of possessing also those qualities which make a man useful to society, and of having had opportunities of exerting them in the most conspicuous manner.

The great part you had as British ambassador, in procuring and cultivating the advantageous commerce between the courts of England and Portugal, has purchased you the lasting esteem of all who understand the interest of either nation.

Those personal excellences which are overrated by the ordinary world, and too much neglected by wise men, you have applied with the justest skill and judgment. The most graceful address in horsemanship, in the use of the sword, and in dancing, has been employed by you as lower arts; and as they have occasionally served to cover or introduce the talents of a skilful minister.

But your abilities have not appeared only in one nation. When it was your province to act as her majesty's minister at the court of Savoy, at that time encamped, you accompanied that gallant prince through all the vicissitudes of his fortune, and shared by his side the dangers of that glorious day in which he recovered his capital. As far as it regards personal qualities, you attained, in that one hour, the highest military reputation. The behaviour of our

minister in the action, and the good offices done the vanquished in the name of the queen of England, gave both the conqueror and the captive the most lively examples of the courage and generosity of the nation he represented.

Your friends and companions, in your absence, frequently talk these things of you; and you cannot hide from us (by the most discreet silence in any thing which regards yourself), that the frank entertainment we have at your table, your easy condescension in little incidents of mirth and diversion, and general complacency of manners, are far from being the greatest obligations we have to you. I do assure you, there is not one of your friends has a greater sense of your merit in general, and of the favours you every day do us, than,

SIR,

Your most obedient,

And most humble Servant,

RICHARD STEELE.

THE SPECTATOR.

No. 406. MONDAY, JUNE 16, 1712.

Hæc studia adolescentiam alunt, senectutem oblectant, secundas res ornant, adversis solatium et perfugium præbent; delectant domi, non impediunt foris; pernoctant nobiscum peregrinantur, rusticantur. TULL These studies nourish youth; delight old age; are the ornaments of prosperity, the solacoment and the refuge of adversity; they are delectable at home, and not burthensome abroad; they gladden us at nights, and on our journeys, and in the country.

THE following letters bear a pleasing image of the joys and satisfactions of a private life. The first is from a gentleman to a friend, for whom he has a very great respect, and to whom he communicates the satisfaction he takes in retirement: the other is a letter to me occasioned by an ode written by my Lapland lover: this correspondent is so kind as to translate another of Scheffer's songs in a very agreeable manner. I publish them together, that the young and old may find something in the same paper which may be suitable to their respective tastes in solitude; for I know no fault in the description of ardent desires, provided they are honourable.

เ DEAR SIR,

'You have obliged me with a very kind letter; by which I find you shift the scene of your life from the town to the country, and enjoy that

d See No. 366, and note..

mixt state which wise men both delight in and are qualified for. Methinks most of the philosophers and moralists have run too much into extremes, in praising entirely either solitude or public life: in the former, men generally grow useless by too much rest, and in the latter, are destroyed by too much precipitation: as waters lying still, putrefy and are good for nothing; and running violently on, do but the more mischief in their passage to others, and are swallowed up and lost the sooner themselves. Those who, like you, can make themselves useful to all states, should be like gentle streams, that not only glide through lonely vales and forests amidst the flocks and shepherds, but visit populous towns in their course, and are at once of ornament and service to them. But there is another sort of people who seem designed for solitude; those I mean who have more to hide than to show. As for my own part, I am one of those whom Seneca says, "Tam umbratiles sunt, ut putent in turbido esse quicquid in luce est," Some men, like pictures, are fitter for a corner than a full light; and I believe such as have a natural bent to solitude, are like waters, which may be forced into fountains, and, exalted to a great height, may make a much nobler figure and a much louder noise, but after all run more smoothly, equally, and plentifully, in their own natural course upon the ground. The consideration of this, would make me very well contented with the possession only of that quiet which Cowley calls the companion of obscurity; but whoever has the muses too for his companions can never be idle enough to be uneasy. Thus, Sir, you see I would flatter myself into a good opinion of my own way of living. Plutarch just now told me, that it is in human life as in a game at ta