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The usurer wonld be very well satisfied to have all the time anuihilated that lies between the present moinent and next quarter day. The politician would be content ed to lose three years in his life, could he place things in the posture which he fancies they will stand in after such a revolution of time.
4. The lover would be ;lad to strike out of his existence all the moments that are to pass away before the happy meeting. Thus as fast as our iie runs, we should be very glad in most parts of our lives, that it ran much faster than it does. Several hours of the day harig upon our hands, nay, we wish away whole,y ears; and travel thrcugh time as through a country filled with many wild and empty wastes, wrich we would fain hurry over, that we may arrive at those several little setilements or imagi. nary points of rest which are dispersed up and down in it.
3. Ifwe may divide the life of most men in twenty parts, we shall find that at least nineteen of them are mere gaps and chasms which are neither filled with pleasure nor bu. sive:5. I do not however include in this calculation the life of those men who are in a perpetual hurrý of affairs, but of those only who are not alwa: s engaged in scenes of action; and t hope I shall not do an unacceptable piece of service to these persons, it I point out to them certain méthods for filling up their emptv spaces of life, The methods I shall propose to them are as follows :
6. The first is the exercise of virtue, in the most gen. erai acceptation of the word. That particular schemą which comprehends the social virtues, ma give employ..i ment to the most industrious temper, and find a man in business mure than the most active station of life. To advise the ignorant, relieve the needy, comfort the afAicted, are du ies that fall in our way almost every day of cur lives.
7. A man has frequent opportunities of mitigating the fierceness of a párty; of doing justice to the character of a deserving man; of sofiening the envious, quieting the angiy, and rectifying the prejudiced; which are all of them employments suited to a reasonable nature, and bring great satisfaction to the person who can busy himself in them with discretion. .
8. There is another kind of virtue that may find em: ployment for those retired i hours in which we are altogether left to ourselves, and destitute of company and conversation. I mean that intercourse and communica tion which every reasonable creature ought to maintain with the great Author of his being.
The man who lives under an habitual sense of the divine presence, keeps up a perpetual cheerfulness of temper and enjoys every moment the satisfaction of thinking himself in company with his dearest and best of friends. The time never lies heavy upon him; it is impossible for him to be alone.
10. His thoughts and passions are the most busied at such hours when those of other men are the most unactive; he 110 sovner steps out of the world, but his heart burns with devotion, swells with hope, and triumphs in the consciousness of that presence which every where surrounds him; or, on the contrary, pours out its fears, its sorrows, its apprehensions, to the great sæpporter of its existence.
11. I have here only considered the necessity of a man's being virtuous, that he may have something to do; bat if we consider further, that the exercise of virtue is not only an amusement for the time it lasts, but that its influence extends to those parts of our existence which lie beyond the grave, and that our whole eternity is to take its colour from those hours which we here employ in vire: tire or in vice, the argument redoubles upon us, før putting in practice this method of passing away our time.
12. When a man has a little stock to improve, and has opportunnies- of turning it all to good account, what shall we think of him if he suffers nineteen parts of it to lie dead, and perhaps employs even the twentieth to his suin or di advantage ? But becanse the mind cannot be : al viays in its fervor nor strained up to a pitch of virtue, it is necessary to find out proper employments for it in its relaxations
13. Tnè next method therefore that I would propose to till up our time, should be useful and ina ceni diver. sion, l'inust confess I think it is below reasonable creatures to be aliogetner conversant in such diversions :
as are merely innocent, and have nothing else to recommend them but that there is no hurt in thein.
14. Wiether any kind of gaming, has even thus much to say for itself, I shall not determine : but I think it is very wonderful to see persons of the best sense, passing away a dozen hours together in shuffing and dividing a pack of cards with no other conversation but what is made up of a few game phrases, and no other ideas but those of black or red spots ranged together in different figures. Would not a man ļaugb to hear any one of his species complaining that life is shon?,
15. The stage might be made a perpetual source of the most noble and useful entertainments, were it under proper regulations.
16. But the mid never unbends itself so agreeable as in the conversation of a wellchosen friend. There is indeed no blessing of life that is any way comparable to the enjoyments of a discreet and virtuous friend. It eases and uploads the mind, clears and improves the understanding, engenders thoughts and knowledge, animales virtue and good resolutions, sooths and aliays the passions, and finds employment for most of the vacaut hours of life
17. Next to such an intimacy, with a particular person, ene would endeavtur after a rore general conversation with such as are able to entertain, and improve those with whom they Corverse, which are qualifications that seldom go asunder.
18. There are many other useful amusements of Ife which one would endeavour'to multiply, that one might on all xecasions have recourse to something rather than &uffer the mind to lie idle or run adrift with any passion tbat chances to rise in it. * 19. A man that has taste in music, painting, or archie kecture, is like one that has another sense when compared with such as have no relish of these arts. The flow rists the planter, the gardner, the husband may, when they are only as accomplishments to the map of fortune, are great reliefs to a country life, and many ways useful io these bo are possessed of inem.
SPECTATOR, No. 93.
MODESTY. ESTY AT The first of all virtues is innocence; the second is modesty.
2. Modesty is both in its source, and in its consequenca, a very great happiness to the fair possessor of it; it arises from a fear of dishonour, and a good conscience, and is followed iminediately, upon its first appearance, with the reward of honour and este ein paid by all those who discover it in any body living.
3. It is indeed a virtue in a woman (that might otherwise be very disagreeable to one) so exquisitely delicate, that it excites in any beholder, of a generous and manly disposition, almost all the passions that he would be apt to.conceive for the mistress of his heart.in a variety of circumstances,
4. A woman that is modest creates in usan awe in her company, a wish for her welfare, a joy in her being actually happy, a sore and paintul sorrow if distress should come upon her, a ready and willing heart to give her. consolation, and a compassionate temper towards her, in every little accident of lite, she undergoes: and to sum up all in one word, it causes such a kind of angelical, love, even to a stranger, as good natured brothers and sisters, usually bear towards one another.
si li adds, wonderfully to the make of a face, and I' have seen a pretty, weil turped forehead, fine set eyes, and what your poets call a row of pearl set in coral, shewn by a pretty expansion of two velvet lips that covered them (that wouid have tempied any sober man living of my own, age, to have beert a little loose in his thoughts, and to have enjoyed a painful pleasure amidst his impoten-. cy.) lose all their virtue, all their force and efficacy, by having an ugly cast of boldness very discernibly spread, out at large over all those alluring features. 6. At the same time modesty will fill up the wrinkles
age with glosy; make, sixty blust itself into sixteen ; and help a green sick girl to defeat the satire of a false wagyish kover, who might compare ter colour, when she lo ked like a ghost, to the blowing of the rose bud, byblushing herself mio a bloom of beauty, and might make what he meant a reflection, a real compliment, at
any hour of the day, in spite of his teeth. It has a prevailing power with me, whenever I find it in the sex.
7. I who have the common fault of old men, to be; very sour and humoursome, whenl drink my water guet in a morning, fell into a more than ordinary pet with a maid, whom I call my nurse, from a constant tenderness, that I have observed her to exercise towards me beyond all my
otiier servants; I perceived her flush and glow in thie face; in a manner which I could plainly discern proceeded not from anger or resentment of my curs rection, but from a good-natured regret, upon a fear tlat she had offended her grave old master.
8. I was so beartily pleased; tha! I 'eased her of the honest trouble she underwent inwardly for mv sake; and giving her half a crown, I told her it was a foreit due to her, because I was out of humour with her without all: reason at all. And as she is so gentle hearted, I have diligentl a?oided giving her one harsh word ever since; and I find my own reward in it: 'trs not being so testy as I used, has made me much hater and stronger than I.. was before.
9. The pretty, and witty, and virtuous Simplicia, was, the other day, visiting with an oid aunt of hers, that I Verily believe has read the Atalantis : she took a story out there, and dressed up an old honest neighbour in the second-hand cloaths of scá- dal. The young creature bid her face with her fan ar ery barst and peal of laughter, and blushed for her y parent;' by which she atoned,'. methought, for ever candel'iba: ran round the beauties ful circle.
10. As I was going home to bed that evening, I could not help thinking of her all the way I went. I represented her to myself as 'shedding holy blood every time she bushed, and as being a martyr in the cause of virtue. And, af erwards, when I was puiting on my night-cap, I could not drive the thought out of my head, but that I. was young en 'ugh to be married to her; and thai it would be an addition to the reputation I have in the stud, of wisdom, to marry to so much youth atid modes** ty', een in my old age.
ri: 'I know there liave not beeo wanting many wickait et objectivhs against this virtue: dve is
grown jesutier ably Cova Mon. I he fellow biushes, he is uilty. I bould ay rather, he blushes, therefore he is innvocato de