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on

to quit Fortune immediately, in pursuit of this; and when they come to those women, who, as I told you before, were INTEMPERANCE and VoLUPTUOUSNESS, to leave them too directly, and not to mind whatever they can say; but to go for the inclosure of FALSE SCIENCE; there he bids them stay a little while, to get what may be useful to them on the rest of their road, and then to leave her directly too, and go on for TRUE SCIENCE. These are the orders which the GENIUS gives to all that enter into life; and whoever transgresses or neglects them will be a miserable wretch. I have now explained the whole of the parable contained in this painting; but if you have any particular question to ask in relation to any thing that I have said, I am very ready to answer it.

S. We are much obliged to you. Pray then, what is it that the GENIUS orders them to get in the inclosure of Science, falsely so called?

O. C. Whatever may be of use to them.

S. And what is there, that may be of use to them?

O. C. Literature, and so much of the sciences as Plato says may serve people in the beginning of their lives as a bridle, to keep them from being drawn away by idler pursuits.

S. And is it necessary for all who would arrive at True Science, to do this?

O. C. No, it is not necessary, but it may be useful; though, in truth, these things themselves do not contribute towards making them the bet

ter men.

S. Not contribute at all towards making them better !

O. C. Not at all, for they may be as good without them. And yet they are not wholly un

useful; for they may sometimes help us, as interpreters do, to the meaning of a language we don't understand; but, after all, 'tis better to understand the language ourselves, than to have any need of an interpreter; and we may be good, without the assistance of learning.:

S. In what then have the learned any advantage over others towards becoming better men? O. C. Why do you imagine they should have any advantage; since you see they are deceived like others, as to what is good or bad; and continue to be as much involved in all manner of vices? for there is nothing that hinders a man, who is a master of literature, and knowing in all the sciences, from being at the same time a drunkard, or intemperate, or covetous, or unjust, or villainous, or, in one word, imprudent in all his ways. S. 'Tis true, we see too many instances of such.

O. C. Of what advantage then is their learning, toward making them better men?

S. You have made it appear, that it is of none; but pray what is the reason of it?

О. С The reason is this: that when they are got into the second inclosure, they fix there as if they were arrived at Truc Science. And what can they get by that since we see several persons, who go on directly from INTEMPERANCE, and the other vices in the first inclosure, to the inclosure of TRUE SCIENCE, without ever calling in where these learned persons have taken up their abode. How then can the learned be said to have any advantage over them? On the con. trary, they are less apt to exert themselves, or to be instructed, than the former,

S. How can that be?

0. C. Because they who are in the second inclosure, not to mention any other of their faults, at least profess to know what they do not know so that they acquiesce in their ignorance, and have no motive to stir them up toward the seeking of TRUE SCIENCE. Besides, do you not observe another thing; that the OPINIONS, from the first inclosure, enter in among them, and converse with them, as freely as with the former ? so that they are not at all better even than they; unless REPENTANCE should come to them, and should convince them, that it is not Science they have been embracing all this while; but only the false appearance of her, which has deceived them. But while they continue in the same mind they are in, there is no hope left for them. To close all, my friends, what I would entreat of you is, to think over every thing I have said to you, to weigh it well in your minds, and to practice accordingly. Get a habit of doing right, whatever pain it costs you; let no difficulties deter you, in the way to Virtue and account every thing else despicable, in comparison of this. Then will the lesson that I have taught you, prove to yourselves a lesson of HAPPINESS.

THO

AN ESSAY

ON

EPITAPHS.

HOUGH criticism has been cultivated in every age of learning, by men of great abilities and extensive knowledge, till the rules of writing are become rather burthensome than instructive to the mind; though almost every species of composition has been the subject of particular treatises, and given birth to definitions, distinctions, precepts, and illustrations; yet no critic of note, that has fallen within my observation, has hitherto thought sepulchral inscriptions worthy of a minute examination, or pointed out with proper accuracy their beauties and defects.

The reasons of this neglect it is useless to enquire, and perhaps impossible to discover; it might be justly expected that this kind of writing would have been the favourite topic of criticism, and that self-love might have produced some regard for it, in those authors that have crowded libraries with elaborate dissertations upon Homer; since to afford a subject for heroic poems is the privilege of very few, but every man may expect to be recorded in an epitaph, and therefore finds some interest in providing that his memory may not suffer by an unskilful panegy

ric.

If our prejudices in favour of antiquity deserve to have any part in the regulation of our studies, EPITAPHS seem entitled to more than common regard, as they are probably of the same age with the art of writing. The most ancient structures

in the world, the Pyramids, are supposed to be sepulchral monuments, which either pride or gratitude erected; and the same passions which incited men to such laborious and expensive methods of preserving their own memory, or that of their benefactors, would doubtless incline them not to neglect any easier means by which the same ends might be obtained. Nature and reason have dictated to every nation, that to preserve good actions from oblivion, is both the interest and duty of mankind: and therefore we find no people acquainted with the use of letters, that omitted to grace the tombs of their heroesand wise men with panegyrical inscriptions.

To examine, therefore, in what the perfection of EPITAPHS Cousists, and what rules are to be observed in composing them, will be at least of as much use as other critical enquiries; and for assigning a few hours to such disquisitions, great. examples at least, if not strong reasons, may be pleaded.

An EPITAPH, as the word itself implies, is an inscription on the tomb, and in its most extensive import may admit indiscriminately satire or praise. But as malice has seldom produced mo. numents of defamation, and the tombs hitherto aised have been the work of friendship and be-: nevolence, custom has contracted the original latitude of the word, so that it signifies in the general acceptation an inscription engraven on a tomb in honour of the person deceased.

As honours are paid to the dead in order to incite others to the imitation of their excellences, the principal intention of EPITAPHS is to perpetuate the examples of virtue, that the tomb of a good man may supply the want of his presence, and veneration for his memory produce the same