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upon the doors, and solicited our charity with the usual rhetoric of a sick wife or husband at home, three or four helpless little children all starving with cold and hunger. We were forced to part with some money to get rid of their importunity; and then we proceeded on our journey with the blessings and acclamations of these people.

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"Well, then," says Sir Andrew, we go off with the prayers and good wishes of the beggars, and perhaps too our healths will be drank at the next ale-house so all we shall be able to value ourselves upon is, that we have promoted the trade of the victualler and the excises of the government. But how few ounces of wool do we see upon the backs of these poor creatures? And when they shall next fall in our way, they will hardly be better dressed; they must always live in rags to look like objects of compassion. If their families too are such as they are represented, 'tis certain they cannot be better clothed, and must be a great deal worse fed. One would think potatoes should be all their bread, and their drink the pure element; and then what goodly customers are the farmers like to have for their wool, corn, and cattle? Such customers, and such a consumption, cannot choose but advance the landed interest, and hold up the rents of the gentlemen.

"But, of all men living, we merchants, who live by buying and selling, ought never to encourage beggars. The goods which we export are indeed the product of the lands, but much the greatest part of their value is the labour of the people; but how much of these people's labour shall we export whilst we hire them to sit still? The very alms they receive from us are the wages of idleness. I have often thought that no man should be permitted to take relief from the parish, or to ask it in the street, until he has first purchased as much as possible of his own livelihood by the labour of his own hands; and then the public ought only to be taxed to make good the deficiency. If this rule was strictly observed, we should see every where such a multitude of new labourers, as would in all probability reduce the prices of all the manufactures. It is the very life of merchandise to buy cheap and sell dear. The merchant ought to make his outset as cheap as possible, that he may find the greater profit upon his returns; and nothing will enable him to do this like the reduction of the price of labour upon all our manufactures. This too would be the ready way to increase the number of our foreign markets. The abatement of the price of the manufacture would pay for the carriage of it to more distant countries; and this consequence would be equally beneficial both to the landed and trading interests. As so great an addition of labouring hands would produce this happy consequence both to the merchant and the gentleman, our liberality to common beggars, and every other obstruction to the increase of labourers, must be equally pernicious to both."

part of the price of every thing that is useful; and if in proportion with the wages the prices of all other things should be abated, every labourer with less wages would still be able to purchase as many necessaries of life; where then would be the inconvenience? But the price of labour may be reduced by the addition of more bands to a manufacture, and yet the wages of persons remain as high as ever.. The admirable Sir William Petty has given examples of this in some of his writings: one of them, as I remember, is that of a watch, which I shall endeavour to explain so as shall suit my present purpose. It is certain that a single watch could not be made so cheap in proportion by only one man, as a hundred watches by a hundred; for as there is vast variety in the work, no one person could equally suit himself to all the parts of it; the manufacture would be tedious, and at last but clumsily performed. But if a hundred watches were to be made by a hundred men, the cases may be assigned to one, the dials to another, the wheels to another, the springs to another, and every other part to a proper artist. As there would be no need of perplexing any one person with too much variety, every one would be able to perform his single part with greater skill and expedition; and the hundred watches would be finished in one fourth part of the time of the first one, and every one of them at onefourth part of the cost, though the wages of every man were equal. The reduction of the price of the manufacture would increase the demand of it; al! the same hands would be still employed, and as well paid. The same rule will hold in the clothing, the shipping, and all other trades whatsoever. And thus an addition of hands to our mauufactures will only reduce the price of them; the labourer will still have as much wages, and will consequently be enabled to purchase more conveniences of life; so that every interest in the nation would receive a benefit from the increase of our working people.

"Besides, I see no occasion for this charity to common beggars, since every beggar is an inhabitant of a parish, and every parish is taxed to the maintenance of their own poor. For my own part I cannot be mightily pleased with the laws which have done this, which have provided better to feed than employ the poor. We have a tradition from our forefathers, that after the first of those laws was made, they were insulted with that famous song;

Hang sorrow and cast away care,

The parish is bound to find us, &c. And if we will be so good-natured as to maintain them without work, they can do no less in return than sing us "The merry Beggars.'

"What then? Am I against all acts of charity? God forbid! I know of no virtue in the Gospel that is in more pathetic expressions recommended to our practice. I was hungry, and ye gave me no meat; thirsty, and ye gave me no drink; naked, and ye clothed me not; a stranger, and ye took me not in; Sir Andrew then went on to affirm, that the re- sick, and in prison, and ye visited me not. Our duction of the prices of our manufactures by the blessed Saviour treats the exercise and neglect of addition of so many new hands, would be no incon- charity towards a poor man, as the performance or venience to any man; but observing I was some-breach of this duty towards himself. I shall endea thing startled at the assertion, he made a short vour to obey the will of my Lord and Master; and pause, and then resumed the discourse. "It may therefore if an industrious man shall submit to the seem," says he, "a paradox, that the price of hardest labour and coarsest fare, rather than endure labour should be reduced without an abatement of the shame of taking relief from the parish, or asking wages, or that wages can be abated without any in-it in the street, this is the hungry, the thirsty, the convenience to the labourer, and yet nothing is naked; and I ought to believe, if any man is come more certain than that both these things may hap-hither for shelter against persecution or oppression, pen. The wages of the labourers make the greatest this is the stranger, and I ought to take him in. If

Simætba, in love with Daphnis the Myndian, perished in the fall.

Charixus, the brother of Sappho, in love with Rhodope the courtesan, having spent his whole estate upon her, was advised by his sister to leap in the beginning of his amour, but would not hearken to her until he was reduced to his last talent; being forsaken by Rhodope, at length resolved to take the leap. Perished in it.

in of our own is fallen into the hands any countryman of infidels, and lives in a state of miserable captivity, this is the man in prison, and I should contribute to his ransom. I ought to give to an hospital of invalids, to recover as many useful subjects as I can; but I shall bestow none of my bounties upon an alms-house of idle people; and for the same reason I should not think it a reproach to me if I had withheld my charity from those common beggars. But we prescribe better rules than we are able to Aridæus, a beautiful youth of Epirus, in love with practise; we are ashamed not to give into the mis-Praxinoe, the wife of Thespis; escaped without taken customs of our country: but at the same time, I cannot but think it a reproach worse than that of common swearing, that the idle and the abandoned are suffered in the name of Heaven and all that is sacred, to extort from Christian and tender minds a supply to a profligate way of life, that is always to be supported, but never relieved."-Z.

No. 233.] TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1711.
-Tanquam hæc sint nostri medicina furoris,
Aut deus ille malis hominum mitescere discat.
VIRG. Ecl. x. v. 60.

As if by these my sufferings I could ease; Or by iny pains the god of love appease.-DRYDEN. I SHALL in this paper discharge myself of the promise I have made to the public, by obliging them with the translation of the little Greek manuscript, which is said to have been a piece of those records that were preserved in the temple of Apollo, upon the promontory of Leucate. It is a short history of the Lover's Leap, and is inscribed, An account of persons, male and female, who offered up their vows in the temple of the Pythian Apollo in the forty sixth Olympiad, and leaped from the promontory of Leucate into the Ionian sea, in order to cure themselves of the passion of love.

This account is very dry in many parts, as only mentioning the name of the lover who leaped, the person he leaped for, and relating in short, that he was either cured, or killed, or maimed, by the fall. It indeed gives the names of so many, who died by it, that it would have looked like a bill of mortality, had I translated it at full length; I have therefore made an abridgment of it, and only extracted such particular passages as have something extraordinary, either in the case or in the cure, or in the fate of the person who is mentioned in it. After this short preface take the account as follows:

Battus, the son of Menalcas the Sicilian, leaped for Bombyca the musician: got rid of his passion with the loss of his right leg and arm, which were broken in the fall.

Melissa, in love with Daphnis, very much bruised, but escaped with life.

Cynisca, the wife of Eschines, being in love with Lycus; and Eschines her husband being in love with Eurilla (which had made this married couple very uneasy to one another for several years); both the husband and the wife took the leap by consent; they both of them escaped, and have lived very hap pily together ever since.

Larissa, a virgin of Thessaly, deserted by Plexippus, after a courtship of three years; she stood upon the brow of the promontory for some time, and after having thrown down a ring, a bracelet, and a little picture, with other presents which she had received from Plexippus, she threw herself into the sea, and was taken up alive.oronesi

N.B. Larissa, before she leaped, made an offering of a silver Cupid in the temple of Apollo.

damage, saving only that two of his fore-teeth were struck out and his nose a little flatted.

Cleora, a widow of Ephesus, being inconsolable for the death of her husband, was resolved to take this leap in order to get rid of her passion for his memory: but being arrived at the promontory, she there met with Dimmachus the Milesian, and after a short conversation with him, laid aside the thoughts of her leap, and married him in the temple of Apollo.

N.B. Her widow's weeds are still to be seen hanging up in the western corner of the temple.

Olphis, the fisherman, having received a box on the ear from Thestylis the day before, and being determined to have no more to do with her, leaped, and escaped with life.

Atalanta, an old maid, whose cruelty had several years before driven two or three despairing lovers to this leap: being now in the fifty-fifth year of her age, and in love with an officer of Sparta, broke her neck in the fall.

Hipparchus, being passionately fond of his own wife, who was enamoured of Bathyllus, leaped, and died of his fall; upon which his wife married her gallant.

Tettyx, the dancing-master, in love with Olympia, an Athenian matron, threw himself from the rock with great agility, but was crippled in the fall.

Diagoras, the usurer, in love with his cook-maid; he peeped several times over the precipice, but bis heart misgiving him, he went back, and married her that evening.

Cinædus, after having entered his own name in the Pythian records, being asked the name of the person whom he leaped for, and being ashamed to discover it, he was set aside, and not suffered to leap.

Eunica, a maid of Paphos, aged nineteen, in love with Eurybates. Hurt in the fall, but recovered N. B. This was the second time of her leaping. Hesperus, a young man of Tarentum, in love with his master's daughter. Drowned, the boats not coming in soon enough to his relief.

Sappho, the Lesbian, in love with Phaon, arrived at the temple of Apollo habited like a bride, in garments as white as snow. She wore a garland of myrtle on her head, and carried in her hand the little musical instrument of her own invention. After having sung a hymn to Apollo, she hung up her garland on one side of his altar, and her harp on the other. She then tucked up her vestments like a Spartan virgin, and amidst thousands of spectators, who were anxious for her safety and offered up vows for her deliverance, marched directly forwards to the utmost summit of the promontory, where, after having repeated a stanza of her own verses, which we could not hear, she threw herself off the rock with such an intrepidity as was never before observed in any who had attempted that dangerous leap. Many who were present related, that they saw her fall into the sea, from whence she

never rose again, though there were others who affirmed that she never came to the bottom of her leap, but that she was changed into a swan as she fell, and that they saw her hovering in the air under that shape. But whether or no the whiteness and fluttering of her garments might not deceive those who looked upon her, or whether she might not really be metamorphosed into that musical and melancholy bird, is still a doubt among the Lesbians. Alcæus, the famous lyric poet, who had for some time been passionately in love with Sappho, arrived at the promontory of Leucate that very evening in order to take the leap upon her account; but hearing that Sappho had been there before him, and that her body could be no where found, he very generously lamented her fall, and is said to have written his hundred and twenty-fifth ode upon that occasion.

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No. 234.] WEDNESDAY, NOV. 28, 1711,

Vellem in amicitia sic erraremus.-HOR. 1 Sat. iii. 41. I wish this error in your friendship reign'd.-CREECH. You very often hear people, after a story has been told with some entertaining circumstances, tell it over again with particulars that destroy the jest, but give light into the truth of the narration. This sort of veracity, though it is impertinent, has something amiable in it, because it proceeds from the love of truth, even in frivolous occasions. If such honest amendments do not promise an agrecable companion, they do a sincere friend; for which reason one should allow them so much of our time, if we fall into their company, as to set us right in matters that can do us no manner of harm, whether the facts be one way or the other. Lies which are told out of arrogance and ostentation, a man should detect in his own defence, because he should not be triumphed over. Lies which are told out of malice he should expose, both for his own sake and that of the rest of mankind, because every man should rise against a common enemy; but the officious liar, many have argued, is to be excused, because it does some man good, and no man hurt. The man who made more than ordinary speed from a fight in which the Athenians were beaten, and told them they had obtained a complete victory, and put the whole city into the utmost joy and exultation, was checked by the magistrates for this falsehood; but excused himself by saying, “O Athenians! am I your enemy because I gave you two happy days ?" This fellow did to a whole people what an acquaintince of mine does every day he lives, in some eminent degree, to particular persons. He is ever lying people into good humour, and as Plato said it was allowable in physicians to lie to their patients to keep up their spirits, I am half doubtful whether my friend's behaviour is not as excusable. His manner is to express himself surprised at the cheerful countenance of a man whom he observes diffident of himself; and generally by that means makes his

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lie a truth. He will; as if he did not know any thing of the circumstance, ask one whom he knows at variance with another, what is the meaning that Mr. Such-a-one, naming his adversary, does not applaud him with that heartiness which formerly he has heard him? He said, indeed," continues he, "I would rather have that man for my friend than any man in England; but for an enemy-" This melts the person he talks to, who expected nothing but downright raillery from that side. According as he sees his practice succeed, he goes to the opposite party, and tells him, he cannot imagine how it happens that some people know one another so little; "You spoke with so much coldness of a gentleman who said more good of you, than, let me tell you, any man living deserves." The success of one of these incidents was that the next time one of the adversaries spied the other, he heins after him in the public street, and they must crack a bottle at the next tavern, that used to turn out of the other's way to avoid one another's eye-shot. He will tell one beauty she was commended by another, nay, he will say she gave the woman he speaks to the preference in a particular for which she herself is admired. The pleasantest confusion imaginable is made through the whole town by my friend's indirect offices. You shall have a visit returned after half a year's absence, and mutual rail. ing at each other every day of that time. They meet with a thousand lamentations for so long a separation, each party naming herself for the greatest delinquent, if the other can possibly be so good as to forgive her, which she has no reason in the world, but from the knowledge of her goodness, to hope for. Very often a whole train of railers of each side tire their horses in setting matters right which they have said during the war between the parties; and a whole circle of acquaintance are put into a thousand pleasing passions and sentiments, instead of the pangs of anger, envy, detraction, and malice.

The worst evil I ever observed this man's false. hood occasion, has been, that he turned detraction into flattery. He is well skilled in the manners oo the world, and by overlooking what men really ar he grounds his artifices upon what they have a mind to be. Upon this foundation, if two distant friends are brought together, and the cement seems to be weak, he never rests until he finds new ap pearances to take off all remains of ill-will, ane that by new misunderstandings they are thoroughly reconciled. "TO THE SPECTATOR.

"SIR,

Devonshire, Nov. 14, 1711. "There arrived in this neighbourhood two days ago one of your gay gentlemen of the town, who being attended at his entry with a servant of his own, besides a countryman he had taken up for a guide, excited the curiosity of the village to learn whence and what he might be. The countryman (to whom they applied as most easy of access) knew little more than that the gentleman came from London to travel and see fashions, and was, as he heard say, a freethinker. What religion that might be, he could not tell: and for his own part, if they had not told him the man was a freethinker, he should have guessed, by his way of talking, he was little better

who is said by the Examiner to have heen the butt of the The person here alluded to was probably Mr. Toland, Tatler and Spectator.

than a heathen; excepting only that he had been" Trunk-maker in the upper gallery." Whether it a good gentleman to him, and made him drunk be that the blow he gives on these occasions retwice in one day over and above what they had bar-sembles that which is often heard in the shops of gained for. such artisans, or that he was supposed to have been a real trunk-maker, who, after the finishing of his day's work, used to unbend his mind at these public diversions with his hammer in his hand, I cannot certainly tell. There are some, I know, who have been foolish enough to imagine it is a spirit which haunts the upper gallery, and from time to time makes those strange noises; and the rather, because he is observed to be louder than ordinary every time the ghost of Hamlet appears. Others have reported, that it is a dumb man, who has chosen this way of uttering himself when he is transported with any thing he sees or hears. Others will have it to be the playhouse thunderer, that exerts himself after this manner in the upper gallery, when he has nothing to do upon the roof.

"I do not look upon the simplicity of this, and several odd inquiries with which I shall not trouble you, to be wondered at, much less can I think that our youths of fine wit, and enlarged understandings, have any reason to laugh. There is no necessity that every 'squire in Great Britain should know what the word freethinker stands for; but it were much to be wished, that they who value themselves upon that conceited title, were a little better instructed in what it ought to stand for; and that they would not persuade themselves a man is really and truly a freethinker, in any tolerable sense, merely by virtue of his being an atheist, or an infidel of any other distinction. It may be doubted with good reason, whether there ever was in nature a more abject, slavish, and bigoted generation than But having made it my ousiness to get the best the tribe of beaux-esprits, at present so prevailing in information I could in a matter of this moment, I this island. Their pretension to be freethinkers, is find that the trunk-maker, as he is commonly called, is no other than rakes have to be free-livers, and sa- a large black man whom nobody knows. He generally vages to be free-men; that is, they can think what-leans forward on a huge oaken plank with great ever they have a mind to, and give themselves up attention to every thing that passes upon the stage. to whatever conceit the extravagancy of their in- He is never seen to smile; but upon hearing any clination, or their fancy, shall suggest; they can thing that pleases him, he takes up his staff with think as wildly as they talk and act, and will not both hands, and lays it upon the next piece of endure that their wit should be controlled by such timber that stands in his way with exceeding veheformal things as decency and common sense. De-mence: after which, he composes himself in his duction, coherence, consistency, and all the rules former posture, till such time as something new sets of reason they accordingly disdain, as too precise him again at work. and mechanical for men of a liberal education.

"This, as far as I could ever learn from their writings, or my own observation, is a true account of the British freethinker. Our visitant here, who gave occasion to this paper, has brought with him a new system of common sense, the particulars of which I am not yet acquainted with, but will lose no opportunity of informing myself whether it contain any thing worth Mr. Spectator's notice. In the mean time, Sir, I cannot but think it would be for the good of mankind, if you would take this subject into your consideration, and convince the hopeful youth of our nation, that licentiousness is not freedom; or, if such a paradox will not be understood, that a prejudice towards atheism is not impartiality.

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Vincentem strepitus HOR. Ars Poet. v. 81. Awes the tumultuous noises of the pit.-RoscoMMON. THERE is nothing which lies more within the province of a Spectator than public shows and diversions and as among these there are none which can pretend to vie with those elegant enter tainments that are exhibited in our theatres, I think it particularly incumbent on me to take notice of every thing that is remarkable in such numerous and refined assemblies.

It has been observed, his blow is so well-timed,. that the most judicious critic could never except against it. As soon as any shining thought is expressed in the poet, or any uncommon grace appears in the actor, he smites the bench or wainscot. If the audience does not concur with him, he smites a second time; and if the audience is not yet awakened, looks round him with great wrath, and repeats the blow a third time, which never fails to produce the clap. He sometimes lets the audience begin the clap of themselves, and at the conclusion of their applause ratifies it with a single thwack.

He is of so great use to the playhouse, that it is said a former director of it, upon his not being able to pay his attendance by reason of sickness, kept one in pay to officiate for him until such time as he recovered; but the person so employed, though he laid about him with incredible violence, did it in such wrong places, that the audience soon found out that it was not their old friend the trunkmaker.

It has been remarked, that he has not yet exerted himself with vigour this season. He sometimes plies at the opera; and upon Nicolini's first appearance was said to have demolished three benches in the fury of his applause. He has broken half a dozen oaken planks upon Dogget, and seldom goes away from a tragedy of Shakspeare without leaving the wainscot extremely shattered.

The players do not only connive at his obstreperous approbation, but very cheerfully repair at their own cost whatever damages he makes. They once had a thought of erecting a kind of wooden anvil for his use, that should be made of a very

It is observed, that of late years there has been a certain person in the upper gallery of the play-sounding plank, in order to render his strokes more house, who, when he is pleased with any thing that is acted upon the stage, expresses his approbation by a loud knock upon the benches or the wainscot, which may be heard over the whole theatre. This person is commonly known by the name of the

Thomas Dogget, an excellent comic actor, who was for many years joint-manager of the playhouse with Wilkes and Colley Cibber, of whom the reader may find a particular account in Cibber's Apology for his own Life.

deep and mellow; but as this might not have been distinguished from the music of a kettle-drum, the project was laid aside.

In the meanwhile, I cannot but take notice of the great use it is to an audience, that a person should thus preside over their heads like the director of a concert, in order to awaken their attention, and beat time to their applauses; or, to raise my simile, I have sometimes fancied the trunk-maker in the upper gallery to be like Virgil's ruler of the winds, seated upon the top of a mountain, who, when he struck his sceptre upon the side of it, roused a hurricane, and set the whole cavern in an uproar."

the peculiarity in the youth of Great Britain of railing and laughing at that institution; and when they fall into it, from a profligate habit of mind, being insensible of the satisfaction in that way of life, and treating their wives with the most barbarous disrespect.

"Particular circumstances, and cast of temper, must teach a man the probability of mighty uneasinesses in that state; (for unquestionably some there are whose very dispositions are strangely averse to conjugal friendship) but no one, I believe, is by his own natural complexion prompted to tease and torment another for no reason but being nearly allied to him. And can there be any thing more base, or serve to sink a man so much below his own distinguishing characteristic (I mean reason), than returning evil for good in so open a manner, as that of treating a helpless creature with unkindness, who has had so good an opinion of him as to believe what he said relating to one of the greatest concerns of life, by delivering her happiness in this world to his care and protection? Must not that man be abandoned even to all manner of humanity, who can deceive a woman with appearances of affection and kindness, for no other end but to torment her with more ease and authority? Is any thing more unlike a gentleman, than when his ho

It is certain the trunk-maker has saved many a good play, and brought many a graceful actor into reputation, who would not otherwise have been taken notice of. It is very visible, as the audience is not a little abashed, if they find themselves betrayed into a clap, when their friend in the upper gallery does not come into it; so the actors do not value themselves upon the clap, but regard it as a mere brutum fulmen, or empty noise, when it has not the sound of the oaken plant in it. I know it has been given out by those who are enemies to the trunk-maker, that he has sometimes been bribed to be in the interest of a bad poet, or a vicious player; but this is a surmise which has no foun-nour is engaged for the performing his promises, bedation: his strokes are always just, and his admoni- cause nothing but that can oblige him to it, to become tions seasonable: he does not deal about his blows afterward false to his word, and be alone the occaat random, but always hits the right nail upon the sion of misery to one whose happiness he but lately head. The inexpressible force wherewith he lays pretended was dearer to him than his own? Ought them on sufficiently shows the evidence and strength such a one to be trusted in his common affairs? or of his conviction. His zeal for a good author is in-treated but as one whose honesty consisted only in deed outrageous, and breaks down every fence and partition, every board and plank, that stands within the expression of his applause.

his incapacity of being otherwise?

"There is one cause of this usage no less absurd than common, which takes place among the more As I do not care for terminating my thoughts in unthinking men; and that is, the desire to appear barren speculations, or in reports of pure matter of to their friends free and at liberty, and without fact, without drawing something from them for the those trammels they have so much ridiculed. To advantage of my countrymen, I shall take the liberty avoid this they fly into the other extreme, and grow to make a humble proposal, that whenever the tyrants that they may seem masters. Because an trunk-maker shall depart this life, or whenever he uncontrollable command of their own actions is a shall have lost the spring of his arm by sickness, certain sign of entire dominion, they won't so much old age, infirmity, or the like, some able-bodied as recede from the government even in one muscle critic should be advanced to this post, and have a of their faces. A kind look they believe would be competent salary settled on him for life, to be fur-fawning, and a civil answer yielding the superiority. nished with bamboos for operas, crab-tree cudgels To this must we attribute an austerity they betray for comedies, and oaken plants for tragedy, at the in every action. What but this can put a man out public expense. And to the end that this place of humour in his wife's company, though he is so should be always disposed of according to merit, I distinguishingly pleasant every where else? The would have none preferred to it, who has not given bitterness of his replies, and the severity of his convincing proofs both of a sound judgment, and a frowns to the tenderest of wives, clearly demonstrate, strong arm; and who could not, upon occasion, that an ill-grounded fear of being thought too subeither knock down an ox, or write a comment upon missive, is at the bottom of this, as I am willing to Horace's Art of Poetry. In short, I would have call it, affected moroseness; but if it be such, only him a due composition of Hercules and Apollo, and put on to convince his acquaintace of his entire doso rightly qualified for this important office, that minion, let him take care of the consequence, which the trunk-maker may not be missed by our pos- will be certain and worse than the present evil; his terity.-C. seeming indifference will by degrees grow into real contempt, and if it doth not wholly alienate the affections of his wife for ever from him, make both him and her more miserable than if it really did so.

No. 236. FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 1711. Dare jura maritis.-HOR. Ars. Poet. v. 398. With laws connubial tyrants to restrain. "MR. SPECTATOR, "You have not spoken in so direct a manner upon the subject of marriage as that important case deserves. It would not be improper to observe upon

• Eneid i. 85.

"However inconsistent it may appear, to be thought a well-bred person has no small share in this clownish behaviour. A discourse therefore relating to good breeding towards a loving and tender wife, would be of great use to this sort of gentlemen. Could you but once convince them, that to be civil at least is not beneath the character of a gentleman, nor even tender affection towards one who would make it reciprocal, betrays any softness or effemi

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