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long-bow: by which means our ancestors excelled In these great articles of life, therefore, a man's all other nations in the use of that weapon, and we conviction ought to be very strong, and if possible had all the real advantages,' without the inconve- so well timed, that worldly advantages may seem nience of a standing army; and that I once met to have no share in it, or mankind will be illwith a book of projects, in which the author con- natured enough to think he does not change sides sidering to what noble ends that spirit of emula- out of principle, but either out of levity of temper, tion, which so remarkably shews itself among our or prospects of interest. Converts and renegadoes common people in these wakes, might be directed, of all kinds should take particular care to let the proposes that for the improvement of all our handi-world see they act upon honourable motives: or, craft trades there should be annual prizes set up whatever approbations they may receive from for such persons as were most excellent in their themselves, and applauses from those they converse several arts. But laying aside all these political with, they may be very well assured that they are considerations, which might tempt me to pass the the scorn of all good men, and the public marks of limits of my paper, I confess the greatest benefit infamy and derision. and convenience that I can observe in these country Irresolution on the schemes of life which offer festivals, is the bringing young people together, themselves to our choice, and inconstancy in purand giving them an opportunity of shewing them- suing them, are the greatest and most universal selves in the most advantageous light. A country causes of all our disquiet and unhappiness. When fellow that throws his rival upon his back, has ge- ambition pulls one way, interest another, inclinanerally as good success with their common mistress; tion a third, and perhaps reason contrary to all, a as nothing is more usual than for a nimble-footed man is likely to pass his time but ill who has so wench to get a husband at the same time that she many different parties to pleasc. When the mind wins a smock. Love and marriages are the natural hovers among such a variety of allurements, one effects of these anniversary assemblies. I must had better settle on a way of life that is not the therefore very much approve the method by which very best we might have chosen, than grow old my correspondent tells me each sex endeavours to without determining our choice, and go out of the recommend itself to the other, since nothing seems world as the greatest part of mankind do, before more likely to promise a healthy offspring, or a we have resolved how to live in it. There is but happy cohabitation. And I believe I may assure one method of setting ourselves at rest in this parmy country friend, that there has been many a ticular, and that is by adhering steadfastly to one court lady who would be contented to exchange her great end as the chief and ultimate aim of all our crazy young husband for Tom Short, and several pursuits. If we are firmly resolved to live up to men of quality who would have parted with a ten- the dictates of reason, without any regard to wealth, der yoke-fellow for Black Kate.

reputation, or the like considerations, any more I am the more pleased with having love made than as they fall in with our principal design, we the principal end and design of these meetings, as may, go through life with steadiness and pleasure; it seems to be most agreeable to the intent for but if we act by several broken views, and will not which they were at first instituted, as we are in only be virtuous, but wealthy, popular, and every formed by the learned Dr. Kennet,* with whose thing that has a value set upon it by the world, we words I shall conclude my present paper.

sball live and die in misery and repentance. “ These wakes," says he, “ were in imitation of One would take more than ordinary care to guard the ancient love-feasts'; and were first established one's self against this particular imperfection, bein England by Pope Gregory the Great, who, in cause it is that which our nature very strongly inan epistle to Melitus the abbot, gave orders that clines us to; for if we examine ourselves thoroughly, they should be kept in sheds or arbories made up we shall find that we are the most changeable with the branches or boughs of trees round the beings in the universe. In respect of our underchurch.”

standing, we often embrace and reject the very He adds, " that this laudable custom of wakes same opinions; whereas beings above and beneath prevailed for many ages, until the nice Puritans us have probably no opinions at all, or, at least, no began to exclaim against it as a remnant of popery: wavering and uncertainties in those they have. and by degrees the precise humour grew so popu. Our superiors are guided by intuition, and our inlar, that at an Exeter assizes the Lord Chief Baron feriors by instinct. In respect of our wills, we Walter made an order for the suppression of all fall into crimes and recover out of them, are wakes; but on Bishop Laud's complaining of this amiable or odious in the eyes of our great Judge, innovating humour, the king commanded the order and pass our whole life in offending and asking to be reversed.”-X.

pardon. On the contrary, the beings underneath us are not capable of sinning, nor those above us

of No. 162.1WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 1711.

repenting. The one is out of the possibilities of

duty, and the other fixed in an eternal course of Servetur ad imum,

sin, or an eternal course of virtue. Qualis ab incepto processerit, et sibi constet.

There is scarce a state of life, or stage in it, Keep one consistent plan from end to end.

which does not produce changes and revolutions in Nothing that is not a real crime makes a man

the mind of man. Our schemes of thought in inappear so contemptible and little in the eyes of the fancy are lost in those of youth; these too take a world as inconstancy, especially when it regards

different turn in manhood, until old age often leads religion or party. In either of these cases, though us back into our former infancy. A new title or an a man perhaps does but his duty in changing his unexpected success throws us out of ourselves, and side, he not only makes himself hated by those he in a inanner destroys our identity. A cloudy day, left, but is seldom heartily esteemed by those he or a little sunshine, have as great an influence on comes over to.

many constitutions, as the most real blessing or

misfortunes. A dream varies our being, and changes * In his Parochial Antiquities, 110. 1695. p. 610, 614 or condition while it lasts; and every passion, not

Hor. Ars Poet. v. 126.

He had every

to mention health and sickness, and the greater al. sion of any single man, it would not make a very terations in body and mind, makes us appear almost happy being. Though, on the contrary, if the different creatures. If a man is so distinguished miseries of the whole species were fixed in a single among other beings by this infirmity, what can we person, they would make a very miserable one. think of such as make themselves remarkable for it I am engaged in this subject by the following even among their own species? It is a very trifling letter, which, though subscribed by a fictitious name, character to be one of the most variable beings of I have reason to believe is not imaginary :the most variable kind, especially if we consider

that be who is the great standard of perfection has in him

“MR. SPECTATOR, no shadow of change, but “is the same yesterday, live up to your rules

, which I hope will incline you

“I am one of your disciples, and endeavour to to-day, and for ever.”

As this mutability of temper and inconsistency to pity my condition. I shall open it to you in a with ourselves is the greatest weakness of human very few words. About three years since, a gentle. nature, so it makes the person who is remarkable for man, whom, I am sure, you yourself would have apit in a very particular manner, more ridiculous than proved, made his addresses to me. any other infirmity whatsoever, as it sets him in a thing to recommend him but an estate

; so that my greater variety of foolish lights, and distinguishes friends

, who all of them applauded his person, would him from himself by an opposition of party-coloured not for the sake of both of us favour his passion. characters. The most humorous character in Horace For my own part, I resigned myself up entirely to is founded upon this unevenness of temper, and ir- the direction of those who knew the world much regularity of conduct :

better than myself, but still lived in hopes that some

juncture or other would make me happy in the man Sardus habebat Ille Tigelbas hoc: Casar, qui cogere posset,

whom, in my heart, I preferred to all the world ; Si peteret per amicitiam patris, atque suam, non being determined, if I could not have him, to have Quidquam proficeret : si collibuisset, ab ovo

nobody else. About three months ago I received a. Usque ad mala citaret, lo Bacche, modo summa Voce, medo hae, resonat quæ chordis quatuor ima,

letter from him, acquainting me, that by the death Nil æquale hornini fuit illi : sæpe velut qui

of an uncle he had a considerable estate left him, Currebat fugiens hostem: persæpe velut qui

which he said was welcome to him upon po other Janonis sacra ferret : habebat sæpe ducentos, Sæpe devem servos : modo reges atque tetrarchas,

account, but as he hoped it would remove all diffiOmnia magna loquens: modo sit mihi mensa tripes, et

culties tbat lay in the way to our mutual happiness. Coacha salis puri, et toga, quæ defendere frigus, You may well suppose, Sir, with how much joy I Quamvis crassa, queat Deces centena dedisses received this letter, which was followed by several Huic parco, paucis contento, quinque diebus Ni erat in loculis. Noctes vigilabat ad ipsum

others filled with those expressions of love and joy, Mane: diem totum stertebat Ni fuit unquam

which I verily believed nobody felt more sincerely, Sic impar sibi

HOR. I Sat. iii. nor knew better how to describe, than the gentleInstead of translating this passage in Horace, I man I am speaking of. But, Sir, bow shall I be shall entertain my English reader with the descrip- able to tell it you! by the last week's post I retion of a parallel character, that is wonderfully welceived a letter from an intimate friend of this unfinished by Mr. Dryden, and raised upon the same happy gentleman, acquainting me, ihat as he had foundation:

just settled his affairs, and was preparing for his la the first rank of these did Zimri stand :

journey, he fell sick of a fever and died. It is imA man so various, that he seemed to be

possible to express you

the distress I am in upon Not one, but all mankind's epitome.

this occasion. I can only have recourse to my deStift is opinions, always in the wrong: Was every thing by starts and nothing long:

votions, and to the reading of good books for my But in the course of one revolving moon,

consolation ; and as I always take a particular deWas chemist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon :

light in those frequent advices and admonitions Then all for women, painting. rhyming, drinking, which you give the public, it would be a very great Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking. Blest madman who could every hour employ,

piece of charity in you to lend me your assistance in With sonnething new to wish, or to enjoy !*

this conjuncture. If, after the reading of this letter, C.

you find yourself in a humour, rather to rally and

ridicule, than to comfort me, I desire you would No. 163.1 THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 1711. throw it into the fire, and think no more of it; but

if you are touched with my misfortune, which is Si quid ego adjuero, curamve levasso Quz pune te coquit, et versat sub pectore fixa,

greater than I know how to bear, your counsels may Ecquid erit pretii -Exx. apud Tullium.

very much support and will infinitely oblige, the Say, will you thank me if I bring you rest,

afflicted

“ LEONORA." And ease the torture of your troubled breast ?

A disappointment in love is more hard to get over INQUIRIES after happiness, and rules for attaining than any other; the passion itself so softens and it, are not so necessary and useful to mankind as the subdues the heart, that it disables it from struggling arts of consolation, and supporting one's self under or bearing up against the woes and distresses which affliction. The utmost we can hope for in this befal it. The mind meets with other misfortunes world is contentment; if we aim at any thing higher, in her whole strength; she stands collected within we shall meet with nothing but grief and disappoint-herself, and sustains the shock with all the force ment. A man should direct all his studies and en- which is natural to her ; but a heart in love has its deavours at making himself easy now, and happy foundation sapped, and immediately sinks under the hereafter. The truth of it is, if all the happiness that is dis-vourite passion.

weight of accidents that are disagreeable to its fapersed through the whole race of mankind in this world were drawn together, and put into the posses- tions out of books of morality, which indeed are of

In afflictions men generally draw their consolaFrom Dryden's “ Absalom and Achitophel." Perhaps it is great use to fortify and strengthen the mind against sedless to mention, that this character was meant for George the impressions of sorrow. Monsieur St. Evremont, Tilsets, duke of Buckingham, author of the Rehearsal.

who does not approve of this method, recommends

to

authors who are apt to stir up mirth in the mind of having arrived at great riches by his own industry, the readers, and fancies Don Quixote can give more took delight in nothing but his money. Theodorelief to a heavy heart than Plutarch or Seneca, assius * was the younger son of a decayed family, of it is much easier to divert grief than to conquer it. great parts and learning improved by a genteel and This doubtless may have its effects on some tem- virtuous education. When he was in the twentieth pers. I should rather have recourse to authors of a year of his age he became acquainted with Constanquite contrary kind, that give us instances of cala- tia, who had not then passed her fifteenth. As he mities and misfortunes, and show human nature in lived but a few miles distant from her father's its greatest distresses.

house, he had frequent opportunities of seeing her; If the aflictions we groan under be very heavy, and by the advantages of a good person and pleaswe shall find some consolation in the society of as ing conversation, made such an impression on her great sufferers as ourselves, especially when we find heart as it was impossible for time to efface. He our companions men of virtue and merit. If our was himself no less smitten with Constantia. A afflictions are light, we shall be comforted by the long acquaintance made them still discover new comparison we make between ourselves and our beauties in each other, and by degrees raised in fellow-sufferers. A loss at sea, a fit of sickness, or them that mutual passion which had an influence the death of a friend, are such trifles, when we on their following lives. It unfortunately hapconsider whole kingdoms laid in ashes, families put pened, that in the midst of this intercourse of love to the sword, wretches shut up in dungeons, and the and friendship between Theodosius and Constantia, like calamities of mankind, that we are out of there broke out an irreparable quarrel between countenance for our own weakness, if we sink under their parents, the one valuing himself too much such little strokes of fortune.

upon his birth, and the other upon his possessions. Let the disconsolate Leonora consider, that at the father of Constantia was so incensed at the the very time in which she languishes for the loss father of Theodosius, that he contracted an unreaof her deceased lover, there are persons in several sonable aversion towards his son, insomuch that be parts of the world just perishing in shipwreck; forbade him his house, and charged his daughter, others crying out for mercy in the terrors of a death- upon her duty, never to see him more. In the mean bed repentance; others lying under the tortures of time, to break off all communication between the an infamous execution, or the like dreadful cala- two lovers, whom he knew entertained secret hopes mities; and she will find her sorrows vanish at the of some favourable opportunity that should bring appearance of those which are so much greater and them together, he found out a young gentleman of more astonishing.

good fortune and an agreeable person, whom he I would farther propose to the consideration of my pitched upon as a husband for his daughter. He afflicted disciple, that possibly what she now looks soon concerted this affair so well, that he told Con. upon as the greatest misfortune, is not really such stantia it was his design to marry her to such a in itself. For my own part, I question not but our gentleman, and that her wedding should be cesouls in a separate state will look back on their lives lebrated on such a day. Constantia, who was in quite another view, than what they had of them overawed with the authority of her father, and unin the body; and what they now consider as mis- able to object any thing against so advautageous fortunes and disappointments, will very often ap- a match, received the proposal with a profound pear to have been escapes and blessings.

silence, which her father commended in her, as the The mind that hath any cast towards devotion, most decent manner of a virgin's giving her connaturally flies to it in its afflictions.

sent to an overture of that kind. The noise of this When I was in France I heard a very remark. intended marriage soon reached Theodosius, who, able story of two lovers, which I shall relate at after a long tumult of passions, which naturally rise length in my to-morrow's paper, not only because in a lover's heart on such an occasion, writ the fol. the circumstances of it are extraordinary, but belowing letter to Constantia : cause it may serve as an illustration to all that can

“ The thought of my Constantia, which for some be said on this last head, and show the power of re. years has been my only happiness, is now become a ligion in abating that particular anguish which greater torment to me than I am able to bear. seems to lie so heavy on Leonora. The story was Must I then live to see you another's? The streams, told me by a priest, as I travelled with him in a the fields, and meadows, where we have so often stage-coach. I shall give it my reader as well as I talked together, grow painful to me; life itself is can remember, in his own words, after I have pre- become a burden. May you long be happy in the mised, that if consolations may be drawn from a world, but forget that there was ever such a man in

а wrong religion, and a misguided devotion, they it as

" THEODOSIUS." cannot but flow much more naturally from those which are founded upon reason and established in

This letter was conveyed to Constantia that very good sense.-L.

evening, who fainted at the reading of it; and the

next morning she was much more alarmed by two No. 164.) FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 1711. house, one after another, to inquire if they had

or three messengers, that came to her father's Ma; quis et me, inquit, miseram, et te perdidit, Orpheu? heard any thing of Theodosius, who it seems had Jamque vale; seror ingenti circumdata nocte,

left his chamber about midnight, and could noInvalidasque tibi tendens heu! non tua palmas.

Virg. iv. Georg. 494.

where be found. The deep melancholy which had Then thus the bride: What fury seiz'd on thee,

hung upon his mind some time before, made them Unhappy man! to lose thyself and me?

apprehend the worst that could befal' him. ConAnd now farewell! involvid in shades of night,

stantia, who knew that nothing but the report of For ever I am ravish'd from thy sight: In vain I reach my feeble hands to join

her marriage could have driven him to such extreIn sweet embraces, ah! no longer thine.-DRYDEN mities, was not to be comforted. She now accused

CONSTANTIA was a woman of extraordinary wit * The Theodosius and Constantia of Dr. Langhorne, a coland beauty, but very uuhapfy in a father, who, lection of letters, in 2 vols lano., takes its rise from this paper. herself for having so tainely given an ear to the She here paused, and lifted up her eyes that proposal of a husband, and looked upon the new streamed with tears towards the father; who was so lorer as the murderer of Theodosius. In short, she moved with the sense of her sorrows, that he could resolved to suffer the utinost effects of her father's only command his voice, which was broke with sighs displeasure, rather than comply with a marriage and sobbings, so far as to bid her proceed. She which appeared to her so full of guilt and horror. followed his directions, and in a food of tears The father seeing himself entirely rid of Theodo- poured out her heart before him. The father could sius, and likely to keep a considerable portion in not forbear weeping aloud, insomuch that in the bis family, was not very much concerned at the ob- agonies of his grief the seat shook under him. Constinale refusal of his daughter; and did not find it stantia, who thought the good man was thus moved very difficult to excuse himself upon that account by his compassion towards her, and by the horror to his intended son-in-law, who had all along re of her guilt, proceeded with the utmost contrition to garded this alliance rather as a marriage of con acquaint him with that vow of virginity in which venience than of love, Constantia bad now no re- she was going to engage herself, as the proper lief but in her devotions and exercises of religion, atonement for her sins, and the only sacrifice she to which her afflictions had so entirely subjected could make to the memory of Theodosius. The her mind, that after some years had abated the father, who by this time had pretty well composed violence of her sorrows, and settled her thoughts in himself, burst out again in tears upon hearing that a kind of tranquillity, she resolved to pass the re name to which he had been so long disused, and mainder of her days in a convent. Her father was upon receiving this instance of an unparalleled not displeased with a resolution which would save fidelity from one who he thought had several years money in his family, and readily complied with his since given herself up to the possession of another. daughter's intentions. Accordingly, in the twenty- Amidst the interruptions of his sorrow, seeing his fifth year of her age, while her beauty was yet in penitent overwhelmed with grief, he was only able all its height and bloom, he carried her to a neigh- to bid her from time to time be comforted; to tell bouring city, in order to look out a sisterhood of her that her sins were forgiven her—that her guilt nuns among whom to place his daughter. There was not so great as she apprehended—that she was in this place a father of a convent who was very should not suffer herself to be afflicted above meamuch renowned for his piety and exemplary life; sure. After which he recovered himself enough to and as it is usual in the Romish church for those give her the absolution in form ; directing her at who are under any great affliction, or trouble of the same time to repair to him again the next day, mind, to apply themselves to the most eminent con- that he might encourage her in the pious resolution fessors for pardon and consolation, our beautiful she had taken, and give her suitable exhortations votary took the opportunity of confessing herself to for her behaviour in it. Constantia retired, and this celebrated father.

the next morning renewed her applications. TheoWe must now return to Theodosius, who, the very dosius, having manned his soul with proper thoughts morning that the above-mentioned inquiries had and reflections, exerted himself on this occasion in been made after him, arrived at a religious house in the best manner he could to animate his penitent in the city where now Constantia resided; and desir- the course of life she was entering upon, and wear ing that secrecy and concealment of the fathers of out of her mind those groundless fears and apprehenthe convent, which is very usual upon any extra- sions which had taken possession of it; concluding ordinary occasion, he made himself one of the order, with a promise to her that he would from time to time with a private vow never to inquire after Constan- continue his admonitions when she should have taken tia; whom he looked upon as given away to his upon her the holy veil. “ The rules of our respect. rival upon the day on which, according to common ive orders," says he, “will not permit that I should fame, their marriage was to have been solemnized. see you, but you may assure yourself not only of Having in his youth made a good progress in learn- having a place in my prayers, but of receiving such ing, that he might dedicate himself more entirely frequent instructions as I can convey to you by

to religion, he entered into holy orders, and in a letters. Go on cheerfully in the glorious course you · few years became renowned for his sanctity of life, have undertaken, and you will quickly find such a

and those pious sentiments which he inspired into peace and satisfaction in your mind, which it is not all who conversed with him. It was this holy man in the power of the world to give.” to whom Constantia bad determined to apply her- Constantia's heart was so elevated with the disself in confessiun, though neither she nor any other, course of Father Francis, that the very next day she besides the prior of the convent, knew any thing of entered upon her vow. As soon as the solemnities his name or family. The gay, the amiable Theo- of her reception were over, she retired, as it is usual, dosius had now taken upon him the name of Father with the abbess into her own apartment. Francis, and was so far concealed in a long beard, The abbess had been informed the night before a shaven head, and a religious habit, that it was of all that had passed between her novitiate and impossible to discover the man of the world in the Father Francis : from whom she now delivered to Tenerable conventual.

her the following letter: As he was one morning shut up in his confes- As the first fruits of those joys and consolations sional

, Constantia, kneeling by him, opened the which you may expect from the life you are now enstate of her soul to him; and after having given gaged in, I must acquaint you that Theodosius, him the history of a life full of innocence, she burst whose death sits so heavy upon your thoughts, is still out into tears, and entered upon that part of her alive; and that the father, to whom you have constory in which he himself had so great a share. “My fessed yourself, was once that Theodosius whom you behaviour,” says she, “ has, I fear, been the death so much lament. The love which we have had for of a man who had no other fault but that of loving one another will make us more happy in its disap. me too much. Heaven only knows how dear he pointinent than it could have done in its success. was to me whilst he lived, and how bitter the re- Providence has disposed of us for our advantage, membrance of him has been to me since his death." though not according to our wishes. Consider your

a

Which interwoven Britons seem to raise,

Theodosius still as dead, but assure yourself of one story for them in plain English, and to let us know who will not cease to pray for you in Father in our mother tongue what it is our brave country

* FRANCIS,” men are about. The French would indeed be in the Constantia saw that the hand-writing agreed with right to publish the news of the present war in the the contents of the letter: and upon reflecting on English phrases, and make their campaigns uninthe voice of the person, the behaviour, and above all, telligible. Their people might flatter themselves the extreme sorrow of the father during her con- that things are not so bad as they really are, were fession, she discovered Theodosius in every parti- they thus palliated with foreign terms, and thrown cular. After having wept with tears of joy, "It is into shades and obscurity; but the English cannot enough,” says she, " Theodosius is still in being: 1 be too clear in their narrative of those actions which shall live with comfort and die in peace.”

have raised their country to a higher pitch of glory The letters which the father sent her afterward than it ever yet arrived at, and which will be stiú are yet extant in the nunnery where she resided; the more admired the better they are explained. and are often read to the young religious, in order

For my part, by that time a siege is carried on to inspire them with good resolutions and sentiments two or three days, I am altogether lost and bewil. of virtue. It so happened, that after Constantia dered in it, and meet with so many inexplicable dif. had lived about ten years in the cloister, a violent ficulties, that I scarce know whích side has the fever broke out in the place, which swept away better of it, until I am informed by the Tower guns great multitudes, and among others Theodosius. that the place is surrendered. I do indeed nake Upon bis death-bed he sent his benediction in a very some allowances for this part of the war: fortifica. moving manner to Constantia, who at that time was tions have been foreign inventions, and upon that so far gone in the same fatal distemper, that she lay account abound in foreign terms. But when we delirious. Upon the interval which generally pre- have won battles which may be described in our own cedes death in sickness of this nature, the abbess, language, why are our papers filled with so many finding that the physicians had given her over, told unintelligible exploits, and the French obliged to her that Theodosius was just gone before her, and lend us a part of their tongue before we can know that he had sent her his benediction in his last how they are conquered? They must be made acmoments. Corstantia received it with pleasure. cessory to their own disgrace, as the Britons were And now,” says she, “if I do not ask any thing formerly so artificially wrought in the curtain of the improper, let me be buried by Theodosius. My vow Roman theatre, that they seemed to draw it up in reaches no farther than the grave; what I ask is, I order to give the spectators an opportunity of seeing hope, no violation of it.”-She died soon after, and their own defeat celebrated upon the stage: for so was interred according to her request.

Mr. Drydeu has translated that verse in Virgil : Their tombs are still to be seen, with a short La- Purpurea intexti tollunt aulæa Britanni.-GEORG. iii. 25. tin inscription over them to the following purpose : “Here lie the bodies of Father Francis and Sister

And shew the triumph that their shame displays. Constance. They were lovely in their lives, and in The histories of all our former wars are trans: their deaths they were not divided.”-C.

mitted to us in our vernacular idiom, to use the phrase of a great modern critic.* I do not find in

any of our chronicles, that Edward the Third ever No. 165.] SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 1711. - reconnoitred' the enemy, though he often discovered

the posture of the French, and as often vanquished Fingere cinctutis non exaudita Cethegis

them in battle. The Black Prince passed many a Continyet: dabiturque licentia sumpta pudenter. river without the help of 'pontoons,' and filled a ditch

with fagots as successfully as the generals of our -If you would unheard of things express,

times do it with 'fascines. Our commanders lose Invent new words; we can indulge a muse, Until the licence rise to an abuse.-CREECH.

half their praise, and our people half their joy, by

means of those hard words and dark expressions in I have often wished, that as in our constitution which our newspapers do so much abound. I have there are several persons whose business is to watch seen many a prudent citizen, after having read over our laws, our liberties, and commerce, certain every article, inquire of his next neighbour what men might be set apart as superintendents of our news the mail had brought. language, to hinder any words of a foreign coin I remember in that remarkable year, when our from passing among us; and in particular to pro- country was delivered from the greatest fears and hibit any French phrases from becoming current in apprehensions, and raised to the greatest height of this kingdom, when those of our own stamp are al gladness it had ever felt since it was a nation, -I together as valuable. The present war has so adul. mean the year of Blenheim, I had the copy of a terated our tongue with strange words, that it would letter sent me out of the country, which was written be impossible for one of our great-grandfathers to from a young gentleman in the army to his father, know what his posterity have been doing, were he a man of good estate and plain sense. As the letter to read their exploits in a modern newspaper. Our was very modishly checkered with this modern miwarriors are very industrious in propagating the litary eloquence, I shall present my reader with a French language, at the same time that they are so

copy of it. gloriously successful in beating down their power. Our soldiers are men of strong heads for action, and cerform such feats as they are not able to express.

“Upon the junction of the French and Bavarian They want words in their own tongue to tell us what armies, they took post behind a great morass, which * is they achieve, and therefore send us over ac

they thought impracticable. Our general the next rounts of their performances in a jargon of phrases, day

, sent a party of horse to reconnoitre' them from which they learn among their conquered enemies. a little hauteur,' at about a quarter of an hour's They ought however to be provided with secretaries, distance from the army, who returned again to the and assisted by our foreign ministers, to tell their

• Dr. Richard Bentley.

Si forte necesse est,

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HOR. Ars. Poet. v. 48.

“ Sir,

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