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THE 
 
 MORAL INSTRUCTOR, 
 
 AND 
 
 t 
 
 BEING 
 
 A COMPENDIUM OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 IN EIGHT PARTS. 
 
 Fart 1. Original Essays on the Dif- 
 fusionjof Knowledge, Moral Re- 
 formaSbn, Sec. 
 
 2. Epitome of the Moral precepts 
 of the Bible. 
 
 3. Abridgment of the Lives and Mo- 
 ral Discourses of Confucius and 
 Socrates, and Seneca's Morals. 
 
 4. Abridgment of the Law of Na- 
 
 ture, and the Economy of Human 
 Life. 
 
 5. Abridgment of Penn's Maxims, 
 Paley's Moral Philosophy, and 
 Knigge's Art of Conversing with 
 Men. 
 
 6. Selections from Franklin's Works. 
 
 7. Miscellaneous Articles. 
 
 8. Pope's Essay on Man, &e. 
 
 DESIGNED FOR A NATIONAL MANUAL OF MORAL SCIENCE, IN AMERICAN 
 SEMINARIES OF EDUCATION, AND PRIVATE FAMILIES. 
 
 BY JESSE TORREY, JUNR. 
 
 a — . 
 
 Human Happiness is founded upon Wisdom and Virtue. SenE€A» 
 " 'Tis ignorance mainly binds people in chains: 
 1 Tis this too, the empire of folly maintains: 
 Vice shrinks from instruction, like darkness from light* 
 And despots shun noontide and covet the night" 
 
 TENTH EDITION. 
 
 PitlaXreljtfua: 
 
 PUBLISHED AND SOLD BY JOHN GRIGG, NO. 9, NORTH FOURTH 
 
 STREET, AND SOLD BY BOOKSELLERS AND COUNTRY 
 
 MERCHANTS GENERALLY. 
 
 Stereotyped by J. Howe. 
 1836. 
 
 
-& 
 
 % 
 
 \ 
 
 ^ 
 
 <*s 
 
 
 s* 
 
 Eastern District of Pennsylvania^ to wit : 
 Be IT REMEMBERE©, That on the twenty-second day of November, in the 
 ^____^ forty-eighth year of the Independence of the United States of 
 I -r & } America, A. D. 1823, Jesse Torrey, junior, of the said District, 
 t * * j hath deposited in this office the title of a book, the right whereof 
 he claims as author, in the following words, to wit : 
 " The Moral Instructor, and Guide to Virtue : being a Compendium of 
 Moral Philosophy* In eight parts. Part 1 . Original Essays on the Diffusion 
 of Knowledge,, Moral Reformation, &c. — 2. Epitome of the Moral precepts 
 of the Bible. — 3. Abridgment of the Lives and Moral Discourses of Confu- 
 cius and Socrates, and Seneca's Morals. — 4. Abridgment of the Law of Na- 
 ture, and the Economy of Human Life. — 5. Abridgment of Penn's Maxims, 
 Paley's Moral Philosophy, and Knigge's Art of Conversing with Men. — 6. Se- 
 lections from Franklin's Works. — 7. Miscellaneous Articles. — 8. Pope's Essay 
 on Man, &c. Designed for a National Manual of Moral Science, in Ameri- 
 can Seminaries of Education, and private Families. By Jesse Torrey, junr. 
 
 Human Happiness is founded upon Wisdom and Virtue. Seneca. 
 u Tis ignorance mainly binds people in chains : 
 5 Tis this too, the empire of folly maintains : 
 Vice shrinks from instruction, like darkness from light : 
 And despots shun noontide and covet the night." 
 
 In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, entitled, " An 
 act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the eopies of maps, 
 charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, during the 
 times therein mentioned." And also to the act, entitled, "An act supplementa- 
 ry to an act, entitled, " An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing 
 the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of such 
 copies during the times therein mentioned," and extending the benefits there- 
 of to the arts of designing, engraving, and etching historical and other prints." 
 
 D. CALDWELL, Clerk of the 
 Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 
 
TO THE PEOPLE 
 
 THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 The design of the following compendium, is more to 
 disseminate useful instruction 'among all classes of soci- 
 ety, than to gratify literary taste or curiosity. 
 
 The Author has long cherished the conviction, that if 
 the community would appropriate as much wealth to the 
 diffusion of useful knowledge among the rising genera- 
 tion, as is now devoted to the punishment instead of the 
 prevention of crimes and vice, the desired object would 
 be attained, and human misery averted to a much greater 
 extent. 
 
 But a small proportion of the people have the means to 
 purchase, or leisure to study voluminous systems of Moral 
 Philosophy. On the contrary, dogmatical, sententious 
 precepts, unsupported by demonstration, are not generally 
 convincing, nor adapted to the independent spirit of hu- 
 man nature. Whenever men shall resolve to make moral 
 rectitude their inflexible rule of action, each individual 
 must be persuaded in his oivn mind, independently of the 
 dictations of others, that his own welfare will be thereby 
 promoted, as well as that of his neighbors. 
 
 It is but of little avail to the majority of the human 
 family, that philosophers of different ages and nations 
 have exerted their talents in perfecting the science of 
 moral wisdom, as long as no one will take the pains to 
 collect and concentrate the best fruits of their labors into 
 a convenient portable vehicle for universal distribution, 
 upon the boundless table of the Printing-Press. 
 • The Compiler has been, for many years, impressed with 
 the utility of such a work as the one now offered to the 
 public; and has accordingly improved every means in his 
 
 
power, in accumulating from various and remote sources 
 and periods, the requisite materials. The candid reader, 
 who meets with several articles in this compilation, with 
 which he has already been familiarized, will excuse its 
 want of total novelty, when he reflects, that nearly all the 
 youth, and a large proportion of adult readers, will find 
 it as new to them, and as useful, as if it were an entire 
 original work. If the sentiments be correct and valuable, 
 and clearly expressed, it is of no importance whether 
 they were first committed to paper yesterday, or three 
 thousand years ago. 
 
 One particular object of this work, is to inculcate the 
 necessity and duty of general domestic and national econo- 
 my and simplicity of manners. It may be confidently 
 presumed, that if the idolatrous and slavish sacrifices of 
 property, to Pride, Fashion, Custom, Tradition, Extrava- 
 gance, and depraved Appetite, were abolished, Poverty, 
 with its hideous train of calamities, might be expelled 
 from society, and General Plenty ', with its smiling train 
 of blessings, substituted in their stead. 
 
 Embracing these important purposes, the work is res- 
 pectfully submitted to the good sense of the people of the 
 United States, for their adoption as a National Code of 
 Morals in schools and families. 
 
 The Compiler does not delude himself with the vain 
 hope that it will accomplish the moral reformation of the 
 present hardened adult generations ; — but he does sin- 
 cerely believe, that the universal dissemination of its im- 
 pressive precepts among the tender, susceptible, rising 
 generation, cannot fail to produce a salutary influence 
 upon the future national, moral and political character of 
 our Republic. That such may be the result, is the ardent 
 
 wish of its devoted friend and servant, 
 
 J. T. 
 
 Philadelphia, Jan. 1824. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PART FIRST. *AGS. 
 
 Chap* 1 . Essays on the general Diffusion of Knowledge* 
 Sec. 1. Necessity and advantages of knowledge . . 13 
 
 2. A serious address to the rising generation of the United 
 
 States 18 
 
 Chap. 2; Essays on the Use of Intoxicating Liquors, 
 
 Sec. 1. Public calamities produced by intemperance . . 21 
 
 2. The habitual use of spirituous liquors a violation of 
 
 duty 28 
 
 3. Speech of the Little Turtle, an Indian Chief, on the 
 
 ravages of whiskey among the Indians ... 29 
 Chap. 3. Essays on Political and Domestic Economy. 
 Sec. 1. Observations on the use of tea, coffee, sugar, and to- 
 bacco ........ 30 
 
 2. Observations on extravagance, fashion, causes of pov- 
 erty, war, &e. . . . . . . .35 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 Chap. 1. Selections from the Old Testament . 41 
 
 Chap. 2. Extracts from the Wisdom of Jesus .... 44 
 Chap. 3. Selections from the New Testament. 
 
 Sec. 1. Instructions of Jesus Christ ..... 45 
 
 2. Instructions of Paul the Apostle .... 49 
 
 3. Extracts from the Epistles of James, Peter, and John 51 
 
 Chap. 
 Chap. 
 
 Sec. 1. 
 2, 
 3, 
 4, 
 
 6. 
 Chap. c . 
 Sec. 1. 
 
 2. 
 3. 
 4. 
 5. 
 
 9. 
 10. 
 11. 
 12. 
 13. 
 
 PART THIRD. 
 
 Abridgment of the life and precepts of Confucius 
 Abridgment of the life and moral discourses of Socrates. 
 
 Character of Socrates 
 
 Dialogue between Socrates and Glauco, on ambition 
 Discourse of Socrates on the beneficence of God 
 Accusation, defence, condemnation and death of So- 
 crates ........ 
 
 Discourses of Socrates on filial and fraternal affection 
 Dialogue between Socrates and Critobulus, on friendship 
 Abridgment of Seneca?s Morals. 
 Abridgment of Seneca's discourse on beneficence 
 Abridgment of Seneca?s Treatise on a happy Life. 
 On a happy fife, and wherein it consists 
 Human happiness is founded upon wisdom and virtue 
 There can be no happiness without virtue 
 Philosophy is the guide of life ..... 
 
 No felicity like peace of conscience 
 
 Contemplation of Providence, remedy of misfortunes 
 
 Of levity of mind, and other impediments to a happy 
 
 life 
 
 A sensual life is a miserable life ..... 
 Avarice and ambition are insatiable and restless 
 The blessings of temperance and moderation 
 Constancy of mind makes a man happy, &c. 
 Our happiness depends on our choice of company • 
 
 A2 
 
 53 
 
 56 
 59 
 61 
 
 63 
 66 
 68 
 
 70 
 
 71 
 73 
 74 
 76 
 
 79 
 81 
 
 82 
 
 86 
 87 
 88 
 
VI 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Sec. 14. The blessings of friendship .... 89 
 
 15. He that would be happy must take an account of time 90 
 
 16. Happy is the man that may choose his own business 91 
 
 17. On immoderate sorrow for the death of friends . 92 
 
 18. Mediocrity the best state of fortune ... 93 
 Abridgment of Seneca's Treatise on Anger. 
 
 19. Anger described : it is against nature . . . ib. 
 
 20. Anger is a short madness, and a deformed vice . 95 
 
 21. Anger is neither warrantable nor useful ... 96 
 
 22. Advice in cases of contumely and revenge . . 100 
 
 PART FOURTH. 
 
 Chap. 1. Abridgment of the Law of Nature. 
 
 Sec. 1. The law of nature defined and illustrated by examples 
 
 2. Characters of the law of nature ... * 
 
 3. Principles of the law of nature, as they relate to man ; 
 
 importance of instruction and self-government 
 
 4. Of the basis of morality ; of good, of evil, of crimes, 
 
 of vice and virtue 
 
 5. Of private virtues ; of knowledge, temperance, indus- 
 
 try, cleanliness 
 
 6. Of domestic virtues ; economy, parental affection, con- 
 
 jugal love, filial love, brotherly love 
 
 7. Of the social virtues ; of justice, charity, probity, sim- 
 
 plicity of manners, patriotism .... 
 Chap. 2. Abridgment of the Economy of Human Life. 
 Sec. 1. Duties that relate to man as an individual 
 
 2. The Passions ; joy and grief, anger, pity 
 
 3. Woman 
 
 4. Duties of children and brothers .... 
 
 5. Wise and ignorant, rich and poor, masters and servants 
 
 6. Social duties ; benevolence, justice, charity, religion 
 
 7. Man considered in general 
 
 PART FIFTH. 
 Chap. 1. Abridgment of Penris Reflections and •Maxims relating 
 to the conduct of Human Life ; and his advice to his 
 children ........ 
 
 Chap. 2. Abridgment of Paley's Moral Philosophy. 
 Sec. 1. Definition and use of the science 
 
 Human happiness 
 
 Virtue 
 
 The Divine benevolence . 
 
 Promises : contracts of sale : of lending of money : of 
 labor ....... 
 
 Lies : revenge : duelling : slander 
 Of the duty of parents. Education . 
 Chap. 3. Abridgment of Knigge's Practical Philosophy. 
 $ec. 1. General rules for our conversation with men 
 On the conversation with ourselves 
 On the conversation with people of different tempers 
 On the conversation with people of a different age 
 On the conversation between parents and children 
 
 103 
 104 
 
 105 
 
 107 
 
 10S 
 
 112 
 
 114 
 
 119 
 121 
 123 
 124 
 125 
 127 
 129 
 
 2. 
 3. 
 4. 
 5. 
 
 6. 
 7. 
 
 2. 
 3. 
 
 4. 
 
 133 
 
 143 
 
 144 
 148 
 149 
 
 151 
 153 
 154 
 
 156 
 158 
 160 
 162 
 164 
 
Vll 
 
 PAGE. 
 Sec. 6. On conversation between masters and servants . .165 
 
 7. Beneficence and gratitude : Instructors and pupils : 
 
 creditors and debtors . . . . . . 166 
 
 8. On our conduct towards others in peculiar situations 167 
 
 9. Principal causes of the want of domestic pleasures 169 
 10. On candor and tolerance in conversation . . .171 
 
 PART SIXTH. 
 Chap. 1. Selections from the Life of Franklin. 
 
 Sec. 1. His early diligence in improving' his mind, &c. . 173 
 
 2. His temperance and frugality while a journeyman, &c. 178 
 
 3. He resolves on the inflexible practice of truth, &c. . 181 
 Chap. 2. S elections from the continuation of the Life of Franklin, 
 
 icritten by himself 
 
 Sec. 1. Letters from Abel James, &c. to Dr. Franklin . 183 
 
 2. Continuation. He establishes a library in Philadelphia ; 
 
 his domestic habits 185 
 
 3. His project of arriving 1 at moral perfection : Art of 
 
 virtue 187 
 
 4. His project of raising a united party to virtue, &e. . 195 
 Chap. 3. Abridgment of Cicero's Discourse on old age. 
 
 Sec. 1. A well spent life essential to a happy old age . . 198 
 2. Moderation in exercise and diet ; science, &c. . .201 
 
 Chap. 4. Dialogues concerning Self -denial. Virtue, Pleasure. 
 
 Sec. 1. Reasonable self-denial, necessary to happiness . . 205 
 
 2. Government of the passions ; doing good to others, &c. 209 
 
 Chap. 5. Franklin's Way to Wealth. 
 
 Sec. 1. Industry: early rising : vigilance .... 213 
 
 2. Frugality, calamities of pride, extravagance, &c. . 216 
 
 3. Advice to a young tradesman .... 220 
 
 4. The way to make money plenty in every man's pocket 222 
 Chap. 6. Selections from the Moral Essays and Letters of Dr. 
 
 Franklin. 
 
 Sec. 1. The handsome and deformed leg .... 223 
 
 2. The art of procuring pleasant dreams . . . 224 
 
 3. On luxury, idleness, and industry .... 227 
 
 4. Extract of a Letter to George Whitefield, on practical 
 
 religion 228 
 
 PART SEVENTH. 
 
 Chap. 1. Selections from Washington's farewell address . 230 
 Chap. 2. Miscellaneous articles on Education, &c. 
 
 Sec. 1. Sunday schools ; education of the poor, &c. . . . 234 
 
 2. The Spectator, on the benefit of labor and exercise 237 
 
 3. The Spectator, on the advantages of temperance . 239 
 
 4. Belknap's address to the people of N. Hampshire • 242 
 
 5. Dialogue on female education .... 245 
 
 6. Speech of Mr. White, in Congress, on education . 248 
 
 7. Extracts from Mr. Madison's letter on education . 251 
 
 8. Prospects of America, — from the Address of J. Roberts, 
 
 Esq. to the Pennsylvania Agricultural Society • 252 
 
vm 
 
 PAGE. 
 Sec. 9. Persuasive to early piety and moral rectitude, — from Dr. 
 Beasley's Address to the senior class of the students 
 of the University of Pennsylvania .... 255 
 
 10. General establishment of free schools : — inhumanity of 
 
 imprisonment for debt ; from Gov. Thomas' Message 
 
 to the Legislature of Delaware .... 258 
 
 11. Early rising conducive to health and long life . 262 
 
 PART EIGHTH. 
 Chap. 1. Pope's Essay on Man, #c. 
 Epist. 1. Of the nature and state of man with respect to the 
 
 universe 263 
 
 2. On the nature and state of man with respect to himself, 
 
 as an individual .268 
 
 3. Of the nature and state of man with respect to society 274 
 
 4. Of the nature and state of man with respect to happi- 
 
 ness 279 
 
 5. The universal prayer . . . . . . 288 
 
 Chap. 2. Fragments from Thomson's Seasons. 
 
 Sec. 1. Early rising; — Address to the Sun .... 290 
 
 2. Charity . . . . ... . 291 
 
 3. Primeval Innocence ...... ib. 
 
 4. Barbarity of hunting and shooting merely for sport 292 
 
 5. Address to Philosophy ; Advantages of Science, Arts, 
 
 and Civilization 293 
 
 6. Domestic Happiness 294 
 
 Chap. 3. Miscellaneous Articles. 
 
 Sec. 1. Happiness; — by Miss Ann Candler . * . 296 
 
 2. Cruelty to inferior animals censured .... 297 
 
 3. Mischievous Amusements of schoolboys . . . 298 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 An economical Project for the expeditious and universal diffusion 
 
 of knowledge * 299 
 
RECOMMENDATIONS- 
 
 From John Van Ness Yates, Esq. Secretary of the State of New-York, and 
 Superintendent of Common Schools, ex officio 
 
 Dr. Jesse Torrey, Jtjx, 
 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 I have perused, with much pleasure, the volume lately published by you, enti- 
 tled " The Moral Instructor, and Guide to Virtue" and I have no hesitation in 
 giving it my most decided and unqualified approbation. The selections it con- 
 tains are well adapted to promote the great purposes it has in view: and I think 
 it ought to be in the hands of every Parent, Guardian, and Instructor, as a man- 
 ual which will essentially benefit the rising generation. — The original pieces in 
 the work, are highly creditable to your head and heart, and worthy 01 perusal 
 and patronage. 
 
 I sincerely wish you success in this work, and that every seminary of educa- 
 tion and virtue may both be profited and delighted by your labours. 
 I am, respectfully, your most obedient servant, 
 
 JOHN VAN NESS YATES. 
 Albany, June 4, 1819. 
 
 From the Hon. Samuel Youn^, Member of the Senate of the State of 
 N ew-York. 
 
 I have perused a book compiled by Dr. Jesse Torrey, entitled " The Moral 
 Instructor" and am satisfied that it is well calculated to instruct youth in cor- 
 rect moral sentiments; and that its introduction into Common Schools would be 
 highly useful. 
 
 SAMUEL YOUNG, 
 Ballston, June 1, 1819. 
 
 From the Hon. Estes Howe. 
 
 Albany, June 4, 1819. 
 Sir, 
 I have been much gratified in the examination of your "Moral Instructor" 
 and do not know of any Book of Morals more useful, or better calculated to be 
 put into the hands of our youth. 
 
 I do therefore, cheerfully recommend it to the use of our Schools and Acad- 
 emies. 
 
 Very respectfully, yours, &c. 
 
 ESTES HOWE. 
 Dr. J. Torrey, 
 
 Extract of a note from the Hon. Thomas Jefferson, late President of the Uni-- 
 ted States, dated Monticello, Jan- 5, 1822. 
 "I thank you, Sir, for the copy of you* i Moral Instructor.' I had read the 
 first edition with great satisfaction, and encouraged its reading in my family." 
 
 Extracts of a Letter from the Hon. James Madison, late President of the Uni- 
 ted States, dated Montpelier, Jan. 30, 1822. 
 " Sir, 
 
 * I have received your letter of the 15th, with a copy of the * Moral Instruc- 
 tor.'" 
 
 " I have looked enough into your little volume to be satisfied, that both the ori- 
 ginal and selected parts contain information and instruction which may be useful, 
 not only to juvenile, but most other readers." 
 
 " Your plan of free libraries, to be spread through the community, does credit 
 
to your benevolent zeal. The trial of them, in behalf of apprentices, seems to 
 have been justly approved, and to have had an encouraging success-" 
 
 "A tree of useful knowledge, planted in every neighborhood, would lielp to 
 make a paradise— as that of forbidden use, occasioned the loss of one- And I 
 wish you success in propagating the fruitful blessing. 
 
 " With friendly respects, 
 
 JAMES MADISON." 
 Dr. Torrey. 
 
 Extracts of Letters from the Hon- John Adams, late President of the United 
 States, dated Montezillo, Feb- 8. and March 13, 1820. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 a I thank you for your * Moral Instructor •' I have read the table of contents, 
 and turned over the leaves, and have found nothing but such excellent maxims 
 of wisdom and virtue, which cannot be too plentifully scattered among the peo- 
 ple, nor presented in too great a variety of forms. The compilation and compo- 
 sition of this work must have cost you much labor of research, and of thought, 
 which merits well of the public." 
 
 " As I am a friend to all rational measures for propagating knowledge among 
 all classes of people, I wish success to your project of free libraries. " A repub- 
 lican government, without knowledge and virtue, is a body without a soul — a 
 5 of corruption and putrefaction — food for worms. 
 " I am, Sir, your obliged and obedient humble servant, 
 
 JOHN ADAMS." 
 
 From Frederick Beasley, Provost of the University of Pennsylvania. 
 I have examined Mr- Torrey 's work, entitled, " The Moral Instructor" and 
 think that he has condensed into it as much useful information as I have ever 
 seen collected into so small a compass, and moreover, consider it as one of the 
 best books of the kind to be read by young persons, either in our schools or out 
 of them, that has been compiled- 
 
 FREDERICK BEASLEY- 
 June 26, 1828. 
 
 _ \ 
 
 From Roberts Vaux, President of the Controllers of the Public Schools in 
 
 Philadelphia. 
 " The Moral Instmictor " is a valuable compilation. It appears to be well 
 adapted for elementary schools; and it will give me pleasure to learn that the les- 
 sons which it contains are furnished for the improvement of our youth generally. 
 
 Respectfully, 
 
 ROBERTS VAUX. 
 Philadelphia, 5th mo. 8, 1823. 
 
 From teachers of Schools and Academies- 
 The subscribers, having carefully examined " The Moral Instructor and Guide 
 to Virtue and Happiness," freely give our opinion that it contains a condensed 
 body of valuable moral and philosophical instruction, which ought to be in pos- 
 session of every individual — As a compendium of moral knowledge, we con- 
 sider it an essential book for every family library and seminary of education. 
 JOSIAH J. UNDERHILL, teacher of Lancaster school, Hudson- 
 ENOCH HAIGHT, teacher, Nine Partners' boarding school. 
 A. G- THOMPSON, English teacher in the academy at Poughkeepsie. 
 T. W. NORTON, teacher of a select school, Albany. 
 R. O. K. BENNETT, teacher in Troy. 
 
 NICHOLAS MORRIS, Principal of Wesleyan Seminary, New- York. 
 AARON MERCHANT, Principal of Union Academy, New- York. 
 HALLO WAY W- HUNT, Jr. Principal of Trenton Academy. 
 M. SMITH, Principal of Elizabethtown Academy. 
 ANDREW SMITH, Principal of Newark Academy. 
 SAMUEL BLOOD, Preceptor of Franklin Academy, Chambersburg, Pa- 
 
XI 
 
 From Teachers in Washington City. 
 Central Academy, Washington, D> C. April 10, 1828. 
 We have carefully examined " The Moral Instructor and Guide to Virtue" 
 published by Dr. J. Torrey, and consider it one of the best books for the use of 
 schools, that we have ever seen. It is a work well calculated to enlighten the 
 minds, and improve the habits of youth, and to impress them with the advantages 
 of knowledge and virtue- 
 
 We have adopted it as a class book in the seminary under our care; and think 
 its universal introduction into American academies and schools and private fami- 
 lies would be of great public utility. 
 
 JOHN M'LEOD, Principal. 
 ROBERT KIRKWOOD. 
 
 Having carefully perused " The Moral Instructor," I concur in the above 
 mentioned sentiments, and have introduced it into the school under my care. 
 
 HENRY OULD, 
 Teacher of Washington Lancasterian school for the first District 
 April 10, 1823. 
 
 From Mr. Salem Town, Principal of Granville Academy, N- Y. 
 I have carefully examined " The Moral Instructor ;" and am satisfied, that the 
 work is well calculated to enlighten the understanding, and improve the heart; 
 to form the moral taste of our youth, in accordance with the sound principles of 
 morality and virtue. SALEM TOWN-* 
 
 Granville, Jan- 8, 1820. 
 
 I concur in the opinion of the above gentleman. 
 
 JOSEPH HOXIE, Principal of Philom. Academy. 
 New-York, Feb. 20, 1820. 
 
 From Teachers of Academies and Schools in Baltimore and Philadelphia- 
 Having examined " The Moral Instructor," and being satisfied that it is a 
 work well adapted for the higher classes of scholars in Academies and Schools, 
 we have concluded to adopt it as a class book in the seminaries under our care; 
 and cheerfully recommend it to the public as a valuable repository of moral in- 
 formation, — interesting to all classes of society, but particularly deserving the 
 attentive and repeated perusal of young persons of both sexes, from ten years to 
 maturity of age- In giving publicity to our high estimation of the merits of the 
 Moral Instructor, we consider ourselves as rendering a service to society, (if 
 the work should, in consequence, be more known and circulated) as well as jus- 
 tice to the author, who, in our opinion, is entitled to the gratitude of the rising 
 generation, and the thanks and patronage of parents and teachers. 
 
 JAMES F- GOULD, 
 
 ALEXANDER M'CAINE, 
 
 D. & J. M'INTIRE, 
 
 F. FENNER, 
 
 J. WALKER, Jun. 
 
 WM- KESLEY, 
 
 JOHN WRIGHT, 
 
 R. P. STROUD, 
 
 F. SPENCER, 
 
 Baltimore, April, 1823. 
 
 J. WALKER, & SON, 
 
 A- CLARK, 
 
 A. B. CLEAVELAND, 
 
 IRA HILL, 
 
 R. M. JONES, 
 
 MICHAEL POWER, 
 
 L. H- GIRARDIN, Principal of Bal^ 
 
 timore College, 
 PATRICK O'KELLY, German St. 
 
 JOHN OWEN, (JOSEPH WOOD, 
 
 W B. TAPPAN & S. M'L- STA- DANIEL L. PECK, Teacher of the 
 
 PLES, Congregational School, of the 2<i 
 
 GEORGE DENISON, College Ave- Presbyterian Church, 
 
 nue, • i 
 
 * Now Preceptor of the Academy at Athens, Georgia., 
 
Xll 
 
 THOMAS T. SMILEY, 29 Church 
 
 Alley, 
 CHARLES BARRINGTON, 129 
 
 Lombard street, 
 SHEPHERD A. REEVE, Professor 
 of Mathematics, N atural Philosophy, 
 &c. and Principal of Franklin Aca- 
 demy. 
 
 Philadelphia, May, 1823. 
 
 J. IRVIN HITCHCOCK, 22 Cfaeray 
 
 JOSEPH R. CHANDLER, 164 N 
 
 Third street, 
 BENJAMIN MAYO, 
 WILLIAM DUNCAN, 
 J LEWIS & R. FISH, 
 J. WARREN, 6 North Eighth etreet 
 JOHN HANCE. 
 
 Extract of a letter from John Hamer, teacher of English, Mathematics, &c. 
 Dear Sir, 
 
 I have perused " The Moral Instructor" more than once, with increased 
 satisfaction, and have pleasure in giving it my unqualified approbation. I have 
 no hesitation to say, that the compilation is, in my estimation, much the best that 
 has appeared in the English language. 
 
 Respectfully yours, 
 
 JOHN HAMER. 
 Old College, N- 4th st- Philad- October 30th, 1823. 
 
 Extracts from the Columbian- 
 "THE MORAL INSTRUCTOR." 
 " I have occasionally dipped into Dr. Torrey's Moral Instructor, first from 
 curiosity, and then more paiticu^arly to ascertain the drift or tenor of the work, 
 and the manner in which it is executed. Having known the author and compi- 
 ler for several years, I could expect nothing but sound morality, correct philoso- 
 phy and useful instruction from this book- It is an Essay to do Good, like Cotton 
 Mather's, and cannot be read without benefit. 1 ' " I find nothing in it to offend 
 the strictest sectarian in religion or politics, and consider myself discharging a 
 duty and rendering a benefit to society in recommending so cheap and valuable 
 a compend to public notice, as a very excellent and proper work for the use of 
 schools, as well as private families and individuals. C H. 
 
 From the Maryland Herald. 
 " Having examined a copy of the second edition of the Moral Instructor, we 
 think it highly deserving or the respectable and empliatical commendations which 
 it has received- It ought to have a universal circulation. The wise maxims and 
 precepts with which it abounds, are interesting to people of all classes and con- 
 ditions, and we think it is the best compilation for the m« ntal and moral improve- 
 ment of youth, that we have seen, foreign or domestic-" 
 
 From Edward P. Livingston, Esq- late Senator in Congress, from the State 
 of New- York. 
 
 Having perused the " Moral Instructor" compiled by Dr. Torrey, I concur 
 in opinion with those gentlemen who have recommended it as a work which may 
 be ueetully introduced into Academies and Common Schools. 
 
 EDWARD P. LIVINGSTON. 
 
THE MORAL INSTRUCTOR, 
 
 AND 
 
 GUIDE TO VIRTUE. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 ORIGINAL ESSAYS ON THE DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE, 
 MORAL REFORMATION, &c. 
 
 CHAPTER 1. 
 
 ESSAYS ON THE GENERAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE, 
 SECTION I. 
 
 Necessity and advantages of Knowledge. 
 
 14 Man's general ignorance, old as the flood, 
 " For ages on ages has steep'd him in blood." 
 
 1 KNOWLEDGE is essentially necessary to the well 
 being and happiness of every member of the human family, 
 whether male or female, rich or poor. To ignorance may be 
 traced the origin of most of the vices, crimes, errors and fol- 
 lies, that distract and destroy mankind. It is the mother of 
 misery — a mazy labyrinth of perpetual night. 
 
 2 Besides the intellectual pleasure derived from the ac- 
 quisition and possession of useful knowledge, the well-in- 
 formed man (of whatever occupation) being acquainted with 
 moral and physical causes and effects, has an eminent advan- 
 tage over the ignorant man, in the capacity of providing for 
 his welfare. General instruction, therefore, is the harbinger 
 of national virtue, prosperity and happiness. 
 
 3 The public or private provision for elementary educa- 
 tion in common schools, has, of late, become very general in 
 the United States. But the education of youth should not 
 cease with the expiration of. their attendance on public 
 schools. Legislators and parents indulge themselves in a 
 pernicious mistake, if they suppose that the primary arts of 
 spelling, reading, writing, grammar, and arithmetic, the prin- 
 cipal branches taught ia common schools, will qualify our 
 
14 
 
 youth for the various social, moral, and political duties of 
 life. Those indispensable arts are the keys — but libraries 
 are the chests of knowledge. 
 
 4 Although it is an axiom, generally admitted, that in- 
 terest and happiness are identified with the practice of virtue 
 and moral rectitude, yet, so powerful is the influence of 
 example and the habits of society, that much reading and 
 much reflection are generally requisite (and they sometimes 
 fail) to produce a firm resolution to adopt the principle of 
 virtue and moral rectitude as an inflexible rule of conduct. 
 
 5 Much the greater proportion of our youth are dismissed 
 from the primary schools, and arrive to maturity, with very 
 little or no acquaintance with the precepts and works of the 
 most eminent moral teachers, whose names are preserved 
 from oblivion. 
 
 6 The printing press is the main engine, and books are 
 the rapid vehicles for the general distribution of instruction. 
 The discovery of the art of printing, and of manufacturing 
 paper, gives us a vast ascendency over our ancestors in the 
 facility of propagating knowledge ; yet, notwithstanding the 
 immense difference between the cost of books within the last 
 four hundred years, and the whole anterior space of time, 
 but few, comparatively speaking, can sustain the expense of 
 private libraries. 
 
 7 Most people would probably become readers, if fur- 
 nished with suitable books at a proper time of life. It is 
 only necessary to offer instruction to the voluntary accept- 
 ance of youth, in a proper manner, to produce an ardent 
 appetite for it. It will be found, by computing the leisure- 
 of every youth, at two hours daily, from the age of ten to 
 twenty-one years, that it is sufficient for reading seven hun- 
 dred volumes 12mo. of three hundred pages. 
 
 8 The long preparatory period of youth, designed by our 
 beneficent Creator, for the acquirement of knowledge, and 
 laying the foundation for a useful and happy life, to the 
 greatest portion of mankind, is almost entirely lost, and 
 often worse than lost, except as to the attainment of corpo- 
 real maturity. 
 
 9 The countless hordes of savages, composing an im- 
 mense majority of the human race, as well as millions of 
 people classed among civilized nations, may be said to grow 
 up and march successively through the journey of life, in a 
 state of mental childhood. Hence it is no mystery, that they 
 remain, perpetually, in a state of delusion and depravity. 
 
15 
 
 10 Intellectual cultivation is the basis of virtue a«id hap- 
 piness. As mental improvement advances, vice and crimes 
 recede. That desirable happy era, when the spirit of peace 
 and benevolence shall pervade all the nations which inhabit 
 the earth ; when national, personal, and mental slavery r , shall 
 be exterminated ; when nations and individuals shall cease 
 to hunt and destroy each other's lives and property ; when 
 the science and implements of human preservation and fe- 
 licity, shall be substituted for those of slaughter and wo, will 
 commence, precisely at the moment when the rays of useful 
 knowledge, wisdom and virtue, shall have been extended to 
 the whole human family. 
 
 1 1 By useful knowledge, I mean not only an acquaintance 
 with valuable arts and sciences, but also, an understanding of 
 our various moral and religious duties, in relation to our 
 Creator, to our neighbour, and to ourselves. 
 
 12 By wisdom, I mean that kind of sagacity, which in- 
 fluences us to regulate our passions and conduct, in con- 
 formity to the precepts of knowledge, reason and religion. 
 Until an approach towards such a state of things is effected, 
 the names of peace, liberty and security, on this earth, will 
 differ but little from an ignis fatuus, either to monarchs or 
 their vassals. 
 
 13 At present, violence assumes almost universal sway ; 
 and ignorance is the magic spell which sustains its sceptre. 
 Therefore, what more glorious achievement, what greater 
 aggregate and ultimate good, can be produced to mankind, 
 by the application of the power of governments and the 
 surplus wealth of individuals, than by reclaiming man from 
 the chains of ignorance, vice, oppression and misery, and 
 thereby, elevating poor degraded human nature to that scale 
 of dignity in the creation, to which it was evidently destined, 
 by the Supreme Parent of the Universe. 
 
 14 In our own country, particularly, instruction ought to 
 be universal. For virtue only, can sustain and perpetuate 
 our political organization. As every citizen, therefore, is 
 vitally interested in the universal dissemination of know- 
 ledge and virtue, let all classes combine their influence and 
 means, in promoting the general welfare. 
 
 15 In addition to the motives of patriotism and benevo- 
 lence, the wealthier classes of society, are interested in a 
 pecuniary point of view, in the universal intellectual and 
 moral improvement of youth. For, as intemperance and in- 
 dolence are the invariable, and almost only causes of pau- 
 
16 
 
 perism, Dimes, voluntarily applied to the instruction of 
 
 Jouth, will prevent the compulsory expenditure of as many 
 dollars, in partially relieving the miseries of pauperism, and 
 the premature diseases of self-immolated victims of vice. 
 
 16 It is very seldom that men of intelligence, who have 
 been educated to habits of virtue and industry, and who de- 
 light to employ their leisure hours in the acquirement of use- 
 ful knowledge, by reading or otherwise, will deliriously and 
 idolatrously sacrifice their reputations, their estates and 
 lives, their wives and children, in a word, their happiness, 
 to the voracious, unmerciful, and barbarous god of intem- 
 perance. 
 
 1 7 Let American legislators, both national and sectional, 
 perform their duty to their country and its posterity ; and 
 to mankind, by listening to the wise counsels of many illus- 
 trious living sages, and pursue, without delay, the inestima- 
 ble "parting advice" of George Washington, Benjamin 
 Rush, Samuel Adams, and other departed friends and patrons 
 of man ; and establish public schools, and judiciously select- 
 ed free circulating libraries, in every part of the Republic 
 
 18 Let moral virtue constitute an essential branch of in- 
 struction in every school ; so that our youth may be care- 
 fully taught the art of acting correctly, as well as of speak- 
 ing, reading, and writing correctly. 
 
 1 9 Dr. Rush, in his Oration, " On the Influence of Physi- 
 *\al causes upon the Moral Faculty," makes an earnest ap- 
 peal in favour of universal knowledge : — "Illustrious Coun- 
 sellors and Senators of Pennsylvania!" he exclaims, "I 
 anticipate your candid reception of this feeble effort to in- 
 crease the quantity of virtue in the republic. 
 
 20 " Nothing can be politically right, that is morally 
 wrong ; and no necessity can sanctify a law, that is contrary 
 to equity. Virtue is the soul of the Republic. There is 
 but one method of preventing crimes, and of rendering a 
 republican form of government durable, and that is, by dis- 
 seminating the seeds of virtue and knowledge, through every 
 part of the state, by means of proper places and modes of 
 education, and this can be done effectually only by the inter- 
 ference and aid of the Legislature. 
 
 21 a I am so deeply impressed with the truth of this 
 opinion, that were this evening to be the last of my life, I 
 would not only say to the asylum of my ancestors, and my 
 beloved country, with the patriot of Venice, ' Esto perpetua,' 
 [Be thou perpetual] but I would add, as the last proof of my 
 
17 
 affection for her, my parting advice to the guardians of her 
 liberties, no establish PUBLIC SCHOOLS in every part 
 of the State/ 
 
 22 " Promote, then, as an object of primary importance, 
 institutions for the general diffusion of kncrwledge. In pro- 
 portion as the structure of a government gives force to pub- 
 lic opinion, it is essential that public opinion should be en- 
 lightened." Washington. 
 
 23 "To secure the perpetuation of our Republican form of 
 Government to future generations, let Divines and Philoso- 
 phers, Statesmen and Patriots, unite their endeavours to ren- 
 ovate the age, by impressing the minds of the people with 
 the importance of educating their little boys and girls." 
 
 S. Jldams. 
 
 24 " A Republican Government, without knowledge and 
 virtue, is a body without a soul — a mass of corruption and 
 putrefaction — food for worms." J. Adams. 
 
 25 "I know no safe depository of the ultimate powers of 
 society, but the people themselves : and if we think them 
 not enlightened enough to exercise their control with a 
 wholesome discretion, the remedy is, not to take it from them, 
 but to inform their discretion by education." Jefferson. 
 
 26 "Without knowledge, the blessings of liberty cannot 
 be fully enjoyed, or long preserved." Madison. 
 
 27 "Ignorance is every where such an infallible instru- 
 ment of despotism, that there can be no hope of continuing 
 even our present forms of government, either federal or state, 
 much less that spirit of equal liberty and justice, in which 
 they were founded, but by diffusing universally among the 
 people that portion of instruction which is sufficient to teach 
 them their duties and their rights. " Barlow. 
 
 28 "And without going into the monitory history of the 
 ancient world, in all its quarters, and at all its periods, that of 
 the soil in which we live, and of its occupants, indigenous 
 and emigrant, teaches the awful lesson — that no nation is 
 permitted to live in ignorance with impunity" Jefferson. 
 
 29 "With knowledge and virtue the united efforts of ig 
 norance and tyranny may be defied." 
 
 Miller ', late governor of North Carolina. 
 
 30 " In a government where all may aspire, to the highest 
 offices in the state, it is essential that education should be 
 placed within the reach of all. Without intelligence, self- 
 government, our dearest privilege, cannot be exercised." 
 
 Nicholas, late governor of Virginia. 
 
 B2 
 
18 
 
 31 Clinton, late governor of New York, has elegantly ex- 
 pressed his sentiments; "That education is the guardian of 
 liberty and the bulwark of morality. And that knowledge 
 and virtue are, generally speaking, inseparable companions, 
 and are, in the moral, what light and heat are in the natural 
 World — the illuminating and vivifying principle." 
 
 32 "Knowledge distinguishes civilized from savage life. 
 Its cultivation in youth promotes virtue, by creating habits of 
 mental discipline ; and by inculcating a sense of moral obli- 
 gation. Knowledge is, therefore, the best foundation of hap- 
 piness." Blair. 
 
 33 "Then, (says Professor Waterhouse, alluding to the 
 invention of the art of printing) did knowledge raise weep- 
 ing humanity from the dust, and with her blazing torch, point 
 the way to happiness and peace." 
 
 34 Dr. Darwin very properly, calls the "PRINTING 
 PRESS the most useful of modern inventions ; the capacious 
 reservoir of human knowledge, whose branching streams 
 diffuse sciences, arts and morality, through all nations and 
 ages." 
 
 35 " 'Tis the prolific Press ; whose tablet, fraught 
 By graphic Genius with his painted thought, 
 Flings forth by millions, the prodigious birth, 
 And in a moment stocks the astonished earth." 
 
 Bcwloitfs Columbiad. 
 J. T. 
 
 SECTION II. 
 A serious Address to the rising Generation of the United 
 
 States. 
 Favored Youth, 
 
 1 Contemplate calmly and attentively the sacred legacy 
 which must soon be committed to your charge, in trust for 
 your successors — and eventually for the whole human race ! 
 You constitute the only insulated Ararat, on which the olive 
 branch of peace, and the "glad tidings" of freedom and 
 happiness, can be deposited and preserved to a groaning 
 world drowned in tears ! ! 
 
 2 Prove yourselves, then, deserving of the exalted office 
 which Providence has assigned you. To do this, it is indis- 
 pensable that you cultivate your understandings, and store 
 them with the treasures of knowledge and wisdom. Where 
 these exist, tyranny disappears as darkness in presence of 
 sun beams, Consider, also, that these will preserve you from 
 
19 
 
 the still more odious and destructive despotism of ignorance 
 and vice. 
 
 3 Wisdom and virtue are the offspring of knowledge. 
 " Take fast hold of instruction ; let her not go ; keep her, for 
 she is thy life." " Human happiness is founded upon wisdom 
 and virtue." It is an immutable and universal rule, inter- 
 woven with your existence, that respectability, self-approba- 
 tion and happiness, are the natural and invariable conse- 
 quences of virtue ; and disgrace, remorse and misery, of vice. 
 
 4 Therefore exert yourselves without delay, to secure the 
 means of enlightening your understandings with instruction, 
 during the season allotted to that purpose by your Creator. 
 Form yourselves into societies in your respective neighbor- 
 hoods, and establish free circulating Libraries, by 
 means of subscriptions, and contributions of books. 
 
 5 I am not inclined to advise you to restrain yourselves 
 from a rational indulgence in innocent amusements, but fail 
 not, if you prefer genuine happiness to misery and repent- 
 ance, to devote the most of your evenings and leisure hours 
 to mental improvement and reading. Let your choice of 
 books be directed chiefly to works on practical piety, morals, 
 natural philosophy, natural histoiy, geography and astro- 
 nomy, history and biography. 
 
 6 But beware of the syren lure of novels, plays, and 
 romances. Is not a beautiful garden, in a state of living 
 verdure, and native bloom, both more entertaining and use- 
 ful, than a heap of counterfeit artificial flowers, composed 
 of paper, blackened with ink ? The fascinating habit of read- 
 ing novels, &c. not only injures the health, by incessant, 
 unseasonable night-reading, but, with a very few exceptions^ 
 inflames the imagination, and fits the mind for a world of 
 fiction and romance, instead of a world of realities, and im- 
 pairs the relish for plain solid instruction. 
 
 7 If you can first prevail on yourselves to taste the salutary 
 sweets of authentic biography, history, travels, &c. you 
 will ever after, with rare exceptions, view a novel with in- 
 difference, if not with disgust. 
 
 8 Let your library, and your reading, commence with 
 the following books : The Looking Glass for the mind ; the 
 Newtonian System of Philosophy, explained; Burton's 
 Lectures to young ladies ; Mayo's Abridgment of Natural 
 History ; Blair's Grammar of Chemistry ; Book of Nature ; 
 Blair's Sermons ; Stretch's Beauties of History ; History of 
 Sanford and Merfcon ; Morse's Universal Geography ; Blair's 
 
20 
 Universal Preceptor ; Lord Mayor of London's Advice to 
 Apprentices ; Spectator ; Tatler ; Rambler ; V. Knox's Es- 
 says; Rogers' Biographical Dictionary; Ramsay's History 
 of the American Revolution, of the United States, Universal 
 History, and Life of Washington ; Franklin's Works ; 
 Bingley's Useful Knowledge ; Sampson's Brief Remarker ; 
 Catechism of Health, by Dr. Faust ; and Dr. Armstrong's 
 Art of preserving Health. 
 
 9 The youth not already trained to depravity, that can 
 read merely these few books, without being fascinated with 
 the pleasures of science, wisdom, virtue, benevolence, and 
 moral rectitude, must be a prodigy of stupidity and worth- 
 lessness. 
 
 10 And, here, after having endeavored to demonstrate to 
 you the advantages of knowledge and mental improvement, 
 I should consider it a neglect of duty, to omit cautioning you' 
 against excessive reading and study ; which are but little less 
 pernicious to health, than other kinds of intemperance. 
 
 11 Never more than eight hours, daily, should be, habit- 
 ually, devoted to study, or any inactive employment ; nor 
 less than three to exercise, either at labor, riding, walking, 
 or active, but moderate recreation. It would undoubtedly 
 promote the literary progress, as well as the health of stu- 
 dents of academies, colleges, &e. to require them to labor two 
 or three hours daily, either on a farm, in a garden, or 
 mechanical work shop. 
 
 12 Such a discipline ought to be introduced, not only for 
 the purpose of preserving health and invigorating the consti- 
 tution, but also of qualifying students, destined for whatever 
 profession, for some kind of productive industry, if their in- 
 clination or condition should, in the course of life, 'require it.* 
 
 1 3 Except for medical purposes, taste not distilled spirits 
 at all. It is a poisonous enemy to human life, in proportion 
 to the quantity drank, whether temperately or intemperately. 
 
 14 It is to you, ye young sons and daughters of Columbia, 
 ye who are yet innocent, who are yet free from the snares of 
 
 * The studious, the contemplative, the valetudinary and those of weak 
 nerves — if they aim at health and long life, must make exercise in a good 
 air, a part of their religion. — (Cheyne on Long Life.) — The late Dr. 
 Wistar recommended walking at least six miles, every 24 hours, as the 
 most effectual restorative to a debilitated constitution, and the effect is 
 still more certain as a preservative. Having, myself, been severely in- 
 jured by excessive study, as well as by excessive exercise, my sentiments 
 are the result of experience, of the pernicious effects of both. 
 
21 
 
 wrong habits, that I direct my hopes of a radical reforma- 
 tion of morals. 
 
 15 Accept these counsels of your sincere friend. Obey 
 them with fidelity, and peace, contentment, good will, and 
 gladness, shall be the companions of your lives. J. T. 
 
 CHAPTER 2. 
 
 ESSAYS ON THE USE OF INTOXICATING LIQUORS. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 Public calamities produced by Intemperance. 
 
 1 THE following Report of the Moral Society of Port- 
 land, is a correct miniature of the blackest cloud, probably, 
 that now desolates and threatens ultimate destruction to the 
 only political family on the Globe, which assumes the pre- 
 eminent rank of being enlightened, virtuous and free. 
 
 2 " From a report of an association in Portland, called the 
 Moral Society, it appears that out of 85 persons subject to 
 the public charity in that place, 71 had become so from their 
 intemperance: and that out of 118 supplied at their own 
 houses by the town, more than half are of that description. 
 The expenses of the town in its charities exceed 6000 dollars, 
 and more than two thirds of that sum went to support such 
 persons as were made poor by their vices. Of consequence, 
 7000 persons are taxed 4000 dollars for the vices of their 
 neighbors. 
 
 3 " From these well known facts the report proceeds to 
 calculate almost half a million of dollars paid in the same 
 way in this state only, and if in the same proportion in the 
 United States, the whole amount must be millions. We all 
 inquire what can be done. We cannot take away personal 
 liberty. We cannot prohibit spirituous liquors. We cannot 
 punish persons not convicted of any breach of the laws. We 
 cannot distinguish in the business of life, because the rich are 
 sometimes as blame-worthy as their less wealthy neighbors. 
 
 4 u We can say that when any persons are committed to 
 the public charity, they shall be properly guarded against 
 temptations. That their habits shall be considered, and all 
 restraints which can consist with health, shall be laid. We 
 might hope that some laws of education and life might obtain. 
 But as no love of fame, no great talents, or public trust, can 
 
22 
 
 be said to have been sufficient to prevent men and nations 
 from the guilt and the shame of intemperance, we have a 
 right in the administration of charity, to regard not only the 
 health and hopes of the sufferers, but the safety and the 
 economy of civil society." 
 
 5 One of the principal funnels to the insatiable vortex of 
 intemperance, is the generally prevailing popular error, that 
 the temperate use of ardent spirits, is innocent, and even 
 healthful and necessary. 
 
 6 It is gratifying and encouraging to see the several agri- 
 cultural societies, commence their labors with a bold attack 
 upan this noxious deep-rooted weed. 
 
 7 Extract from the Anniversary Address of J. Le Ray 
 de Chaumont, Esq. President of the Jefferson county 
 Agricultural Society : 
 
 " Gentlemen of the Society : 
 " I do not know a more laudable end our society could have 
 in view than that of preventing the use of ardent spirits. I 
 wish I could without tiring the patience of my audience, re- 
 present here all their pernicious effects upon the human mind 
 and body. Poverty and ruin, crimes and infamy, diseases and 
 death, would be found the leading features in this woful 
 detail. 
 
 8 " Every reflecting man is sensible of the infinite advan- 
 tages which would result in favor of humanity and of mo- 
 rality, if some efficient plan were devised for preventing the 
 too general use of spirituous liquors. To those who believe, 
 that they increase the strength, and fortify the body against 
 fatigue and hardship, I would oppose the opinion of many 
 observing and experienced men, particularly the celebrated 
 General Moreau, who asserts, that from long experience 
 in his array, he has found, that those soldiers who abstained 
 entirely from the use of ardent spirits, and used altogether 
 water, beer, or such simple drinks, were not only more 
 healthy, but much stronger, could endure greater fatigue, 
 were much more moral ; more obedient to orders y and in a 
 word much better soldiers. 
 
 9 " If, then, spirituous liquors are really so injurious to 
 the health and morals of men, what reason can be alleged for 
 continuing the use of them, and who will be their advocate ?" 
 
 10 It is surprising that the Government of our Republic, 
 should annoy the army with a more pitiless enemy than any 
 human foe of the civilized world, by constituting whisky 
 an article of dailv distribution to the soldiers. 
 
23 
 
 1 1 The following extract from the address delivered re- 
 cently at the meeting for organizing an agricultural society 
 in the county of Saratoga, by Doct. Billy J. Clark, contains 
 several moral and political truths, which deserve the serious 
 consideration of every American citizen : 
 
 12 " For us as Americans, who boast the republican sim- 
 plicity of our habits and our manners, there is, in the cata- 
 logue of our expenses, a number of items that require the 
 bold and decisive use of the amputating knife: Amongst 
 these, are the extravagant and almost daily use of many lux- 
 uries, the epidemic mania of following the fashions of the day, 
 through all their* various changes, and those too, so plausibly 
 imposed on us, as the latest importations from the nurseries 
 and hot-beds of monarchy and dissipation. 
 
 13 " The occasional and habitual use of ardent spirits, the 
 unnecessary use of which costs the inhabitants of this coun- 
 ty several thousand dollars in a /ear, imperiously calls for 
 immediate retrenchment. The train of evils that grow out 
 of its habitual use, are too well known to require a descrip- 
 tion from me at this time. 
 
 14 " The laborer's plea of necessity, the plea of the man 
 of business and of pleasure, of innocence, in its temperate 
 indulgence, are equally futile, and unfounded in truth. 
 
 15 " Let us then reflect on the dire consequences that 
 have resulted to individuals, to families, and to communities, 
 and those of us at least, who can bcfast exemption from the 
 iron grasp of habitual tyranny, from the organization of this 
 society, firmly resolve to abandon its use, not only from a 
 regard to our own individual benefit, but from a considera- 
 tion of the advantages that our children will derive from our 
 example. " 
 
 16 The following extract of a report of one of the Massa- 
 chusetts Societies for the suppression of intemperance and 
 other vices, is inserted here, in the hope that their honorable 
 example may be imitated as far as it may circulate, by every 
 agricultural and moral society, and farmer, and manufacturer. 
 
 17 " To abolish the custom of giving stated potations of 
 ardent spirits to hired laborers, which has been a prolific 
 source of intemperate habits, the members of this association 
 have agreed not to furnish to the men they employ, a daily 
 allowance of spirit; nor to give it, except in cases of particu- 
 lar necessity. We have the pleasure to state, that no difficul- 
 ty, to our knowledge, has arisen on this account in procuring 
 faithful laborers. Some, who are not members of the society > 
 
24 
 
 have adopted the same rule ; and there is good reason to be- 
 lieve, that the pernicious custom is gradually wearing away, 
 and will eventually become entirely obsolete." 
 
 18 Extract from Darwin' ] s Zoonomia, Sec. 30. "When 
 the expediency of laying a further tax on the distillation of 
 spirituous liquors from grain was canvassed before the House 
 of Commons some years ago, it was said of the distillers, with 
 great truths ' they take the BREAD from the people and 
 convert it into POISON P Yet is this manufactory of dis- 
 ease permitted to continue, as appears by its paying into the 
 treasury above ;£900,000,* near a million of money annual- 
 ly. — And thus, under the names of rum, brandy, gin, whisky, 
 usquebaugh, wine, cider, beer, and porter, alcohol is become 
 the bane of the Christian world, as opium of the Mahometan. 
 
 19 "I shall conclude this section on the diseases of the 
 liver, induced by spirituous liquors, with the well known 
 story of Prometheus, whfch seems indeed to have been in- 
 vented by physicians in those ancient times, when all things 
 were clothed in hieroglyphic, or fable. Prometheus was 
 painted as stealing fire from Heaven, which might well re- 
 present the inflammable spirit, produced by fermentation ; 
 which may be said to animate or enliven the man of clay : 
 whence the conquests of Bacchus, as well as the temporary 
 mirth and noise of his devotees. But the after punishment 
 of those who steal this accursed fire> is a vulture gnawing 
 the liver : and well allegorizes the poor inebriate, [drunk- 
 ard,] lingering for years under painful hepatic [liver] dis- 
 eases." 
 
 20 But it is almost as useless to expostulate with veterans 
 in the ranks of Bacchus, as with those who are confident that 
 they are under the power of witchcraft. This fact is well 
 illustrated by the reply of a boozy tippler to a Friend, who 
 was representing to him the terrible consequences of intem- 
 perance, u I have no doubt, said he, but that all you say is 
 true, but you might as well sing psalms to a dead horse as 
 to talk to me." 
 
 21 Yet let us not forget that these unfortunate victims of 
 their own weakness and imprudence are still men, and claim 
 our sympathy and commiseration for their want of discre- 
 tion. And if warnings and entreaties will not prevail, let us 
 resort to more efficacious means for their relief as well as for 
 the protection of the common interest against the effects of 
 
 * About 4,000,000 dollars. 
 
25 
 their conduct. Reproachful denunciations, however, are not 
 only useless, but injurious and uncharitable. 
 
 22 Too often, it is true, men of genius and learning, are 
 seen ivhirling, ivith delirious apathy, in the frightful 
 vortex of intemperance and destruction; — but much the 
 greatest proportion of the cases of mental debility and dis- 
 ease of this kind, must be attributed to the want of proper 
 education, and an early taste and opportunity for reading. It 
 is lamentable, as well as astonishing, that so few of our citi- 
 zens have granted this subject its lawful weight either in the 
 scales of policy, morality, physics, or religion. It has been 
 too long treated with levity and scorn. 
 
 23 Is there an individual who is not now affected, more or 
 less, in some shape or other, from the immense deficit in the 
 national wealth, occasioned by the appropriation of 20,000,000 
 dollars annually, during the last twenty years, to a threefold 
 worse purpose than annihilation ? Twice we have bravely re- 
 sisted and spurned political despotism, and at length we have 
 prostrated our necks under the sceptre of king Alcohol, * 
 
 24 With an incredible infatuation, we have sacrificed the 
 golden presents of Ceres on the hissing copper altars of 
 crazy Bacchus. Were I allowed the privilege of obliterating 
 the two greatest scourges of mankind, I would select the art 
 of distilling food, and the art of w r ar. 
 
 25 I am not disposed to attach any degree of moral turpi- 
 tude, to manufacturers or sellers of ardent spirits ; but it does 
 seem to me, that if they would revolve and scrutinize the 
 subject in its real genuine character, they would not hesitate 
 to renounce an employment which involves in its conse- 
 quences, the propagation of so much human misery and 
 wretchedness. 
 
 26 A merchant of Virginia, by the name of Sholfield, 
 listened to his conscience, and burnt all his distilled liquors 
 
 . publicly on the summit of a mountain. Another in Dela- 
 ware, beat in the heads of his rum casks. A respectable 
 French gentleman having purchased an estate at Buffalo, 
 (N. Y. ) on which was a distilling establishment, demolished it 
 immediately on taking possession, saying he " had done one 
 good deed." 
 
 21 And it would undoubtedly be a national benefit if nine- 
 tenths of the wholesale and retail merchants and distillers in 
 America, would adopt "this great and universal truth, that 
 
 * Intoxicating spirit distilled from wine, beer, cider, &c. 
 
26 
 
 with a pure heart one i$ never unhappy " % and secure to 
 themselves the applause of their own consciences, and the 
 admiration and gratitude of mankind, by imitating these illus- 
 trious examples of heroism in the cause of human happiness. 
 Let them consider another equally great and universal in- , 
 verse truth, that without a pure heart one is never happy ^ 
 with all the lucre that avarice can grasp. 
 
 28 " No man (says Dr. Rush) ever became suddenly a 
 drunkard. It is by gradually accustoming the taste and 
 stomach to ardent spirits, in the forms of grog and toddy, that 
 men have learned to love them in their more destructive 
 mixtures, and in their simple state. Under the impression 
 of this truth, were it possible for me to speak with a voice 
 so loud as to be heard from the river St. Croix, to the re- 
 motest shores of the Mississippi, I would say, Friends and 
 Fellow Citizens, avoid the use of those two seducing liquors, 
 whether they be made with brandy, rum, gin, Jamaica spirits, 
 whisky, or what is called cherry bounce. 
 
 29 "It is highly probable not less than 4,000 people die 
 annually from the use of ardent spirits, in the United States. 
 Should they continue to exert their deadly influence upon 
 our population, where will their evils terminate ? The loss 
 of 4,000 American citizens by the yellow fever in a single 
 year, awakened general sympathy and terror, and called 
 forth all the strength and ingenuity of the laws to prevent 
 its recurrence. 
 
 30 " Why is not the same zeal manifested in protecting 
 our citizens from the more general and consuming ravages 
 of distilled spirits ? Let good men of every class unite and 
 besiege the general and state governments with petitions to 
 limit the number of taverns ; to impose heavy duties upon 
 ardent spirits, " &c. 
 
 31 Another writer who has given a lively picture of the 
 devastations of distilled liquors, says, " let men who wish 
 well to their country, unite in petitions to government, to 
 impose still heavier duties upon imported spirits, and our 
 <*vn distillers ; and to regulate taverns and retailers of spirits ; 
 and secure the property of habitual drunkards, for the benefit 
 of their families. " 
 
 32 It is the more indispensable to obtain the sentiments 
 of the people at large, on this momentous question, in the 
 manner here proposed, on account of an erroneous prejudice 
 
 * Camot. 
 
27 
 
 indulged by some law-makers, that legislative restrictions 
 upon the manufacture, sale, and consumption of spirituous 
 liquors, would violate the civil rights of the people, and 
 excite disaffection and rebellion. With respect to the former 
 objection, the fact is precisely the reverse. 
 
 33 The citizen who squanders his property, or his time 
 and health in dissipation, and, consequently, exposes him- 
 self or a family to suffer for the necessaries of life, unless 
 relieved by his neighbors or the public, violates the civil 
 rights of, and his own moral and political obligations to, 
 society. And there is no doubt that taxes on spirits will, 
 generally, be cheerfully paid by the consumer, when he is 
 assured that the revenue is to be applied to the education of 
 his children, or, perhaps, ultimately, to his own support. 
 
 34 The probability is, that a more formidable resistance 
 will spring from importers, manufacturers, and venders of 
 ardent spirits, than from the consumers. But it must be a 
 very unwise and unsound policy that permits the general 
 good to be sacrificed to individual gain. 
 
 35 Let the question, therefore, be fairly submitted to the 
 people at large, who are the legitimate sovereigns of the 
 land. The case demands the concurrent perseverance of all 
 who possess the least sympathy for the sufferings and woes of 
 their fellow men ; and the very sufferers are not so iiiuiffer- 
 ent as has been generally supposed. Many have addressed 
 their supreme Parent with supplications to rescue and pro- 
 tect them from the' fascinating charm and twining gripe, 
 with which that cunning serpent, Alcohol, inveigles its prey. 
 
 36 And they are not wholly averse to coercive means of 
 relief. Several have sought their emancipation in oaths of 
 abstinence for a given term. Some have offered premiums 
 for a remedy to the habit of drinking ; and one individual of 
 this description declared to the writer of these essays, that he 
 " wished government would impose a tax upon whisky of 
 
 Jive dollars a gallon, and then he should stop drinking it." 
 
 37 So that the business at length resolves itself into these 
 great moral and political problems — Whether the gene- 
 ral GOOD SHALL BE SACRIFICED TO INDIVIDUAL GAIN? 
 
 Whether distilled spirits ought and shall not be 
 
 HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR ITS DEPREDATIONS ON THE SOLID 
 CAPITAL STOCK OF WEALTH IN OUR COUNTRY? Whether 
 
 both imported and domestic spirits shall not be forthwith 
 taxed to an amr tint sufficient to provide for the support 
 mid instruction of its unhappy victims? J. T, 
 
28 
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 The habitual temperate use of Spirituous Liquors, a 
 violation of moral purity and religious duty. 
 
 1 So far as it is in our power to understand the designs 
 and laws of our Creator, for the regulation of our conduct, it 
 is both our duty and interest to yield perfect compliance. 
 The preservation of health and life is unquestionably one of 
 our most palpable and explicit duties. Every act, therefore, 
 which impairs our health and diminishes the period of our 
 lives, is a violation of the express command of God. 
 
 2 I shall endeavor to demonstrate, by physiological facts, 
 that both these effects are produced, more or less, by the 
 habitual application of distilled spirits to the stomach, in 
 whatever quantity. Composed of very inflammable mate- 
 rials, in a disengaged state, it commences a kind of smothered 
 combustion instantaneously on its reception into the stomach ; 
 corrodes the organs of digestion, excites an unnatural heat 
 and violent circulation of the blood ; attended with delirium, 
 and succeeded by a loss of strength, proportioned to the ex- 
 cess of excitement produced by the irritating agent. Several 
 other poisons produce similar effects. 
 
 3 It is an infallible axiom in the physical organization of 
 man, that every excitement of his vital powers beyond the 
 point to which his Creator has adapted him, which is the 
 uniform effect of alcohol, diminishes his capacity for repeat- 
 ing like motions from like means. Hence it may be safely 
 inferred, that every dram of spirituous liquors of any 
 description, is a check upon the capital stock of strength 
 and life, and hastens the approach of the hour of dissolu- 
 tion, in proportion to the indulgence. 
 
 4 Let the habitual dram drinker, who is or may be the 
 head of a family, reflect, at the same time, that he runs the 
 awful hazard of transmitting the most horrible torturing he- 
 reditary distempers to his defenceless progeny, for ages to 
 come. Each dram increases the appetite for another, and 
 the necessity of an increased quantity, to produce an equal 
 effect, multiplies in a progressive ratio. Thus it follows, 
 unavoidably, that the habitual temperate use of ardent 
 spirits is a pernicious and vicious practice. 
 
 5 Besides its consumption of vital power, it will be found 
 an unjustifiable and immoral habit in another point of view. 
 It is a wanton waste of property, which ought to be preserved 
 
29 
 
 for useful purposes, even by those who possess it, in ever so 
 great profusion. Whoever swallows two gills of distilled 
 spirits daily, destroys 20 bushels of rye a year ; for the want 
 of which some of his own posterity may eventually starve. 
 6 In this way, it has been estimated by a late writer, thai 
 the people of the United States, destroy thirty millions of dol- 
 lars annually. Considering this, and the many other useless 
 and superfluous modes of diminishing the common stock of 
 national wealth, there is no reason to be surprised to hear 
 the present universal re-echo of "hard times," "dull 
 times" "scarcity of money," "sales by execution" 
 "difficulty of collecting debts," "insolvencies," "pau- 
 perism," fyc. Sfc. J. T. 
 
 SECTION III. 
 Speech of the Little Turtle, an Indian Chief 
 
 1 The following specimen of Indian wisdom and pathetic 
 eloquence, was addressed to a committee appointed by the 
 Society of Friends, "For Promoting the Improvement and 
 Civilization of the Indian Natives," at Baltimore, in 1802. It 
 presents a striking mirror to the contemplation of their 
 white brethren. The example of the red chiefs of the 
 forest, and the black chiefs of Hayti, in excluding "the poi- 
 son of the moral world"* from their people, deserves ap- 
 probation and imitation. 
 
 -2 " Brothers and Friends, — When our forefathers first 
 met on this island, your red brethren were very numerous. 
 But since the introduction amongst us of what you call spirit- 
 uous liquors, and what we think may be justly called poison, 
 our numbers are greatly diminished. It has destroyed a 
 great part of your red brethren. 
 
 3 " My Brothers and Friends, — We plainly perceive, 
 that you see the very evil which destroys your red brethren ; 
 it is not an evil of our own making; we have not placed it 
 amongst ourselves ; it is an evil placed amongst us by the 
 white people ; we look to them to remove it out of our 
 country. We tell them, — brethren, fetch us useful things ; 
 bring goods that will clothe us, our women and our children, 
 and not this evil liquor that destroys our reason, that destroys 
 our health, that destroys our lives. But all we can say on this 
 subject is of no service, nor gives relief to your red brethren. 
 
 * Dr. Mitchill. 
 
 C2 
 
30 
 
 4 "My Brothers and Friends, — I rejoice to find that 
 you agree in opinion with us, and express an anxiety to be, if 
 possible, of service to us in removing this great evil out of 
 our country ; an evil which has had so much room in it, and 
 has destroyed so many of our lives, that it causes our young 
 men to say, ' we had better be at war with the white people ; 
 this liquor which they introduce into our country, is more 
 to be feared than the gun and the tomahawk. There are 
 more of us dead since the treaty of Greenville, than we lost 
 by the six years' war before. It is all owing to the intro- 
 duction of this liquor amongst us.' 
 
 5 * Brothers, — When our young men have been out hunt- 
 ing, and are returning home loaded with skins and furs, on 
 their way, if it happens that they come along where some of 
 this whisky is deposited, the white man who sells it, tells 
 them to take a little drink ; some of them will say no, I do 
 not want it ; they go on till they come to another house, 
 where they find more of the same kind of drink ; it is there 
 offered again ; they refuse ; and again the third time ; but 
 finally, the fourth or fifth time, one accepts of it, and takes 
 a drink, and getting one, he wants another ; and then a third 
 and fourth, till his senses have left him. 
 
 6 " After his reason comes back again to him, when he 
 gets up and finds where he is, he asks for his peltry ; the an- 
 swer is, * you have drank them f where is my gun ? ' it is 
 gone ;' where is my blanket ? ' it is gone ;' where is my 
 shirt? 'you have sold it for whisky! !' ' Now, Brothers, 
 figure to yourselves what condition this man must be in. He 
 has a family at home, a wife and children who stand in need 
 of the profits of his hunting. What must be their wants, 
 when he himself is even without a shirt ?" 
 
 CHAPTER 3. 
 
 ESSAYS. ON POLITICAL AND DOMESTIC ECONOMT. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 ^Desultory observations on Moral Reformation and 
 National Economy. 
 
 1 TO attack ancient and favorite habits and prejudices, is 
 not a very encouraging or agreeable undertaking. While 
 error is venerated for its antiquity, truth is discarded for its 
 novelty.. But there is great consolation in the consciousness 
 
31 
 of having done our best to benefit our fellow men, even if 
 our good offices are not kindly received, or duly appreciated. 
 
 2 "Let it be remembered, " says the author of the Friend 
 of Peace, in his reasons for believing that efforts for the aboli- 
 tion of war will not be in vain, "that the charge of a chi- 
 merical project, or < Utopian scheme,' has been uniformly 
 made against the first efforts for the abolition of any popu- 
 lar custom ; yet many such attempts have succeeded, to the 
 astonishment and joy of those who once regarded them as 
 fit subjects of ridicule. " 
 
 3 In a letter of Doctor Rush, to George Clymer, Esq. "on 
 the amusements and punishments proper for schools," he 
 says, "I know how apt mankind are to brand every propo 
 sition for innovation, as visionary and Utopian ; but good 
 men should not be discouraged by such epithets, from their 
 attempts to combat vice and error." 
 
 4 After noticing many of the most valuable discoveries 
 and improvements for meliorating the condition of man, 
 which have been denounced as Utopian projects, he con- 
 cludes his letter, with an anecdote of a minister in London, 
 who, after employing a long sermon, in controverting what 
 he supposed to be an heretioal opinion, concluded it with 
 the following words : "I tell you, I tell you, my brethren, 
 I tell you again, that an old error is better than a new truth, " 
 
 5 "We ought not to shrink from the investigation of truth, 
 however unpopular, nor conceal it, whatever the profession 
 of it may cost Though exertions of this sort are sometimes 
 imputed to unworthy motives, and disinterested attempts to 
 serve the best interests of humanity, are frequently reward- 
 ed with insult and reproach, we ought to reflect that this is 
 the treatment which the advocates of truth have met wi Ji 
 in almost every age."* 
 
 6 As it is our design to promote the prosperity of socie y 
 in the aggregate, it is hoped that individuals, whose occupa- 
 tions depend on those popular follies which we shall endes v- 
 or to exterminate, will not be offended at the course which, a 
 sense of duty impels us to pursue. "It will be impossible 
 to do much good without some persons accounting themselves 
 injured by what you do. You will unavoidably serve soiiie 
 interests to which others are inimical."! 
 
 T^We cannot subscribe to the doctrine of Goldsmith, that 
 
 * Gov. Miller's Message to the Legislature of North Carolina, in 1815 
 J- Essays to do Good. 
 
32 
 
 luxury and fanciful fashions are beneficial, upon a general 
 scale, because they multiply employment for the laboring 
 classes of society. The rational wants of mankind are suffi- 
 ciently numerous to employ the industry and ingenuity of 
 all who are able and willing to labor. 
 
 8 To scrutinize and determine the propriety or impro- 
 priety of ideas and habits acquired from precept or exam- 
 ple in early life, (when their correctness is not called in 
 question,) we need the faculty of divesting ourselves from 
 the influence of previous impressions, and of viewing things 
 with which we have been long familiarized, as though they 
 were newly presented to our senses. 
 
 9 Regardless of the shafts of wit or resentment, or the im- 
 putation of eccentricity, we shall endeavor to exhibit a faith- 
 ful chart of the mistakes and eccentricities of society. 
 
 10 The most universal, mischievous, expensive, and in- 
 excusable customs of the present age of luxury and extrava- 
 gance, are those of adopting sugar, tea and coffee, ardent 
 spirits and tobacco, as articles of daily consumption. These 
 insatiable, but fashionable leeches to the public wealth, and 
 canker-worms to health and life, ought to be extirpated, if it 
 were for no other reason than their enormous expense, but 
 still more for their deleterious effects. 
 
 1 1 The habitual free use of sugar, has been justly con- 
 demned, as injurious to health, by Locke, Buchan, Willich, 
 and others. It is employed to disguise the taste of several 
 other pernicious articles ; as tea, coffee, distilled spirits, &c. 
 until the reluctant appetite is perverted and reconciled to 
 their daily use. The mischief of coffee and tea is increased 
 by the hot water in which they are drank. Coffee, though 
 a useful medicine, if drank constantly, will at length induce 
 a decay of health and hectic fever. * 
 
 12 Tea possesses an acrid astringent quality, peculiar to 
 most leaves and exterior bark of trees, and corrodes and para- 
 lyzes the nerves. Is nature so partial that she has denied 
 the American continent a single product fit for an infusion at 
 our tables ? Is it fashion, or depraved appetite, or both, that 
 induces nearly all the inhabitants of America, to drink China 
 tea and West India coffee, in preference to the far more 
 nutritious and salubrious drinks, which may be prepared 
 from the various farinaceous seeds, milk, and other materials 
 of domestic production ? 
 
 * See Dr. Willich's Art of preserving Health and prolonging Life. 
 
13 We have late accounts from China, that in the course 
 of six months American ships alone deposited in Canton the 
 enormous sum of five millions of dollars ! Deluded Ameri- 
 cans ! Boasters of patriotism, liberty, virtue and indepen- 
 dence ! Will you remain politically and intellectually blind, 
 until your last silver dollar is shipped to China for. tea; and 
 your last bushel of wheat to the West Indies for coffee, rum 
 and sugar ? 
 
 14 What avails the heroism, the sacrifice of blood and 
 treasure, and the indescribable sufferings of your fathers in 
 resisting British compulsion, while you voluntarily bestow 
 ten fold more tribute upon foreign nations than a monarch 
 would demand ?* 
 
 15 " When navigation is employed only for transporting 
 necessary provisions from one country, where they abound, 
 to another where they are wanting ; when by this it prevents 
 famines, which were so frequent and so fatal before it was 
 invented and became so common ; we cannot help consider- 
 ing it as one of those arts which contribute most to the hap- 
 piness of mankind. 
 
 16 "But when it is employed to transport things of no 
 utility, or articles merely of luxury, it is then uncertain 
 whether the advantages resulting from it are sufficient to 
 counterbalance the misfortunes it occasions, by exposing the 
 Kves of so many individuals upon the vast ocean. And 
 when it is used to plunder* vessels and transport slaves, it is 
 
 * In the present crisis of general embarrassment [1823] in the United 
 States, the considerations of patriotism dictate the universal renunciation 
 of the use of tea and other foreign luxuries, as imperiously as at the com- 
 mencement of the Revolution. Some respectable families have already 
 commenced a reformation in this respect. The example upon an exten- 
 sive scale, first mentioned, and to a limited extent, of a number of families 
 in England, who were prevailed on by the influence and eloquence of 
 Wesley, to abstain from the use of tea, chiefly for the laudable purposes 
 of devoting the savings to the relief of the poor, is a sufficient demonstra- 
 tion of the safety of rejecting the habit of tea drinking, as it respects 
 health. The inconvenience was of short duration, and succeeded by an 
 improved state of health, in the cases related by Wesley. The sudden 
 and total disuse of tea, by persons far advanced in life, might produce 
 more injury than benefit to them, as is apt to be the case in the confirmed 
 habit of taking any narcotic, or unnatural stimulant, such as tobacco, 
 opium, spirits, &c. But there is no question of the propriety and duty 
 of rescuing the rising generation entirely from the injurious and costly 
 custom of swallowing, annually, during life, three hundred and sixty-five 
 quarts each of scalding tea, which is well known to anticipate the effects 
 of time, in withering the blooming cheek of youth. 
 
34 
 
 evidently only the dreadful means of increasing those calam- 
 ities which afflict human nature. 
 
 17 " One is astonished to think on the number of vessels 
 and men who are daily exposed in going to bring tea from 
 China, coffee from Arabia, and sugar and tobacco from Ame- 
 rica; all commodities which our ancestors lived very well 
 without. The sugar trade employs nearly a thousand vessels, 
 and that of tobacco almost the same number. 
 
 18 " With regard to the utility of tobacco, little can be said ; 
 and, with regard to sugar, how much more meritorious would 
 it be to sacrifice the momentary pleasure which we receive 
 from drinking it once or twice a day in our tea, than to en- 
 courage the numberless cruelties that are continually exer- 
 cised in order to procure it us?'-* 
 
 19 How is our country to be supplied with those imagina- 
 ry necessaries of life, (which, however, are converted into 
 real ones by habit,) when it becomes as populous as China? 
 Where shall we find the requisite quantity of silver to pur- 
 chase tea for three hundred millions of people, and pay for 
 its transportation from the opposite side of the globe ?t 
 
 20 The increasing habit of chewing, smoking and snuffing 
 tobacco, is too mischievous a trespasser on the public health 
 and wealth, to be excused from an examination at the bar of 
 reason. We shall riot refuse tobacco the credit of being 
 sometimes medical, when used temperately, though an ac- 
 knowledged poison. 
 
 21 While it relieves some diseases, it aggravates others; 
 and is both unnecessary and pernicious to persons in health, 
 especially to youth. Chewing tobacco is almost, uniformly 
 injurious. Constantly exciting a discharge from the salivary 
 glands, it exhausts the body of one of its most important 
 iluids; produces obstinate chronic diseases; weakens the 
 organs of digestion, and shortens the term of vital excitability 
 arid life. 
 
 22 Young persons ought to be prevented from contracting 
 a habit, which is so very reprehensible, both for its waste of 
 vital power and property. The same may be said of smoking 
 tobacco, except that it is more injurious, because commonly 
 practised in greater excess, and in the form of segars, is more 
 
 * Franklin. 
 
 f We go to fetch earth from China, as if we had none ; stuffs, as if we 
 were without stuffs ; a small herb to infuse in water, as if our climate did 
 not afford any simples. — Volt aire . 
 
35 
 
 expensive. Snuffing powdered tobacco, when habitual, is 1 
 disgusting, like both the other modes of using it, and injures 
 the whole nervous system, as well as the sense of smelling. 
 
 J. T. 
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 Desultory observations on Fashion; — Foreign Goods;-— 
 Causes and remedy of Pauperism; — Novel Reading ; — 
 War. 
 
 1 We shall next commence an attack on a variety of cus- 
 toms, originating in mistaken fancy, and belonging to the 
 empire of fashion. It is doubtless a rational conjecture, that 
 the annual expenditure of society for superfluities and trifling 
 habits, is as great as for its reasonable necessities. This is 
 a violation of our obligations of duty, both to ourselves, and 
 to succeeding generations. 
 
 2 In the wanton dissipation of property, we not only an- 
 nihilate the amount of its present specific value, but also its 
 multiplying power, for perhaps an infinite space of time. 
 Are not the most affluent men, then, inexcusable, in robbing 
 their posterity in anticipation, by sacrificing the property i» 
 their possession, in vain amusements and fashions ? 
 
 Immense sums are continually wasted by almost all 
 classes of both sexes, in superfluities of dress. It will be con- 
 ceded that the various fluctuating modes and fashions of our 
 attire are adopted with a view to attract and interest the eyes, 
 and attention of others, rather than for our own personal con- 
 venience or comfort. If we were all to adhere uniformly to 
 a simple, convenient, and permanent mode of dress, we 
 should soon all be contented. 
 
 4 The greatest mischief, probably, which results from 
 frequent and expensive changes in the fashion of our cos- 
 tume, is to be found in the unconquerable desire of people 
 of but little or no property to exhibit (especially when 
 absent from home) a similar appearance to their wealthier 
 neighbors. 
 
 5 The custom which enjoins it on the relatives of every 
 deceased person, to incur an extra expense in the purchase 
 of garments of a particular color, as a token of respect and 
 mourning, is peculiarly oppressive to the middle and poorer 
 classes of society. This is a delicate subject, and the writer 
 
3t> 
 would prefer passing it by, if a sense of duty did not impel 
 him to mention it. 
 
 6 It is worthy of the reflection of the wealthy and influ- 
 ential, whose example is law, whether the abolition of this 
 custom of tradition might not be compatible with true benev-^ 
 olence and charity. Respectable philanthropic associations 
 (not alluding to the religious society whose discipline forbids 
 external signals of mourning) have adopted resolutions for 
 this purpose. 
 
 7 The reverend and venerable author* of the celebrated 
 essays published in the Connecticut Courant, under the title 
 of " The Brief Remarker," recommends, very earnestly, in 
 one of those essays, the suppression of a custom which he 
 considers not only unnecessary, and embarrassing to the 
 poor, but also burdensome to the merchants in particular, 
 who are often prevented by sympathy and delicacy, from 
 refusing a credit to afflicted though indigent applicants foi 
 the means of imitating their more fortunate neighbors, in the 
 display of the customary tokens of grief.t 
 
 8 It is a great duty which parents owe their children, 
 to restrict the gratification of their fancy and passions to 
 rational limits. We shall omit to particularize the super- 
 fluities of female apparel ; if desirable, there will be no diffi- 
 culty in finding much room for retrenchment. It would be 
 
 criminal, however, to neglect this opportunity of condemning, 
 without reservation, the odious, disgusting, sacrilegious, and 
 suicidal practice of deforming the natural perfection of the 
 human fabric with CORSETS and STAYS. 
 
 9 Incalculable sums are uselessly expended for the orna- 
 mental appearance of our dwelling houses, churches, tomb- 
 stones, carriages, equipage for horses, and domestic furniture. 
 
 10 The wealth which has been vainly, if not wickedly, 
 squandered in the magnificence of meeting houses and their 
 lofty steeples, would be sufficient for the establishment of 
 perpetual free schools, and free libraries for the instruction 
 
 * Mr. Sampson. 
 
 f Since writing* these remarks the author has met with the following' 
 seasonable and practical corroboration of his sentiments, in a newspaper : 
 
 " Mourning Dresses. — A writer in the Boston Recorder condemns 
 the practice of wearing mourning at funerals as being unnecessary, be- 
 cause by no means indicative of true grief, and as being an oppressive 
 burthen to the poor. He recently deviated from this custom in the case 
 of a deceased individual of his family, and transmitted ten dollars, to the 
 American Education Society as a part of the sum saved." 
 
37 
 
 of all" the poor children in the United States. And which 
 would best advance the cause of virtue and happiness, and 
 promote the glory of God ? Let a reverse experiment solve 
 this problem. 
 
 1 1 Who can contemplate, without painful regret, the vast 
 quantity of silver and labor which are thrown away never 
 to be recovered, in order to display a few white shining 
 spots, on our carriages, harnesses, saddles and bridles ? The 
 superfluities of house furniture are numerous, and generally 
 so conspicuous that it is only necessary to invite reflection on 
 their impropriety. The gilding and ornamental work of 
 looking-glasses and picture frames, books, chairs, &c. are ex- 
 pensive offerings to those idols, Fancy and Fashion. 
 
 12 " The poets who are ever apt to be seduced by appear- 
 ances, and do not consider themselves bound to be wiser 
 than politicians and men of business, have been loud in the 
 praise of luxury ; and the rich have not been backward in 
 adopting principles, that exalt their ostentation into a virtue, 
 and their self-gratification into beneficence. 
 
 13" This prejudice, however, must vanish, as the increas- 
 ing knowledge of political economy begins to reveal the real 
 sources of wealth, the means of production, and the effect of 
 consumption. Vanity may take pride in idle expense, but 
 will ever be held in no less contempt by the wise, on ac- 
 count of its pernicious effects, than it has been all along for 
 the motives by which it is actuated. 
 
 14 " These conclusions of theory have been confirmed by 
 experience. Misery is the inseparable companion of luxu- 
 ry. The man of wealth and ostentation squanders upon cost- 
 ly trinkets, sumptuous repasts, magnificent mansions, dogs, 
 horses, &c. a portion of value, which, vested in productive 
 occupation, would enable a multitude of willing laborers, 
 whom his extravagance now consigns to idleness and mise- 
 ry, to provide themselves with warm clothing, nourishing 
 food, and household conveniencies. The gold buckles of the 
 rich man leaves the poor one without shoes to his feet ; and 
 the laborer will want a shirt to his back, while his rich 
 neighbor glitters in velvet and embroidery."* 
 
 1 5 The whole country is drained every spring and autumn, 
 of a large portion of its cash and most valuable productions, 
 to pay for foreign commodities ; a great proportion of which 
 might be dispensed with, or manufactured among ourselves. 
 
 * Say's Political Economy. 
 
38 
 
 16 An unbridled hankering after something far fetched 
 and dear bought ', gay to the eye and pleasing to the tongue, 
 is equally ruinous to a nation as to a private family. The 
 nation, or family, that buys more than it sells, that exchanges 
 articles of solid value for articles of fancy, that imports more 
 than it exports, must eventually suffer severe embarrassment 
 from deficiency of money and the common stock of wealth. 
 
 17 The following extract from Memoirs of the Life of 
 Benjamin Lay, written by Roberts Vaux, is prophetically il- 
 lustrative of this subject : Mr. Vaux describes the labors 
 of Lay as one of the earliest and principal projectors of the 
 Abolition of the Slave Trade and Slavery, and of the sub- 
 stitution of State Prisons for the Gallows ; and thus intro- 
 duces his sentiments on the great political error of sending 
 away " good things" for evil things : — 
 
 18 "With the same enlightened zeal, he pointed out the 
 pernicious consequences which would result from the intro- 
 duction of foreign spirits into this country. He declared that 
 the general introduction of them would corrupt and degrade 
 any people, and that there was danger, if they could be easi- 
 ly and cheaply procured, of their becoming the habitual 
 beverage of the inhabitants. 
 
 19 "He introduces the subject in considering the trade 
 which at that day was extensively carried on with the West 
 Indies ; and says, ' We send away our excellent provisions 
 and other good things, to purchase such filthy stuff, which 
 tends to the corruption of mankind, and they send us some 
 of their worst slaves, when they cannot rule them them- 
 selves, along with tfreir rum to complete the tragedy ; that 
 is to say, to destroy the people in Pennsylvania, and ruin 
 the country. 5 " 
 
 20 The advice of Governor Galusha, in his late farewell 
 speech to the Legislature of Vermont, is excellent, and ap- 
 propriate in this place : — " The only safe remedy against em- 
 barrassment or poverty, is a retrenchment of family expenses, 
 and lessening the consumption of articles of foreign growth 
 and manufacture. Much may be done by encouraging home 
 manufactures, by legislative provisions ; but the most pow- 
 erful of all is that of example. 
 
 21" Let but one influential citizen, from each town in 
 this State, return from this Legislature to his constituents, 
 with a rigid determination to abandon the unnecessary use 
 of foreign articles,' and, while he enjoys all the real comforts 
 and actual conveniencies of life, reject every thing that is 
 
39 
 
 superfluous ; his fellow citizens would soon emulate his ex- 
 ample, and exhibit an improved state of society. 
 
 22 " General information is indispensably necessary to the 
 preservation of a free republican government ; but this can- 
 not be retained, if the great body of the people, through 
 want of economy, indulge their propensities in the use of 
 superfluities, and become poor and unable to educate their 
 children. The patronage of the wealthy, will never be in- 
 discriminately extended to the children of the whole com- 
 munity. Even that source will diminish where extrava- 
 gance prevails." 
 
 23 Citizens of the American Republic ! if I possessed the 
 eloquence of Demosthenes, I would address you in your 
 cities, and your villages, with my voice instead of my quill ; — 
 I would convince you that your enemy,* the conqueror of all 
 nations except your own, instead of preparing to march 
 against you, has already entered your doors, and is receiving 
 your self-betraying caresses, instead of manly resistance. 
 
 24 I would persuade you to rise en masse, from your 
 slumber, erect the banners of ECONOMY and PLENTY, 
 and exterminate, without quarter, the devouring traitors 
 Luxury, Superfluity, and Fashion ; I would persuade you 
 to practise, voluntarily , the virtues which Lycurgus enforc- 
 ed by the decrees of power ; and which made the Lacede- 
 monians the happiest people that history acquaints us with. 
 
 25 He suppressed luxury and extravagance ; he excluded 
 superfluous and useless arts, and prevented the introduction 
 of foreign merchandise; he discouraged avarice, and yet 
 compelled the most perfect economy and simplicity in the 
 construction of houses, furniture, &c. 
 
 26 Among the causes of poverty, besides ignorance and 
 vice, indolence and intemperance, the want of steady em- 
 ployment, to all who are able and willing to labor, is one 
 which has not received the consideration of legislators and 
 moralists that it deserves. A great proportion of crimes might 
 be traced to this cause. Robbery or forgery, is the alterna- 
 tive frequently preferred, by persons of weak moral princi • 
 pies, to starvation, or the humiliation of beggary. 
 
 21 It is easier to prevent poverty and crimes, by instruc- 
 tion and employment, than to relieve and suppress them by 
 charity and punishments. There ought to be a public agri- 
 cultural and manufacturing institution, in every county, 
 
 * Luxury. 
 
40 
 
 where poor people who are capable of digging potatoes, turn- 
 ing a wheel, or working a loom, or of performing any kind of 
 mechanical or other labor, may be employed, and suitably 
 rewarded, whenever application shall be made. Schools and 
 moral libraries ought to form a department in all such insti- 
 tutions. 
 
 28 The expenditure of such enormous sums of money as 
 are continually dissipated in play houses, balls, novel read- 
 ing, and other idle amusements, is totally unjustifiable ; even 
 if health of body and mind were hot at the same time im- 
 paired. It is surprising that people of refined taste, should 
 be willing to breathe the vitiated air of crowded theatres 
 and circuses. 
 
 29 The consummation of human folly and madness is to 
 be found in the beastly custom of nominally civilized as 
 well as savage nations, of settling their differences, through 
 the medium of iron cannon, muskets, swords, bayonets, 
 balls, and leaden bullets ; fire and brimstone, salt-petre 
 and charcoal ; and human blood, the final product of the 
 whole. This method of obtaining justice or injustice, incurs 
 %n incalculable sacrifice of wealth and morals, as well as of 
 life. 
 
 30 National military establishments swallow up a vast pro- 
 portion of the revenues of a country, even in time of peace. 
 Is there no alternative ? If not, then let man cease to boast 
 his moral superiority to tigers and dogs. ye mad na- 
 tions ! retrieve your abused divine legacy, reason ! Com- 
 mence your retreat from the horrid game of folly, blood and 
 death, simultaneously. 
 
 31 Dismantle all your war ships, frigates, &c, and sink 
 m the ocean, or destroy, every engine of human destruction. 
 Dismiss your war servants, and abolish military schools. In- 
 stitute a perpetual Congress of delegates, from each nation 
 respectively, to which all national disputes, not amicably ar- 
 ranged by agents of the parties, shall be referred for final 
 decision. J* T. 
 
41 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 EPITOME OF THE MORAL PRECEPTS OF THE BIBLE. 
 CHAPTER 1. 
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THE OLD TESTAMENT. 
 
 1 EVEN as I have seen, they that plow iniquity, and sow 
 wickedness, reap the same. 
 
 2 Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to 
 dwell together in unity ! 
 
 3 The Lord is good to all : and his tender mercies are over 
 all his works. Thfe eyes of all wait upon thee, and thou giv 
 est them their meat in due season. Thou openest thy hand, 
 and satisfiest the desire of every living thing. 
 
 4 Who covereth the heaven with clouds, who prepareth 
 rain for the earth, who maketh grass to'grow upon the moun- 
 tains. 
 
 5 Happy is the man that findeth wisdom, and the man that 
 getteth understanding. For the merchandise of it is better 
 than the merchandise of silver, and the gain thereof than fine 
 gold. She is more precious than rubies : and all the things 
 thou canst desire are not to be compared unto her. 
 
 6 Length of days is in her right hand ; and in her left hand 
 riches and honor. Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and 
 all her paths are peace. She is a tree of life to them that lay 
 hold upon her : and happy is every one that retaineth her. 
 
 7 Receive my instruction, and not silver : and knowledge 
 rather than choice gold : for wisdom is better than rubies ; 
 and all the things that may be desired are not to be compared 
 to it. Wisdom is the principal thing ; therefore get wisdom : 
 and with all thy getting get understanding. Take fast hold 
 of instruction ; let her not go : keep her; for she is thy life. 
 
 8 Withhold not good "from them to whom it is due, when 
 it is in the power of thy hand to do it. Say not unto thy 
 neighbor, go, and come again, and to-morrow I will give, 
 when thou hast it by thee. 
 
 9 Go to the ant, thou sluggard ; consider her ways, and be 
 wise : which having no guide, overseer, or ruler, provideth 
 her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the har- 
 vest. How long wilt thou sleep, sluggard ? when wilt thou 
 
 D2 
 
42 
 
 arise out of thy sleep ? Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a 
 little folding of the hands to sleep : So shall thy poverty come 
 as one that travelleth, and thy want as an armed man. He 
 becometh poor that dealeth with a slack hand : but the hand 
 of the diligent maketh rich. He that walketh uprightly walk- 
 eth surely : but he that perverteth his ways shall be known. 
 The lip of truth shall be established for ever : but a lying 
 tongue is but for a moment. 
 
 10 A soft answer turneth away wrath : but grievous words 
 stir up anger. Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty 
 spirit before a fall. He that is slow to anger is better than 
 the mighty; and he that ruleth his spirit than he that taketh 
 a city. The discretion of a man deferreth his anger ; and it is^ 
 his glory to pass over a transgression. A good name is rather 
 to be chosen than great riches. A prudent man foreseeth 
 the evil, and hideth himself: but the simple pass on, and are 
 punished. 
 
 11 Wine is a mocker, strong drink is raging: and who- 
 soever is deceived thereby is not wise. Be not among wine- 
 bibbers ; among riotous eaters of flesh ; for the drunkard and 
 the glutton shall come to poverty ; and drowsiness shall 
 clothe a man with rags. Who hath wo ? who hath sorrow ? 
 who hath contentions ? who hath babbling ? who hath wounds 
 without cause ? who hath redness of eyes ? 
 
 12 They that tarry long at the wine; they that go to seek 
 mixed wine. Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, 
 when it giveth its color in the cup, when it moveth itself 
 aright. At the last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like 
 an adder. 
 
 13 Who can say, I have made my heart clean, I am pure 
 from my sin ? Say not, I will do so to him as he hath done 
 to me : I will render to the man according to his work. 
 
 14 I went by the field of the slothful, and by the vineyard 
 of the man void of understanding ; and lo, it was all grown 
 over with thorns, and nettles covered the face thereof, and 
 the stone wall thereof was broken. Then I saw, and con- 
 sidered it well : I looked upon it and received instruction. 
 
 15 Where no wood is, there the fire goeth out: so where 
 there is no tale bearer, the strife ceaseth : 
 
 16 Remove far from me vanity and lies : give me neither 
 poverty nor riches : feed me with food convenient for me. 
 
 17 Who can find a virtuous woman ? for her price is far 
 above rubies. She seeketh wool, and flax, and worketh 
 willingly with her hands. She is like the merchants' ships ; 
 
43 
 
 she bringeth her food from afar. She riseth also while it is 
 yet night, and giveth meat to her household, and a portion 
 to her maidens. 
 
 18 She layeth her hand to the spindle, and her hands 
 hold the distaff. She stretcheth out her hand to the poor ; 
 yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the needy. She maketh 
 fine linen and selleth it ; she openeth her mouth with wis- 
 dom ; and in her tongue is the law of kindness. She look- 
 eth well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the 
 bread of idleness. Her children rise up and call her bless- 
 ed ; her husband also, and he praiseth her. 
 
 19 The sleep of a labouring man is sweet, whether he eat- 
 eth little or much. 
 
 20 And he shall judge among the nations, and shall re- 
 buke many people : and they shall beat their swords into 
 plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks : nation shall 
 not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war 
 any more. 
 
 2 1 But the wicked are like the troubled sea, when it caii- 
 wot rest, whose waters cast up mire and dirt. There is no 
 peace, saith my God, to the wicked. 
 
 22 Is it such a fast that I have chosen ? a day for a man to 
 afflict his soul ? is it to bow down his head as a bulrush, and 
 to spread sackcloth and ashes under him ? wilt thou call this 
 a fast, and an acceptable day to the Lord ? 
 
 23 Is not this the fast that I have chosen ? to loose the 
 bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let 
 the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke ? 
 
 24 Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou 
 bring the poor that are cast out to thy house ? when thou 
 seest the naked, that thou cover him ; and that thou hide 
 not thyself from thine own flesh ? 
 
 25 Wherewith shall I come before the Lord, and bow 
 myself before the high God ? shall I come before him with 
 burnt offerings, with calves of a year old ? Will the Lord 
 be pleased with thousands of rams, or with ten thousands of 
 rivers of oil ? Shall I give my first born for my transgression, 
 the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul ? 
 
 26 He hath showed thee, man, what is good ; and w r hat 
 doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love 
 mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God ? 
 
44 
 CHAPTER 2. 
 
 EXTRACTS PROM THE WISDOM OF JESUS, THE SON OF SIRACH. 
 
 \ MY son, help thy father in his age, and grieve him not 
 as long as he liveth. And if his understanding fail, have 
 patience with him, and despise him not when thou art in thy 
 full strength. 
 
 2 Add not more trouble to a heart that is vexed, and 
 defer not to give to him that is in need. Be not as a lion in 
 thy house, nor frantic among thy servants. Sweet language 
 will multiply friends, and a fair speaking tongue will in- 
 crease kind greetings. 
 
 3 Do no evil, so shall no harm come unto thee. Be not 
 slow to visit the sick : for that shall make thee to be belov- 
 ed. Reproach not a man that turneth from sin, but remem- 
 ber that we are all worthy of punishment. 
 
 4 When a rich man speaketh, every man holdeth his 
 tongue ; and look what he saith, they extol it to the clouds : 
 but if the poor man speak, they say, what fellow is this ? 
 and if he stumble, they will help to overthrow him. 
 
 5 -Blessed is he whose conscience has not condemned him. 
 My son, hast thou sinned ? do so no more, but ask pardon 
 for thy former sins. Flee from sin as from the face of a 
 s.erpent : for if thou comest too near it, it will bite thee : the 
 teeth thereof are as the teeth of a lion, slaying the souls of 
 men. 
 
 6 Be faithful unto thy neighbor in his poverty, that thou 
 mayest rejoice in his prosperity : abide stedfast unto him in 
 the time of his trouble, that thou mayest be heir with him in 
 his heritage : for a mean estate is not always to be contemn- 
 ed ; nor the rich that is foolish to be had in admiration. 
 
 7 If thou hast gathered nothing in thy youth, how canst 
 thou find any thing in thine age ? 
 
 8 Lend to thy neighbour in time of his need, and pay 
 thou thy neighbor again in due season. Keep thy word 
 faithfully with him, and thou shalt always find the thing that 
 is necessary for thee. Many, when a thing was lent them, 
 reckoned it to be found, and put them to trouble that helped 
 them. Till he hath received he will kiss a man's hand : and 
 for his neighbor's money he will speak submissly : but 
 when he should repay he will prolong the time, and return 
 words of grief, and complain of the time. 
 
 9 Many therefore have refused to lend for other men's ill 
 
45 
 dealing, fearing to be defrauded. Yet have patience with a 
 man in poor estate, and delay not to show him mercy. For- 
 get not the friendship of thy surety; for he hath given his 
 Mfe for thee. 
 
 CHAPTER 3. 
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THE NEW TESTAMENT. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 Instructions of Jesus Christ. 
 
 1 BLESSED are they which do hunger and thirst after 
 righteousness : for they shall be filled. Blessed are the mer- 
 ciful : for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in 
 heart : for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers ; 
 for they shall be called the children of God. 
 
 2- Ye have heard that it hath been said by them of old 
 time, thou shalt not forswear thyself, but shalt perform unto 
 the Lord thine oaths : But I say unto you, swear not at all ; 
 neither by heaven ; for it is God's throne : nor by the earth; 
 for it is his footstool : neither by Jerusalem; for it is the city 
 of the great King. 
 
 3 Neither shalt thou swear by thy head, because thou canst 
 not make one hair white or black : but let your communica- 
 tion be, Yea, yea ; Nay, nay : for whatsoever is more than 
 these cometh of evil. 
 
 4 Ye have heard that it hath been said, an eye for an eye, 
 and a tooth for a tooth : but I say unto you, that ye resist not 
 evil; but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn 
 to him the other also. 
 
 5 Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would 
 borrow of thee turn not thou away. Ye have heard that it 
 hath been said, thou shalt love thy neighbor, and hate thine 
 enemy. 
 
 6 But I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that 
 curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them 
 which despitefully use you, and persecute you : that ye may 
 be the children of your Father which is in heaven : for he 
 maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and send- 
 eth rain on the just and the unjust. 
 
 7 For if ye love them which love you, what reward have 
 ye ? do not even the publicans the same ? And if ye salute 
 
46 
 
 your brethren only, what do ye more than others ? do not 
 even the publicans so ? Be ye therefore perfect, even as your 
 Father which is in heaven is perfect. 
 
 8 Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judg- 
 ment ye judge, ye shall be judged : and with what measure 
 ye mete, it shall be measured to you again. 
 
 9 And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's 
 eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye ? 
 Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, let me pull out the 
 mote out of thine eye ; and, behold, a beam is in thine own 
 eye ? Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own 
 eye ; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out 
 of thy brother's eye. 
 
 10 Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men 
 should do to you, do ye even so to them. 
 
 11 Enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate, and 
 broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many 
 there be which go in thereat : Because strait is the gate, and 
 narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be 
 that find it. 
 
 12 Moreover, if thy brother shall trespass against thee, 
 go and tell him his fault between thee and him alone : if he 
 shall hear thee thou hast gained thy brother. But if he will 
 not hear thee, then take with thee one or two more, that 
 in the mouth of two or three witnesses every word may be 
 established. 
 
 13 For I was a hungered, and ye gave me meat: I was 
 thirsty, and ye gave me drink : I was a stranger, and ye took 
 me in : naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited 
 me : I was in prison, and ye came unto me. 
 
 14 Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, 
 when saw we thee a hungered, and fed thee? or thirsty, 
 and gave thee drink? When saw we thee a stranger, and 
 took thee in ? or naked, and clothed thee ? or when saw we 
 thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee ? 
 
 15 And the King shall answer and say unto them, verily 
 I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the 
 least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me. 
 
 16 And, behold, a certain lawyer stood up, and tempted 
 him, saying, Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life ? 
 He said unto him, what is written in the law ? how readest 
 thou? 
 
 17 And he answering, said, thou shalt love the Lord 
 thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with 
 
47 
 all thy strength, and with all thy mind ; and thy neighbor as 
 thyself. 
 
 18 And he said unto him, thou hast answered right : this 
 do, and thou shalt live. But he, willing to justify himself, 
 said unto Jesus, and who is my neighbor ? 
 
 19 And Jesus answering, said, a certain man went down 
 from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, which 
 stripped him of his raiment, and wounded him, and departed, 
 leaving him half dead. And by chance there came down a 
 certain priest that way : and when he saw him, he passed by 
 on the other side. 
 
 20 And likewise a Levite, when he was at the place, came 
 and looked on him, and passed by on the other side. But a 
 certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and 
 when he saw him, he had compassion on him, and went to 
 him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and^ 
 set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and 
 took care of him. 
 
 21 And on the morrow, when he departed, he took out 
 two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, 
 take care of him ; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when 
 I come again, I will repay thee. 
 
 22 Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neigh- 
 bor unto him that fell among the thieves ? And he said, he 
 that shewed mercy on him. Then said Jesus unto him, go, 
 and do thou likewise. 
 
 23 But when thou makest a feast, call the poor, the maim- 
 ed, the lame, the blind. 
 
 24 Then drew near unto him all the publicans and sinners 
 for to hear him. And the Pharisees and scribes murmured, 
 saying, this man receiveth sinners, and eateth with them. 
 
 25 And he spake this parable unto them, saying, what 
 man of you having a hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, 
 doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go 
 after that which is lost until he find it ? 
 
 26 And when he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoul- 
 ders rejoicing: And when he cometh home he calleth together 
 his friends and neighbors, saying unto them, rejoice with 
 me, for I have found my sheep w T hich was lost. 
 
 21 I say unto you, that likewise joy shall be in heaven 
 over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and 
 nine just persons, who need no repentance. 
 
 28 And he said, a certain man had two sons : and the 
 younger of them said to his father, father give me the por- 
 
48 
 
 tion of goods that falleth to me. And he divided unto them 
 his living. 
 
 29 And not many days after, the younger son gathered 
 all together, and took his journey into a far country, and 
 there wasted his substance with riotous living. And when 
 he had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in that land ; 
 and he began to be in want. 
 
 30 And he went and joined himself to a citizen of that 
 country ; and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. And 
 he would fain have filled his stomach with the husks that 
 the swine did eat : and no man gave unto him. 
 
 31 And when he came to himself, he said, how many 
 hired servants of my father's have bread enough, and to 
 spare, and I perish with hunger ! I will arise, and go to my 
 father, and w T ill say unto him, father, I have sinned against 
 heaven, and before thee ; and am no more worthy to be call- 
 ed thy son : make me as one of thy hired servants. 
 
 32 And he arose, and came to his father. But when he 
 was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had com- 
 passion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him. And 
 the son said unto him, father, I have sinned against heaven, 
 and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy 
 son. 
 
 33 But the father said to his servants, bring forth the best 
 robe, and put it on him ; and put a rins; on his hand, and 
 shoes on his feet : and bring hither the fatted calf, and kill 
 it : and let us eat, and be merry : for this my son was dead, 
 and is alive again ; he was lost, and is found. And they be- 
 gan to be merry. 
 
 34 Now his elder son was in the field : and as he came 
 and drew nigh unto the house, he heard music and dancing. 
 And he called one of the servants, and asked what these 
 things meant ? And he said unto him, thy brother is come ; 
 anil thy father hath killed the fatted calf, because he hath re- 
 ceived him safe and sound. 
 
 35 And he was angry, and would not go in : therefore 
 came his father out, and entreated him. And he answering, 
 said to his father, lo, these many years do I serve thee, nei- 
 ther transgressed I at any time thy commandment, and yet 
 thou never gavest me a kid, that I might make merry with 
 my friends. But as soon as this thy son was come, which 
 hath devoured thy living with harlots, thou hast killed for 
 him the fatted calf. 
 
 36 And he said unto him, son, thou art ever with me, and 
 
49 
 all that I have is thine. It was meet that we should make 
 merry, and be glad : for this thy brother was dead, and is 
 alive again ; and was lost, and is found. 
 
 37 Take heed to yourselves : if thy brother trespass 
 against thee, rebuke him ; and if he repent, forgive him. 
 
 38 And he spake this parable unto certain which trusted 
 in themselves that they were righteous, and despised others : 
 two men went up into the temple to pray ; the one a Phari- 
 see, and the other a Publican. 
 
 39 The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, God, 
 I thank thee, that I am not as other men are, extortioners, 
 unjust, adulterers, or even as this Publican. 
 
 40 I fast twice in the week, I give tithes of all that I pos- 
 sess. And the Publican, standing afar off, would not lift up 
 so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote upon his breast, 
 saying, God be merciful to me a sinner. 
 
 41 I tell you, this man went down to his home justified, 
 rather than the other : for every one that exalteth himself 
 shall be abased ; and he that humbleth himself shall be ex- 
 alted. 
 
 42 This is my commandment, that ye love one another as 
 I have loved you. 
 
 SECTION II. 
 Instructions of Paul the Apostle. 
 
 1 Then Paul stood in the midst of Mars hill, and said, ye 
 men of Athens, I perceive that in all things ye are too super- 
 stitious. For as I passed by, and beheld your devotions, I 
 found an altar with this inscription, TO THE UNKNOWN 
 GOD. Whom therefore, ye ignorantly worship, him de- 
 clare I unto you. 
 
 2 God that made the world and all things therein, seeing 
 that he is Lord of heaven and earth, dwelleth not in temples 
 made with hands ; neither is worshipped with men's hands, 
 as though he needed any thing, seeing he giveth to all life$ 
 and breath, and all things. 
 
 3 And hath made of one blood all nations of men for to 
 dwell on all the face of the earth, and hath determined the 
 times before appointed, and the bounds of their habitation ; 
 that they should seek the Lord, if happily they might feel 
 after him, and find him, though he be not far from every one 
 of us. 
 
 E 
 
50 
 
 4 For in him we live, and move, and have our being; as 
 certain also of your own poets have said, for we are also his 
 offspring. Forasmuch then as we are the offspring of God, 
 we ought not to think that the Godhead is like unto gold, or 
 silver, or stone, graven by art and man's device. 
 
 5 And herein do I exercise myself, to have always a con- 
 science void of offence toward God, and toward men. 
 
 6 For not the hearers of the law are just before God, but 
 the doers of the law shall be justified. 
 
 7 Let love be without dissimulation. Abhor that which 
 ts evil ; cleave to that which is good. 
 
 8 Recompense to no man evil for evil. Provide things 
 honest in the sight of all men. If it be possible, as much 
 as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men. 
 
 9 Therefore, if thine enemy hunger, feed him ; if he 
 thirst, give him drink ; for in so doing thou shalt heap coals 
 of fire on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome 
 evil with good. 
 
 10 And let us not be weary in well doing : for in due sea- 
 son we shall reap, if we faint not. As we have therefore, 
 opportunity, let us do good unto all men. 
 
 11 And that ye study to be quiet, and to do your own bu- 
 siness, and to work with your own hands, as we commanded 
 you : that ye may walk honestly toward them that are with- 
 out, and that ye may have lack of nothing. 
 
 12 For even when we were with you, this we command- 
 ed you, that if any would not work, neither should he eat. 
 For we hear that there are some which walk among you 
 disorderly, working not at all, but are busy bodies. 
 
 13 Now them that are such we command and exhort by 
 our Lord Jesus Christ, that with quietnees they work, and eat 
 their own bread. But ye brethren, be not weary in well 
 doing. And if any man obey not our word by this epistle, 
 note that man, and have no company with him, that he may 
 be ashamed. Yet count him not as an enemy, but admonish 
 him as a brother. 
 
 14 In like manner also, that women adorn themselves in 
 modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety : not with 
 broidered hair or gold, or pearls, or costly array. 
 
 15 Charge them that are rich in this world, that they be not 
 high minded., nor trust in uncertain riches, but in the living 
 God, who giveth us richly all things to enjoy ; that they do 
 good, that they be rich in good works, ready to distribute, 
 willing to communicate ; laying up in store for themselves a 
 
51 
 
 good foundation against the time to come, that they may lay 
 hold on eternal life. 
 
 16 Let brotherly love continue. Be not forgetful to en- 
 tertain strangers : for thereby some have entertained angels 
 unawares. Remember them that are in bonds, as bound with 
 them ; and them which suffer adversity, as being yourselves 
 also in the body. 
 
 SECTION III. 
 Extracts from the Epistles of James, Peter, and John. 
 
 1 If any man among you seem to be religious, and bri- 
 dleth not his tongue, but deeeiveth his own heart, this man's 
 religion is vain. Pure religion and undefiled before God 
 and the Father is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in 
 their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the 
 world. 
 
 2 For if there come unto your assembly a man with a gold 
 ring, in goodly apparel, and there come in also a poor man 
 in vile raiment ; and ye have respect to him that weareth 
 the gay clothing, and say unto him, sit thou here in a good 
 place ; and say to the poor, stand thou there 5 or sit here un- 
 der my footstool : are 3^e not then partial in yourselves, and 
 are become judges of evil thoughts ? 
 
 3 What doth it profit, my brethren, though a man say he 
 hath faith, and nave not works ? can faith save him ? If a 
 brother or sister be naked, and destitute of drily food, and 
 one of you say unto them, depart in peace, be ye warmed 
 and filled; notwithstanding ye give them not those things 
 which are needful to the body ; what doth it profit ? 
 
 4 Even so, faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone 
 Yea, a man may say, thou hast faith, and I have works : show 
 me thy faith without thy works, and I will show thee my 
 faith by my works. For, as the body without the spirit is 
 dead, so faith without works is dead also. 
 
 5 For it is better, if the will of God be so, that ye suffer 
 for well doing. 
 
 6 And besides this, giving all diligence, add to your faith 
 virtue; and to virtue knowledge; and to knowledge tempe- 
 rance; and to temperance patience; and to patience godli- 
 ness ; and to godliness brotherly kindness ; and to brotherly 
 kindness charity. 
 
 7 But whoso hath this world's good, and seeth his brother" 
 have need, and shutteth up his bowels of compassion from 
 
52 
 
 him, how dwelleth the love of God in him? My little 
 children, let us not love in word, neither in tongue, but in 
 deed and in truth. » 
 
 8 Beloved, if God so loved us, we ought also to love one 
 another. No man hath seen God at any time. If we love 
 one another, God dwelleth in us, and his love is perfected in 
 us. Hereby know we that we dwell in him, and he in us, 
 because he hath given us of his Spirit. 
 
53 
 
 PART THIRD. 
 
 ABRIDGMENT OF THE LIVES AND MORAL DISCOURSES Of 
 CONFUCIUS AND SOCRATES; AND SENECA'S MORALS. 
 
 CHAPTER 1. 
 
 ABRIDGMENT OF THE LIFE AND MORAL PRECEPTS OF 
 CONFUCIUS. 
 
 Let others bestrew the hearses of the great with panegyric. When 
 a philosopher dies, I consider myself as losing a patron, an instructor and 
 a_ friend : I consider the world as losing one who might serve to console 
 her amidst the desolations of war and ambition. Nature seems to have 
 forgotten, for more than three thousand years, the manner in which she 
 once formed the brain of a Confucius. Goldsmith* 
 
 1 THE celebrated Chinese philosopher, Confucius, did not 
 grow in knowledge by degrees, as children usually do, but 
 seemed to arrive at reason and the perfection of his faculties 
 almost from his infancy. He had a grave and serious de- 
 portment, which gained him respect, and plainly foretold 
 what he one day would be. 
 
 2 What distinguished him most was his unexampled and 
 exalted piety. He honored his relations ; he endeavored 
 in all things to imitate his grandfather, who was then alive 
 in China, and a very pious man. 
 
 3 One day, when he was a child, he heard his grandfa- 
 ther fetch a deep sigh ; and going up to him with much re- 
 verence, " may I presume," says he, " without losing the 
 respect I owe you, to inquire into the occasion of your 
 grief ? Perhaps you fear that your posterity should dege- 
 nerate from your virtue, and dishonor you by their vices." 
 
 4 What put this thought into your head, says his grand- 
 father to him ? and w r here have you learnt to speak in this 
 manner? "From yourself," replied Confucius. " I attend 
 diligently to you every time you speak; and I have often 
 heard you say, that a son, who does not by his own virtue 
 support the glory of his ancestors, and imitate the virtues 
 of his parents, does not deserve to bear their name." 
 
 5 At the age of twenty three, when he had gained con- 
 siderable knowledge of antiquity, and acquainted himself 
 
 E 2 
 
54 
 
 with the laws and customs of his country, he began to pro- 
 ject a scheme for a general reformation ; for then all the lit- 
 tle kingdoms depended upon the emperor; but it often hap- 
 pened that the imperial authority was not able to keep them 
 within the bounds of their duty, each of the kings being 
 master of his dominions. 
 
 6 Confucius, wisely persuaded that the people could 
 never be happy, so long as avarice, ambition, voluptuous- 
 ness, and false policy should reign in this manner, resolved 
 to preach up a severe morality ; and accordingly he began to 
 enforce temperance, justice, and other virtues, to inspire a 
 contempt of riches and outward pomp, to excite to magna- 
 nimity and greatness of soul, which should make men inca- 
 pable of dissimulation and insincerity. 
 
 7 He used every mean he could devise, to redeem his 
 countrymen from a life of pleasure to a life of reason. He 
 was every where known, and as much beloved. His ex- 
 treme knowledge and great wisdom soon made him known : 
 his integrity, and the splendor of his virtues, made him be- 
 loved. Kings were governed by his wisdom, and the peo- 
 ple reverenced him as a saint. 
 
 8 He was offered several high offices in the magistracy, 
 which he sometimes accepted ; but never from a motive of 
 ambition, which he was not at all concerned to gratify, but 
 always with a view of reforming a corrupt state, and amend- 
 ing mankind : for he never failed to resign those offices, as 
 soon as he perceived that he could be no longer useful in 
 them. 
 
 9 He inculcated fidelity and candor among the men, ex- 
 horted the women to chastity and simplicity of manners. By 
 such methods he wrought a general reformation,, and estab- 
 lished every where such concord and humanity, that the king- 
 dom seemed as it were but one great family. 
 
 10 Thus the people, regulated by the wise maxims and 
 precepts of Confucius, enjoyed general happiness, till at 
 length the jealousy of the neighboring kings was excited. 
 They were convinced that a king, under the counsels of such 
 a man as Confucius would soon become too powerful. They 
 contrived a plot to demolish the edifice of wisdom and virtue, 
 which Confucius had erected, by the temptations of dissipa- 
 tion, luxury, vice and sensual pleasures. 
 
 11 Conspiracies were formed against his life: to which 
 may be added, that his neglect to his own interests had re- 
 duced him to the extramest poverty. Some philosophers 
 
55 
 among his cotemporaries were so affected with the terrible 
 state of things, that they had rusticated themselves into 
 the mountains and deserts, as the only places where happi- 
 ness could be found ; and would have persuaded Confucius to 
 have followed them. 
 
 12 But "I am a man, says Confucius, and cannot exclude- 
 myself from the society of men, and consort with beasts. 
 Bad as the times are, I shall do all that I can to recall men to 
 virtue : for in virtue are all things, and if mankind would but 
 once embrace it, and submit themselves to its discipline, and 
 laws, they would, not want me or any body else to instruct 
 them. 
 
 13 " It is the duty of a good man, first to perfect himself, 
 and then to perfect others. Human nature, said he, came to 
 us from heaven pure and perfect : but in process of time igno- 
 rance, the passions, and evil examples have corrupted it. All 
 consists in restoring it to its primitive beauty ; and to be per- 
 fect, we must re-ascend to that point, from which we have 
 fallen. 
 
 14 u Obey heaven, and follow the orders of him w r ho gov- 
 erns it. Love your neighbor as yourself. Let your reason, 
 and not your senses, be the rule of your conduct ; for reason 
 will teach you to think wisely, to speak prudently, and to 
 behave yourself worthily upon all occasions," 
 
 15 Confucius, in the mean time, though he had with- 
 drawn himself from kings and palaces, did not cease to travel 
 about, and do what good he could among the people, and 
 among mankind in general. He had often in his mouth the 
 maxims and examples of their ancient heroes, so that they 
 were thought to be all revived in the person of this great man. 
 We shall not wonder, therefore, that he proselyted a great 
 number of disciples, who were inviolably attached to his 
 person. 
 
 16 He sent six hundred of his disciples into different parts 
 of the empire, to reform the manners of the people ; and not 
 satisfied with benefiting his own country only, he made fre- 
 quent resolutions to pass the seas, and propagate his doctrine 
 to the farthest part of the world. Hardly any thing can be 
 added to the purity of his morality, which he taught as for- 
 cibly by example as by precept. 
 
 17 Confucius did not trust altogether to the memories of 
 his disciples^ for the preservation of his philosophy, but he 
 composed several books : and though these books were great- 
 ly admired for the doctrines they contained, and the fine 
 
56 
 
 principles of morality they taught, yet such was the unparal- 
 leled modesty of this philosopher, that he never assumed the 
 least honor about them. 
 
 18 He ingenuously owned, that the doctrine was not his 
 own, but was much more ancient ; and that he had done no- 
 thing more than collected it from wise legislators who lived 
 fifteen hundred years before him. There are some maxims 
 and moral sentences in his collection, equal to those of the 
 seven wise men of Greece, which have always been so much 
 admired. 
 
 Note. — The preceding article is derived principally from the Chinese 
 Traveller, which describes some traces of the precepts of Confucius, 
 which are observed in China, at the present time ; but are much obscured 
 and adulterated by a " monstrous heap of superstitions, magic, idolatry, 
 and all sorts of ridiculous and extravagant opinions." 
 
 CHAPTER 2. 
 
 ABRIDGMENT OF THE LIFE AND MORAL DISCOURSES OF SO 
 CRATES, CHIEFLY FROM ROLLINGS ANCIENT HISTORY, AND 
 XENOPHON ? S MEMOIRS. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 Character of Socrates. 
 
 How to live happiest ; 
 
 The precepts here of a divine old man 
 I could recite. 
 
 • Of right and wrong he taught 
 
 Truths as refin'd as ever Athens heard ; 
 
 And (strange to tell !) he practised what he preached. 
 
 Armstrong. 
 
 1. SOCRATES was born at Athens, 471 years before the 
 commencement of the Christian era. His father was a sculptor; 
 and he at first learned the same trade himself, in which he be- 
 came very expert. His example, like that of Franklin, the 
 Socrates of America, shows that greatness of mind is not ex- 
 cluded by the hand of nature, from the sons of industry ; 
 though wherever found, the polish of knowledge is essential 
 to the developement of its inherent beauties. 
 
 2 Criton is reported to have taken him out of his father's 
 shop, fromthe admiration of his fine genius, and the opinion 
 that it was inconsistent for a young man, capable of the great- 
 
57 
 
 est things, to continue perpetually employed upon stone 
 with a chisel in his hand. His first study was physics, the 
 works of nature, astronomy, &c. ; according to the custom of 
 those times. 
 
 3 But after having found by his own experience, how diffi- 
 cult, abstruse, intricate, and at the same time, how little use- 
 ful that kind of learning was to the generality of mankind, 
 he was the first, according to Cicero, who conceived the 
 thought of bringing down philosophy from heaven, to place it 
 in cities, and introduce it into private houses ; humanizing it, 
 to use that expression, and rendering it more familiar, more 
 useful in common life, more within the reach of man's capaci- 
 ty, and applying it solely to what might make them more ra- 
 tional, just and virtuous. 
 
 4 He found there was a kind of folly in devoting the whole 
 vivacity of his mind, and employing all his time, in inquiries 
 merely curious, involved in impenetrable darkness, and abso- 
 lutely incapable of contributing to human happiness ; whilst 
 he neglected to inform himself in the ordinary duties of life. 
 
 5 He had accustomed himself early to a sober, severe, labo- 
 rious life ; and yet he entertained the most perfect contempt 
 for riches, and contentment with poverty. He looked upon 
 it as a divine perfection to be in want of nothing. Seeing the 
 pomp and show displayed by luxury in certain ceremonies, 
 and the infinite quantity of gold and silver employed in them ; 
 " How many things," said he, congratulating himself on his 
 condition, " do I not want !" 
 
 6 His father left him eighty mina, that is to say, 4,000 livres, 
 which he lent to one of his friends, who had occasion for that 
 sum. But the affairs of that friend having taken an ill turn, 
 he lost the whole, and suffered that misfortune with such in- 
 difference and tranquillity, that he did not so much as complain 
 of it. 
 
 7 The peculiar austerity of his life did not render him 
 gloomy and morose, as, was common enough in those times. 
 Though he was very poor, he piqued himself upon the neatness 
 of his person and his house, and could not suffer the ridiculous 
 affectation of Antisthenes, who always wore dirty and ragged 
 clothes. He told him once, that through the holes in his 
 cloak, and the rest of his tatters, abundance of vanity might 
 be discerned. 
 
 8 The ardent admiration of poverty, imputed to Socrates, 
 Diogenes, and other ancient philosophizes, ought to be styled 
 philosophical fanaticism, rather than genuine wisdom and 
 
58 
 
 prudence ; which inculcate the accumulation of property bj 
 persevering diligence, as well as the preservation of it, by 
 economy and simplicity of manners. 
 
 9 The desire of wealth may become pernicious, when 
 cherished at the sacrifice of honesty; and the possession of 
 it may be mischievous, both to the owner and others, or be- 
 neficial, according to his want of capacity to govern his pas- 
 sions, or his discretion and benevolence. 
 
 10 Extreme poverty ought to be regarded among the most 
 terrible calamities of human life ; and though vastly prefer- 
 able to riches with a prostituted conscience, ought not to 
 be submitted to contentedly, except on these conditions :* 
 
 " For the future be prepared, 
 
 Guard wherever thou canst guard ; 
 
 But thy utmost duty done, 
 
 Welcome what thou canst not shun." — Burns. 
 
 11 One of the most distinguishing qualities of Socrates, 
 was a tranquillity of soul, that no accident, no loss, no in- 
 jury, no ill treatment could ever alter. Seneca tells us, that 
 ne had desired his friends to apprise him whenever they saw 
 him ready to fall into a passion, and that he had given them 
 that privilege over him, which he took himself with them. 
 Finding himself in great emotion against a slave, "I would 
 beat you," says he, " if I were not angry." 
 
 12 Without going out of his own house, he found enough 
 to exercise his patience in all its extent. Xantippe, his wife, 
 put it to the severest proofs by her capricious, passionate, 
 violent disposition. She would sometimes be transported 
 with such an excess of rage as to tear off his cloak in the 
 open street; and even one day, after having vented all the 
 reproaches her fury could suggest, she emptied a pot upon 
 his head; at which he only laughed, and said, " that so much 
 thunder must needs produce a shower." 
 
 13 After having related some particularities in the life 
 of Socrates, it is time to proceed to that in w T hich his cha- 
 racter principally and peculiarly consisted ; I mean the pains 
 he took to instruct mankind, and particularly in forming the 
 youth of Athens. 
 
 14 He seemed, says Libarius, the common father of the 
 republic, so attentive was he to the happiness and advantage 
 of his whole country. But as it is very -difficult to correct 
 the aged, and to make people change principles who revere 
 
 * J. T. 
 
59 
 
 the errors in which they have grown gray, he devoted his la- 
 bors principally to the instruction of youth, in order to sow 
 the seeds of virtue in a soil more fit to produce the fruits 
 of it 
 
 15 He had no open school, like the rest of the philoso- 
 phers, nor set times for his lessons. He had no benches 
 prepared, nor ever mounted a professor's chair. He was the 
 philosopher of all times and seasons. He taught in all 
 places and upon all occasions ; in walking, conversation, at 
 meals, in the army, in the public assemblies, in prison itself; 
 and when he drank the poison, he philosophized, says Plu- 
 tarch, and instructed mankind. And from thence the same 
 judicious author takes occasion to establish a great principle 
 in point of government. 
 
 16 To be a public man, says he, it is not necessary to be 
 actually in office, to wear the robe of judge or magistrate, 
 and to sit in the highest tribunals, for the administration of 
 justice. But whoever knows how to give wise counsel to 
 those who consult him, to animate the citizens to virtue, and 
 to inspire them with sentiments of probity, equity, generosity, 
 and love of their country ; this is, says Plutarch, the true 
 magistrate and ruler, in whatever place or condition he be. 
 
 17 Such was Socrates. The services he did the state, by 
 the instructions he gave their youth, and the disciples he 
 formed, were inexpressibly great; never had master a greater 
 number, or so illustrious. The ardor of the young Athenians 
 to follow him, was incredible. They left father and mother, 
 and renounced all parties of pleasure, to attach themselves 
 to him, and hear his discourses. 
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 Dialogue between Socrates and Glauco, on Excessive 
 •Ambition. 
 
 1 The young people of Athens, dazzled with the glory of 
 Themistocles, Cimon, and Pericles, and full of a wild ambi- 
 tion, after having received for some time the lessons of the 
 sophists, who promised to make them very great politicians, 
 conceived themselves capable of every thing, and aspired to 
 the highest employments. 
 
 2 One of these, named Glauco, had taken it so strongly 
 into his head, to enter upon the administration of the public 
 affairs, though not twenty years old, that none of his family 
 
60 
 
 or friends were able to divert him from a design, so little con- 
 sistent with his age and capacity, Socrates, who had an af- 
 fection for him on account of Plato his brother, was the only 
 person who could prevail upon him to change his resolution. 
 
 3 Meeting him one day, he accosted him so happily with 
 discourse, that he engaged him to give the hearing. "You 
 are desirous then to govern the republic," said he to him. 
 "True," replied Glauco. " You cannot have a more noble 
 design," answered Socrates, "for if you succeed you will 
 have it in your power to serve your friends effectually, to ag- 
 grandize your family, and to extend the confines of your 
 country. 
 
 4 " You will make yourself known, not only to Athens, but 
 throughout all Greece, and perhaps your renown, like that of 
 Themistocles, may spread abroad amongst the barbarous na 
 tions. In short, wherever you are, you will attract the res 
 pect and admiration of the whole world." 
 
 5 So smooth and insinuating a prelude, was extremely 
 pleasing to the young man, who was taken by his blind side. 
 He staid willingly, gave him no occasion to press him on that 
 account, and the conversation continued. " Since you desire 
 to be esteemed and honored, no doubt your view is to be use- 
 ful to the public ?" " Certainly." " Tell me then, I beg you, 
 what is the first service you propose to render the state ?" 
 
 6 As Glauco seemed at a loss, and meditated upon what 
 he should answer ; "I presume," continues Socrates, "it is 
 to enrich it, that is to say, to augment its revenues." "My 
 very thought." " You are well versed then, undoubtedly in the 
 revenues of the state, and know perfectly to what they may 
 amount. You have not failed to make them your particular 
 study, in order that if a fund should happen to fail, by any 
 unforeseen accident, you might be able to supply the deficien- 
 cy, by another/' 
 
 7 "I protest," replied Glauco, "that never entered my 
 thoughts." "At least you will tell to what the expenses of 
 the republic amount; for you must know the importance 
 of retrenching such as are superfluous." " I own I am as 
 little informed in this point as the other." "You must there- 
 fore defer your design of enriching the state till another time ; 
 for it is impossible you should do it, whilst you are unac- 
 quainted with its revenues and expenses." 
 
 8 He ran over in this manner, several other articles no 
 less important, with which Glauco appeared equally unao- 
 quaintad ; till he brought him to confess, how ridiculous those 
 
61 
 
 people were, who have the rashness to intrude into govern- 
 ment without any other preparation for the service of the pub- 
 lic, than that of a high esteem for themselves, and an im- 
 moderate ambition of rising to the first places and dignities. 
 
 9 "Have a care, dear Glauco," said he to him, "lest a 
 too warm desire of honors should deceive you into pursuits 
 that may cover you with shame, by setting your incapacity 
 and slender abilities in full light. " 
 
 10 Glauco improved from the wise admonitions of So- 
 crates, and took time to inform himself in private, before he 
 ventured to appear in public. This is a lesson for all ages, 
 and may be very useful to persons in all stations and condi- 
 tions of life. 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 Dialogue between Socrates and Euthydemus, on the bene* 
 ficence of God. 
 
 1 Xenophon has transmitted to us a conversation of So- 
 crates with Euthydemus, upon the wisdom and goodness of 
 Providence, which is one of the finest passages to be found 
 in the writings of the ancients. 
 
 2 " Did you never reflect within yourself," says Socrates 
 to Euthydemus, " how much care the gods have taken to 
 bestow upon man all that is necessary to his nature?" 
 "Never, I assure you," replied he. "You see," continued 
 Socrates, "how necessary light is, and how precious that 
 gift of the gods ought to appear to us." 
 
 3 "Without it," added Euthydemus, "we should be Jike 
 the blind, and all nature as if it were not, or were dead ; be- 
 cause we have occasion for suspense and relaxation, they 
 have also given us the night for our repose." 
 
 4 " You are in the right, and for this we ought to render 
 them continual praise and thanksgiving. They have ordained 
 that the sun, that bright and luminous star, should preside 
 over the day, to distinguish its different parts, and that its 
 light should not only serve to discover the wonders of nature, 
 but to dispense universal light and heat ; and at the same 
 time they have commanded the moon and stars to illuminate 
 the night of itself dark and obscure. 
 
 5 " Is there any thing more admirable than this variety 
 and vicissitude of day and night, of light and darkness, of 
 
62 
 labor and rest ; and all this for the convenience and good of 
 
 man ?" 
 
 6 Socrates enumerates in like manner, the infinite advan- 
 tages we receive from fire and water in the occasions of life ; 
 and continuing to observe upon the wonderful attention of 
 providence in all that regards us. "What say you," pursued 
 he, " upon the sun's return after winter to revisit us, and that 
 as the fruits of one season wither and decay, he ripens new 
 ones to succeed them? 
 
 7 " That having rendered man this service, he retires, lest 
 he should incommode him by excess of heat ; and then, after 
 having removed to a certain point, which he could not pass 
 without putting us in danger of perishing with cold, that he 
 returns in the same track to resume his place in those parts 
 of the heavens, w T here his presence is most beneficial to us ? 
 
 8 " And because w~e would neither support the cold or 
 heat, if we were to pass in an instant from one to the other, 
 do you not admire, that while this star approaches and re- 
 moves so slowly, the two extremities arrive by almost in- 
 sensible degrees ! Is it possible not to discover in this dispo- 
 sition of the seasons of the year, a providence and goodness, 
 not only attentive to our necessities, but even our delights 
 and enjoyments ?" 
 
 9 " All these things," said Euthydemus, "make me 
 doubt, whether the gods have any other employment than to 
 shower their gifts and graces upon mankind. There is one 
 point, however, that puts me to a stand, which is, that the 
 brute animals partake of all these blessings as well as our- 
 selves." 
 
 10 " Yes," replied Socrates; "but do you but observe, 
 that all these animals subsist only for man's service ? The 
 strongest and most vigorous of them he subjects at his will, 
 he makes them tame and gentle, and uses them successfully 
 in his wars, his labors, and the other occasions of life. 
 
 11 "What if we consider man in himself?" Here So- 
 crates examines the diversity of the senses, by the ministry 
 ax which man enjoys all that is best and most excellent in 
 nature ; the vivacity of his wit, and the force of his reason, 
 which exalt him infinitely above all other animals; the won- 
 derful gift of speech, by the means of which we communicate 
 our thoughts reciprocally, publish our laws, and govern 
 states. 
 
 12 "From all this," says Socrates, "it is easy to discern 
 that there are .gods, and that they have man in their particu- 
 
63 
 
 lar care; though he cannot, discover them by his senses. 
 Do we perceive the thunder, whilst it strikes through all 
 things that oppose it ? Do we distinguish the winds, whilst 
 they are tearing up all before them in our view ? Our soul 
 itself, with which we are so intimate, which moves and acts 
 us, is it visible ? can we behold it ? It is the same with re- 
 gard to the gods, of whom none are visible in the distribu- 
 tion of their favors. 
 
 13 " The GREAT GOD himself, this great God, who has 
 formed the universe, and supports the stupendous work, 
 whose every part is finished with the utmost goodness and 
 harmony ; he who preserves them perpetually in immortal 
 vigor, and causes them to obey him with a never failing 
 punctuality, and a rapidity not to be followed by our imagi- 
 nation; this God makes himself sufficiently visible by the 
 endless wonders of which he is author; but continues always 
 invisible in himself. 
 
 14 " Let "us not then refuse ta believe even what we do 
 not see, and let us supply the defects of our corporeal eyes, 
 by using those of the soul; but especially let us learn to ren- 
 der the just homage of respect and veneration to the divinity, 
 whose will it seems to be, that we should have no other per- 
 ception of him than by his effects in our favor. Now this 
 adoration, this homage, consists in pleasing him, and we can 
 only please him by doing his will." 
 
 15 In this manner Socrates instructed youth; these are 
 the principles and sentiments he inspired into them; on the 
 one side perfect submission to the laws and magistrates, in 
 which he made justice consist; on the other, a profound re- 
 gard for, and conformity to the will, of the divinity, which" 
 constitutes religion. 
 
 16 He cites an excellent prayer from an anonymous poet : 
 " Great God, give us, we beseech thee, those good things of 
 which we stand in need, whether we crave them or not ; 
 and remove from us all those which may be hurtful to us, 
 though we implore them of you." 
 
 SECTION III. 
 Accusation, defence, condemnation and death of Socrates. 
 1 Socrates having been accused by his enemies, of whom 
 the best men frequently have the . greatest number, and 
 brought to a public trial, on a variety of frivolous and mostly 
 false charges, he was condemned, by a majority of five hun- 
 dred judges, to suffer death by drinking a decoction of hem- 
 
64 
 
 lock, (cicuta,) which he submitted to, with undaunted firm- 
 ness and* composure. 
 
 2 One accusation was, that he denied the fabulous deities 
 adored by his country ; which if true, would have been one 
 of the most magnanimous and glorious deeds he could have 
 been guilty of. He, however, denies the charge, and cites 
 the sacrifices he had made to them, in the temples and in his 
 own house. , 
 
 3 He was accused of corrupting and leading astray th 
 youth, there being mischievous and abandoned men found 
 among those who had been his pupils. To which he makes 
 the following defence : 
 
 4 " I am accused of corrupting the youth, and of instilling 
 dangerous maxims into them, as well in regard to the wor- 
 ship of the gods, as the rules of government. You know, 
 Athenians, that I never made it my profession, to teach; nor 
 can envy, however violent against me, reproach me with 
 ever having sold my instructions. I have an undeniable 
 evidence for me in this respect, which is my poverty. 
 
 5 " Always equally ready to communicate my thoughts 
 either to the rich or poor, and to give them entire leisure to 
 question or answer me, I lend myself; to every one who is 
 desirous of becoming virtuous; and if amongst those who hear 
 me, there are any who prove either good or bad, neither the 
 virtues of the one, nor the vices of the other, to which I have 
 not contributed, are to be ascribed to me. 
 
 6 " My whole employment is to persuade young and old 
 against too much love for the body, for riches, and all other 
 precarious things of whatever nature they be, and against 
 too little regard for the soul, which ought to be the object of 
 their affection : for I incessantly urge to you, that virtueMbes 
 not proceed from riches, but on the contrary, riches froip 
 virtue ; and that all the other goods of human life, as well 
 public as private, have their source in the same principle. 
 
 7 " And what is the cause that when others are under a 
 necessity to procure their delicacies from abroad, at an exor- 
 bitant rate, / can indulge in pleasures far more exquisite, by 
 recurring to the reflections in my own mind ? If to speak in 
 this manner be to. corrupt youth, I confess, Athenians, that I .. 
 am guilty, and deserve to be punished." "Pass on me what 
 sentence you please, Athenians, but I can neither repent nor 
 change my conduct." 
 
 8 On hearing his final sentence, addressing himself to the 
 judges with a noble tranquillity, " I am going," said he, " to 
 
65 
 
 suffer death by your order, to which nature had condemned 
 me from the first moment of my birth; but my accusers will 
 suffer no less from infamy and injustice by the decrees of 
 truth." 
 
 9 While in prison, Socrates was notified by his friends 
 that his jailor was bribed, and that it was in his power to 
 escape the fatal destiny which awaited him, which he was 
 pressingly urged to do. But he sternly rejected the propo- 
 sition, on the principle that it would be unjust and shameful 
 to violate and evade the laws of the republic, even in their 
 cruel excesses ; having repeatedly pledged himself to invio- 
 lable fidelity, by the most solemn engagements. 
 
 10 "It has always been a maxim with us," says he, " that 
 it is never allowable, upon any pretence whatsoever, to com- 
 mit injustice, not even in regard to those who injure us, nor 
 to return evil for evil, and that when we have once engaged 
 our word, we are bound to keep it inviolably ; no interest 
 being capable to dispense with it." 
 
 1 1 Some time after the death of Socrates, the Athenians 
 became sensible of their shameful outrage, which appeared in 
 all its horrors. Athens was in universal mourning and con- 
 sternation. The accusers were called to an account, and con- 
 demned to death, banishment, and treated with every kind 
 of contumely ; so that some of them killed themselves. 
 
 12 Although Socrates discovered extraordinary sagacity 
 in the perception of moral truth, it appears, from his constru- 
 ing his penetrating prompt judgment into a personal genius, 
 or demon, that he had not divested his mind of the influence 
 of the fantastic chimeras that were generally prevalent in 
 those dark ages of ignorance and superstition. Another evi- 
 dence of this, is, his faith in oracles, in sacrifices to imaginary 
 fabulous deities, in a multiplicity of Gods, &c. 
 
 13 The excellent instructions which Socrates delivered 
 to the Athenians, in relation to the practical moral duties, 
 entitled him to their respect and gratitude ; but they still 
 remained idolatrous, and " too superstitious/ 9 until, five 
 hundred years after him, — " Paul stood in the midst of 
 Mars hill," and declared unto them the God "that dwelleth 
 not in temples made with hands !" J. T. 
 
 F2 
 
6M 
 
 SECTION V. 
 
 IHscourses of Socrates on the duties of children to parents, 
 
 and on fraternal affection. 
 
 1 Xenophon has recorded a conversation between Socrates 
 and his son, on the patience that children ought to exercise 
 towards the faults of their parents ; and another with Chere- 
 crates, the brother of Cherephon, on fraternal friendship, 
 which ought to be in possession of every family that now 
 exists, or shall exist in our world. 
 
 2 Socrates observing his eldest son Lamprocles in a vio- 
 lent passion with his mother, opened a discourse with him 
 as follows : — " Come hither, son/' said he; " have you never 
 heard of men who are called ungrateful?" " Yes, frequent- 
 ly," answered the youth. "And what is ingratitude ?" de- 
 manded Socrates. " It is to receive a kindness," said Lam- 
 procles, " without making a proper return, w T hen there is a 
 favorable opportunity." " Ingratitude is therefore a species 
 of injustice," said Socrates. " I should think so," answered 
 Lamprocles. 
 
 3 " If then," pursued Socrates, " ingratitude be injustice, 
 does it not follow, that the degree of it must be' proportionate 
 to the magnitude of the favors which have been received ?" 
 Lamprocles admitted the inference; and Socrates thus pur- 
 sued his interrogations. 
 
 4 " Can there subsist higher obligations than those which 
 children owe to their parents, from whom life is derived and 
 supported, and by whose good offices it is rendered honorable, 
 useful and happy ?" " I acknowledge the truth of what you 
 say," replied Lamprocles ; " but who could suffer, without 
 resentment, the ill humors of such a mother as I have?" 
 u What strange thing has she done to you ?" said Socrates. 
 
 5 " She has a tongue," replied Lamprocles, "that no 
 mortal can bear." " How much more," said Socrates, " has 
 she endured from your wrangling, fretfulness, and incessant 
 cries, in the period of infancy ! What anxieties has she suf- 
 fered from the levities, capriciousness and follies of your 
 childhood and youth ! What affliction has she felt, what toil 
 and watching has she sustained in your illnesses ! These, and 
 various other powerful motives to filial duty and gratitude, 
 have been recognised by the legislators of our republic. 
 
 6 " For, if any one be disrespectful to his parents, he is 
 not permitted to enjoy any post of trust or honor. Let no 
 one discover the contempt with whioh you have treated her; 
 
67 
 
 for the world will condemn and abandon you for such beha- 
 viour. And if it be even suspected that you repay with in- 
 gratitude the good offices of your parents, you will inevitably 
 forego the kindness of others; because no man will suppose 
 that you have a heart to requite either his favors or his 
 friendship." 
 
 7 Cherephon and Cherecrates having quarrelled with each 
 other, Socrates, their common friend, was solicitous to 
 restore amity between them. Meeting, therefore, with Che- 
 recrates, he thus accosted him: "Is not friendship the sweet- 
 est solac^ in adversity, and the greatest enhancement of the 
 blessings of prosperity?" " Certainly it is," replied Chere- 
 crates ; " because our sorrows are diminished and our joys 
 increased by sympathetic participation." 
 
 8 "Amongst whom, then, must we look for a friend?" 
 said Socrates. " Would you search among strangers ? They 
 cannot be interested about you. Amongst your rivals ? They 
 have an interest in opposition to yours. Amongst those who 
 are much older or younger than yourself ? Their feelings 
 and pursuits will be widely different from yours. Are there 
 not, then, some circumstances favorable, and others essen- 
 tial, to the formation of friendship ?" " Undoubtedly there 
 are," answered Cherecrates. 
 
 9 "May we not enumerate," continued Socrates, "amongst 
 the circumstances favorable to friendship, long acquaintance, 
 common connections, similitude of age and union of inte- 
 rest ?" " I acknowledge, "said Cherecrates, " the powerful 
 influence of these circumstances ; but they may subsist, 
 and yet others be wanting, that are essential to mutual 
 amity." 
 
 10 "And what," said Socrates, "are those essentials 
 which are wanting in Cherephon ?" " He has forfeited my 
 esteem and attachment," answered Cherecrates. "And has 
 he also forfeited the esteem and attachment of the rest of 
 mankind ?" continued Socrates. " Is he devoid of benevo- 
 lence, generosity, gratitude, and other social affections ?" 
 
 11 "Far be it from me," cried Cherecrates, "to lay so 
 heavy a charge upon him: his conduct to others is, I believe, 
 irreproachable ; and it wounds me the more that he should 
 single me out as the object of his unkindness." 
 
 12 " If you desire that one of your neighbors should in*, 
 vite you to his feast, what course would you take?" "I 
 would first invite him to mine." "And how would you in- 
 duce him to take the charge of your affairs, when you are 
 
68 
 
 on a journey ?" "I should be forward to do the same good 
 office to him in his absence." 
 
 13 "If you be solicitous to remove a prejudice which he 
 may have received against you, how would you then be- 
 have towards him?" "I should endeavor to convince him 
 by my looks, words and actions, that such prejudice was ill 
 founded." "And, if he appeared inclined to reconciliation, 
 would you reproach him with the injustice he had done you?" 
 "No," answered Cherecrates; "I would repeat no griev- 
 ances." 
 
 14 " Delay not, therefore, my Cherecrates, to do what I 
 advise ; use your endeavor to appease your brother ; nor 
 doubt his readiness to return your love." — " But suppose, 
 my Socrates, when I have acted as you advise, my brother 
 should behave no better than he has done ?" — "Should it 
 prove so, Cherecrates, what other harm can arise to you from 
 it, than that of having shown yourself a good man, and a 
 good" brother to one, whose badness of temper makes him 
 undeserving of your regard ? 
 
 15 "But, I have no apprehension of so unfavorable an 
 issue to this matter: rather, when your brother shall see it 
 your intention to conquer by courtesy, he himself will strive 
 to excel in so noble a contest. As it is, nothing can be more 
 deplorable than your present situation ; it being no more 
 than if these hands, ordained of God for mutual assistance, 
 should so far forget their office as to impede each other: — But 
 no situation can hinder brothers, who live in amity, from 
 rendering one another the most essential services." 
 
 SECTION VI. 
 
 Conversation between Socrates and Critobulus, on the art 
 
 of procuring the friendship of good men. 
 
 1 "Suppose," said Socrates, "we wanted to choose a 
 worthy friend, what should be our method of proceeding ? 
 Should we not beware of one much addicted to intemperance 
 and dissipation ? or of a lazy disposition ? Since enslaved to 
 such vices, no man would be of use, either to himself, or any 
 other." « Certainly." 
 
 2 " And if there was a person, provident indeed enough, 
 but withal so covetous, as never to be content unless he had 
 the advantage of you on every occasion?" — "I would think 
 of him worse than the other." — "But what do you say to the 
 man, Critobulus, who is so much bent on making a fortune 
 as to mind nothing but what serves to that end?" — "I say, 
 
69 
 leave him to himself ; since it is sure he will never be of uee 
 to any other. " 
 
 3 " But what if the man were free from these defects ; 
 and had only such a selfishness belonging to him, as made 
 him always ready to recede favors, but not at all solicitous 
 about returning any ?" 
 
 4 " Why certainly/' replied Critobulus, "no person would 
 wish to have any thing to say to such a one: — "But, my 
 Socrates," continued he, " since none of these people will 
 serve our purpose, show me, I desire you, what sort of 
 man he must be whom we should endeavor to make a friend 
 of?" 
 
 5 "I suppose," said Socrates, "he should be the very re- 
 verse of all we have been saying: — moderate in his pleasures — 
 a strict observer of his word — fair and open in all his deal- 
 ings ; and who will not suffer even his friend to surpass him 
 in generosity; so that all are gainers with whom he hath 
 to do." 
 
 6 "But how shall we find such a one," said Critobulus; "or 
 make trial of those virtues and vices, without running some 
 hazard by the experiment? And when we have found out a 
 man whom we judge proper to make a friend of; ^what means 
 may w r e use to engage his affection ?" 
 
 7 "Not hunt him down, Qritobulus, as we do hares; nor 
 catch him by stratagem, as we do birds; neither are we to 
 seize him by force, as we are wont to do our enemies; for it 
 would be an arduous task to make a man your friend in spite 
 of inclination." 
 
 8 " You would insinuate, then, my Socrates, that in order 
 to obtain a virtuous friend, we must endeavor, first of all, to 
 be ourselves virtuous ?" 
 
 9 " Why, can you suppose, Critobulus, that a bad man can 
 gain the affection of a good one ? Make yourself in the first 
 place a virtuous man, and then boldly set yourself to gain 
 the affection of the virtuous. Set yourself, therefore, dili- 
 gently to the attainment of every virtue; and you will find 
 on experience, that no one of them whatsoever but will 
 flourish and gain strength, when properly exercised* This. 
 is the counsel / have to give you, my Critobulus." 
 
70 
 CHAPTER 3. 
 
 ABRIDGMENT OF SENECA's MORALS. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 Abridgment of Seneca's discourse on Beneficence. 
 
 He that would know all things, let him read Seneca ; the most lively 
 describer of public vices and manners, and the smartest reprehender of 
 them. — Laciantius. 
 
 Next to the gospel itself, I do look upon Seneca's Morals, as the most 
 sovereign remedy against the miseries of human nature. — L'Estrange. 
 
 1 AN obstinate goodness overcomes an ill disposition, as 
 a barren soil is made fruitful by care and tillage. But let a 
 man be never so ungrateful or inhuman, he shall never de- 
 stroy the satisfaction of my having done a good office. 
 
 2 But what if others will be wicked ? does it follow that 
 we must be so too ? If others will be ungrateful, must we 
 therefore be inhuman ? To give and to lose, is nothing ; but 
 to lose and to give still, is the part of a great mind. And the 
 other's in effect, is the greater loss; for the one does but lose 
 his benefit, and the other loses himself. The light shines 
 upon the profane and sacrilegious as well as upon the right- 
 eous. The mariner puts to sea again after a wreck. 
 
 3 An illustrious mind does not propose the profit of a good 
 office, but the duty, If the world be wicked, we should yet 
 persevere in well-doing, even among evil men. I had rather 
 never receive a kindness than never bestow one : not to re- 
 turn a benefit is the greater sin, but not to confer it is the 
 earlier. 
 
 4 We cannot propose to ourselves a more glorious exam- 
 ple than that of the Almighty, who neither needs nor expects 
 any thing from us; and yet he is continually showering down 
 and distributing his mercies and his grace among us, not only 
 for our necessities, but also for our delights ; as fruits and 
 seasons, rain and sunshine, veins of water and of metal ; and 
 all this to the wicked as well as to the good, and without any 
 other end than the common benefit of the receivers. 
 
 5 With what face then can we be mercenary one to an- 
 other, that have received all things from Divine Providence 
 gratis? It is a common saying, " I gave such or such a man 
 so much money, I would I had thrown it into the sea:" and 
 yet the merchant trades again after a piracy, and the banker 
 ventures afresh after a bad security. 
 
 6 He that will do no good offices after a disappointment, 
 must stand still, and do just nothing at all. The plow goes 
 
71 
 
 on after a barren year : and while the ashes are yet warm, 
 we raise a new house upon the ruins of a former. 
 
 7 What obligations can be greater than those which chil- 
 dren receive from their parents ? and yet should we give them 
 over in their infancy, it were all to no purpose. Benefits, 
 like grain, must be followed from the seed to the harvest. I 
 will not so much as leave any place for ingratitude. I will 
 pursue, and I will encompass the receiver with benefits ; so 
 that let him look which way he will, his benefactor shall be 
 still in his eye, even when he would avoid his own memory. 
 
 8 In a matter. of money, it is a common thing to pay a 
 debt out of course, and before it be due ; but we account our- 
 selves to owe nothing for a good office; whereas the benefit 
 increases by delay. So insensible are we of the most im- 
 portant affair of human life. 
 
 9 That man were doubtless in a miserable condition, that 
 could neither see, nor hear, nor taste, nor feel, nor smell : but 
 much more unhappy is he than that, wanting a sense of bene- 
 fits, loses the greatest comfort in nature in the bliss of giving 
 and receiving them. He that takes a benefit as it is meant, 
 is in the right ; for the benefactor has then his end, and his 
 only end, when the receiver is grateful. 
 
 ABRIDGMENT OF SENECA ? S TREATISE ON A HAPPY LIFE. 
 
 SECTION II. 
 On a happy life, and wherein it co?isists. 
 
 1 There is not any thing in this world, perhaps, that is 
 more talked of, and less understood, than the business of a 
 happy life. It is every man's wish and design ; and yet not 
 one of a thousand that knows wherein that happiness consists. 
 We live, however, in a blind and eager pursuit of it ; and the 
 more haste we make in a wrong way, the farther we are from 
 our journey's end. 
 
 2 Let us therefore, first, consider " what it is we should 
 be at;" and secondly, "which is the readiest way to com- 
 pass it." If we be right, we shall find every day how much 
 we improve ; but if we either follow the cry, or the track, 
 of people that are out of the way, we must expect to be mis- 
 led, and to continue our days in wandering and error. 
 
 3 Wherefore, it highly concerns us to take along with us 
 a skilful guide ; for it is not in this, as in other voyages, 
 where the highway brings us to our place of repose ,- or if a 
 man should happen to be out, where the inhabitants might 
 set him right again : but on the contrary, the beaten road is 
 
72 
 here the most dangerous, and the people instead of helping 
 us, misguide us. Let us not therefore follow, like beasts, 
 but rather govern ourselves by reason, than by example. 
 
 4 It fares with us in human life as in a routed army ; one 
 stumbles first, and then another falls upon him, and so they 
 follow, one upon the neck of another, until the whole field 
 comes to be but one heap of miscarriages. 
 
 5 And the mischief is, " that the number of the multitude 
 carries it against truth and justice ;" so that we must leave 
 the crowd if we would be happy : for the question of a happy 
 life is not to be decided by vote : nay, so far from it, that 
 plurality of voices is still an argument of the wrong ; the 
 common people find it easier to believe than to judge, and 
 content themselves with what is usual, never examining 
 whether it be good or not. 
 
 6 By the common people is intended the man of title as 
 well as the clouted shoe : for I do not distinguish them by 
 the eye, but by the mind, which is the proper judge of the 
 man. 
 
 7 The true felicity of life is to be free from perturbations; 
 to understand our duties toward God and man : to enjoy the 
 present without any anxious dependence upon the future. 
 The great blessings of mankind are within us, and within our 
 reach; but we shut our eyes, and, like people in the dark, we 
 fall foul upon the very thing we search for without finding it. 
 
 8 " Tranquillity is a certain equality of mind, which no 
 condition of fortune can either exalt or depress." " True 
 joy is a serene and sober motion;" and they are miserably 
 out that take laughing for rejoicing. The seat of it is with- 
 in, and there is no cheerfulness like the resolution of a brave 
 mind, that has fortune under his feet. He that can look death 
 in the face, and bid it welcome ; open his door to poverty, 
 and bridle his appetites; this is the man whom Providence 
 has established in the possession of inviolable delights. The 
 
 Pleasures of the vulgar are ungrounded, thin, and superficial; 
 ut the other are solid and eternal. 
 
 9 As the body itself is rather a necessary thing than a 
 great; so the comforts of it are but temporary and vain; be- 
 side that, without extraordinary moderation, their end is only 
 pain and repentance; whereas, a peaceful conscience, honest 
 thoughts, virtuous actions, and an indifference for casual 
 events, are blessings without end, satiety, or measure. 
 
 10 This consummated state of felicity is only a submission 
 to the dictate of right nature ; " The foundation of it is wis- 
 
73 
 dom and virtue; the knowledge of what we ought to do, and 
 the conformity of the will to that knowledge." 
 
 SECTION III. 
 Human happiness is founded upon wisdom and virtue. 
 
 1 Taking for granted that human happiness is founded 
 upon wisdom and virtue, we shall treat of these two points 
 in order as they lie ; and, first, of wisdom ; not in the latitude 
 of its various operations, but as it has only a regard to a good 
 life, and the happiness of mankind. 
 
 2 Wisdom is a right understanding, a faculty of discerning 
 good from evil ; what is to be chosen, and what rejected ; a 
 judgment grounded upon the value of things, and not the 
 common opinion of them; an equality of force, and a strength 
 of resolution. It sets a watch over our words and deeds, it 
 takes us up with the contemplation of the works of nature, 
 and makes us invincible to either good or evil fortune. 
 
 3 It is the habit of a perfect mind, and the perfection of 
 humanity, raised as high as nature can carry it. It differs 
 from philosophy, as avarice and money ; the one desires, and 
 the other is desired ; the one is the effect and the reward of 
 the other. To be wise is the use of wisdom, as seeing is the 
 use of eyes, and well speaking the use of eloquence. 
 
 4 He that is perfectly wise is perfectly happy; nay, the 
 very beginning of w r isdom makes life easy to us. Neither is 
 it enough to know this, unless we print it in our minds by 
 daily meditation, and so bring a good will to a good habit. 
 
 5 And we must practise what we preach : for philosophy 
 is not a subject for popular ostentation ; nor does it rest in 
 words, but in things. It is not an entertainment taken up for 
 delight, or to give a taste to our leisure; but it fashions the 
 mind, governs our actions, tells what we are to do, and what 
 not. 
 
 6 It sits at the helm, and guides us through all hazards ; 
 nay, we cannot be safe without it, for every hour gives us 
 occasion to make use of it It informs us in all the duties of 
 life, piety to our parents, faith to our friends, charity to the 
 miserable, judgment in counsel; it gives us peace by fearing 
 nothing, and riches by coveting nothing, 
 
 7 There is no condition of life that excludes a wise man 
 from discharging his duty. If his fortune be good, he tem- 
 pers it ; if bad, he masters it ; if he has an estate, he will 
 exercise his virtue in plenty; if none, in poverty. 
 
 8 Some accidents mere are, which I confess may affect 
 
 G 
 
74 
 
 him, but not overthrow him ; as bodily pains, loss of chil- 
 dren and friends; the ruin and desolation of a man's country. 
 One must be made of stone, or iron, not to be sensible of 
 these calamities : and beside, it were no virtue to bear them, 
 if a body did not feel them. If there were nothing else in 
 it, a man would apply himself to wisdom, because it settles 
 him in a perpetual tranquillity of mind. 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 There can be no Happiness without Virtue. 
 
 1. Virtue is that perfect good,* which is the complement 
 *C a happy life; the only immortal thing that belongs to 
 mortality: it is the knowledge both of others and itself; it is 
 an invincible greatness of,mind not to be elevated or dejected 
 with good or ill fortune. 
 
 2. It is sociable and gentle, free, steady, and fearless : 
 content within itself; full of inexhaustible delights ; and it is 
 valued for itself. One may be a good physician, a good gov- 
 ernor, a good grammarian, without being a good man; so 
 that all things from without are only accessaries; for the seat 
 of it is a pure and holy mind. 
 
 3 It consists in a congiuity of actions which we can 
 never expect so long as we are distracted by our passions. It 
 is not the matter >, but the virtue, that makes the action good 
 or ill; and he that is Jed in tiiumph may be yet greater than 
 his conqueror. 
 
 4. When we come once to value our flesh above our hon- 
 esty, we are lost; and yet I would not press upon dangers, 
 no, not so much as upon inconveniences, unless where the 
 man and the brute come in competition: and in such a case, 
 rather than make a forfeiture of my credit, my reason, or my 
 faith, I would run all extremities. 
 
 5. It is by an impression of nature that all men have a 
 reverence for virtue ; they know it, and they have a respect 
 for it, though they do not practise it: nay, for the counte- 
 nance of their very wickedness, they miscall it virtue. Their 
 injuries they call benefits, and expect a man should thank 
 them for doing him a mischief; they cover their most noto- 
 rious iniquities with a pretext of justice. 
 
 6. He that robs upon the highway, had rather find his 
 booty than force it. Ask any of them that live upon rapine, 
 fraud, oppression, if they had not rather enjoy a fortune 
 honestly gotten, and their consciences will not suffer them 
 to deny it. 
 
75 
 
 7 Men are vicious only for the profit of villany ; for, at 
 the same time that they commit it, they condemn it. Nay, 
 so powerful is virtue, and so gracious is Providence, that 
 every man has a light set up within him for a guide ; which 
 we do all of us both see and acknowledge, though we do not 
 pursue it* 
 
 8 What I do shall be done for conscience, not ostenta- 
 tion. I will eat and drink, not to gratify my palate, but to 
 satisfy nature: I will be cheerful to my friends, mild and 
 placable to my enemies: I will prevent an honest request, if 
 I can foresee it, and I will grant it without asking : I will 
 look upon the whole world as my country : I will live and 
 die with this testimony, that I loved good studies and a good 
 conscience; that I never invaded another man's liberty, and 
 that I preserved my own. 
 
 9 Virtue is divided into two parts, contemplation and 
 action. The one is delivered by institution, the other by 
 admonition: one part of virtue consists in discipline; the 
 other in exercise ; for we must first learn, and then practise. 
 The sooner we begin to apply ourselves to it, and the more 
 haste we make, the longer shall we enjoy the comforts of a 
 rectified mind; nay, we have the fruition of it in the very 
 act of forming it: but it is another sort of delight, I must 
 confess, that arises from the contemplation of a soul which 
 is advanced into the possession of wisdom and virtue. 
 
 10 If it was so great a comfort to us to pass from the 
 subjection of our childhood into a state of liberty and busi- 
 ness, how much greater will it be when we come to cast off 
 the boyish levity of our minds,! and range ourselves among 
 the philosophers ? 
 
 1 1 We are past our minority, it is true, but not our in- 
 discretion; and, which is yet worse, we have the authority 
 of seniors, and the weaknesses of children, (I might have 
 said of infants, for every little thing frights the one, and 
 every trivial fancy the other.) 
 
 12 For virtue is open to all; as well to servants and ex- 
 iles, as to princes : it is profitable to the world and to itself, 
 at all distances and in all conditions ; and there is no diffi- 
 culty that can excuse a man from the exercise of it. 
 
 1 3 Nay, the mind itself has its variety of perverse plea- 
 sures as well as the body; as insolence, self-conceit, pride, 
 
 * " I know the right, and I approve it too ; 
 
 " Condemn the wrong, and yet the wrong pursue.^— Pope. 
 
76 
 
 garrulity, laziness, and the abusive wit of turning every thing 
 into ridicule; whereas virtue weighs all this and corrects it 
 
 SECTION V. 
 Philosophy is the guide of Life. 
 
 1 Philosophy* is divided into moral, natural, and ra- 
 tional: the first concerns our manners ; the second searches 
 the works of nature ; and the third furnishes us with pro- 
 priety of words and arguments, and the faculty of distin- 
 guishing, that we may not be imposed upon with tricks 
 and fallacies. The causes of things fall under natural phi- 
 losophy, arguments under rational, and actions under 
 moral. 
 
 2 Moral philosophy is again divided into matter of jus- 
 tice, which arises from the estimation of things and of men: 
 and into affections and actions ; and a failing in any one of 
 these, disorders all the rest : for what does it profit us to 
 know the true value of things, if we be transported by our 
 passions ? or to master our appetites without understanding 
 the when, the what, the how, and other circumstances of 
 our proceedings ? 
 
 3 Socrates places all philosophy in morals ; and wisdo?n 
 in the distinguishing of good and evil. It is the art and law 
 of life, and it teaches us what to do in all cases, and, like 
 good marksmen, to hit the white at any distance. In 
 poverty it gives us riches, or such a state of mind as makes 
 them superfluous to us. 
 
 4 It arms us against all difficulties ; one man is pressed 
 with death, another with poverty; some with envy, others 
 are offended at Providence, and unsatisfied with the coa- 
 dltion of mankind: but philosophy prompts us to relieve the 
 prisoner, the infirm, the necessitous, the condemned; to 
 show the ignorant their errors, and rectify their affections. 
 
 5 It makes us inspect and govern our manners ; it rouses 
 us where we are faint and drowsy; it binds up what is loose, 
 and humbles in us that which is contumacious; it delivers the 
 mind from the bondage of the body, and raises it up to the 
 contemplation of its divine original. The very shadow of 
 glory carries a man of honor upon all dangers, to the con- 
 tempt of fire and sword; and it were a shame if right rea- 
 son should not inspire as generous resolutions into a man of 
 virtue. 
 
 * I^oye of wisdom, from two Greek words, philos and sophia. 
 
77 
 
 6 As men of letters are the most useful and excellent of 
 friends, so are they the best of citizens; as being better 
 judges of the blessings they enjoy under a well ordered 
 government, and of what they owe to the magistrate for 
 their freedom and protection. They are men of sobriety 
 and learning, and free from boasting and insolence; they 
 reprove the vice, Without reproaching the person; for they 
 have learned to be wise, without either pomp or envy. 
 
 7 It is of the bounty of nature that we live; but oi phi- 
 losophy that we live well. Not but that philosophy is also 
 the gift of heaven, so far as to the faculty, but not to the sci- 
 ence; for that must be the business of industry. No man 
 is born wise; but wisdom and virtue require a tutor, though 
 we can easily learn to be vicious without a master. 
 
 8 It is philosophy that gives us a veneration for God, a 
 charity for our neighbor, that teaches us our duty to heaven, 
 and exhorts us to an agreement one with another ; it unmasks 
 things that are terrible to us, refutes our errors, restrains our 
 luxury, reproves our avarice. 
 
 9 I could, never hear Attalus upon the vices of the age, 
 and the errors of life, without a compassion for mankind ; 
 and in his discourses upon poverty, there was something, 
 methought, that was more than human. " More than we use, n 
 says he, " is more than we need, and only a burden to the 
 bearer." That saying of his put me out of countenance at 
 the superfluities of my own fortune. 
 
 10 And so in his invectives against vain pleasures, he did 
 at such a rate advance the felicities of a sober table, a pure 
 mind, and a chaste body, that a man could not hear him without 
 a love for continence and moderation. Upon these lectures 
 of his, I denied myself, for a while after, certain delicacies 
 that I had formerly used: but in a short time I fell to them 
 again, though so sparingly, that the proportion came little 
 short of a total abstinence. 
 
 1 1 Now, to show you how much more earnest my en- 
 trance upon philosophy was than my progress, my tutor 
 Sotion gave me a wonderful affection for Pythagoras, and 
 after him for Sextius : the former forebore shedding of blood 
 upon his met empsy costs ; and put men in fear of it, lest 
 they should offer violence to the souls of some of their depart- 
 ed friends or relations. 
 
 12 " Whether, " says he, "there be a transmigration or 
 not, if it be true, there is no hurt in it; if false, there 
 is frugality; and nothing is gotten by cruelty neither, but 
 
 G2 
 
78 
 
 the cozening a wolf, perhaps, or a vulture, of a supper." 
 
 13 Now, Sextius abstained upon another account, which 
 was, that he would not have men inured to hardness of heart 
 by the laceration and tormenting of living creatures; be- 
 side, that nature had sufficiently provided for the sustenance 
 of mankind without blood. 
 
 14 This wrought so far upon me that I gave over eating 
 of flesh, and in one year I made it not only easy to me, but 
 pleasant; my mind, methought, was more at liberty, (and 
 I am still of the same opinion,) but I gave it over never- 
 theless; and the reason was this : It was imputed as a super- 
 stition to the Jews, the forbearance of some sorts of flesh, 
 and my father brought me back again to my old custom, 
 that I might not be thought tainted with their superstition. 
 Nay, and I had much ado to prevail upon myself to suffer 
 it too. I make use of this instance to show the aptness of 
 youth to take good impressions, if there be a friend at hand 
 to press them. 
 
 15 Philosophers are the tutors of mankind ; if they have 
 found out remedies for the mind, it must be our part to apply 
 them. I cannot think of Cato, Lelius, Socrates, Plato, with- 
 out veneration ; their very names are sacred to me. 
 
 16 The life of a philosopher is ordinate, fearless, equal, 
 secure ; he stands firm in all extremities, and bears the lot 
 of his humanity with a divine temper. There is a great 
 difference betwixt the splendor of philosophy and of for- 
 tune ; the one shines with an original light, the other with a 
 borrowed one ; beside that, it makes us happy and immor- 
 tal: for learning shall outlive palaces and monuments. 
 
 17 What does it concern us which was the elder of the 
 two, Homer or Hesiod ; or which was the taller, Helen or 
 Hecuba? We take a great deal of pains to trace Ulysses in 
 his wanderings; but were it not time as well spent to look to 
 ourselves, that we may not wander at all ? 
 
 18 Are not we ourselves tossed with tempestuous passions ? 
 and both assaulted by terrible monsters on the one hand, and 
 tempted by sirens on the other ? Teach me my duty to my 
 country, to my father, to my wife, to mankind. What is it 
 to me whether Penelope was honest or not ? teach me to know 
 how to be so myself, and live according to that knowledge. 
 
 19 What am I the better for putting so many parts to- 
 gether in music, and raising a harmony out of so many dif- 
 ferent tones ? teach me to tune my affections, and to hold 
 constant to myself, Geometry teaches me the art of mea- 
 
79 
 
 suring acres; teaeh me to measure my appetites, and to 
 know when I have enough ; teach me to divide with my 
 brother, and to rejoice in the prosperity of my neighbor. 
 
 20 What can be more ridiculous than for a man to neglect 
 his manners, &xi& compose his style? "Misfortunes," in 
 fine, " cannot be avoided ; but they may be sweetened, if not 
 overcome! and our lives may be made happy by philosophy." 
 
 21 There seems to be so near an affinity betwixt wisdom, 
 philosophy, and good counsels, that it is rather matter of cu- 
 riosity than of profit to divide them ; philosophy, being only 
 a limited wisdom; and good counsels a communication of 
 that wisdom, for the good of others, as well as of ourselves; 
 and to posterity, as well as to the present. 
 
 22 Good counsel is the most needful service that we can 
 do to mankind ; and if we give it to many, it will be sure 
 to profit some: for of many trials, some or other will un- 
 doubtedly succeed. He that places a man in the possession 
 of himself, does a great thing ; for wisdom does not show 
 itself so much in precept, as in life ; in a firmness of mind 
 and a mastery of appetite: it teaches us to do as well as to 
 talk : and to make our words and actions all of a color. 
 
 23 We may be sometimes earnest in advising, but not vio- 
 lent and tedious. Few words, with gentleness and efficacy, 
 are best: the misery is, that the wise do not need counsel, 
 and fools will not take it. A good man, it is true, delights 
 in it ; and it is a mark of folly and ill-nature to hate reproof. 
 To a friend I would be always frank and plain ; and rather 
 fail in the success, than be wanting in the matter of faith and 
 trust 
 
 SECTION VI. 
 No felicity like peace of conscience. 
 
 1 "A good conscience is the testimony of a good life, and 
 the reward of it." This is it that fortifies the mind against 
 fortune, when a man has gotten the mastery of his passions; 
 placed his treasure and security within himself; and learned 
 to be content with his condition. 
 
 2 He that has dedicated his mind to virtue, and to the 
 good of human society, whereof he is a member, has con- 
 summated the establishment of his peace. Every man has a 
 judge and a witness within himself, of all the good and ill 
 that he does, which inspires us with great thoughts, and ad- 
 ministers to us wholesome counsels. 
 
 3 To see a man fearless in dangers, happy in adversity. 
 
so 
 
 composed in a tumult, and laughing at all those things which 
 are generally either coveted or feared ; all men must acknow- 
 ledge that this can be nothing else but a beam of divinity 
 that influences a mortal body. A great, a good, and a right 
 mind, is a kind of divinity lodged in flesh, and may be the 
 blessing of a slave as well as of a prince. 
 
 4 A good conscience fears no witness, but a guilty con- 
 science is solicitous even in solitude. If we do nothing but 
 what is honest, let all the world know it; but if otherwise, 
 what does it signify to have nobody else know it, so long as 
 I know it myself? Miserable is he that slights that witness! 
 
 5 Wickedness, it is true, may escape the law, but not the 
 conscience: for a private conviction is the first and the great- 
 est punishment of offenders ; so that sin plagues itself ; and 
 the fear of vengeance pursues even those that escape the 
 stroke of it. It were ill for good men that iniquity may so 
 easily evade the law, the judge, and the execution, if Nature 
 had not set up torments and gibbets in the consciences of 
 transgressors. 
 
 6 He that is guilty lives in perpetual terror ; and while 
 he expects to be punished, he punishes himself ; and whoso- 
 ever deserves it expects it. What if he be not detected ? he 
 is still in apprehension yet that he may be. His sleeps are 
 painful, and never secure ; and he cannot speak of another 
 man's wickedness without thinking of his own ; whereas a 
 good conscience is a continual feast. 
 
 7 Those are the only certain and profitable delights, which 
 arise from the consciousness of a well acted life ; no matter 
 for noise abroad, so long as we are quiet within: but if our 
 passions be seditious, that is enough to keep us waking with- 
 out any other tumult 
 
 8 It is dangerous for a man too suddenly, or too easily to be- 
 lieve himself. Wherefore let us examine, watch, observe, and 
 inspect our own hearts; for we ourselves are our own greatest 
 flatterers: we should every night call ourselves to account: 
 "What infirmity have I mastered to-day? what passion 
 opposed ? what temptation resisted ? what virtue acquired V* 
 
 9 Our vices will abate of themselves, if they be brought 
 every day to the shrift. Oh the blessed sleep that follows 
 such a diary ! Oh the tranquillity, liberty, and greatness of 
 that mind that is a spy upon itself, and a private censor of its 
 own manners! It is my custom every night, so soon as the 
 candle is out, to run over all the words and actions of the 
 past day ; and I let nothing escape me. 
 
81 
 
 10 A good man can never be miserable, nor a wicked man 
 happy. There is not in the scale of nature, a more insepara- 
 ble connexion of cause and effect, than in the case of happi- 
 ness and virtue ; nor any thing that more naturally produces 
 the one, or more necessarily presupposes the other. 
 
 1 1 For what is it to be happy, but for a man to content 
 himself with his lot, in a cheerful and quiet resignation to 
 the appointments of God ? All the actions of our lives ought 
 to be governed with respect to good and evil ; and it is only 
 reason that distinguishes. It is every man's duty to make 
 himself profitable to mankind: if he can, to many ; if not, to 
 fewer ; if not to neither, to his neighbor ; but, however, to 
 himself. 
 
 SECTION VII. 
 
 The due contemplation of Divine Providence is a remedy 
 
 against all misfortunes. 
 
 1 Whoever observes the world, and the order of it, will 
 find all the motions in it, to be only the vicissitudes of fall- 
 ing and rising; nothing extinguished, and even those things 
 which seem to us to perish, are in truth but changed. 
 
 2 The seasons go and return, day and night follow in their 
 courses, the heavens roll, and nature goes on with her work: 
 all things succeed in their turns, storms and calms; the law 
 of nature will have it so, which we must follow and obey, 
 accounting all things that are done to be well done: so that 
 what we cannot mend we must suffer, and wait upon Provi- 
 dence without repining. 
 
 3 It is the part of a cowardly soldier to follow his com- 
 nwider groaning; but a generous man delivers himself up to 
 God without struggling; and it is only for a narrow mind to 
 condemn the order of the world, and to propound rather the 
 mending of nature than of himself. 
 
 4 In the very methods of nature we cannot but observe 
 the regard that Providence had to the good of mankind, even 
 in the disposition of the world, in providing so amply for our 
 maintenance and satisfaction. It is not possible for us to 
 comprehend what the Power is which has made all things; 
 some few sparks of that Divinity are discovered, but infi- 
 nitely the greater part of it lies hid. We are all of us, how- 
 ever, thus far agreed, first, in the acknowledgment and belief 
 of that Almighty Being ; and, secondly, that we are to as- 
 cribe to it all majesty and goodness. 
 
 5 Fabricius took more pleasure in eating the roots of his 
 
82 
 
 own planting than in all the delicacies of luxury and expense. 
 Prudence and religion are .above accidents, and draw good 
 out of every thing ; affliction keeps a man in use, and makes 
 him strong, patient, and hardy. 
 
 6 Providence treats us like a generous father, and brings 
 us up to labors, toils, and dangers ; whereas the indulgence 
 of a fond mother makes us weak and spiritless. No man 
 can be happy that does not stand firm against all contin- 
 gencies. 
 
 SECTION VIII. 
 Of levity of mind, and other impediments of a happy life, 
 
 1 Now, to sum up what is already delivered, we have 
 showed what happiness is, and wherein it consists ; that it is 
 founded upon wisdom and virtue; for we must first know 
 what we ought to do, and then live according to that know- 
 ledge. 
 
 2 We have also discoursed the helps of philosophy and 
 precepts towards a happy life; the blessing of a good con- 
 science ; that a good man can never be miserable, nor a 
 wicked man happy ; nor any man unfortunate, that cheerfully 
 submits to Providence. We shall now examine, how it 
 comes to pass that, when the certain way to happiness lies so 
 fair before us, men will yet steer their course on the other 
 side, which as manifestly leads to ruin. 
 
 3 There are some who live without any design at all, and 
 only pass in the world like straws upon a river ; they do not 
 go> but they are carried. Some there are that torment them- 
 selves afresh with the memory of what is past: "Lord! what 
 did I endure ? never was any man in my condition ; eve#y 
 body gave me over ; my very heart was ready to break,"&c. 
 
 4 Others, again, afflict themselves with the apprehension 
 of evils to come; and very ridiculously both: for the one 
 does not now concern us, and the other not yet: beside that, 
 there may be remedies for mischiefs likely to happen. 
 
 5 Levity of mind is su great hindrance to repose; it is only 
 philosophy that makes the mind invincible, and places us out 
 of the reach of fortune, so that all her arrows fall short of us. 
 This it is that reclaims the rage of our passions, and sweetens 
 the anxiety of our fears. 
 
 6 Place me among princes or among beggars, the one shall 
 not make me proud, nor the other ashamed. I can take as 
 sound a sleep in a barn as in a palace, and a bundle of hay 
 makes me as good a lodging as a bed of down. I will not 
 
83 
 
 transport myself with either pain or pleasure; but yet for all 
 that, I could wish that I had an easier game to play, and that 
 I were put rather to moderate my joys than my sorrows. 
 
 7 Never pronounce any man happy that depends upon for- 
 tune for his happiness ; for nothing can be more preposterous 
 than to place the good of a reasonable creature in unreason- 
 able things. If I have lost any thing, it was adventitious; 
 and the less money, the less trouble ; the less favor the less 
 envy. 
 
 8 That which we call our own is but lent us ; and what we 
 have received gratis we must return without complaint. 
 That which fortune gives us this hour, she may take away 
 the next ; and he that trusts to her favor, shall either find 
 himself deceived, or if he be not, he will at least be troubled, 
 because he may be so. 
 
 9 But the best of it is, if a man cannot mend his fortune, 
 he may yet mend his manners, and put himself so far out of 
 her reach, -that whether she gives or takes, it shall be all one 
 to us ; for we are neither the greater for the one, nor the less 
 for the other. 
 
 SECTION IX. 
 %/? sensual life is a miserable life. 
 
 1 The sensuality that we here treat of, falls naturally un- 
 der the head of luxury ; which extends to all excesses of 
 gluttony, effeminacy of manners ; and,. in short, to whatso- 
 ever concerns the over-great care of the body. 
 
 2 To begin now with the pleasures of the palate, (which 
 deal with us like Egyptian thieves, that strangle those they 
 embrace,) what shall we say of the luxury of Nomentagus 
 and Apicius, that entertained their very souls- in the kitchen; 
 they have the choicest music for their ears ; the most divert- 
 ing spectacles for their eyes; the choicest variety of meats 
 and drinks for their palate. 
 
 3 What is all this, I say, but a merry madness ? It is true 
 they have their delights, but not without heavy and anxious 
 thoughts, even in their very enjoyments; beside that, they 
 are followed with repentance, and their frolics are little more 
 than the laughter of so many people out of their wits. 
 
 4 They cross the seas for rarities, and when they have 
 swallowed them, they will not so much as give them time to 
 digest. Wheresoever nature has placed men, she has provi- 
 ded them aliment: but we rather choose to irritate hunger 
 by expense, than to allay it at an easier rate. 
 
84 
 
 5 Our forefathers (by the force of whose virtues we are 
 now supported in our vices) lived every jot as well as we, 
 when they provided and dressed their own meat with their 
 own hands; lodged upon the ground,and were not as yet come 
 to the vanit/ of gold and gems; when they swore by their 
 earthen gods, and kept their oath, though they died for it. 
 
 6 Let any man take a view of our kitchens, the number 
 of our cooks, and the variety of our meats ; will he not 
 wonder to see so much provision made for one stomach? 
 We have as many diseases as we have cooks or meats; and 
 the service of the appetite is the study now in vogue. 
 
 7 From these compounded dishes arise compounded dis- 
 eases, which require compounded medicines. It is the same 
 thing with our minds that it is with our tables ; simple vices 
 are curable by simple counsels, but a general dissolution of 
 manners is hardly overcome ; we are overrun with a public 
 as well as with a private madness. 
 
 8 The physicians of old understood little more than the 
 virtue of some herbs to stop blood, or heal a wound ; and 
 their firm and healthful bodies needed little more before they 
 were corrupted by luxury and pleasure; and when it came to 
 that once, their business was not to allay hunger, but to pro- 
 voke it by a thousand inventions and sauces. So long as our 
 bodies were hardened with labor, or tired with exercise or 
 hunting, our food was plain and simple; many dishes have 
 made many diseases. 
 
 9 It is an HI thing for a man not to know the measure of 
 his stomach, nor to consider that men do many things in 
 their drink that they are ashamed of sober; drunkenness 
 being nothing else but a voluntary madness, it emboldens 
 men to do all sorts of mischief; it both irritates wickedness 
 and discovers it. 
 
 10 It was in a drunken fit that Alexander killed Clytus. 
 It makes him that is insolent prouder, him that is cruel 
 fiercer ; it takes away all shame. He that is peevish breaks 
 out presently into all ill words and blows. 
 
 11 Luxury steals on us by degrees ; first it shows itself in 
 a more than ordinary care of our bodies, it slips next into 
 the furniture of our house; and it gets then into the fabric, 
 curiosity, and expense of the house itself. It appears, lastly, 
 in the fantastical excesses of our tables. 
 
 12 The most miserable mortals are they that deliver them- 
 selves up to their palates, or to their passions: the pleasure 
 is short, and turns presently nauseous, and the end of it is 
 
So 
 either shame or repentance. It is a brutal entertainment, and 
 unworthy of a man, to place his felicity in the service of his 
 senses. 
 
 13 What a deal of business is now made about our houses 
 and diet, which were at first of little expense ? Luxury led 
 the way, and we have employed our wits in the aid of our 
 vices. First, we desired superfluities, our next step was to 
 wickedness, and, in conclusion, we delivered up our minds 
 to our bodies, and so became slaves to our appetites, which 
 before were our servants, and are now become our masters. 
 What was it that brought us to the extravagance of embroi- 
 deries, perfumes? &c. 
 
 14 We passed the bounds of nature, and lashed out 
 into superfluities; insomuch, that it is now-a-days only for 
 beggars and clowns to content themselves with what is suf- 
 ficient; our luxury makes us insolent and mad. How long 
 shall we covet and oppress, enlarge our possession, and 
 account that too little for one man which was formerly 
 enough for a nation ? And our luxury is as insatiable as 
 our avarice. Where is that lake, that sea, that forest, that 
 spot of land, that is not ransacked to gratify our palate ? 
 
 15 The very earth is burdened with our buildings; not a 
 river, not a mountain, escapes us. Oh, that there should be 
 such boundless desires in our little bodies! Would not 
 fewer lodgings serre us ? We lie but in one, and where we 
 are not, that is not properly ours. What with our hooks, 
 snares, nets, dogs, &c. we are at war with all living crea- 
 tures ; and nothing comes amiss but that which is either too 
 cheap, or too common; and all this is to gratify a fantastical 
 palate. 
 
 16 Whatsoever is laid upon us by necessity, we should 
 receive generously; for it is foolish to strive with what we 
 caanot avoid. We are born subjects, and to obey God is 
 perfect liberty. He that does this shall be free, safe, and 
 quiet. Deliver me from the superstition of taking those 
 things which are light and vain, for felicities. 
 
 SECTION X. 
 iflvarice and ambition are insatiable and restless. 
 1 Neither does avarice make us only unhappy in our- 
 selves, but malevolent also to mankind. The soldier wishes 
 for war; the husbandman would have his corn dear; the 
 lawyer prays for dissension ; the physician for a sickly 
 year ; he that deals in curiosities, for luxury and excess; 
 II 
 
86 
 
 for he makes up his fortunes out of the corruptions of the 
 age. 
 
 2 To proceed now from the most prostitute of all vices, 
 sensuality and avarice, to that which passes in the world 
 for the most generous, the thirst of glory and dominion. If 
 they that run mad after wealth and honor, could but look 
 into the hearts of them that have already gained these points, 
 how would it startle them to see those hideous cares and 
 crimes that wait upon ambitious greatness: all those acquisi- 
 tions that dazzle the eyes of the vulgar are but false plea- 
 sures, slippery and uncertain. They are achieved with 
 labor, and the very guard of them is painful. 
 
 3 He that had subdued so many princes and nations, 
 upon the killing of Clytus (one friend) and the loss of Hy- 
 phestion (another,) delivered himself up to anger and sad- 
 ness : and when he was master of the world, he was yet a 
 slave to his passions. Look into Cyrus, Cambyses, and the 
 whole Persian line, and you shall not find so much as one 
 man of them that died satisfied with what he had gotten. 
 
 4 Ambition aspires from great things to greater ; and pro- 
 pounds matters even impossible, when it has at once arrived 
 at things beyond expectation. It is a kind of dropsy ; the 
 more a man drinks, the more he covets. But all superflui- 
 ties are hurtful. 
 
 SECTION XI. 
 The blessings of temperance and, moderation. 
 
 1 There is not any thing that is necessary to us but we 
 have it either cheap or gratis: and this is the provision that 
 our heavenly Father has made for us, whose bounty was 
 never wanting to our needs. It is true, the appetite craves 
 and calls upon us, but then a small matter contents it. 
 
 2 As for meat, clothes, and lodging, a little feeds the body, 
 and as little covers it; so that if mankind would only attend 
 human nature, without gaping at superfluities, a cook would 
 be found as needless as a soldier: for we may have necessa- 
 ries upon very easy terms; whereas, we put ourselves to 
 great pains for excesses. 
 
 3 It is pride and curiosity that involves us in difficulties: 
 if nothing will serve a man but rich clothes and furniture, 
 statues and plate, a numerous train of servants, and the rari- 
 ties of all nations, it is not fortune's fault, but his own, that 
 he is not satisfied ; for his desires are insatiable, and this is 
 not a thirst, but a disease. 
 
87 
 
 4 While nature lay in common, and all her benefits were 
 promiscuously enjoyed, what could be happier than the state 
 of mankind, when people lived without avarice or envy ? 
 
 5 Happy is that man that eats only for hunger, and drinks 
 only for thirst; that stands upon his own legs, and lives by 
 reason, not example ; and provides for use and necessity, not for 
 ostentation and pomp. Let us curb our appetites, encourage 
 virtue, and rather be beholden to ourselves for riches, than 
 to fortune ; who, when a man draws himself into a narrow 
 compass, has the least mark at him. 
 
 6 Let my bed be plain and clean, and my clothes so too : 
 my meat without much expense, or many waiters, and neither 
 a burden to my purse tior to my body. That which is too 
 little for luxury, is abundantly enough for nature. 
 
 SECTION XII. 
 
 Constancy of mind gives a man reputation, * and makes 
 
 him happy in despite of all misfortune. 
 
 1 We have examples in all ages, and in all cases, of great 
 men that have triumphed over all misfortune. Metellus 
 suffered exile resolutely, Rutilius cheerfully; Socrates dis- 
 puted in the dungeon ; and though he might have made his 
 escape, refused it ; to show the world how easy a thing it 
 was to subdue the two great terrors of mankind, death and 
 a jail. 
 
 2 Let us but consult history, and we shall find, even in 
 the most effeminate of nations, and the most dissolute of 
 times, men of all degrees, ages, and fortunes, nay, even 
 women themselves, that have overcome the fear of death : 
 which, in truth, is so little to be feared, that duly considered, 
 it is one of the greatest benefits of nature. 
 
 3 If we turn our backs once, we are routed and pursued , 
 that man only is happy that draws good out of evil, that 
 stands fast in his judgment, and unmoved with any external 
 violence ; or, however, so little moved, that the keenest 
 arrow in the quiver of fortune is but as the prick of a needle 
 to him rather than a wound ; and all her other weapons fall 
 upon him only as hail upon the roof of a house, that crackles 
 and skips off again, without any damage to the inhabitant. 
 
 4 Not that I pretend to exempt a wise man out of the 
 number of men, as if he had no sense of pain; but I reckon 
 him as compounded of body and soul; the body is irrational, 
 and may be galled, burnt, tortured; but the rational part is 
 fearless, invincible, and not to be shaken. 
 
58 
 
 5 Whatsoever is necessary, we must bear patiently. It 
 is no new thing to die, no ne\V thing to mourn, and no new 
 thing to be merry again. Must I be poo?*? I shall have 
 company: If I die, I shall be no more sick; and it is a thing 
 L cannot do but once. 
 
 6 Let us never wonder at any thing we are born to; for 
 no man has reason to complain, where we are all in the same 
 condition. He that escapes might have suffered; and it is 
 but equal to submit to the law of mortality. We must un- 
 dergo the colds of winter, the heats of summer: the distem- 
 per of the air, and the diseases of the body. 
 
 7 A wild beast meets us in one place, and a man that is 
 more brutal in another: we are here assaulted by fire, there 
 
 by water. Demetrius was reserved by Providence for the 
 age he lived in, to show, that neither the times could cor- 
 rupt him, nor he reform the people. It is the part of a great 
 mind to be temperate in prosperity, resolute in adversity, 
 and to prefer a mediocrity to an excess. 
 
 SECTION XIII. 
 
 Our happiness depends in a greajk measure upon the' 
 
 choice of our company. 
 
 1 The comfort of life depends upon conversation. Good 
 offices, and concord, and human eociety, are like the work- 
 ing of an arch of stone, all would fall to the ground if one 
 pfece did not support another. Above all things let us have 
 a tenderness for blood; and it is yet too little not to hurt, 
 unless we profit one another. 
 
 2 We are to relieve the distressed; to put the wanderer 
 into hie way; and to divide our bread with the hungry: 
 which is but the doing of good to ourselves; for we are only 
 several members of one great body. 
 
 3 Nay, we are all of a consanguinity; formed of the 
 same materials, and designed to the same end ; this obliges 
 us to a mutual tenderness and converse ; and the other, to live 
 with a regard to equity and justice. The love of society is 
 natural; but the choice of our company is matter of virtue 
 and prudence. 
 
 4 Noble examples stir us up to noble actions; and the very 
 history of large and public souls, inspires a man with gene- 
 rous thoughts. It makes a man long to be in action, and 
 doing something that the world may be the better for; as 
 protecting the weak, delivering the oppressed, punishing 
 the insolent. 
 
89 
 
 5 As an ill air may endanger a good constitution, so may 
 a place of ill example endanger a good man. Nay, there are 
 some places that have a kind of privilege to be licentious; 
 and where luxury and dissolution of manners seem to be 
 lawful; for great examples give both authority and excuse to 
 wickedness. Those places are to be avoided as dangerous 
 to our manners. Hannibal himself was unmanned by the 
 looseness of Campania; and though a conqueror by his arms, 
 he was overcome by his pleasures. 
 
 6 The best conversation is with the philosophers; that is 
 to say, with such of them as teach us matter, not words; 
 that preach to us things necessary, and keep us to the prac- 
 tice of them. The best way is to retire, and associate only 
 with those that may be the better for us, and we for them. 
 These respect! are mutual ; for while we teach, we learn. To 
 deal freely, I dare not trust myself in the hands of much 
 company; I never go abroad that I come home again the 
 same man I went out. 
 
 SECTION XIV. 
 
 The blessings of friendship. 
 
 1 Of all felicities, the most charming 'is that of 2. firm and 
 gentle friendship. It sweetens all our cares, dispels our 
 sorrows, and counsels us in all extremities. Nay, if there 
 were no other comfort in it than the bare exercise of so gen- 
 erous a virtue, even for that single reason, a man would not 
 be without it. 
 
 2 But we are not yet to number our friends by the visits 
 that are made us; and to confound the decencies of cere- 
 mony and* commerce with the offices of united affections. 
 The great difficulty rests in the choice of him : that is to 
 say, in the first place, let him be virtuous, for vice is con- 
 tagious, and there is no trusting of the sound and the sick 
 together ; and he ought to be a wise man too, if a body 
 knew where to find him; but in this case, he that is least ill 
 is best 
 
 3 That friendship where men's affections are cemented by 
 an equal and by a common love of goodness, it is not either 
 hope or fear, or any private interest, that can ever dissolve 
 it; but we carry it with us to our graves, and lay down our 
 lives for it with satisfaction. 
 
 4 Paulina's* good and mine were so wrapped up together 
 
 * Seneca's wife. 
 H2 
 
90 
 
 that in consulting her comfort I provided for my own; and 
 when I could not prevail upon her to take less care for me, 
 she prevailed upon me to take more care for myself. 
 
 5 But let us have a care, above all things, that our kind- 
 ness be rightfully founded ; for where there is any other 
 invitation to friendship than the friendship itself, that friend- 
 ship will be bought and sold. He derogates from the ma- 
 jesty of it, that makes it only dependent upon good fortune. 
 
 6 It is a narrow consideration for a man to please himself 
 in the thought of a friend, " because," says he, "I shall 
 have one to help me when I am sick, in prison, or in want." 
 A brave man should rather take delight in the contemplation 
 of doing the same offices for another. 
 
 7 He that loves a man for his own sake, is in an error. A 
 friendship of interest cannot last any longer tfcan the interest 
 itself ; and this is the reason that men in prosperity are so 
 much followed, and when a man goes down the wind, nobody 
 comes near him. Temporary friends will never stand the 
 test. It is a negotiation, not a friendship, that has an eye 
 to advantages* 
 
 SECTION XV. 
 He that would be happy must take an account of his time. 
 
 1 The shortness of life is the common complaint both of 
 fools and philosophers; as if the time we have were not suf- 
 ficient for our duties. But* it is with our lives as with our 
 ©states, a good husband makes a little go a great way: where- 
 as, let the revenue of a prince fall into the hands of a prodi- 
 gal, it is gone in a moment. 
 
 2 So that the time allotted us, if it were weir employed, 
 were abundantly enough to answer all the ends and purposes 
 of mankind. You shall have some people perpetually play- 
 ing with their fingers, whistling, humming, and talking to 
 themselves; and others consume their days in the composing, 
 hearing, or reciting of songs and lampoons. 
 
 S How many precious mornings do we spend in consul- 
 tation with barbers and tailors, patching and painting, be- 
 twixt the comb and the glass ? The truth is, we are more 
 solicitous about our dress than our manners, and about '* ft 
 order of our periwigs than that of the government. 
 
 4 While we are young, we may learn; our minds au 
 tractable, and our bodies fit for labor and study; but when 
 age comes on, we are seized with languor and sloth, afflicted 
 with diseases, and at last we leave the world as ignorant as 
 
91 
 
 we oarne into it; only we die worse than we were born; 
 which is none of nature's fault, but ours; for our fears, sus- 
 picions, perfidy, &c. are from ourselves. 
 
 5 I wish, with all my soul, that I had thought of my end 
 sooner, but I must make the more haste now, and spur on, 
 like those that set out late upon a journey; it will be better to 
 learn late than not at all, though it be but only to instruct me 
 how I may leave the stage with honor. 
 
 6 What greater folly can there be in the world than this 
 loss of time, the future being so uncertain, and the dam- 
 ages so irreparable ? There is nothing that we can properly 
 call our own but our time, and yet every body fools us out 
 of it that has a mind to it. 
 
 7 He that takes away a day from me, takes away what he 
 can never restore me. But our time is either forced away 
 from us, or stolen from us, or lost; of which the last is the 
 foulest miscarriage. It is in life as in a journey: a book or 
 a companion brings us to our lodging before we thought we 
 were half way. 
 
 SECTION XVI. 
 Happy is the man that may choose his own. business. 
 
 1 Oh the blessings of privacy and leisure ! The wish of 
 the powerful and eminent, but the privilege only of inferiors; 
 who are the only people that live to themselves. A wise man 
 is never so busy as in the solitary contemplation of God and 
 the works of nature. He withdraws himself to attend the ser- 
 vice of future ages: and those counsels which he finds salutary 
 to himself, he commits to writing for the good of after times, 
 as we do the receipts of sovereign antidotes or balsams. 
 
 2 He that is well employed in his study, though he may 
 seem to do nothing at all, does the greatest things of all 
 others, in affairs both human and divine. To supply a friend 
 with a sum of money, or give my voice for an office, these 
 are only private and particular obligations ; but he that lays 
 down precepts for the governing of our lives and the mode- 
 rating of our passions, obliges human nature not only in the 
 present, but in all succeeding generations. 
 
 g He that would be at quiet, let him repair to his philoso- 
 ky, a study that has credit with all sorts of men. The 
 ..*>quence of the bar, or whatsoever else addresses to the 
 people, is never without enemies; but philosophy minds its 
 own business, and even the worst have an esteem for it. 
 There can never be such a conspiracy against virtue, the 
 
92 
 
 world can never be so wicked, but the very name of & phi- 
 losopher shall still continue venerable and sacred. 
 
 4 It is not that solitude, or a country life, teaches inno- 
 cence or frugality; but vice falls of itself, without witnesses 
 and spectators, for the thing it designs is to be taken notice 
 of. Did ever any man put on rich clothes not to be seen? or 
 spread the pomp of his luxury where nobody was to take 
 notice of it? If it were not for admirers and spectators 
 there would be no temptations to excess: the very keeping 
 of us from exposing them cures us of desiring them, for 
 vanity and intemperance are fed with ostentation. 
 
 5 We cannot call these people men of leisure that are 
 wholly taken up with their pleasures. A troublesome life is 
 much to be preferred before a slothful one; and it is a strange 
 thing, methinks, that any man should fear death that has 
 buried himself alive ; as privacy, without letters, is but the 
 burying of a man quick. 
 
 6 It is the part of a good patriot to prefer men of worth ; 
 to defend the innocent ; to provide good laws ; and to advise 
 in war and in peace. But is not he as good a patriot that 
 instructs youth in virtue ; that furnishes the world with pre- 
 cepts of morality, and keeps human nature within the bounds 
 of right reason ? Who is the greater man, he that pronounces 
 a sentence upon the bench, or he that in his study reads us 
 a lecture of justice, piety, patience, fortitude, and the bless- 
 ing of a good conscience ? 
 
 SECTION XVII. 
 Jigainst immoderate sorrow for the death of friends. 
 
 1 To lament the death of a friend is both natural and just ; 
 a sigh or a tear I would allow to his memory; but no profuse 
 or obstinate sorrow. 
 
 2 But do I grieve for my friend's sake, or for my own ? 
 We are apt to say, " What would I give to see him again, 
 and to enjoy his conversation ; I was never sad in his com- 
 pany ; my heart leaped whenever I met him ; I want him 
 wherever I go." All that is to be said is, " The greater the 
 loss, the greater is the virtue to overcome it." 
 
 3 If grieving will do no good, it is an idle thing to grieve; 
 and if that which has befallen one man remains to all, it is 
 as unjust to complain. The whole world is upon the march 
 towards the same point; why do we not cry for ourselves 
 that are to follow, as well as for him that is gone first? Why 
 
93 
 
 do we not as well lament beforehand for that which we know 
 will be, and cannot possibly but be. 
 
 SECTION XVIII. 
 Mediocrity the best state of fortune. 
 
 1 All I desire is, that my poverty may not be a burden 
 to myself, or make me so to others; and that is the best state 
 of fortune that is neither directly necessitous, nor far from 
 it. A mediocrity of fortune, with a gentleness of mind, will 
 preserve us from fear of envy ; which is a desirable condition, 
 for no man wants power to do mischief. \Ve never consider 
 the blessing of coveting nothing, and the glory of being full 
 in ourselves, without depending upon fortune. 
 
 2 With parsimony, a little is sufficient ;, and without it, 
 nothing; whereas frugality makes a poor man rich. If we lose 
 an estate, we had better never have had it: he that has least 
 to lose, has least to fear; and those are better satisfied whom 
 fortune never favored, than those whom she has forsaken. 
 
 3 The state is most commodious that lies betwixt poverty 
 and plenty. Diogenes understood this very well, when he 
 put himself into an incapacity of losing any thing. That 
 course of life is most commodious which is both safe and 
 wholesome ; the body is to be indulged no farther than for 
 health ; and rather mortified than not kept in subjection to 
 the mind. 
 
 4 It is necessary to provide against hunger, thirst, and 
 cold; and somewhat for a covering to shelter us against other 
 inconveniences ; but not a pin-matter whether it be of turf 
 or of marble. A man may lie as warm and as dry under a 
 thatched as under a gilded roof. Let the mind be great and 
 glorious, and all other things are despicable in comparison. 
 "The future is uncertain; and I had rather beg of myseM 
 not to desire any thing, than of fortune to bestow it." 
 
 ABRIDGMENT OF SENECA ? S TREATISE ON ANGER. 
 
 SECTION XIX, 
 Anger described ; it is against nature. 
 
 1 We are here to encounter the most outrageous, brutal, 
 dangerous, and intractable of all passions ; the most loath- 
 some and unmannerly ; nay, the most ridiculous too; and 
 
 ^e subduing of this monster will do a great deal toward the 
 establishment of human peace. 
 
 2 Anger is the desire, not the power and faculty of re- 
 venge : Reason deliberates before it judges; but anger passes 
 
94 
 
 sentence without deliberation, treason only attends the 
 matter in hand ; but anger is startled at every accident: it 
 passes the bounds of reason, and carries it away with it. 
 
 3 In short, " anger is an agitation of the mind that pro- 
 ceeds to the resolution of a revenge, the mind assenting to 
 it." But anger may undoubtedly be overcome by caution 
 and good counsel ; for it is a voluntary vice, and not of the 
 condition of those accidents that befall us as frailties of our 
 humanity. 
 
 4 It is an idle thing to pretend that we cannot govern our 
 anger ; for some things that we do are much harder than 
 others that we ought to do ; the wildest affections may be 
 tamed by discipline, and there is hardly any thing which the 
 mind will do, but it may do. There needs no more argu- 
 ment in this case than the instance of several persons, both 
 powerful and impatient, that have got the absolute mastery 
 of themselves in this point. 
 
 5 Thrasippus, in his drink, fell foul upon the cruelties of 
 Pisistratus; who, when he was urged by several about him to 
 make an example of him, returned this answer, " Why should 
 I be angry with a man that stumbles upon me blindfold ?" 
 
 6 The moderation of Antigonus was remarkable. Some 
 of his soldiers were railing at him one night, where there was 
 but a hanging betwixt them. Antigonus overheard them, 
 and putting it gently aside, " Soldiers," says he, "stand a 
 little farther off, for fear the king should hear you. " 
 
 7 And we are to consider, not only violent examples, but 
 moderate, where there wanted neither cause of displeasure 
 nor power of revenge : As in the case of Antigonus, who, 
 the same night hearing his soldiers cursing him for bringing 
 them into so foul a way, he went to them, and without tell- 
 ing them who he was,- helped them out of it. "Now," says 
 he, " you may be allowed to curse him that brought you into 
 the mire, provided you bless him that took you out of it." 
 
 8 It was a strong provocation that which was given to 
 Philip of Macedon, the father of Alexander. The Athenians 
 sent their ambassadors to him, and they were received with 
 this compliment, "Tell me, gentlemen," says Philip, "what 
 is there that I can do to oblige the Athenians ?" Democharas, 
 one of the ambassadors, told him, that they would take it for 
 a great obligation if he would be pleased to hang himself. 
 
 9 This insolence gave an indignation to the bystanders; 
 but Philip bade them not to meddle with him, but even to let 
 that foul mouthed fellow go as he came. "And for you, the 
 
V5 
 rest of the ambassadors/' says he, " pray tell the Athenians, 
 that it is worse to speak such things than to hear and forgive 
 them." This wonderful patience under contumelies was a 
 great means of Philip's security. 
 
 SECTION XX. 
 Anger is a short madness ; and a deformed, vice. 
 
 1 He was much in the right, whoever it was, that first 
 called anger a short madness ; for they have both of them 
 the same symptoms ; and there is so wonderful a resemblance 
 betwixt the transports of choler and those of frenzy ', that 
 it is a hard matter to know the one from the other. 
 
 2 A bold, fierce, and threatening countenance, as pale as 
 ashes, and, in the same moment, as red as blood; a glaring 
 eye, a wrinkled brow, violent motions, the hands restless and 
 perpetually in action, wringing and menacing, snapping of 
 the joints, stamping with the feet, the hair starting, trem- 
 bling lips, a forced and squeaking voice ; the speech false and 
 broken, deep and frequent sighs, and ghastly looks ; the veins 
 swell, the heart pants, the knees knock ; with a hundred dis- 
 mal accidents that are common to both distempers. 
 
 3 Neither is anger a bare resemblance only of madness, 
 but many times an irrevocable transition into the thing itself. 
 How many persons have we known, read, and heard of, that 
 have lost their wits in a passion, and never came to themselves 
 again ? It is therefore to be avoided, not only for moderation's 
 sake, but also for health. 
 
 4 Now, if the outward appearance of anger be so foul and 
 hideous, how deformed must that miserable mind be, that is 
 harassed with it ? for it leaves no place either for counsel or 
 friendship, honesty or good manners; no place either for the 
 exercise of reason, or for the offices of life. 
 
 5 If I were to describe it, I would draw a tiger bathed in 
 blood, sharp teeth, and ready to take a leap at his prey; or 
 dress it up as poets represent the furies, with whips, snakes, 
 and flames; it should be sour, livid, full of scars, and wallow- 
 ing in gore, raging up and down, destroying, grinning, bel- 
 lowing, and pursuing ; sick of all other things, and most of 
 all itself. It turns beauty into deformity, and the calmest 
 counsels into fierceness: it disorders our very garments, and 
 fills the mind with horror. 
 
 6 How abominable is it in the soul then, when it appears 
 so hideous even through the bones, the skin, and so many im- 
 pediments ? Is he not a madman that has lost the govern- 
 
96 
 
 ment of himself, and is tossed hither and thither by his fury, 
 as by a tempest ? the executioner and the murderer of his 
 nearest friends ? The smallest matter moves it, and makes 
 us unsociable and inaccessible. It does all things by vio- 
 lence, as well upon itself as others; and it is, in short, the 
 master of all passions. 
 
 7 A vice that carries along with it neither pleasure nor 
 profit, neither honor nor security ; but on the contrary, de- 
 stroys us to all the comfortable- .and glorious purposes of our 
 reasonable being. Some there Ire, that will have the root 
 of it to be the greatness of mind. 
 
 8 And, why may we not as well entitle impudence to 
 courage j whereas the one is proud, the other brave ; the one 
 is gracious and gentle, the other rude and furious ? At the 
 same rate, we may ascribe magnanimity to avarice, luxury, 
 and ambition, which are all but splendid impotences, with- 
 out measure and without foundation. 
 
 9 There is nothing great but what is virtuous, nor indeed 
 truly great, but what is also composed and quiet. Anger, 
 alas! is but a. wild impetuous blast, an empty tumor, the very 
 infirmity of children; a brawling, clamorous evil: and the 
 more noise the less courage ; as we find it commonly, that 
 the boldest tongues have the faintest hearts. 
 
 SECTION XXI. 
 Anger is neither warrantable nor useful. 
 
 1 In the first place, anger is unwarrantable, as it is un- 
 just : for it falls many times upon the wrong person, and 
 discharges itself upon the innocent instead of the guilty. 
 
 2 Secondly, It is unsociable to the highest point ; for it 
 spares neither friend nor foe ; but tears all to pieces, and casts 
 human nature into a perpetual state of war. 
 
 3 Thirdly, It is to no purpose. "It is a sad thing," we 
 cry, " to put up these injuries, and we are not able to bear 
 them;" as if any man that can bear anger could not bear an 
 injury, which is much more supportable. Nor is it for the 
 dignity pf virtue to be either angry or sad. 
 
 4 It is with a tainted mind as with an ulcer, not only the 
 touch, but the very offer at it, makes us shrink and complain; 
 when we come once to be carried off from our poise, we are 
 lost. Besides, that the greatest punishment of an injury is 
 the consciousness of having done it ; and no man suffers 
 more than he that is turned over to the pain of a repentance. 
 
 5 But "mav not an honest man then be allowed to be 
 
97 
 
 angry at the murdering of his father, or the ravishing of his 
 sister or his daughter before his face ?" No, not at all. I will 
 defend my parents, and I will repel the injuries that are done 
 them ; but it is my piety, and not my anger, that moves me 
 to it. I will do my duty without fear or confusion; I will 
 not rage, I will not weep ; but discharge the office of a good 
 man without forfeiting the dignity of a man. 
 
 6 If my father be assaulted, I will endeavor to rescue 
 him; if he be killed, I will do right to his memory; and all 
 this, not in any transport of passion, but in honor and con- 
 science. Neither is there any need of anger where reason 
 does the same thing. A man may be temperate, and yet 
 vigorous, and raise his mind according to the occasion, more 
 or less, as a stone is thrown according to the discretion and 
 intent of the caster. 
 
 7 If anger were sufferable in any case, it might be allowed 
 against an incorrigible criminal under the hand of justice: 
 but punishment is not matter of anger, but of caution. The 
 law is without passion, and strikes malefactors as we do ser- 
 pents, and venomous creatures, for fear of greater mischief. 
 
 S It is not for the dignity of a judge, when he comes to 
 pronounce the fatal sentence, to express any emotions of anger 
 in his looks, words or gestures; for he condemns the- vice, 
 not the man; and looks upon the wickedness without anger. 
 Justice cannot be angry; nor is there any need of an angry 
 magistrate for the punishment of foolish and wicked men. 
 The power of life and death must not be managed with pas- 
 sion. We give a horse the spur that is restiff or jadish, and 
 tries to cast his rider: but this is without anger too, and only 
 to take down his stomach, and bring him, by correction, to 
 obedience. 
 
 9 The end of all correction is either the amendment of 
 wicked men, or to prevent the influence of ill example: for 
 men are punished with a respect to the future ; not to expiate 
 offences committed, but for fear of worse to come. There 
 are no greater slaves certainly, than those that serve anger ; 
 for they improve their misfortunes by an impatience more 
 insupportable than the calamity that causes it. 
 
 10 Nor does it rise by degrees, as other passions, but 
 flashes like gunpowder, blowing up all in a moment. Nei- 
 ther does it only press to the mark, but overbears every thing 
 in the way to it. Other vices drive us, but this hurries us 
 headlong; other passions stand firm themselves, though per- 
 haps w r e cannot resist them ; but this consumes and destroys 
 
98 
 itself; it falls like thunder or a tempest, with an irrevocable 
 violence, that gathers strength in the passage, and then evapo- 
 rates in the conclusion. 
 
 11 Other vices are unreasonable, but this is xmhealthful 
 too; other distempers have their intervals and degrees, but 
 in this we are thrown down as from a precipice: there is not 
 anything so amazing to others, or so destructive to itself: so 
 proud and insolent, if it succeeds, or so extravagant, if it 
 be disappointed. 
 
 12 We find that elephants will be made familiar ; bulls 
 will suffer children to ride upon their backs, and play with 
 their horns; bears and lions, by good usage, will be brought 
 to fawn upon their masters ; how desperate a madness is it 
 then for men, after the reclaiming the fiercest of beasts, and 
 the bringing of them to be tractable and domestic, to become 
 yet worse than beasts one to another ? 
 
 13 Alexander had two friends, Clytus and Lysimachus ; 
 the one he exposed to a lion, the other to himself ; and he 
 that was turned loose to the beast escaped. Why do we not 
 rather make the best of a short life, and render ourselves 
 amiable to all while we live, and desirable when we die ? 
 
 14 For does any man know but that he that is now our 
 enemy, may come hereafter to be our friend, over and above 
 the reputation of clemency and good nature ? And what can 
 be more honorable or comfortable, than to exchange a feud 
 for a friendship ? 
 
 15 But, however, if it be our fortune to transgress, let not 
 our anger descend to the children, friends, or relations, even 
 of our bitterest enemies. The very cruelty of Sylla was 
 heightened by that instance of incapacitating the issue of 
 the proscribed. It js inhuman, to entail the hatred we have 
 for the father, upon his posterity. 
 
 16 A good and a wise man is not to be an enemy of wick- 
 ed men, but a reprover of them ; and he is to look upon all 
 the drunkards, the licentious, the thankless, covetous, and 
 ambitious, that he meets with, no otherwise than as a physi- 
 cian looks upon his patients. Democritus laughed, and He- 
 raclitus wept, at the folly and wickedness of the world, but 
 we never read of an angry philosopher. 
 
 17 To take a farther view, now, of the miserable conse- 
 quences and sanguinary effects of this hideous distemper ; 
 from hence come slaughters and poisons, wars, and desola- 
 tions, the razing and burning of cities: the unpeopling of na- 
 tions, and the turning of populous countries into deserts: 
 
99 
 public massacres and regicides: princes led in triumph: some 
 murdered in their bed-chambers: others stabbed in the senate, 
 or cut off in the security of their spectacles and pleasures. 
 
 18 It was a severe instance, that of Piso too. A soldier 
 that had leave of absence to go abroad with his comrade, 
 came back to the camp at his time, but without his com- 
 panion. Piso condemns him to die, as if he had killed him, 
 and appoints a centurion to see the execution. Just as the 
 headsman was ready to do his office, the other soldier ap- 
 peared, to the great joy of the whole field, and the centurion 
 bade the executioner hold his hand. 
 
 19 Hereupon Piso, in a rage, mounts the tribunal, and 
 sentences all three to death ; the one because he was con- 
 demned, the other because it was for his sake that his fellow- 
 soldier was condemned, the centurion for not obeying the 
 order of his superior. An ingenious piece of inhumanity, 
 to contrive how to make three criminals where effectually 
 there were none. 
 
 20 There was a Persian king that caused the noses of a 
 whole nation to be cut off, and they were to thank him 
 that he spared their heads. And this, perhaps, would have 
 been the fate of the Macrobii, (if Providence had not hinder- 
 ed it,) for the freedom they used to Cambyses' ambassadors, 
 in not accepting the slavish terms that were offered them. 
 
 21 This put Cambyses into such a rage, that he presently 
 enlisted into his service every man that was able to bear arms; 
 and, without either provisions or guides, marched immedi- 
 ately through dry and barren deserts, and where never any 
 man had passed before him, to take his revenge. Before he 
 was a third part of the way, his provisions failed him. 
 
 22 His men, at first, made shift with the buds of trees, 
 boiled leather, and the like; but soon after there was not so 
 much as a root or a plant to be gotten, nor a living creature to 
 be seen; and then by lot every tenth man was to die for a nour- 
 ishment to the rest, which was still worse than the famine. 
 
 23 But yet this passionate king went on so far, until one 
 part of. his army was lost, and the other devoured, and until 
 he feared that he himself might come to be served with the 
 same sauce. So that at last he ordered a retreat, wanting no 
 delicates all this while for himself, while his soldiers were 
 taking their chance who should die miserably, or live worse. 
 Here was an anger taken up against a whole nation, that 
 neither deserved any ill from him, nor was so much as known 
 to him. 
 
100 
 
 SECTION XXII. 
 Advice in the cases of contumely and revenge. 
 
 1 Of provocations to anger there are two sorts; there is 
 an injury, and there is a contumely. The former, in its own 
 nature, is the heavier ; the other, slight in itself, and only 
 troublesome to a wounded imagination. And yet some there 
 are that will bear blows, and death itself, rather than contu- 
 melious words. A contumely is an indignity below the 
 consideration of the very law; and not worthy either of a 
 revenge, or so much as a complaint. 
 
 2 It is only the vexation and infirmity of a weak mind, 
 as well as the practice of a haughty and insolent nature, and 
 signifies no more to a wise and sober man than an idle dream, 
 that is no sooner past than forgotten. It is true, it implies 
 contempt; but what needs any man care for being contempt- 
 ible to others, if he be not so to himself ? 
 
 3 It is a wretched condition to stand in awe of every body 's 
 tongue; and whosoever is vexed at a reproach, would be 
 proud if he were commended. We should look upon con- 
 tumelies, slanders, and ill words, only as the clamor of ene- 
 mies, or arrows shot at a distance, that make a clattering upon 
 our arms, but do no execution. 
 
 4 A man makes himself less than his adversary by fancy- 
 ing that he is contemned. Things are only ill that are ill 
 taken; and it is not for a man of worth to think himself bet- 
 ter or worse for the opinion of others. 
 
 5 A physician is not angry at the intemperance of a mad 
 patient; nor does he take it ill to be railed at by a man in a 
 fever: just so should a wise man treat vicious men, as a phy- 
 sician does his patient. In these cases, the rule is to pardon 
 all offences, where there is any sign of repentance, or hope 
 of amendment. It does not hold in injuries as in benefits, 
 the requiting of ^the one with the other ; for it is a shame to 
 overcome in the one, and in the other to be overcome. 
 
 6 It is the part of a great mind to despise injuries; and it 
 is one kind of revenge to neglect a man as not worth it; for 
 it makes the first aggressor too considerable. Our philoso- 
 phy, methinks, might carry us up to the bravery of a gene- 
 rous mastiff, that can hear the barking of a thousand curs 
 without taking any notice of them. 
 
 7 Fidus Cornelius (a tall, slim fellow,) fell downright a 
 crying in the senate house at Corbulo's saying that "he 
 looked like an ostrich," 
 
101 
 
 8 A careful education is a great matter; for our minds ar<* 
 easily formed in our youth, but it is a harder business to 
 cure ill habits. There is nothing breeds anger more than a 
 soft and effeminate education; and it is very seldom seen 
 that either the mother's or the schoolmaster's darling ever 
 comes to good. But my young master ', when he comes into 
 the world, behaves himself like a choleric coxcomb; for flat- 
 tery, and a great fortune, nourish petulance. 
 
 9 He that is naturally addicted to anger, let him use a 
 moderate diet, and abstain from wine; for it is but adding 
 fire to fire. So long as we are among men, let us cherish 
 humanity, and so live that no man may be either in fear or 
 in danger of us. 
 
 10 There is hardly a more effectual remedy against anger 
 than patience and consideration. Nor is it fit that a servant 
 should be in his power that is not his own master. Why 
 Should any one venture now to trust an angry man with a 
 revenge, when Plato durst not trust himself? Either he must 
 govern that, or that will undo him. 
 
 1 1 It is. a good caution not to believe any thing until we 
 are very certain of it; for many probable things prove false, 
 and a short time will make evidence of tire undoubted truth. 
 If it be my duty to love my country, I must be kind also to 
 my countrymen; if a veneration be due to the whole, so is a 
 piety also to the parts; and it is the common interest to pre- 
 serve them. 
 
 12 We are all members of one body, and it is as natural to 
 help one another as for the hands to help the feet, or the 
 eyes the hands. Without the love and care of the parts, the 
 whole can never be preserved, and we must spare one an- 
 other, because we are born for society, which cannot be main- 
 tained without a regard to particulars. Let this be a rule to 
 us, never to deny a pardon that does no hurt either to the 
 giver or receiver. 
 
 13 It is a kind of spiteful comfort, that whoever does me 
 an injury may receive one; and that there is a power over 
 him that is above me. A man should stand as firm against 
 all indignities as a rock does against the waves. 
 
 14 It is not prudent to deny a pardon to any man, without 
 first examining if we stand not in need of it ourselves; for 
 it may be our lot to ask it, even at his feet, to whom we re- 
 fuse it. But we are willing enough to do what we are very 
 unwilling to suffer. It is unreasonable to charge public vices 
 upon particular persons; for we are all of us wicked, and 
 
 1 2 
 
102 
 
 that which we blame in others we find in ourselves. It is 
 uot a paleness in one, or a leanness in another, but a pesti- 
 lence that has laid hold upon all. 
 
 15 It is a wicked world, and we make part of it; and the 
 way to be quiet is to bear one with another. "Such a man," 
 we cry, " has done me a shrewd turn, and I never did him 
 any hurt." Well, but it may be I have injured other people, 
 or, at least, I may live to do as much to him as that comes 
 to. " Such a one has spoken ill things of me ;" but if I first 
 speak ill of him, as I do of many others, this is not an injury, 
 but a repayment. 
 
 16 Before we lay any thing to heart, let us ask ourselves 
 if w r e have not done the same thing to others. We carry our 
 neighbors' crimes in sight, and we throw our own over our 
 shoulders. We cry out presently, " What law have we trans- 
 gressed V 9 As if the letter of the law were the sum of our 
 duty, and that piety, humanity, liberality, justice and faith, 
 were things beside our business. 
 
 17 No, no; the rule of human duty is of a greater latitude; 
 and we have many obligations upon us that are not to be 
 found in the statute books. And, to wind up all in one 
 word, the great lesson of mankind, as well in this as in all 
 other cases, is, " to do as we would be done by." 
 
103 
 
 PART FOURTH. 
 
 ABRIDGMENT OF THE LAW OF NATURE, AND THE 
 ECONOMY OF HUMAN LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER 1. 
 
 ABRIDGMENT OP THE LAW OF NATURE, OR PRINCIPLES OP 
 MORALITY, DEDUCED FROM THE PHYSICAL CONSTITUTION 
 OF MANKIND AND THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 For, when the Gentiles, which have not the law, do by nature the 
 things contained in the law, these having* not the law, are a law unto 
 themselves ; which show the work of the law written in their hearts, their 
 conscience also bearing them witness, and their thoughts the mean while 
 accusing, or else excusing one another. — Paul. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 The law of nature defined, and illustrated, by examples. 
 
 1 WHAT is the law of nature ? It is the regular and con- 
 stant order of events according to which God rules the uni- 
 verse; the order which his wisdom presents to the senses 
 and reason of mankind, to serve them as an equal and gene- 
 ral rule of action, and to conduct them without distinction of 
 country or sect, towards happiness and perfection. 
 
 2 Now, since the actions of each individual, or of each 
 class of beings, are subject to constant and general rules, which 
 cannot be departed from without changing and disturbing 
 some general or particular order of things, to these rules of 
 action and motion, is given the name of natural laws, or laws 
 of nature. 
 
 3 Give me examples of these laws. It is a law of nature 
 that the sun enlightens in succession every part of the surface 
 of the terrestrial globe; that his presence excites light and 
 heat; that heat acting on the waters produces vapors; that 
 these vapors raised in clouds into the higher regions of the 
 atmosphere, form themselves into rain^tnd snow, and supply, 
 without ceasing, the water of springs and rivers. 
 
 4 It is a law of nature that water flows from an upper to a 
 lower situation; that it seeks its level; that it is heavier than 
 air; that all bodies tend towards the earth; that flame rises 
 
104 
 
 towards the sky ; that it destroys the organization of vegeta- 
 bles and animals; that air is essential to the life of certain 
 animals; that in certain cases water suffocates and kills them; 
 that certain juices of plants, and certain minerals, attack their 
 organs, and destroy their life; and the same of a variety c£ 
 facts. 
 
 5 Now, since these facts, and many similar ones are con- 
 stant, regular, immutable, they become so many real and 
 positive commands to which man is bound to conform, under 
 the express penalty of punishment attached to their infrac- 
 tion, or well-being connected with their observance. 
 
 6 So that if a man were to pretend to see clearly in the 
 dark, or is regardless of the progress of the seasons, or the 
 action of the elements : if he pretends to exist under water 
 without drowning ; to handle fire without burning himself; 
 to deprive himself of air without suffocating; or to drink 
 poison without destroying himself, he receives from each 
 infraction of the law of nature, a corporal punishment pro- 
 portioned to his transgression. 
 
 7 If, on the contrary, he observes these laws, and founds 
 his practice on the precise and regular relation which they 
 bear to him, he preserves his existence, and renders it as hap- 
 py as it is capable of being rendered ; and since all these laws, 
 considered in relation to the human species, have in view 
 only one common end, that of their preservation and their 
 happiness; whence it has been agreed to assemble together 
 the different ideas, and express them by a single word, and 
 call them collectively by the name of the law of nature. 
 
 SECTION II. 
 Characters of the lata of nature. 
 
 1 What are the characters of the law of nature ? We may 
 reckon nine principal ones. What is the first ? To be inhe- 
 rent in, and essential to the existence of things. What is the 
 second ? It is to emanate immediately from God, and to be 
 by him offered to the contemplation of every man. What is 
 the third ? It is to be common to every time and country ; 
 that is, to be one and universal. 
 
 2 What is the fourth character ? That of being uniform 
 and invariable* What is the fifth character ? To be evident 
 and palpable, since it consists wholly of facts ever present to 
 our senses, and capable of demonstration. What is the sixth 
 character? To be reasonable; because its precepts, and its 
 
105 
 whole doetrine, are conformable to reason, and agreeable to 
 the human understanding. 
 
 3 What is the seventh character ? To be just, because in 
 this law the punishment is proportioned to the transgression. 
 What is the eighth character ? To be pacific and tolerant ; 
 because according to the law of nature, all men being breth- 
 ren, and equal in rights, it advises all to peace and toleration, 
 even for their errors. What is the ninth character of this 
 law ? To be equally beneficent to all men, and to teach them 
 all the true method of being better and happier. 
 
 4 If, as you assert, it emanates immediately from God, 
 does it teach us his existence? Yes; very positively; for 
 every man, who observes with attention, the astonishing 
 scene of the universe, the more he meditates on the proper- 
 ties and attributes of each existence, and on the admirable 
 order and harmony of their motions, the more will he be 
 convinced thatthere is a supreme agent, a universal and iden- 
 tical mover, designed by the name God. 
 
 5 Was the law of nature ever known before the present 
 day ? It has been spoken of in every age. The greater part 
 of lawgivers have pretended to make it the basis of their 
 laws; but they have brought forward^ only a few of its pre- 
 cepts, and have had but vague ideas of it as a whole. 
 
 6 Why has this happened ? Because, though it is simple in 
 its basis, it forms in its developement and its consequences, 
 a complicated aggregate which requires the knowledge of a 
 number of facts, and the whole sagacity of reason, in order 
 to be understood. 
 
 7 Since the law of nature is not written, may it not be 
 considered as arbitrary and ideal ? No, because it consists 
 altogether in facts, whose demonstration may be at any time 
 recalled before the senses, and form a science as precise and 
 exact as those of geometry and mathematics : and this very 
 circumstance, that the law of nature forms an exact science, 
 is the reason why men, who are born in ignorance, and live in 
 carelessness, have, till this day, known it only superficially. 
 
 SECTION III. 
 The principles of the law of nature as they relate to man: 
 importance of instruction and self-government. 
 1 In what manner does nature command self-preservation ? 
 By two powerful and involuntary sensations which she has 
 attached as two guides or guardian genii to all our actions; 
 one, the sensation of pain, by which she informs us of, and 
 
106 
 turns us from whatever tends to our destruction. The other, 
 the sensation of pleasure, by which she attracts and leads us 
 towards every thing that tends to our preservation, and the 
 unfolding of our faculties. 
 
 2 But does not this prove that our senses may deceive us 
 with respect to this end of self-preservation ? Yes; they may 
 for a time. How do our sensations deceive us ? In two ways; 
 through our ignorance and our passions. When do they de- 
 ceive us through our ignorance? When we act without 
 knowing the action and effect of objects on our senses; for 
 instance, when a man handles nettles without knowing their 
 quality of stinging; or when he chews opium in ignorance 
 of its soporific properties. 
 
 3 When do they deceive us through our passions ? When, 
 though we are acquainted w 7 ith the hurtful action of objects, 
 we, notwithstanding, give way to the violence of our desires 
 and our appetites; for instance, when a man who knows that 
 wine inebriates, drinks, notwithstanding, to excess. 
 
 4 What results from these facts ? The result is, that the 
 ignorance in w r hich we enter the world, and the inanimate 
 appetites to which we give ourselves up, are opposed to our 
 self-preservation; that in consequence, the instruction of our 
 minds, and the moderation of our passions, are two obliga- 
 tions, or two laws, immediately derived from the first law 
 of preservation. 
 
 5 But if we are born ignorant, is not ignorance a part of 
 the law of nature ? No more than it is for us to remain in 
 the naked and feeble state of infancy: far from its being a 
 law of nature, ignorance is an obstacle in the way of all her 
 laws. 
 
 6 Whence then has it happened that moralists have existed 
 who considered it as a virtue and a perfection? Because through 
 caprice, or misanthropy, they have confounded the abuse of 
 our knowledge with knowledge itself; as though because 
 men misemploy the faculty of speaking, it were necessary 
 to cut out their tongue; as though perfection and virtue con- 
 sisted in the annihilation, and not in the unfolding and proper 
 employment of our faculties. 
 
 7 Is instruction then necessarily indispensable for man's 
 existence? Yes; so indispensable, that without it, he must be 
 every instant struck and wounded by all the beings which 
 surround him; for if he did not know the effects of fire, he 
 would burn himself; of water, he would be drowned; of 
 opium, he w r ould be poisoned. If in the savage state, he is 
 
107 
 
 unacquainted with the cunning and subterfuges of animals, 
 and the art of procuring game, he perishes with hunger: if 
 in a state of society, he does not know the progress of the 
 seasons, he can neither cultivate the earth, nor provide him- 
 self with food: and the like may be said from all his actions 
 arising from all his wants. 
 
 S What is the true meaning of the word philosopher ? The 
 word philosopher signifies lover of wisdom: now, since wis- 
 dom consists in the practice of the laws of nature, that man 
 is a true philosopher who understands these laws in their full 
 extent, and, with precision, renders his conduct conformable 
 to them. 
 
 9 But does not this desire of self-preservation produce in 
 individuals egotism, that is, the love of self; and is not ego- 
 tism abhorrent to the social state ? No; for if by egotism is 
 understood an inclination to injure others, it is no longer the 
 love of self, but the hatred of our neighbor. The love of 
 self, taken in its true sense, is not only consistent with a state 
 of society, but is likewise its firmest support; since we are 
 under a necessity of not doing injury to others, lest they 
 should, In return, do injury to ourselves. 
 
 SECTION IV« 
 Of the basis of morality; of good, of evil, of crimes, of 
 vice and virtue. 
 
 1 What is good, according to the law of nature ? What- 
 ever tends to preserve and ameliorate mankind. What is 
 evil ? Whatever tends to the destruction and deterioration 
 of the human race. 
 
 2 What is understood by physical good or evil, and moral 
 good or evil ? By the word physical, is meant whatever 
 acts immediately upon the body ; health is a physical good ; 
 sickness is a physical evil. By moral, is understood what- 
 ever is effected by consequences more or less remote: 
 calumny is a moral evil; a fair reputation is a moral good, 
 because both of them are the occasion of certain dispositions 
 and habits in other men, with respect to ourselves, which 
 are useful or prejudicial to our well-being, and which attack 
 or contribute to the means of existence. 
 
 3 The murder of a man, is it then a crime according to the 
 law of nature ? Yes; and the greatest that can be committed; 
 for murder can never be done away. 
 
 4 What is virtue according to the law of nature ? -The 
 
,108 f 
 
 practice of actions which are useful to the individual and to 
 society. 
 
 5 What is vice according to the law of nature? It is the 
 practice of actions prejudicial to the individual and to society. 
 
 6 In what manner does the law of nature prescribe the 
 practice of good and virtue, and forbid that of evil and of 
 vice ? By the moral and physical advantages resulting from 
 the practice of good and virtue, and the injuries which our 
 very existence receives from the practice of evil and vice. 
 
 7 What division do you make of the virtues ? We divide 
 them into three classes; 1st, Private virtues, or those which 
 refer to single and insulated persons; 2d, Domestic virtues, 
 or those which relate to families ; 3d, Social virtues, or those 
 which respect society at large. 
 
 SECTION V. 
 Of individual or private virtues; of knowledge, tempe- 
 rance, industry, cleanliness. 
 
 1 Which are the private virtues ? There are four principal 
 ones: namely, knowledge; which comprehends prudence and 
 wisdom. 2d, Temperance ; which includes sobriety and chas- 
 tity. 3d, Activity; that is, the love of labor, and a proper 
 employment of our time. 4th, Lastly; cleanliness, or pu- 
 rity of body, as well in our clothing, as in our dwellings. , 
 
 2 How does the law of nature prescribe to us the posses- 
 sion of knowledge ? In this way; The man who is acquainted 
 with the causes and effects of things, provides in a very ex- 
 tensive and certain manner for his own preservation, and the 
 developement of his faculties. Knowledge is for him, as it 
 were light acting upon its appropriate organ, making him dis- 
 cern all the objects which surround him, and in the midst of 
 which he moves with precision and clearness. 
 
 3 And for this reason, we used to say an enlightened 'man, 
 to designate, a wise and well informed man. By the help of 
 knowledge and information, we are never left without re- 
 sources, and means of subsistence; and whence a philosopher, 
 who had suffered shipwreck, observed justly to his com- 
 panions, who were lamenting the loss of their fortunes, " As 
 for me, I carry all my fortune in myself." 
 
 4 What is the vice opposed to knowledge? Ignorance. 
 How does the law of nature forbid ignorance ? By the great 
 injury which our existence sustains from it; for the igno- 
 rant, who are unacquainted with either causes or effects, com- 
 mit, every instant, mistakes the most pernicious to themselves 
 
 
109 
 
 or others; like a blind man who walks groping his way, and 
 who at every step stumbles against, or is jostled by his com- 
 panions. 
 
 5 What is prudence ? An anticipated view, a foresight of 
 effects, and the consequences of every event: a foresight by 
 which a man avoids the dangers which threaten him, and 
 seizes and raises up opportunities which are favorable: whence 
 it appears that he provides, on a large and sure scale, for his 
 present and future conservation; while the imprudent man, 
 who neither calculates his progress nor his conduct, the efforts 
 required, nor the resistances to overcome, falls every mo- 
 ment into a thousand difficulties and dangers, which more or 
 less slowly destroy his faculties and his being. 
 
 6 What is temperance ? A well regulated employment of 
 our faculties ; which prevents our ever exceeding in our sen- 
 sible pleasures the end of nature, self-conservation. It is the 
 moderation of our passions. What is the vice opposed to 
 temperance ? The want of government over our passions ; 
 an over-great eagerness to possess enjoyments : in a word, 
 cupidity. What are the principal branches of temperance ? 
 Sobriety and chastity. 
 
 7 In what manner does the law of nature enjoin sobriety ? 
 By* its powerful influence over our health. The man of 
 sobriety digests his food with comfort; he is not oppressed 
 by the weight of his aliment; his ideas are clear and easily 
 impressed; he performs every function well ; he attends with 
 diligence to his business; he grow T s old free from sickness; 
 he does not throw away his money in remedies for disorders; 
 he enjoys with gay good humor the goods which fortune or 
 prudence have procured for him. Thus does generous 
 nature make a thousand rewards flow from a single virtue. 
 
 8 By what means does she prohibit gluttony ? By the 
 numerous evils attached to it. The glutton, oppressed by 
 his aliment, digests with pain and difficulty ; his head, dis- 
 turbed by the fumes arising during bad digestion, is incapa- 
 ble of receiving neat and clear ideas; he gives himself up 
 with fury to the inordinate movements of luxury and anger, 
 which destroy his health; his body becomes fat, heavy, and 
 unfit for labor; he passes through painful and expensive fits 
 of sickness; he rarely lives to old age, and his latter part of 
 life is marked by infirmity and disgust. 
 
 9 In what light does this law consider drunkenness ? As 
 the vilest and most pernicious of vices. The drunkard, 
 deprived of the sense and reason given us by God, profanes 
 
 K 
 
no 
 
 the gifts of the divinity; he lowers himself to the condition of 
 the brutes ; incapable of directing his steps, he totters and 
 falls as in a fit of epilepsy; he wounds himself, and en- 
 dangers his own life. * 
 
 10 His weakness in this state renders him the plaything 
 and the scorn of all around him: he contracts, during his 
 drunkenness, ruinous engagements, and loses the manage- 
 ment of his affairs: he suffers violent and outrageous obser- 
 vations to escape him, which raise him up enemies and bring 
 him to repentance: he fills his house with trouble and cha- 
 grin; and he concludes by a premature death, or an old age, 
 comfortless and diseased. 
 
 11 Does the law of nature prescribe chastity? Yes. How 
 does it forbid libertinism ? By the innumerable evils which 
 it entails upon our existence, physical and moral. The man 
 who abandons himself to it, becomes enervated and languid; 
 he is no longer able to attend to his studies or his business; 
 he contracts idle and expensive habits, which diminish his 
 means of livelihood, his reputation and his credit; his in- 
 trigues occasion him embarrassments, cares, quarrels and law- 
 suits, not to take into the account heavy and grievous diseases; 
 and lastly, a premature and infirm old age. 
 
 12 Ought modesty to be considered as a virtue ? Yes;* be- 
 cause modesty maintains the mind and body in all the habits 
 tending to the good order and self-preservation of the indi- 
 vidual. A modest woman is esteemed, while the immodest, 
 unchaste woman is despised, rejected, and abandoned to 
 misery and disgrace. 
 
 13 Why do you say that activity is a virtue according to 
 the law of nature ? Because the man who labors and employs 
 his time usefully, derives, from so doing, innumerable advan- 
 tages with respect to his existence. Is he poor ? his labor 
 furnishes him with his subsistence; and if, in addition, he is 
 sober, continent and prudent, he soon acquires many conve- 
 niences, and enjoys the sweets of life: his very labor pro- 
 duces in him those virtues; for as long as he continues to 
 employ his mind and his body, he is not affected by inordi- 
 nate desires; he is free from dulness; he contracts mild and 
 pleasant habits; he augments his strength and his health, and 
 arrives to an old age of felicity and peace. 
 
 14 Are idleness and sloth then vices in the order of nature ? 
 Yes; and the most pernicious of all vices; for they lead to 
 every other. In idleness and sloth man remains ignorant, 
 ajid even loses the knowledge which he had before acquired, 
 
Ill 
 
 falling into all the evils which accompany ignorance and folly. 
 
 15 In idleness and sloth, man, devoured by listless dul- 
 ness, gives himself up to the dominion of sense, whose em- 
 pire, .as it increases and extends from day to day, renders 
 him intemperate, gluttonous, luxurious, enervate, cowardly, 
 base, and despicable. The certain effects of all which vices 
 are, the ruin of his fortune, the wasting of his health, and 
 the termination of his life in the anguish of disease, poverty 
 and disgrace. 
 
 16 If I understand you, it would appear that poverty is a 
 vice. No ; it is not a vice; but still less is it a virtue; for it 
 is much more frequently injurious than useful; it is even 
 commonly the result of vice, or its first occasion; for every 
 individual vice conducts towards indigence ; even to the 
 privation of the necessaries of life; and when a man is in 
 want of the necessaries, he is on the point of endeavoring to 
 procure them by vicious methods ; that is, methods hurtful to 
 society. 
 
 17 All the private virtues, on the contrary, fend to pro- 
 cure for man an abundance of subsistence ; and when he has 
 more than he can consume, it becomes more easy for him to 
 give to others, and to perform actions useful to society. 
 
 18 Why do you rank cleanliness in the class of virtues ? 
 Because it is really one of the most important, as it has a 
 powerful influence on the health and preservation of the 
 body. Cleanliness, as w T ell in our garments as in our dwell- 
 ings, prevents the pernicious effects of dampness, of bad 
 smells, juid of contagious vapors arising from substances 
 abandoned^) putrify. Cleanliness keeps up a free perspira- 
 tion, renews the air, refreshes the blood, and even animates 
 and enlivens the mind. 
 
 1 9 Whence we see that persons, attentive to the cleanli- 
 ness of their persons and their habitations, are, in general, 
 more healthy, and less exposed to diseases, than those who 
 live in filth and nastiness ; and it may moreover be remarked, 
 that cleanliness brings with it, throughout every part of do- 
 mestic discipline, habits of order and arrangement, which are 
 among the first and best methods and elements of happiness. 
 
 20 Is uncleanliness then, or filthiness, a real vice ? Yes; 
 as real as drunkenness, or as sloth, from which, for the most 
 part, it derives its origin. Uncleanliness is a secondary, and 
 often a first cause of a multitude of slight disorders, and even 
 of dangerous sicknesses. 
 
 21 It is well known in medicine, that it generates the itch, 
 
112 
 the scald head, the leprosy, no less certainly than the same 
 disorders are produced by corrupted or acrid aliments ; that 
 it contributes to the contagious power of the plague and of 
 malignant fevers; that it even gives birth to them in hospi- 
 tals and prisons; that it occasions rheumatism by inerusting 
 the skin with dirt, and checking perspiration; not to mention 
 the disgraceful inconvenience of being devoured by insects, 
 the unclean appendage of abject misery. 
 
 22 Thus all the individual or private virtues have, for their 
 more or less direct, and more or less proximate end, the pre- 
 servation of the man who practises them; while, by the pre- 
 servation of each individual, they tend to insure that of the 
 family and of society at large, which is nothing more than 
 the united sum of those individuals. 
 
 SECTION VI. 
 
 Of domestic virtues; economy r , parental affection, conju- 
 gal love, filial love, brotherly love. 
 
 1 What So you mean by domestic virtues ? I mean the 
 practice of those actions which are useful to a family, that is, 
 to a number of persons living under one roof. What are those 
 virtues ? Economy, parental affection, conjugal love, filial 
 love, hrotherly love, and the fulfilment of the reciprocal 
 duties of master and servant. 
 
 2 What is economy ? Taken in its most extensive signifi- 
 cation, it is the proper administration of whatever concerns 
 the existence of the family or household; but as subsistence 
 holds the first rank among these circumstances, tfee word 
 economy has been restricted to the employment of^>ur money 
 in procuring for us the primary wants of life. 
 
 3 Why is economy a virtue ? Because the man who enters 
 into no useless expense, generally possesses a superabun- 
 danee,*which constitutes real wealth, and by means of w T hich 
 he procures for himself and his family, all that is truly useful 
 and convenient; without taking into the account, that, by 
 this means he ensures to himself resources against accidental 
 and unforeseen losses; so that himself and his family live in 
 a tranquil and pleasant state of ease, which is the basis of all 
 human happiness. 
 
 4 Are dissipation and prodigality then vices ? Yes : for 
 they bring a man at last to the want of the necessaries of life; 
 he falls into poverty, misery, and abject disgrace ; so that 
 even his acquaintance, fearful of being obliged to restore to 
 him what he has squandered with them or upon them, fly 
 
113 
 
 from him as a debtor from his creditor, and he is left aban- 
 doned by all the world. 
 
 5 What is parental affection ? The assiduous care which 
 a parent takes to bring up his children in the habit of every 
 action useful to themselves and to society. In what respect 
 is parental tenderness a virtue, with respect to parents ? In 
 as much as the parents who bring up their children in good 
 habits, lay up for the whole course of their lives those enjoy- 
 ments and aids which are grateful to us at all times, and en- 
 sure against old age, those supports and consolations which 
 are required by the wants and calamities of that period of life. 
 
 6 Why do you say that conjugal love is a virtue ? Because 
 the concord and union which are the consequences of the 
 affection subsisting between married persons, establish in the 
 bosom of their family a multitude of habits which contribute 
 to its prosperity and conservation; united by the bonds of 
 marriage, they love their household and quit it rarely; they 
 superintend every part of its administration; they attend to 
 the education of their children; they keep up the respectful- 
 ness and fidelity of their domestics; they prevent all disor- 
 der and dissipation; and by the whole of their good conduct, 
 live in ease and reputation: while those married persons who 
 have no affection for each other, fill their dwelling with 
 quarrels and distress; excite war among their children and 
 among their domestics, and lead them both into every kind 
 of vicious habit; so that each wastes, pillages, and robs in 
 their several way : their revenues are absorbed without return; 
 debts follow debts; the discontented parties fly each other 
 and recur to lawsuits, and the whole family falls into disor- 
 der, ruin, disgrace, and the want of the necessaries of life. 
 
 7 What is filial love ? It is, on the part of children, the prac- 
 tice of such actions as are useful to themselves and to their 
 parents. What motives does the law of nature present to 
 enforce filial love? Three chief motives : 1st, Sentiment, for 
 from our earliest infancy, the affectionate solicitudes of our 
 parents, produce in us the mild habits of attachment. 2d, 
 The sense of justice: for children owe their parents a return, 
 and, as it were, a reparation for the troubles, and even for 
 the expenses which they have occasioned them. 3d, Personal 
 interest; for if we act ill towards our progenitors, we offer 
 our own children examples of rebellion and ingratitude. 
 
 8 Why is brotherly love a virtue? Because the concord 
 and union which result from the mutual affection of brethren, 
 establish the power, safety, and preservation of families 
 
 K2 
 
114 
 
 Brethren in union mutually defend each other from all op- 
 pression, assist each otheHIn their mutual wants, support 
 each other under misfortune, and thus secure their common 
 existence; while brethren in a state of disunion, each being 
 abandoned to his personal strength, fall into all the inconve- 
 niences of insulation from society, and of individual feeble- 
 ness. 
 
 9 This truth was ingeniously expressed by that king of 
 Scythia, who, on his death-bed having called his. children 
 round him, ordered them to break a bundle of arrows: when 
 the young men, though in full vigor, were not able to accom- 
 plish this, he took the bundle in his turn, and having untied 
 it, broke each separate arrow with his fingers. Behold, said 
 he, the effect of union; united in a body, you will be invin- 
 cible, taken separately, you will be broken like reeds. 
 
 SECTION VII. 
 
 Of the social virtues; of justice, liberty r , charity, probity, 
 
 simplicity of manners, patriotism, 
 
 1 What is society ? Every aggregated reunion of men liv- 
 ing together under the regulations of a contract tacit or ex- 
 pressed for their common preservation. Are the social duties 
 many in number? Yes: we may count as many as there are 
 actions useful to society ; but they may be all reduced to one 
 principle. What is this fundamental principle ? Justice, 
 which itself^ alone comprehends all the social virtues. 
 
 2 Why do you say that justice is the fundamental, and 
 almost only virtue of social life ? Because it alone embraces 
 the practice of all those actions which are useful to society; 
 and that every virtue, under the name of charity, humanity, 
 probity, love of country, sincerity, generosity, simplicity of 
 manners, and modesty, are but varied forms, and diversified 
 applications of this axiom : " Do unto another only that which 
 thou wouldst he should do unto thee;" which is the definition 
 of justice. 
 
 3 How does th^law of nature ordain justice ? By means 
 of three physical attributes which are inherent in- the organ- 
 ization of man. Wb*\are these attributes ? Equality, liberty, 
 property. In what sense is equality a physical attribute of 
 man ? Because all men having equally eyes, hands, mouth, 
 ears, and being alike under the necessity of making use of 
 them for their life's sake, are by this very fact equally entitled 
 to life, and to the use of the elements which contribute to its 
 support They are all equal before God. 
 
115 
 
 4 Why is liberty called a physical attribute of man ? Be- 
 cause all men possessing senses fitted and sufficient for their 
 preservation; no one having need of the eye of another man 
 in order to see, of his ear to hear, of his mouth to eat, or ol 
 his foot to walk, they are all made by this means, naturally 
 independent and free. 
 
 5 How is property a physical attribute of man ? Since 
 every man is formed equal and similar to his fellows, and 
 consequently free and independent, every one is the absolute 
 master, the entire proprietor of his body, and the products 
 of his labor. 
 
 6 How is justice derived from these three attributes ? From 
 this circumstance, that men being equal, free, and owing 
 nothing to each other, have no right to demand any thing of 
 their fellows, but in proportion as they return for it some- 
 thing equivalent; in proportion as the balance of what is given 
 to what is paid, remains in equilibrium ; and it is this equal- 
 ity, this equilibrium which is called justice and equity. 
 
 7 Unfold to me how the social virtues are derived from the 
 law of nature. How is charity, or the love of our neighbor 
 a precept or application of this law ? By reason of the laws 
 of equality and reciprocity. Thus, by attacking the existence 
 of another, we make an attack upon our own in consequence 
 of the law of reciprocity. On the contrary, when we do good 
 to our neighbor, we have ground and reason to expect an 
 exchange of good, an equivalent.* 
 
 8 Charity then is nothing more than justice ? Yes : it is 
 nothing more than justice, with this single difference, that 
 strict justice, confines itself to the assertion, "Do not to others 
 the evil which thou wouldst not they should do unto thee:' 5 
 and that charity, or the love of our neighbor goes farther, 
 even to say, Do unto others the good which you wish to re- 
 ceive from them. 
 
 9 Does the law of nature prescribe probity? Yes: for 
 probity is nothing more than a respect paid to our own rights 
 through the medium of the rights of others; a respect deri- 
 ved from a prudent and well-made calculation of our own 
 interests, compared with those of others. 
 
 * In addition to the mercantile object of doing* good to others for the 
 purchase of an equivalent, 
 
 " Beneficence regardless of herself, 
 
 Of pride, ambition, policy, or pelf, 
 
 Enjoys, in blest return for one v :oor mite, 
 
 A mine — an empire of sublime delight" — Lathrop. 
 
 COMB. 
 
116 
 
 10 But does not this calculation, which includes the com- 
 plicated interests and rights of the social state, demand such 
 light, and such knowledge of things, as to render it a science 
 of difficult acquisition ? Yes: and a science so much the 
 more delicate, as the man of probity pronounces sentence in 
 his own cause. 
 
 1 1 Is probity then a mark of an enlarged and correct mind ? 
 Yes : for the man of probity almost always neglects some 
 present interest for the sake of one which is future; while 
 on the other hand, the knave is willing to lose a great interest 
 to come for the sake of some trifling one which is present. 
 
 12 Knavery then is a sign of false judgment and narrow 
 ness of mind ? Yes : and rogues may be defined to be igno- 
 rant or foolish speculators, for they know not their own 
 interests; and though they affect wariness and cunning, their 
 artifices seldom fail to expose them, and make them known 
 for what they are ; to deprive them of the confidence and 
 esteem of others, and of all the advantages which might thence 
 result to their social and physical existence. They neither 
 live in peace with themselves, nor with others, and inces- 
 santly alarmed by their conscience and their enemies, they 
 enjoy no other real happiness than that of escaping from the 
 executioner. 
 
 13 How can a man, according to the law of nature, repair 
 any injury which he has committed ? By conferring a pro- 
 portionable benefit upon those whom he has injured. Is sin- 
 cerity enjoined by the law of nature ? Yes: for lying, perfidy, 
 and perjury, excite amongst men, distrust, dissension, hatred, 
 revenge, and a multitude of evils, which tend to the destruc- 
 tion of society: whilst sincerity and good faith establish con- 
 fidence, concord, peace, and the other infinite advantages, 
 which are the necessary result of such a happy state of things. 
 
 14 Does it prescribe mildness and modesty ? Yes: for an 
 assuming and rude deportment while it alienates from us the 
 hearts of other men, infuses into them a disposition to do us 
 disservice: ostentation and vanity, by wounding their self- 
 love and exciting their jealousy, prevent us from attaining 
 the point of real utility. 
 
 15 You have classed among the social virtues, simplicity 
 of manners ; what do you mean by that expression ? I mean 
 confining our wants and desires, to what is really useful for 
 the existence of the individual and his family : that is to say, 
 the man of simple manners has few wants, and is content 
 with little. 
 
117 
 
 16 How is this virtue recommended to us? By the nu- 
 merous advantages, which it bestows both upon the individ- 
 ual, and upon society at large ; for the man who has few wants, 
 liberates himself at once from a crowd of cares, troubles and 
 toils, avoids a number of disputes and quarrels, which arise 
 from the eager desire of gain ; is free from the cares of am- 
 bition, the inquietudes of possession, and the fears of loss. 
 
 17 Again" if this virtue of simplicity, were extended to a 
 whole people, it secures abundance to them ; every thing 
 which they do not immediately consume, becomes to them a 
 source of trade and commerce to a very great extent; they 
 labor, they manufacture, and sell their productions to greater 
 advantage than others ; and attain the summit both of exter- 
 nal and internal prosperity. What vice is the direct oppo- 
 site of this virtue ? Cupidity and luxury. 
 
 18 Is luxury a vice both in the individual and in society 
 at large ? Yes : and to such an extent, that, it may be said to 
 include in it the seeds of all others; for the man who makes 
 many things necessary to his happiness, imposes at the same 
 time upon himself all the cares, and submits to all the means 
 of acquiring them, whether they be just or unjust. 
 
 19 Has he already one enjoyment, he wishes for another, 
 and in the midst of superfluities, he is never rich ; a commo- 
 dious habitation will not satisfy him ; he must have a superb 
 hotel ; he is not content with a plentiful table ; he must have 
 rare and costly meats ; he must have splendid furniture, ex- 
 pensive apparel, and a long, useless train of footmen, horses, 
 carriages and women ; he must be constantly at the gaming 
 table, or at places of public entertainment. Now, to support 
 these expenses, a great deal of money is requisite ; he begins 
 by borrowing, becomes bankrupt, is at war with mankind, 
 rums others, and is himself ruined. 
 
 20 Again, if we consider the effects of luxury upon a na- 
 tion, it produces the same ravages upon a large scale ; in 
 consequence of its consuming within itself all its produc- 
 tions, it is poor in the midst of abundance ; it has nothing to 
 sell to the foreigner; and becomes a tributary for every thing 
 which it imports : it loses its respectability, its strength, and 
 its means of defence and preservation abroad ; whilst at home 
 it is undermined, and the bond of union between its members 
 dissolved. 
 
 21 All its citizens being greedy after enjoyments, are per- 
 petually struggling with each other for the attainment of 
 them ; all are either inflicting injuries, or have the disposition 
 
118 
 
 to do so: and hence arise thos& actions and habits of usurpa- 
 tion, which compose what is called moral corruption^ or in- 
 testine war between the members of the same society. 
 
 22 Luxury produces rapacity, rapacity the invasion of 
 others by violence, or by breach of public faith ; so that the 
 ancient moralists had an accurate perception of truth when 
 they declared that all the social virtues were founded upon a 
 simplicity of manners, a limitation of w r ants: sfnd we may 
 take as a certain scale of the virtues or vices of a man, the 
 proportion which his expenses bear to his revenue. 
 
 23 What do you mean by the word country ? I under- 
 stand by that word, a community of citizens who, united by 
 fraternal sentiments and reciprocal wants, unite their indi- 
 vidual forces, for the purposes of general security, the re- 
 action of which upon each of them, assumes the beneficial and 
 protecting character of paternity. 
 
 24 In society, the members of it form a bank of interest , 
 in a country they constitute a family of tender attachments; 
 by means of which, charity, and the love of our neighbor, are 
 extended to a whole nation. No member of this family can 
 pretend to the enjoyment of any advantages, except in pro- 
 portion to his exertions; and he can only attain the means of 
 being generous or disinterested, in proportion as his expenses 
 are confined within the limits of his acquisitions or pos- 
 sessions. 
 
 25 What is your deduction from these principles ? I con- 
 clude from these principles, that all the social virtues con- 
 sist in the performance of actions useful both to the society 
 and to the individual that they may be all traced to the phy- 
 sical object of the preservation of man : that nature having 
 implanted in our bosoms the necessity* of this preservation, 
 imposes all the consequences arising from it as a law, and 
 prohibits as a crime whatever counteracts the operation of 
 this principle: 
 
 26 That we are happy, in exact proportion to the obedi- 
 ence we yield to those laws which nature has established with 
 a view to our preservation: that the following axioms are 
 founded upon our natural organization. Preserve thyself. 
 Instruct thyself. Moderate thyself. Live for thy fellow 
 creatures in order that they may live for thee. 
 
119 
 CHAPTER 2. 
 
 ABRIDGMENT OP THE ECONOMY OF HUMAN LIFE. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 Duties that relate to man, considered as an individual. 
 
 1 Commune with thyself, man! and consider wherefore 
 thou wert made. Contemplate thy powers ; contemplate thy 
 wants and thy connections; so shalt thou discover the duties 
 of life, and be directed in all thy ways. Proceed not to speak 
 or to act before thou hast weighed thy words, and examined 
 the tendency of every step thou shalt take; so shall disgrace 
 fly far from thee, and in thy house shall shame be a stranger; 
 repentance shall not visit thee, nor sorrow sit upon thy cheek. 
 
 2 The thoughtless man bridleth not his tongue; hespeak- 
 eth at random, and is entangled in the foolishness of his own 
 words. As one that runneth in haste, and leapeth over a 
 fence, may fall into a pit on the other side, which he doth 
 not see; so is the man that plungeth suddenly into an action, 
 before he has considered the consequences thereof. 
 
 3 As a plain garment best adorneth a beautiful woman, 
 so a decent behavior is the greatest ornament of wisdom. But, 
 behold the vain man, and observe the arrogant; he clotheth 
 himself in rich attire, he walketh in the public street, he 
 casteth round his eyes, and courteth observation. 
 
 4 Since the days that are past are gone forever, and those 
 that are to come may not come to thee, it behoveth thee, 
 man! to employ the present time, without regretting the loss 
 of that which is past, or too much depending on that which is 
 to come. This instant is thine ; the next is in the womb of 
 futurity, and thou knowest not what it may bring forth. 
 
 5 Whatsoever thou resolvest to do, do it quickly. Defer 
 not till the evening what the morning may accomplish. Idle- 
 ness is the parent of want and pain; but the labor of virtue 
 bringeth forth pleasure. The hand of diligence defeateth 
 want; prosperity and success are the industrious man's at- 
 tendants. 
 
 6 He riseth up early, and lieth down late; he exerciseth 
 his mind with contemplation, and his body with action, and 
 preserveth the health of both. The slothful man is a burden 
 to himself, his hours hang heavy on his head; he loitereth 
 about, and knoweth not what he would do. His days pass 
 away like the shadow of a cloud, and he leaveth behind him 
 no mark of remembrance. 
 
120 
 
 7 His body is diseased for want of exercise; he wisheth 
 for action, but hath not power to move; his mind is in dark- 
 ness; his thoughts are confused ; he longeth for knowledge, 
 but hath no application. He would eat of the almond, but he 
 hateth the trouble -of breaking its shell. 
 
 8 His house is in disorder, his servants are wasteful and 
 riotous, and he runneth on towards ruin; he seeth it with his 
 eyes, he heareth it with his ears, he shaketh his head and 
 wisheth, but hath no resolution; till ruin cometh upon him 
 like a whirlwind, and shame and repentance descend with 
 nim to the grave. 
 
 9 The fool is not always unfortunate, nor the wise man 
 always successful; yet never had a fool a thorough enjoyment, 
 never was a wise man wholly unhappy. 
 
 10 Perils, and misfortunes, and want, and pain, and injury, 
 are more or less the certain lot of every man that cometh 
 into the world. It behoveth thee, therefore, child of ca- 
 lamity! early to fortify thy mind with courage and patience, 
 that thou mayest support, with a becoming resolution, thy 
 allotted portion of human evil. 
 
 1 1 Forget not, man ! that thy station on earth is ap- 
 pointed by the wisdom of the Eternal, who knoweth thy 
 heart, who seeth the vanity of thy wishes^ and who often in 
 mercy denieth thy requests. Yet, for all reasonable desires, 
 for all honest endeavors, his benevolence hath established, 
 in the nature of things, a probability of success. 
 
 12 The uneasiness thou feelest, the misfortunes thou be- 
 wailest, behold the root from whence they spring, even thine 
 own folly, thine own pride, thine own distempered fancy. 
 Murmur not, therefore, at the dispensations of God, but cor- 
 rect thine own heart ; neither say within thyself, if I had 
 wealth, power or leisure, I should be happy; for know, they 
 all of them bring to their several possessors their peculiar 
 inconveniences. 
 
 13 The poor man seeth not the vexations and anxieties of 
 the rich; he feeletfi not the difficulties and perplexities of 
 power; neither knoweth he the wearisomeness of leisure; 
 and therefore it is that he repineth at his own lot. ^But envy 
 not the appearance of happiness in any man; for thou know- 
 est not his secret griefs. 
 
 14 To be satisfied with a little is the greatest wisdom ; 
 and he that increaseth his riches, increaseth iiis cares; but 
 a contented mind is a hidden treasure, and trouble findeth 
 it- not. Yet, if thou suffered not the allurements of fortune 
 
 me 
 
121 
 
 to rob thee of justice, or temperance, or charity, or modesty, 
 even riches themselves shall not make thee unhappy. 
 
 15 The nearest approach thou canst make to happiness 
 on this side the grave, is to enjoy from heaven understand- 
 ing and health. These blessings if thou possessest, and 
 vvouldst preserve to old age, avoid the allurements of volup- 
 tuousness, and fly from her temptations. When she spreadeth 
 her delicacies on the board, when her wine sparkleth in the 
 cup, when she smileth upon thee, and persuadeth thee to be 
 joyful and happy ; then is the hour of danger, and let reason 
 stand firmly on her guard. 
 
 16 For, if thou hearkenest unto the words of her adver- 
 sary, thou art deceived and betrayed. The joy which she 
 promiseth change th to madness, and her enjoyments lead 
 on to diseases and death. Look round her board, cast thine 
 eyes upon her guests, and observe those who have been al- 
 lured by her smiles, who have listened to her temptations. 
 Are they not meagre ? are they not 'sickly ? are they not 
 spiritless ? 
 
 17 Their short hours of jollity and riot are followed by 
 tedious days of pain and dejection. She hath debauched and 
 palled their appetites, that they have no relish for her nicest 
 dainties; her votaries are become her victims; the just and 
 natural consequences which God hath ordained, in the con- 
 stitution of things, for the punishment of those who abuse his 
 gifts. 
 
 18 Enfeebled by dalliance, with luxury pampered, and 
 softened by sloth, strength shall forsake thy limbs, and health 
 thy constitution. Thy days shall be few, and those inglori- 
 ous: thy griefs shall be many, yet meet with no compassioa. 
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 The passions : joy and grief; anger; pity. 
 
 1 Let not thy mirth be so extravagant as to intoxicate thy 
 mind, nor thy sorrow so heavy as to depress thy heart. This 
 world affordeth no good so transporting, nor inflicteth any 
 evil so severe, as should raise thee far above, or sink thee 
 much beneath, the balance of moderation, Lo ! yonder stand- 
 eth the house of joy. It is painted on the outside, and looketh 
 gay; thou mayst know it from the continual noise of mirth 
 and exultation that issueth from it. 
 
 2 The mistress standeth at the door, and calleth aloud to 
 all that pass by; she singeth, and shouteth, and laugheth with- 
 out ceasing. She inviteth them to go in and taste the plea- 
 
 I* 
 
122 
 
 suites of life, which she telleth them are no where to be found, 
 tut beneath her roof. But enter not thou into her gate; nei- 
 ther associate thyself with those w T ho frequent her house. 
 
 3 They call themselves the sons of joy; they laugh and 
 Seem delighted ; but madness and folly are in all their do- 
 ings. They are linked with mischief, hand in hand, and their 
 steps lead down to evil. Dangers beset them round about, 
 and the pit of destruction yawneth beneath their feet. Look 
 now on the other side; and behold in that vale overshadowed 
 with trees and hid from the sight of men, the habitation of 
 sorrow. 
 
 4 Her bosom heaveth with sighs; her mouth is filled with 
 lamentation ; she delighteth to dwell on the subject of human 
 misery. She looketh on the common accidents of life, and 
 weepeth ; the weakness and wickedness of man is the theme 
 of her lips. All nature to her teemeth with evil ; every ob- 
 ject she seeth is tinged with the gloom of her own mind ; and 
 the voice of complaint saddeneth her dwelling day and night. 
 
 5 Come not near her cell; her breath is contagious; she 
 will blast the fruits, and wither the flowers that adorn and 
 sweeten the garden of life. In avoiding the house of joy, let 
 not thy feet betray thee to the borders of this dismal man- 
 sion; but pursue with care the middle path, which shall lead 
 thee, by gentle ascent, to the bower of tranquillity. 
 
 6 With her dwelleth peace; with her dwelleth safety and 
 contentment. She is cheerful, but not gay; she is serious, 
 but not grave; she vieweth the joys and the sorrows of life 
 with an equal and steady eye. 
 
 7 From hence, as from an eminence, shalt thou behold 
 the folly and the misery of those, who, led by the gaiety of 
 their hearts, take up their abode with the companions of jol- 
 lity and riotous mirth ; or, infected by gloominess and melan- 
 choly, spend all their days in complaining of the woes and 
 calamities of human life. Thou shalt view them both with 
 pity; and the error of their ways shall keep thy feet from 
 straying. 
 
 8 Seest thou not that the angry man loseth his under- 
 standing ? Whilst thou art yet in thy senses, let the wrath 
 of another be a lesson to thyself. Harbor not revenge in 
 thy breast: it will torment thy heart, and disorder its best 
 inclinations. Be always more ready to forgive than to return 
 an injury : he that watcheth for an opportunity of revenge, 
 lieth in wait against himself, and draweth down mischief on 
 his own head- 
 
123 
 
 9 As blossoms and flowers are strewed upon the earth by 
 the hand of spring, as the kindness of summer produceth in 
 perfection the bounties of harvest; so the smiles of pity shed 
 blessings on the children of misfortune. He who pitieth 
 another, recommendeth himself; but he who is without com- 
 passion, descrveth it not. 
 
 10 The butcher relenteth not at the bleating of the lamb ; 
 neither is the heart of the cruel moved with distress. But 
 the tears of the compassionate are sweeter than dew-drops, 
 falling from roses on the bosom of the earth. Shut not thine 
 ears, therefore, against the cries of the poor; neither harden 
 thy heart against the calamities of the innocent. 
 
 1 1 When the fatherless call upon thee, when the widow's 
 heart is sunk, and she imploreth thy assistance with 4ears of 
 sorrow; pity her affliction, and extend thy hand to those 
 who have none to help them. When thou seest the naked 
 wanderer of the street shivering with cold, and destitute 
 of habitation, let bounty open thy heart; let the wings of 
 charity shelter him from death, that thine own soul may live. 
 
 12 Whilst the poor man groaneth on the bed of sickness, 
 whilst the unfortunate languish in the horrors of a dungeon, 
 or the hoary head of age lifts up a feeble eye to thee for pity; 
 how canst thou riot in superfluous enjoyments, regardless 
 of their wants, unfeeling of their woes ! 
 
 SECTION III. 
 Woman. 
 
 1 Give ear, fair daughter of love, to the instructions of 
 Prudence, and let the precept of truth sink deep in thy heart; 
 so shall the charms of thy mind add lustre to the elegance of 
 thy form : and thy beauty, like the rose it resembleth, shall 
 retain its sweetness when its bloom is withered. 
 
 2 Who is she that winneth the heart of man, that subdu- 
 eth him to love, and reigneth in his breast ?' Lo! yonder she 
 walketh in maiden sweetness, with innocence in her mind, 
 and modesty on her cheek. Her hand seeketh employment; 
 her foot delighteth not in gadding abroad. She is clothed 
 with neatness ; she is fed with temperance ; humility and 
 meekness are as a crown of glory encircling her head. De- 
 cency is in all her words; in her answers are mildness and 
 truth. 
 
 3 Before her steps walketh prudence, and virtue attendeth 
 at her right hand. Her eye speaketh softness and love ; but 
 discretion with a sceptre sitteth an her brow. The tongue 
 
124 
 
 ,of the licentious is dumb in her presence ; the awe of her 
 virtue keepeth him silent. When scandal is busy, and the 
 fame of her neighbor is tossed from tongue to tongue; if 
 charity and good nature open not her mouth, the finger of 
 silence resteth on her lip. 
 
 4 Her Breast is the mansion of goodness; and therefore, 
 she suspecteth no evil in others. Happy were the man that 
 should make her his wife; happy the child that shall call her 
 mother. She presideth in the house, and there is peace; she 
 commandeth with judgment, and is obeyed. She ariseth in 
 the morning; she considers her affairs; and appointeth to every 
 one their proper business. 
 
 5 The care of her family is her whole delight; to that 
 alone she appheth h*er study: and elegance with frugality is 
 seen in her mansions. The prudence of her management is an 
 honor to her husband, and he heareth her praise with a secret 
 delight. She informeth the minds of her children with wis- 
 dom; she fashioneth their manners from the example of her 
 own goodness. 
 
 6 The word of her mouth is the law of their youth: the 
 motion of her eye commandeth her obedience. She speaketh, 
 and her servants fly; she pointeth, and the thing is done: fox 
 the law of love is in their hearts; and her kindness addeth 
 wings to their feet. 
 
 7 In prosperity she is not puffed up; in adversity she 
 healeth the wounds of fortune with patience. The troubles 
 of her husband are alleviated by her counsels, and sweetened 
 by her endearment : he putteth his heart in he,r bosom, and 
 reeeiveth comfort. 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 
 Duties of ehildren to parents, and of brothers to one 
 
 another. 
 
 1 From the creatures of God let man learn wisdom, and 
 apply to himself the instruction ^iey give. Go to the desert 
 my son; observe the young stork of the wilderness; let him 
 speak to thy heart; he beareth on his wings his aged sire; he 
 lodgeth him in safety, and supplieth him with food. 
 
 2 The piety of a child is sweeter than the incense of 
 Persia offered to the sun; yea, more delicious than odours 
 wafted from a field of Arabian spices, by the western gales. 
 Be grateful then to thy father, for he gave thee life; and to 
 thy mother, for she sustained thee. 
 
 3 Hear the words of his mouth, for they are spoken for 
 
125 
 thy good: give ear to his admonition, for it proceedetn from 
 love. He hath watched for thy welfare; he hath toiled for 
 thy ease; do honor therefore to his age, and let not his grey 
 hairs be treated with irreverence. 
 
 4 Forget not thy helpless infancy, nor the frowardness of 
 thy youth, and indulge the infirmities of thy aged parents; 
 assist and support them in the decline of life. So shall their 
 hoary heads go down to the grave in peace; and thine own 
 children in reverence of thy example, shall repay thy piety 
 with filial love. 
 
 5 Ye are the children of one father, provided for by his care; 
 and the breast of one mother hath given you suck. Let the 
 bonds of affection, therefore, unite thee with thy brothers; 
 that peace and happiness may dwell in thy father's house, 
 
 6 And when ye separate in the world, remember the 
 relation that bindeth you to love and unity; and prefer not a 
 stranger before thine own blood. If thy brother is in adver- 
 sity? assist him: If thy sister is in trouble, forsake her not. 
 So shall the fortunes of thy father contribute to the support of 
 his whole race; and his care be continued to you all, in your 
 love to each other. 
 
 SECTION V. 
 
 Wise and ignorant; rich and poor; masters and servants, 
 
 1 The gifts of the understanding are the treasures of God; 
 and he appointeth to every one his portion, in what measure 
 seemeth good unto himself. Hath he endowed thee with wis- 
 dom ? hath he enlightened thy mind with the knowledge of 
 truth ? communicate it to the ignorant, for their instruction. 
 
 2 But the wise man cultivates his mind with knowledge; 
 the improvement of arts is his delight ; and their utility to 
 the public crowneth him with honor. Nevertheless, the 
 attainment of virtue he accounteth as the highest learning ; 
 and the science of happiness is the study of his life. 
 
 3 The man to whom God hath given riches, and blessed 
 with a mind to employ them aright, is peculiarly favored 
 and highly distinguished. He looketh on his wealth with 
 pleasure : because it affordeth him the means to do good. He 
 protecteth the poor that are injured; he suffereth not the 
 mighty to oppress the w^eak. 
 
 4 He seeketh out objects of compassion; he inquireth into 
 their wants ; he relieveth them with judgment, and without 
 ostentation. He assisteth and rewardeth merit ; he encoura 
 geth ingenuity, and liberally promoteth every useful design. 
 
 L2 
 
126 
 
 He carrieth on great works; his country is enriched, and the 
 laborer is employed ; he formeth new schemes, and the arts 
 receive improvement. 
 
 5 He considereth the superfluities of his table as belonging 
 to the poor of his neighborhood, and he defraudeth them not. 
 The benevolence of his mind is not checked by his fortune; 
 he rejoiceth therefore in riches, and his joy is blameless. 
 
 6 But wo unto him that heapeth up wealth in abundance, 
 and rejoiceth alone in the possession thereof That grindeth 
 the face of the poor, and considereth not the sweat of their 
 brows. He thriveth on oppression without feeling; the ruin 
 of his brother disturbeth him not. The tears of the orphan 
 he drinketh as milk; the cries of the widow are music to his ear. 
 
 7 His heart is hardened with the love of wealth; no grief 
 nor distress can make impression upon it. But the curse of 
 iniquity pursueth him; he liveth in continual fear; the anxi- 
 ety of his mind, and the rapacious desires' of his own soul, 
 take vengeance upon him, for the calamities he hath brought 
 upon others. 
 
 8 0, what are the miseries of poverty in comparison with 
 the gnawings of this man's heart ! Let the poor man comfort 
 himself, yea, rejoice, for he hath many reasons. He sitteth 
 down to his morsel in peace; his table is not crowded with 
 flatterers and devourers. He is not embarrassed with a train 
 of dependents, nor teased with the clamors of solicitation. 
 
 9 Debarred from the dainties of the rich, he escapeth also 
 their diseases. The bread that he eateth, is it not sweet to 
 his taste ? the water he drinketh} is it not pleasant to his 
 thirst ? yea, far more delicious than the richest draughts of 
 the luxurious. His labor preserveth his health, and pro- 
 cureth him a repose, to which the downy bed of sloth is a 
 stranger. 
 
 10 He limiteth his desires with humility; and the calm of 
 contentment is sweeter to his soul than all the acquirements 
 of w r ealth and grandeur. Let not the rich, therefore, presume 
 .on his riches; nor the poor in his poverty yield to despondence; 
 for the providence of God dispenseth happiness to them both. 
 
 11 The honor of a servant is his fidelity; his highest vir- 
 tues are submission and obedience. Be patient, therefore, 
 under the reproofs of thy master; and when he rebuketh thee 
 answer not again. The silence of thy resignation shall not 
 be forgotten. Be studious of his interests; be diligent in his 
 affairs ; and faithful to the trust which he reposeth in thee. 
 
 12 Thy time and thy labor belong unto him. Defraud him 
 
127 
 
 not therefore, for he payeth thee for them. And thou who 
 art a master, be kind to thy servant, if thou expectest from 
 him fidelity; and reasonable in thy commands, if thou expect- 
 est a ready obedience. The spirit of a man is in him; sever- 
 ity and rigor may create fear, but can never command his love. 
 13 Mix kindness with reproof, and reason with authority; 
 so shall thy admonitions take place in his heart, and his duty 
 shall become his pleasure. He shall serve thee faithfully 
 from the motive of gratitude ; he shall obey thee cheerfully 
 from the principle of love; and fail not thou, in return, to give 
 his diligence and fidelity their proper reward. 
 
 SECTION VI. 
 The social duties: benevolence, justice, charity, religion. 
 
 1 When thou considerest thy wants, when thou beholdest 
 thy imperfections, acknowledge his goodness, son of hu- 
 manity! who honored thee with reason, endowed thee 
 with speech, and placed thee in society to receive and confer 
 reciprocal helps and mutual obligations. 
 
 2 Thy food, thy clothing, thy convenience of habitation, 
 thy protection from the injuries, the enjoyment of the com- 
 forts and the pleasures of life, all these thou owest to the as- 
 sistance of others ; and couldst not enjoy but in the bands of 
 society. It is thy duty therefore to be a friend to mankind, 
 as it is thy interest that man should be friendly to thee. 
 
 3 As the rose breatheth sweetness from its own nature, so 
 the heart of a benevolent man produceth good works. He 
 enjoy eth the ease and tranquillity of his own breast, and re- 
 joiceth in the happiness and prosperity of his neighbor. He 
 openeth not his ear unto slander ; the faults and the failings 
 of men give a pain to his heart. 
 
 4 His desire is to do good, and he searcheth out the occa- 
 sion thereof; in removing the oppression of another, he re- 
 lieveth himself. From the largeness of his mind he compre- 
 hendeth in his wishes the happiness of all men ; and from 
 the generosity of his heart, he endeavoreth to promote it. 
 
 5 The peace of society dependeth on justice; the happiness 
 of individuals, on the safe enjoyment of all their possessions. 
 Keep the desires of thy heart, therefore, within the bounds 
 of moderation; let the hand of justice lead them aright. Cast 
 not an evil eye on the goods of thy neighbor ; let whatever 
 is his property be sacred from thy touch. 
 
 6 In thy dealings with men be impartial and just ; and do 
 unto^them as thou wouldst they should do unto thee. 
 
128 
 
 7 When thou sellest for gain, hear the whispering of con- 
 science, and be satisfied with moderation ; nor from the igno- 
 rance of the buyer make any advantage to thyself. 
 
 S Pay the debts which thou owest ; for he who gave thee 
 credit, relied upon thine honor : and to withhold from him 
 his due, is both mean and unjust. 
 
 9 Finally ; son of society ! examine thy heart, call re- 
 membrance to thy aid ; and if, in any of those things, thou 
 findest thou hast transgressed, take sorrow and shame to thy- 
 self, and make speedy reparation to the utmost of thy power. 
 
 10 Happy is the man who hath sown in his breast the seeds 
 of benevolence ; the produce thereof shall be charity and love. 
 From the fountain of his heart shall rise rivers of goodness ; 
 and the streams shall overflow for the good of mankind. He 
 assisteth the poor in their trouble ; he rejoiceth in furthering 
 the prosperity of all mem 
 
 11 He censureth not his neighbor ; he believeth not the 
 tales of envy and malevolence ; neither repeateth he their 
 slanders. He forgiveth the injuries of men; he wipeth them 
 from his remembrance ; revenge and malice have no place in 
 his heart. For evil he returneth not evil ; he hateth not 
 even his enemies ; but requiteth their injustice with friendly 
 admonition. 
 
 12 The griefs and anxieties of men excite his compassion, 
 he endeavors to alleviate the weight of their misfortunes ; 
 and the pleasure of success rewardeth his labor. He calmeth 
 theiury , he healeth the quarrels of angry men, and preventeth 
 the mischiefs of strife and animosity. He promoteth in his 
 neighborhood peace and good will; and his name is repeated 
 with praise and benedictions. 
 
 13 The providence of God is over all his works; he ruleth 
 and directeth with infinite wisdom. He hath instituted laws 
 for the government of the world; he hath wonderfully varied 
 them in all beings ; and each by his nature, conform to his 
 will. His goodness is conspicuous in all his works; he is the 
 fountain of excellence, the centre of perfection. 
 
 14 The creatures of his hand declare his goodness, and all 
 their enjoyments speak his praise ; he clotheth them with 
 beauty; he supporteth them with food; and preserveth them 
 from generation to generation. If we lift up our e3~es to the 
 heavens, his glory shineth forth ; if we cast them down upon 
 the earth, it is full of his goodness : the hills and the vallies 
 rejoice and sing; fields, rivers, and woods, resound his praise. 
 
 15 But thee, man ! he hath distinguished with peculiar 
 
129 
 
 favor, and exalted thy station above all creatures. He hath 
 endowed thee with reason to maintain thy dominion ; he hath 
 fitted thee with language to improve by society; and exalted 
 thy mind with the powers of meditation, to contemplate and 
 adore his inimitable perfections. 
 
 16 And in the laws he hath ordained as a rule of thy life, 
 so kindly hath he suited thy duty to thy nature, that obedi- 
 ence to his precepts is happiness to thyself. "0 praise his 
 goodness with songs of thanksgiving, and meditate in silence 
 on the wonders of his love: let thy heart overflow with grat- 
 itude and acknowledgment; let the language of thy lips 
 speak praise and adoration ; let the actions of thy life show 
 thy love to his law." 
 
 SECTION VII. 
 Man considered in general. 
 
 1 Weak and ignorant as thou art, man ! humble as thou 
 oughtest to be, child of the dust ! wouldst thou raise thy 
 thoughts to infinite wisdom ? wouldst thou see omnipotence 
 displayed before thee ? contemplate thine own frame. Won- 
 derfully art thou made; praise therefore thy Creator with awe, 
 and rejoice before him with reverence. 
 
 2 Know thyself then, the pride of his creation ; the link 
 uniting divinity and matter ; behold a part of God himself 
 within thee : remember thine own dignity; nor dare descend 
 to evil or to meanness. 
 
 3 Say not unto the crow, why numberest thou seven times 
 the age of thy lord ? or, to the fawn, why are thine eyes to 
 see my offspring to a hundred generations ? Are these to 
 be compared with thee in the abuse of life ? are they riotous ? 
 are they cruel ? are they ungrateful ? Learn from them rather, 
 that innocence of life and simplicity of manners are the paths 
 to a good old age. Knowest thou to employ life better than 
 these ? then less of it may suffice thee. 
 
 4 Enough hast thou of life, but thou regardest not : thou 
 art not in want of it, man ! but thou art prodigal: thou 
 thro west it lightly away, as if thou hadst more than enough; 
 and yet thou repinest that it is not gathered again unto thee. 
 Know that it is not abundance which maketh rich, but econ- 
 omy. The wise continueth to live from his first period ; the 
 fool is always beginning. Be virtuous while thou art young, 
 so shall thine age be honored. 
 
 5 What blindeth the eye, or what hideth the heart of a 
 man from himself, like vanity ? Lo ! when thou seest not 
 
130 
 thyself, then others discover thee most plainly. Do well 
 while thou livest ; but regard not what is said of it. Content 
 thyself with deserving praise, and thy posterity shall rejoice 
 in hearing it. 
 
 6 Beware of irresolution in the intent of thy actions, be- 
 ware of instability in the execution ; so shalt thou triumph 
 over too great failings of thy nature. Establish unto thyself 
 principles of action ; and see that thou ever act according to 
 them. First know that thy principles are just, and then be 
 thou inflexible in the path of them. * 
 
 7 Attribute not the good actions of another to bad motives: 
 thou canst not know his heart ; but the world will know by 
 this, that thine is full of envy. There is not in hypocrisy 
 more vice than folly ; to be honest is as easy as to seem so. 
 Be more ready to acknowledge a benefit than to revenge an 
 injury ; so shalt thou have more benefits than injuries done 
 unto thee. Be more ready to love than to hate ; so shalt 
 thou be loved by more than hate thee. 
 
 8 Be willing to commend, and be slow to censure ; so shall 
 praise be unto thy virtues, and the eye of enmity shall be 
 blind to thy imperfections. When thou dost good, do it be- 
 cause it is good; not because men esteem it: when thou avoid- 
 est evil, fly it, because it is evil ; not because men speak against 
 it : be honest for love of honesty, and thou shalt be uniformly 
 so; he that doth it without principle is wavering. 
 
 9 Presumption is the bane of reason ; it is the nurse of 
 error. What is the origin of superstition ? and whence ariseth 
 false worship ? From our presuming to reason about what is 
 above our reach, to comprehend what is incomprehensible. 
 
 10 Riches are servants to the wise; but they are tyrants 
 over the soul of the fool. The covetous serveth his gold ; 
 it serveth not him ; he possesseth his wealth as the sick 
 doth a fever; it burneth and torture th him, and will not quit 
 him unto death. 
 
 1 1 Poverty wanteth many things ; but covetousness denieth 
 itself all. The covetous can be good to no man ; but he is to 
 none so cruel as to himself. Be industrious to procure gold ; 
 and be generous in the disposal of it;' man is never so happy 
 as when he giveth happiness unto another. 
 
 12 If there be a vice greater than the hoarding up of riches, 
 it is the employing them to useless purposes. He that prodi- 
 gally lavisheth that which he hath to spare, robbeth the poor 
 of what nature hath given them a right unto. He who squan- 
 dered away his treasure, refuseth the means to do good: he 
 
131 
 
 denieth himself the practice of virtues whose reward is in 
 his hand; whose end is no other than his own happiness. 
 
 13 When thou hast taught thyself to bear the seeming good 
 of men without repining, thou wilt hear of their real happi- 
 ness with pleasure. If thou seest good things fall to one who 
 deserveth them, thou wilt rejoice in it; for virtue is happy in 
 the prosperity of the virtuous. He who rejoiceth in the 
 happiness of another, increaseth by it his own. 
 
 14 He that is truly virtuous, loveth virtue for herself; he 
 disdaineth the applause which ambition aimeth after. How 
 pitiable were the state of virtue, if she could not be happy but 
 from another's praise ! Pursue that which is honorable, do 
 that which is right ; and the applause of thine own conscience 
 will be more joy to thee, than the shouts of millions who 
 know not that thou deservest them. 
 
 15 The noblest employment of the mind of man is the 
 study of the works of his Creator. To him whom the science 
 of nature delighteth, every object bringeth a proof of his 
 God ; every thing that proveth it, giveth cause of adoration. 
 His mind is lifted up to heaven every moment ; his life is 
 one continued act of devotion. 
 
 16 Casteth he his eye towards the clouds, nndeth he not 
 ihe heavens full of his wonders? Looketh he down to the 
 earth, doth not the worm proclaim to him, Less than Om- 
 nipotence could not have formed me ? 
 
 17 While the planets perform their courses ; while the sun 
 remaineth in his place ; while the comet wandereth through 
 the liquid air, and returneth to its destined road again ; who 
 but thy God, man! could have formed them? what but 
 infinite wisdom could have appointed them their laws ? 
 
 18 Behold, how awful their splendor! yet do they not 
 diminish: Lo! how rapid their motions! yet one runneth not 
 in the way of another. Look down upon the earth, and see 
 her produce; examine her bowels, and behold what they 
 contain! Hath not wisdom and power ordained the whole? 
 
 1 9 Who biddeth the grass to spring up ? who watereth it 
 at its due seasons ? Behold ! the ox croppeth it ; the horse 
 and the sheep, feed they not upon it ? Who is he that provid- 
 eth it for them ? Who giveth increase to the corn which thou 
 sowest ? Who returneth it to thee a thousand fold ? 
 
 20 What is the study of words compared with this ? In 
 what science is knowledge, but in the study of nature ? Who 
 is wise then, but he that knoweth it? Who hath under- 
 standing, but he that contemplatelh it? For the rest, what 
 
132 
 
 ever science hath most utility, whatever knowledge hath least 
 vanity, prefer these unto the others ; and profit of them for 
 the sake of thy neighbor. 
 
 21 Piety to thy God, and benevolence to thy fellow crea- 
 tures, are they not thy great duties ? What shall teach thee 
 the one, like the study of his works ? what shall inform thee 
 of the other like understanding thy dependencies ? 
 
 22 Wouldst thou learn to die nobly ? let thy vices die be- 
 fore thee. Happy is he who endeth the business of his life 
 before his death : who, when the hour of it cometh, hath 
 nothing to do but to die ; who wisheth not delay, because he 
 hath no longer use for time. 
 
133 
 
 PART FIFTH* 
 
 ABRIDGMENT OF PENN'S MAXIMS, PALEY'S MORAL PHILO- 
 SOPHY, AND KNIGGE'S PRACTICAL PHILOSOPHY OF SOCIAL 
 LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER 1. 
 
 ABRIDGMENT OF WILLIAM PENN ? S REFLECTIONS AND MAXIMS, 
 RELATING TO THE CONDUCT OF HUMAN LIFE : AND HIS 
 ADVICE TO HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 SECTION L 
 
 1 IT is admirable to consider how many millions of people 
 come into and go out of the world, ignorant of themselves, 
 and of the world they have lived in: We are in pain to 
 make our youth scholars, but not men ; to talk, rather than to 
 know; which is true canting. The first thing obvious to 
 children is what is sensible ; and that, we make no part of 
 their rudiments. 
 
 2 We press their memory too soon, and puzzle, strain, 
 and load them with words and rules to know grammar and 
 rhetoric, and a strange tongue or two, that it is ten to one 
 may never be useful to them ; leaving their natural genius to 
 mechanical and physical or natural knowledge uncultivated 
 and neglected ; which would be of exceeding use and plea- 
 sure to them through the whole course of their lives. Ta 
 be sure, languages are not to be despised or neglected ; but, 
 things are still to be preferred. 
 
 3 Lend not beyond thy ability, nor refuse to lend out of 
 thy ability : especially when it will help others more than it 
 can hurt thee. If thy debtor be honest and capable, thou 
 hast thy money again, if not with increase, with praise. If 
 he prove insolvent, do not ruin him to get that which it will 
 not ruin thee to lose. 
 
 4 Frugality is good, if liberality be joined with it The 
 first is leaving off superfluous expenses ; the last bestowing 
 them to the benefit of others that need. The first, without 
 the last, begins covetousness ; the last, without the first, be- 
 gins prodigality. Both together make an excellent temper. 
 Happy the place where that is found. 
 
 5 Were it universal, we should be cured of two extremes, 
 
 M 
 
134 
 
 want and excess : and the one would supply the other, and so 
 bring both nearer to a mean ; the just degree of earthly hap- 
 piness. It is a reproach to religion and government, to 
 suffer so much poverty and excess. 
 
 6 Were the superfluities of a nation valued, and made a 
 perpetual tax for benevolence, there would be more alms- 
 houses than poor, schools than scholars, and enough to spare 
 for government besides. 
 
 7 Love labor : for if thou dost not want it for food, thou 
 mayst for physic. It is wholesome for thy body, and good 
 for thy mind. 
 
 8 Neither urge another to that thou wouldst be unwilling 
 to do thyself: nor do thyself what looks to thee unseemly, 
 and intemperate in another. 
 
 9 The very trimming of the vain world would clothe all 
 the naked one. If thou art clean and warm, it is sufficient ; 
 for more doth but rob the poor, and please the wanton. 
 
 10 If thou hast done an injury to another, rather own it 
 than defend it. One way thou gainest forgiveness ; the 
 other, thou doublest the wrong and reckoning. Some op- 
 pose honor to submission ; but it can be no honor to maintain 
 what it is dishonorable to do. True honor will pay treble 
 damages, rather than justify one wrong by another. 
 
 11 In such controversies, it is but too common for some 
 to say, "Both are to blame/' to excuse their own uncon- 
 cernedness; which is a base neutrality. Others will cry, 
 "They are both alike ;" thereby involving the injured with 
 the guilty, to mince the matter for the faulty, or cover their 
 own injustice to the wronged party. Fear and gain are great 
 perverters of mankind : and where either prevails, the judg- 
 ment is violated. 
 
 12 If thou thinkest twice before thou speakest once, thou 
 wilt speak twice the better for it Better say nothing, than 
 not to the purpose. And to speak pertinently, consider both 
 what is fit, and when it is fit, to speak. In all debates, let 
 truth be thy aim ; not victory, or an unjust interest : and en- 
 deavor to gain, rather than to expose, thy antagonist. 
 
 13 Believe nothing against another, but upon good authori- 
 ty : nor report what may hurt another, unless it be a greater 
 hurt to others to conceal it. 
 
 14 Never assent merely to please others ; for that is, be- 
 sides flattery, oftentimes untruth, and discovers a mind to be 
 servile and base : nor contradict to vex others ; for that shows 
 an ill temper, and provokes, but profits nobody. 
 
135 
 
 15 Do not aecuse others to excuse thyself; for that is 
 neither generous nor just. But let sincerity and ingenuous- 
 ness be thy refuge, rather than craft and falsehood : for cun- 
 ning borders very near upon knavery. Wisdom never uses 
 nor wants it. Cunning to the wise, is as an ape to a man. 
 
 16 A man in business must put up with many affronts, if 
 he loves his own quiet. We must not pretend to see all that 
 we see, if we would be easy. It were endless to dispute 
 upon every thing that is disputable. A vindictive temper is 
 not only uneasy to others, but to them that have it. 
 
 17 Avoid, all thou canst, being entrusted ; but do thy ut- 
 most to discharge the trust thou undertakest; for carelessness 
 is injurious, if not unjust. The glory of a servant is fideli- 
 ty, which cannot be without diligence, as well as truth. 
 
 18 Mix kindness with authority ; and rule more by dis- 
 cretion than rigor. If thy servant be faulty, strive rather to 
 convince him of his error, than to discover thy passion : and 
 when he is sensible, forgive him. Let not thy children dom- 
 ineer over thy servants; nor suffer them to slight thy children. 
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 1 We are too careless of posterity ; not considering that 
 as they are, so the next generation will be. If we would 
 amend the world, we should mend ourselves ; and teach our 
 children to be, not what we are, but what they should be. 
 The country is both the philosopher's garden and library, in 
 which he reads and contemplates the power, wisdom, and 
 goodness of God. It is his food, as well as study ; and gives 
 him life, as well as learning. 
 
 2 The generality are the worse for their plenty. The 
 voluptuous consumes it, the miser hides it ; it is the good 
 man that uses it, and to good purposes. 
 
 3 Act not the shark upon thy neighbor ; nor take advan- 
 tage of the ignorance, prodigality, or necessity of any one ; 
 for that is next door to a fraud, and, at best, makes but an 
 unblessed gain. 
 
 4 Never esteem any man, or thyself, the more for money; 
 nor think the meaner of thyself, or another, for want of it ; 
 virtue being the just reason of respecting, and the want of it 
 of slighting, any one. A man, like a watch, is to be valued 
 for his goings. 
 
 5 They that show more than they are, raise an expecta- 
 tion they cannot answer : and so lose their credit, as soon as" 
 they are found out. He that does good for good's sake, seeks 
 
IS6 
 
 neither praise nor reward, though sure of both at last. Con- 
 tent not thyself that thou art virtuous in the general ; for one 
 link being wanting, the chain is defective. If thou wouldst 
 conquer thy weakness, thou must never gratify it. No man 
 is compelled to evil ; his consent only makes it his. 
 
 6 Great allowances are made for education and personal 
 ■weaknesses ; but it is a rule with me, " That man is truly re- 
 ligious, that loves the persuasion he is of for the piety, rather 
 than the ceremony, of it." They that have one end, can 
 hardly disagree when they meet. At least their concern in' 
 the greater, moderates their value for, and difference about, 
 the lesser things. 
 
 7 It is a sad reflection, that many men hardly have any re- 
 ligion at all, and most men have none of their own ; for that 
 which is the religion of their education, and not of their 
 judgment, is the religion of another, and not theirs. To 
 have religion upon authority, and not upon conviction, is like 
 a finger-watch, to be set forwards or backwards, as he pleases 
 that has it in keeping. 
 
 8 We are too ready to retaliate, rather than forgive, or gain 
 by love and information. And yet we could hurt no man 
 that we believe loves us. Let us, then, try what love will 
 do ; for if men do once see that we love them, we should soon 
 find they would not harm us. Force may subdue, but love 
 gains ; and he that forgives first, wins the laurel. If I am 
 even with my enemy, the debt is paid ; but if I forgive it, I 
 oblige him for ever. 
 
 9 "He that lives in love, lives in God," says the beloved 
 disciple : and, to be sure, a man can live no where better. 
 Love is above all ; and when it prevails in us all, we shall all 
 be lovely, and in love with God, and one with another. 
 
 10 The wise man is cautious, but not cunning ; judicious, 
 but not crafty ; making virtue the measure of using^ his ex- 
 cellent understanding in the conduct of his life. The wise 
 man is equal, ready, but not officious ; has in every thing an 
 eye to sure footing ; he offends nobody, nor is easily offend- 
 ed ; and is always willing to compound for wrongs, if not 
 forgive them. 
 
 11 He is never captious, nor critical; hates banter and 
 jests ; he may be pleasant, but not light ; he never deals but 
 in substantial ware, and leaves the rest for the toy-pates, (or 
 shops,) of the world ; which are so far from being his busi- 
 ness, that they are not so much as his diversion. 
 
 12 He is always for some solid good, civil or moral : as to 
 
13V 
 make his country more virtuous, preserve her peace and lib- 
 erty, employ her poor, improve land, advance trade, sup- 
 press vice, encourage industry, and all mechanical know- 
 ledge ; and that they should be the care of the government, 
 and the blessing and praise of the people. 
 
 13 It is the mark of ill nature, to lessen good actions, and 
 aggravate ill ones. Some men do as much begrudge others 
 a good name, as they want one themselves ; and perhaps that 
 is the reason of it. Nothing shows more the folly, as well 
 as fraud of man, than clipping merit and reputation. 
 
 14 This envy is the child of pride; and mis-gives rather than 
 mis-takes. It will have charity to be ostentation, sobriety, 
 covetousness ; humility, craft; bounty, popularity. In short, 
 virtue must be design, and religion only interest. Nay, the 
 best of qualities must not pass without a "but" to alloy their 
 merit, and abate their praise. Basest of tempers ! and they 
 that have it, the worst of men. 
 
 15 But just and noble minds rejoice in other men's suc- 
 cess, and help to augment their praise. And, indeed, they 
 are not without a love to virtue, that take a satisfaction in 
 seeing her rewarded ; and such deserve to share her charac- 
 ter, that do abhor to lessen it. 
 
 16 In all things reason should prevail : it is quite another 
 thing to be stiff, than steady in an opinion. This may be rea- 
 sonable, but that is ever wilful. Though there is a regard 
 due to education, and the tradition of our fathers, truth will 
 ever deserve, as well as claim the preference. Truth never 
 lost ground by inquiry ; because she is, most of all, reason- 
 able. 
 
 17 If all men were so far tenants to the public, that the 
 superfluities of gain and expense were applied to the exigen- 
 cies thereof, it would put an end to taxes, leave not a beggar, 
 and make the greatest bank for national trade in Europe. I 
 confess I have wondered that so many lawful and useful 
 things are excised by laws, and pride left to reign free over 
 them and the public. 
 
 18 It is but reasonable that the punishment of pride and 
 excess should help to support the government ; since it must 
 otherwise inevitably be ruined by them. But some say, "It 
 ruins trade,and will make the poor burdensome to the public;" 
 but if such trade, in consequence, ruins the kingdom, is it 
 not time to ruin that trade ? Is moderation no part of our 
 duty, and is temperance an enemy to government? 
 
 19 Is there no better employment for the poor than lux- 
 
 Ma 
 
138 
 ury? Miserable nation! What did they before they fell into 
 these forbidden methods ? Is there not land enough in Eng- 
 land [or America] to cultivate, and more and better manu- 
 factures to be made ? 
 
 20 Have we no room for them in our plantations, about 
 things that may augment trade, without luxury ? In short, let 
 pride pay, and excess be well excised ; and if that will not 
 cure the people, it will help to keep the government. 
 
 21 It is a dangerous perversion of the design of Provi- 
 dence, to consume the time, power and wealth, he has given 
 us above other men, to gratify our sordid passions, instead 
 of playing the good stewards, to the honor of our great Ben- 
 efactor and the good of our fellow creatures. 
 
 22 When the poor Indians hear us call any of our family 
 by the name of servants, they cry out, " What ! call brethren 
 servants! we call our dogs servants, but never men." The 
 moral certainly can do us no harm, but may instruct us to 
 ebate our height and narrow our state and attendance. 
 
 23 Charity has various senses, but is excellent in all of 
 them. It imparts, first, the commiseration of the poor and 
 unhappy of mankind, and extends a helping hand to mend 
 their condition. 
 
 24 I will not say these works are meritorious, but I dare 
 say they are acceptable, and go not without their reward; 
 though, to humble us in our fulness, and liberality too, we 
 only give what is given to us to give, as well as to use: for 
 if we ourselves are not our own, less is that so, which God 
 has entrusted us with. 
 
 25 Next, charity makes the best construction of things 
 and persons; and is so far from being an evil spy, a back- 
 biter, or a detractor, that it excuses weakness, extenuates 
 miscarriages, makes the best of every thing, forgives every 
 body, serves all, and hopes to the end. 
 
 26 It moderates extremes, is always for expedients, labors 
 to accommodate differences, and had rather suffer than re- 
 venge: and is so far from exacting the utmost farthing, that 
 it had rather lose, than seek its own violently. As it acts 
 freely, so zealously too; but it is always to da good, for it 
 hurts nobody. 
 
 27 A universal enemy against discord, and a holy cement 
 for mankind. And lastly, it is love to God and the brethren, 
 which - raises the soul above all worldly considerations; and 
 as it skives a taste of heaven upon earth, so it is heaven, in 
 the fulness of it, to the truly charitable here* 
 
139 
 
 28 Would to God this divine virtue were more implanted 
 and diffused among mankind, the pretenders to Christianity 
 especially; and we should certainly mind piety more than 
 controversy ; and exercise love and compassion, instead of 
 censuring and persecuting one another, in any manner what- 
 soever. 
 
 SECTION III. 
 Selections from the advice of William Penn to his 
 children. 
 My dear children, 
 
 1 Not knowing how long it may please God to continue 
 me among you, I am willing to embrace this opportunity of 
 leaving you my advice and counsel, with respect to your 
 Christian and civil capacity and duty in this world: and I 
 both beseech you, and charge you, by the relation you have 
 to me, and the affection I have always shown to, and indeed 
 received from, you, that you lay up the same in your hearts, 
 as well as your heads, w r ith a wise and religious care. 
 
 2 I will begin with that which is the beginning of all true 
 wisdom and happiness, the holy fear of God. Children, fear 
 God; that is to say, have a holy awe upon your minds, to 
 avoid that which is evil, and a strict care to embrace and do 
 that which is good. 
 
 3 Prefer the aged, the virtuous, and the knowing ; and 
 choose those that excel, for your company and friendship, but 
 despise not others. 
 
 4 Return no answer to anger, unless with much meekness, 
 which often turns it away: but rarely make replies, less re- 
 joinders; for that adds fuel to the fire. It is a wrong time to 
 vindicate yourselves, the true ear being then never open to 
 hear it. Men are not themselves, and know not well what 
 spirits they are of; silence to passion, prejudice and mock- 
 ery, is the best answer, and often conquers what resistance 
 ijiflames. 
 
 5 Learn, and teach your children, fair writing, and the 
 most useful parts of mathematics, and some business, when 
 young, whatever else they are taught. Cast up your incomes 
 and live on half; if you can, one third; reserving the rest for 
 casualties, charities, portions. 
 
 6 The pomp, honor, and luxury of the world are the cheats, 
 and ..he unthinking and inconsiderate are taken by them. 
 But the retired man is upon higher ground, he sees and is aware 
 of the trick, contemns the folly, and bemoans the deluded. 
 
140 
 
 7 This very consideration, doubtless, produced those 
 two passions in the two greatest Gentiles of their time, 
 Democritus and Heraclitus, the one laughing, the other weep- 
 ing, for the madness of the world, to see so excellent, reason- 
 able a creature as man, so meanly, trifling, and slavishly 
 employed. 
 
 8 He lives happily, that lives privately, for he lives qui- 
 etly. It is a treasure to them that have it : study it, get it, 
 keep it : too many miss it that might have it : the world 
 knows not the value of it It doubles a man's life, by giving 
 him twice the time to himself, that a large acquaintance or 
 much business will allow him. 
 
 9 Be entreatable. Never aggravate. Never revile, or 
 give ill names. It is unmannerly, as well as unchristian. Be 
 not morose nor conceited; one is rude, the other troublesome 
 and nauseous. 
 
 10 Be humble : it becomes a creature, a depending and 
 borrowed being, that lives not of itself, but breathes in an- 
 other's air, with another's breath, and is accountable for every 
 moment of time, and can call nothing its own, but is abso- 
 lutely a tenant at will of the great Lord of heaven and earth. 
 
 1 1 Humility seeketh not the last word, nor first place ; 
 she offends none, but prefers others, and thinks lowly of 
 herself; is not rough or self-conceited, high, loud, or dom- 
 ineering ; blessed are they that enjoy her. 
 
 12 A meek man is one that is not easily provoked, yet 
 easily grieved; not peevish or testy, but soft, gentle, and in- 
 offensive. blessed will you be, my dear children, if this 
 grace adorn you. Patience is an effect of a meek spirit, and 
 flows from it : it is a bearing and suffering disposition ; not 
 choleric or soon moved to wrath, or vindictive ; but ready 
 to hear and endure too, rather than be swift and hasty in 
 judgment or action. 
 
 13 Show mercy whenever it is in your power; that is, 
 forgive, pity, and help, for so it signifies. But the merciful 
 man's mercy reaches farther, even to his beast; thea surely 
 to man, his fellow creature, he shall not want it. Wherefore 
 I charge you, oppress nobody, man nor beast. 
 
 14 Take no advantage upon the unhappy, pity the afflicted, 
 make the case your own, and that of their wives and poor 
 innocent children the condition of yours, and you cannot 
 want sympathy, forgiveness^ *nor a disposition to help and 
 succour them to your ability. 
 
 15 Charity is a near neighbor to mercy; it is generally 
 
 
141 
 
 taken to consist in this, not to be censorious, and to relieve 
 the poor. Be clear yourselves before you fling the stone. 
 Get the beam out of your own eye; it is humbling doctrine 
 but safe. 
 
 16 This part of charity also excludes whispering, back 
 biting, tale bearing, evil surmising; most pernicious follies 
 and evils, of which beware. For the other part of charity, 
 relieving the poor, it is a debt you owe to God: yeu have all 
 you have or may enjoy, with the rent charge upon it. 
 
 17 1 recommend little children, widows, infirm and aged 
 persons, chiefly to you. Avoid that great sin of needless ex- 
 pense on your persons and on your houses, while the poor 
 are hungry and naked : my bowels have often been moved, 
 to see very aged and infirm people, but especially poor help- 
 less children, lie all night, in bitter weather, at the thresh- 
 olds of doors in the open streets, for w r ant of better lodging. 
 
 18 I have made this reflection, if you were so exposed, 
 how hard would it be to endure ? The difference between our 
 condition and theirs has drawn from me humble thanks to 
 God, and great compassion and some supply to those poor 
 creatures. Once more, be good to the poor: w r hat do I say? 
 Be just to them, and you will be good to yourselves: think 
 it yourduty, and do it religiously. 
 
 19 Liberality or bounty is a noble quality in man, enter- 
 tained of few, yet praised of all, but the covetous dislike it, 
 because it reproaches their sordidness. In this she differs 
 from charity, that she has sometimes other objects, and ex- 
 ceeds in proportion. For she will cast her eye on those that 
 do not absolutely want, as well as those that do; and always 
 outdoes necessities and services. 
 
 20 She finds out virtue in a low degree, and exalts it. She 
 eases their burden that labor hard to live. The decayed are 
 sure to hear of her. She takes one child, puts out another, 
 to lighten the loads of overcharged parents; more to the 
 fatherless. 
 
 21 Wheresoever, therefore, my dear children, liberality is 
 required of you, God enabling of you, sow not sparingly nor 
 grudgingly, but with a cheerful mind, and you shall not go 
 without your reward; though that ought not to be your mo- 
 tive. But avoid ostentation, for that is using virtue to vanity, 
 which will run you to profuseness, and that to want; which 
 begets greediness, and that avarice, the contrary extreme. 
 
 22 Integrity is a great and commendable virtue A man 
 of integrity, is a true man, a bold man, and a steady man ; 
 
142 
 
 
 he is to be trusted and relied upon. No bribes can corrupt * 
 him, no fear daunt him: his word is slow in coming, but sure. 
 He runs with truth, and not with the times. 
 
 23 There is no living upon the principal, you must be dili- 
 gent to preserve what you have, whether it be acquisition or 
 inheritance; else it will consume. As I would have you 
 liberal, but not prodigal ; and diligent, but not drudging ; so 
 I would have you frugal, but not sordid. 
 
 24 You cannot be too plain in your diet, so you are clean ; 
 nor too sparing, so you have enough for nature. Much less 
 feast any, except the poor ; as Christ taught. Luke xvi. 12, 
 13. For entertainments are rarely without sin; but receive 
 strangers readily. 
 
 25 As in diet, so in apparel, observe, I charge you, an ex- 
 emplary plainness. Choose your clothes for their usefulness, 
 not the fashion, and for covering, not finery, or to please a 
 vain mind in yourselves or others : they are fallen souls, that 
 think clothes can give beauty to man. 
 
 26 " The life is more than the raiment. " Mat. vi. 25. 
 Man cannot mend God's work, who can give neither life nor 
 parts. They show little esteem for the wisdom and power of 
 their Creator, that underrate his workmanship, (I was going 
 to say, his image) to a tailor's invention : gross folly and 
 profanity ! 
 
 21 In short, these intemperances are great enemies to 
 health, and to posterity ; for they disease the body, rob chil- 
 dren, and disappoint charity, and are of evil example ; very 
 catching, as well as pernicious evils. Nor do they end there : 
 they are succeeded by other vices, which made the apostle put 
 them together in his epistle to the Galatians, chap. v. 20, 21. 
 
 28 The evil fruits of this part of intemperance, are so 
 many and great, that, upon a serious reflection, I believe there 
 is not a country, town, or family, almost, that does not labor 
 under the mischief of it. 
 
 '29 But the virtue of temperance does not only regard eat- 
 ing, drinking, and apparel, but furniture, attendance, expense, 
 gain, parsimony, business, diversion, company, speech, sleep- 
 ing, watchings, and every passion of the mind, love, anger, 
 pleasure, joy, sorrow, resentment, are all concerned in it : 
 therefore, bound your desires, teach ^our wills subjection, 
 take Christ for your example, as well as guide. 
 
145 
 CHAPTER 2. 
 
 ABRIDGEMENT OF THE PRINCIPLES OP MORAL ANJ) POLITICAL 
 PHILOSOPHY. BY WM. PALEY, D. D. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 • 
 
 Definition and use of the science. 
 
 1 Moral philosophy, morality, ethics, casuistry, natural 
 law, mean all the same thing ; namely, That science which 
 teaches men their duty, and the reasons of it. The use of 
 such a study depends upon this, that, without it, the rules of 
 life by which men are ordinarily governed, oftentimes mislead 
 them, through a defect either in the rule, or in the applica- 
 tion. These rules are, the law of honor, the law of the 
 land, and the scriptures. 
 
 2 The law of honor. — The law of honor is a system of 
 rules constructed by people of fashion, and calculated to fa- 
 cilitate their intercourse with one another ; and for no other 
 purpose. Consequently, nothing is adverted to by the law 
 of honor, but what tends to incommode this intercourse. 
 Hence, this law only prescribes and regulates the duties be- 
 twixt equals ; omitting such as relate to the Supreme Being, 
 as well as those which we owe to our inferiors. 
 
 3 The law of the land. — That part of mankind who are 
 beneath the law of honor, often make the law of the land 
 their rule of life ; that is, they are satisfied with themselves, 
 so long as they do or omit nothing, for the doing or omitting 
 of which the law can punish them. 
 
 4 Whereas, every system of human laws, considered as a 
 rule of life, labors under the two following defects : 1. Hu- 
 man laws omit many duties, as not objects of compulsion ; 
 such as piety to God, bounty to the poor, forgiveness of inju- 
 ries, education of children, gratitude to benefactors. 2. Hu- 
 man laws permit, or what is the same, suffer to go unpunish- 
 ed, many crimes, because they are incapable of being defined 
 by any previous description : of which nature, are luxury, 
 prodigality, disrespect to parents, &c. 
 
 5 The Scriptures. — Whoever expects to find in the scrip- 
 tures a specific direction for every moral doubt that arises, 
 looks for more than he will meet with. And to what a mag- 
 nitude such a detail of particular precepts would have en- 
 larged the sacred volume, may be partly understood from the 
 fallowing consideration : — 
 
 6 The laws of this country, (England,) including the acts 
 
144 
 of the legislature, and the decisions of our supreme courts of 
 justice, are not contained in fewer than fifty folio volumes ; 
 and yet it is not once in ten attempts that you can find the 
 case you look for, in any law book whatever ; to say nothing 
 of those numerous points of conduct, concerning which the 
 law professes not to prescribe or determine any thing. 
 
 7 Had then the same particularity, which obtains in human 
 law so far as they go, been attempted in the scriptures, 
 throughout the whole extent of morality, it is manifest they 
 would have been by much too bulky to be either r$ad or cir- 
 culated ; or rather^ as St. John says, "even the world itself 
 could not contain the books that should be written." 
 
 SECTION II. 
 Human Happiness. 
 
 1 It will be our business to show^ if we can : 
 
 I. What human happiness does not consist in ; 
 
 II. What it does consist in. 
 
 2 First then, happiness does not consist in the pleasures of 
 sense, in whatever profusion or variety they may be enjoyed. 
 By the pleasures of sense I mean, as well the animal gratifi- 
 cations of eating, drinking, &c. as the more refined pleasures 
 of music, painting, architecture, gardening, splendid shows, 
 theatric exhibitions, and the pleasures, lastly, of active sports, 
 as of hunting, shooting, fishing, &c. For, 
 
 3 1st. These pleasures continue but a little w T hile at a time. 
 This is true of them all, especially of the grosser sort of 
 them. Laying aside the preparation and the expectation, 
 and computing strictly the actual sensation, we shall be sur- 
 prised to find how inconsiderable a portion of our time they 
 occupy, how few hours, in the four and twenty, they are 
 able to fill up. 
 
 4 2dly. These pleasures, by repetition, lose their relish. It 
 is a property of the machine, for which we know no remedy, 
 that the organs, by which we perceive pleasure, are blunted 
 and benumbed by being frequently exercised in the same 
 way. There is hardly any one who has not found the differ- 
 ence between a gratification when new, and when familiar ; 
 or any pleasure which does not become indifferent as it grows 
 habitual. 
 
 5 3dly. The eagerness for high and intense delights takes 
 away the relish from all others ; and as such delights fall 
 rarely in our way? the greater part of our time becomes, 
 frotn this cause, empty and uneasy. 
 
145 
 
 6 There is hardly any delusion by which men are greater 
 sufferers in their happiness, than by their expecting too much 
 from what is called pleasure; that is, from those intense de- 
 lights which vulgarly engross the name of pleasure. The 
 very expectation spoils them. When they do come, we are 
 often engaged in taking pains to persuade ourselves how 
 much we are pleased, rather than enjoying any pleasure 
 that springs naturally out of the object. 
 
 7 And whenever we depend upon being vastly delighted, 
 we always go home secretly grieved at missing our aim. 
 Likewise, as hath been observed just now, when this humor 
 of being prodigiously delighted has once taken hold of the 
 imagination, it hinders us from providing for, or acquiescing 
 in, those gently soothing engagements, the due variety and 
 succession of which are the only things that supply a con- 
 tinued stream of happiness. 
 
 8 What I have been able to observe of that part of mankind 
 whose professed pursuit is pleasure, and who are withheld in 
 the pursuit by no restraints of fortune, or scruples of con- 
 science, corresponds sufficiently with this account. I have 
 commonly remarked, in such men, a restless and inextin- 
 guishable passion for variety; a great part of their time to be 
 vacant, and so much of it irksome ; and that, with whatever 
 eagerness and expectation they set out, they become, by 
 degrees, fastidious in their choice of pleasure, languid in the 
 enjoyment, yet miserable under the want of it. 
 
 9 The truth seems to be that there is a limit at which the 
 pleasures soon arrive, and from which they ever afterwards 
 decline. They are of necessity of short duration, as the or- 
 gans cannot hold on their emotions beyond a certain length 
 of time; and if you endeavor to compensate for the imper- 
 fection in their nature, by the frequency with which you re- 
 peat them, you lose more than you gain, by the fatigue of 
 the faculties and the diminution of sensibility. 
 
 10 We have said nothing in this account of the loss of 
 opportunities, or the decay of faculties, which, whenever 
 they happen, leave the voluptuary destitute and desperate, 
 teased by desires which can never be gratified, and the 
 memory of pleasures which must return no more. 
 
 1 1 It will also be allowed by those who have experienced 
 it, and perhaps by those alone, that pleasure which is pur- 
 chased by the incumbrance of our fortune is purchased too 
 dear; the pleasure never compensating for the perpetual irri- 
 tation of embarrassed circumstances. 
 
 N 
 
146 
 
 \% These pleasures, after all, have their value: and as the 
 young are always too eager in their pursuit of them, the old 
 are sometimes too remiss; that is, too studious of their ease 
 to be at the pains for them, which they really deserve. 
 
 13 Secondly. Neither does happiness consist in an exemp- 
 tion from pain, labor, care, business, suspense, molestation, 
 and "those evils which are without;" such a state being 
 usually attended not with ease, but with depression of spirits, 
 a tastelessness in all our ideas, imaginary anxieties, and the 
 whole train of hypochondriacal affections. 
 
 14 For which reason, it seldom answers the expectations 
 of those who retire from their shops and counting houses to 
 enjoy the remainder of their days in leisure and tranquillity ; 
 much less of such as in a fit of chagrin shut themselves up in 
 cloisters and hermitages, or quit the world and their stations 
 in it, for solitude and repose. 
 
 15 Thirdly. Neither does happiness consist in greatness, 
 rank or elevated station. No superiority appears to be of 
 any account but superiority over a rival. Philosophy smiles 
 at the contempt with which the rich and great speak of the 
 petty strifes and competitions of the poor, not reflecting that 
 these strifes and competitions are just as reasonable as their 
 own, and the pleasure, which success affords, the same. 
 
 16 Our position is, that happiness does not consist in great- 
 ness. And this position we make out by showing, that even 
 what are supposed to be the peculiar advantages of greatness, 
 the pleasures of ambition and superiority, are, in reality, 
 common to all conditions. 
 
 17 All that can be said is, that there remains a presump- 
 tion in favor of those conditions of life in which men generally 
 appear most cheerful and contented. For though the appar- 
 ent happiness of mankind be not always a true measure of 
 their real happiness, it is the best measure we have. 
 
 18 Taking this for my guide, I am inclined to believe 
 that happiness consists, 
 
 I. In the exercise of the social affections. Those persons 
 commonly possess good spirits who have about them many 
 objects of affection and endearment, as wife, children, kin- 
 dred, friends. And to the want of these may be imputed 
 the peevishness of monks, and of such as lead a monastic 
 life. 
 
 19 Of the same nature with the indulgence of our domes- 
 tic affections, and equally refreshing to the spirits, is the 
 pleasure which results from acts of bounty and beneficence, 
 
147 
 
 exercised either in giving money, or in imparting to those 
 who want it, the assistance of our skill and profession. 
 
 20 Another main article of human happiness is, 
 
 II. The exercise of our faculties, either of body or mind, 
 m the pursuit of some engaging end. It seems to be true, 
 that no plenitude of present gratifications, can make the pos- 
 sessor happy for a continuance, unless he have something in 
 reserve — something to hope for, and look forward to. 
 
 21 This I conclude to be the case from comparing the 
 alacrity and spirits of men, who are engaged in any pursuit 
 which interests them, with the dejection and ennui of almost 
 all, who are either born to so much that they want nothing 
 more, or who have used up their satisfactions too soon, and 
 drained the * sources of them. Hence those pleasures are 
 most valuable, not which is most excellent in the fruition, but 
 which are most productive of engagement and activity in 
 the pursuit. 
 
 22 Engagement is every thing. The more significant, 
 however, our engagements are, the better ; such as the plan- 
 ning of laws, institutions, manufactures, charities, improve- 
 ments, public works ; and the endeavoring, by our interest, 
 address, solicitations, and activity, to carry them into effect ; 
 or upon a smaller scale, the procuring of maintenance and for- 
 tune for our families, by a course of industry and application 
 to our callings, w r hich forms and gives motion to the com- 
 mon occupations of life ; 
 
 23 Training up a child ; prosecuting a scheme for his fu- 
 ture establishment ; making ourselves masters of a language 
 or a science; improving or managing an estate; laboring after 
 a piece of preferment ; and lastly, any engagement, which is 
 innocent, is better than none ; as the writing of a book, the 
 building of a house, the laying out of a garden, the digging 
 of a fish-pond ; even the raising of a cucumber or a tulip. 
 
 24 Whilst the mind is taken up with the objects of busi- 
 ness before us, we are commonly happy, whatever the object 
 or business be : when the mind is absent, and the thoughts 
 are wandering to something else than what is passing in the 
 place in which we are, we are often miserable. 
 
 25 III. Happiness depends upon the prudent constitution 
 of the habits. The art in which the secret of human happiness 
 in a great measure consists, is to set the habits in such a man- 
 ner, that every change may be a change for the better. The 
 habits themselves, are much the same ; for whatever is made 
 habitual, becomes smooth, and easy, and nearly indifferent. 
 
1 48 
 
 26 The return to an old habit is likewise easy, whatever 
 'file habit be. Therefore, the advantage is with those habits 
 which allow of indulgence in the deviation from them. The 
 luxurious receive no greater pleasure, from their dainties, 
 than the peasant does from his bread and cheese ; but the 
 peasant whenever he goes abroad, finds a feast ; whereas, the 
 epicure must be well entertained to escape disgust. 
 
 27 IV. Happiness consists in health. By health I under* 
 stand, as well freedom from bodily distempers, as that tran 
 quillity, firmness, and alacrity of mind, which we call good 
 spirits ; and which may properly enough be included in our 
 notion of health, as depending commonly upon the same 
 causes, and yielding to the same management, as our bodily 
 constitution. 
 
 28 Health, in this sense, is the one thing needful. There- 
 fore no pains, expense, self-denial, or restraint, to which we 
 subject ourselves, for the sake of health, is too much. Wheth- 
 er it require us to relinquish lucrative situations, to abstain 
 from favorite indulgences, to control intemperate passions, 
 or undergo tedious regimens ; whatever difficulties it lays us 
 under, a man who pursues his happiness rationally and reso- 
 lutely, will be content to submit to. 
 
 29 When we are in perfect health and spirits, we feel in 
 ourselves a happiness independent of any particular outward 
 gratification whatever, and of which we can give no account. 
 This is an enjoyment which the Deity has annexed to life ; 
 and probably constitutes, in a great measure, the happiness of 
 infants and brutes, especially of the lower and sedentary or- 
 ders of animals, as of oysters, periwinkles, and the like ; for 
 which I have sometimes been at a loss to find out amusement. 
 
 30 The above account of human happiness will justify the 
 two following conclusions, which, although found in most 
 books of morality, have seldom, I think, been supported by 
 any sufficient reasons. First, That happiness is pretty equal- 
 ly distributed amongst the different orders of civil society. 
 Secondly, That vice has no advantage over virtue, even with 
 respect to this world's happiness. 
 
 SECTION III. 
 Virtue. 
 1 The four Cardinal virtues are, prudence, fortitude, tem- 
 perance, and justice. But the division of virtue, to which we 
 are nowadays most accustomed, is into duties, Towards 
 God; as piety, reverence, resignation, gratitude* &e; To- 
 
149 
 
 wards other men (cr relative duties ;) as justice, charity, 
 fidelity, &c. Towards ourselves ; as chastity, sobriety, tern 
 perance, preservation of life, care of health, &c. 
 
 2 I shall proceed to state a few observations, which relate 
 to the general regulation of human conduct; unconnected in- 
 deed, with each other, but very worthy of attention; — Man- 
 kind act more from habit than reflection. 
 
 3 It is on few, only, and great occasions, that men delib- 
 erate at all; on fewer still, that they institute any thing like 
 a regular inquiry into the moral rectitude or depravity of 
 what they are about to do; or wait for the result of it. We 
 are for the most part determined at once ; and by an impulse, 
 which is the effect and energy of pre-established habits. And 
 this constitution seems well adapted to the exigencies of 
 human life, and to the imbecility of our moral principle. 
 
 4 If we are in so great a degree passive under our habits, 
 where, it is asked, is the exercise of virtue, the guilt of vice, 
 or any use of moral and religious knowledge ? I answer, in 
 the forming and contracting of these habits. There are 
 habits, not only of drinking, swearing, and lying, and of 
 some other things, which are commonly acknowledged to be 
 habits, and called so ; but of every modification of action, 
 speech, and thought. Man is a bundle of habits. 
 
 5 Without entering into a detail of scripture morality, 
 which would anticipate our subject, the following general 
 positions may be advanced,, I think, with safety: 1. That a 
 state of happiness is not to be expected by those who are con- 
 scious of no moral or religious rule. 2. That a state of hap- 
 piness is not to be expected by those who reserve to them- 
 selves the habitual practice of any one sin, or neglect of one 
 known duty. 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 The Divine Benevolence. 
 
 1 When God created the human species, either he wished 
 their happiness, or he wished their misery, or he was indiffer- 
 ent and unconcerned about both. 
 
 2 If he had wished our misery, he might have made sure 
 of his purpose, by forming our senses to be as many sores 
 and pains to us, as they are now instruments of gratification 
 and enjoyment; or by placing us amidst objects so ill suited 
 to our perceptions, as to have continually offended us, instead 
 of ministering to our refreshment and delight. He might 
 have made, for example, every thing we tasted bitter; every 
 
 N2 
 
150 
 
 thing we saw loathsome ; every thing we touched a sting ; 
 every smell a stench; and every sound a discord. 
 
 3 If he had been indifferent about our happiness or misery, 
 we must impute to our good fortune (as all design by this 
 supposition is excluded,) both the capacity of our senses to 
 receive pleasure, and the supply of external objects fitted to 
 produce it. 
 
 4 But either of these, and still more both of them, being 
 too much to be attributed to accident, nothing remains but the 
 first supposition, that God, when he created the human spe- 
 cies, wished their happiness, and made for them the provision 
 which be has made, with that view, and for that purpose. 
 
 5 The same argument may be proposed in different terms, 
 thus: Contrivance proves design; and the predominant ten- 
 dency of the contrivance indicates the disposition of the 
 designer. The world abounds with contrivances; and all the 
 contrivances which we are acquainted with, are directed to 
 beneficial purposes. 
 
 6 Evil no doubt exists ; but is never, that we can perceive, 
 the object of contrivance. Teeth are contrived to eat, not to 
 ache; their aching now and then is incidental to the contriv- 
 ance, perhaps, inseparable from it ; or even, if you will, let 
 it be called a defect in the contrivance ; but it is not the object 
 of it. This is a distinction which well deserves to be attend- 
 ed to. 
 
 7 In describing implements of husbandry, you would 
 hardly say of a sickle, that it is made to cut the reaper's fin- 
 gers, though from the construction of the instrument, and the 
 manner of using it, this mischief often happens. 
 
 S But if you had occasion to describe instruments of tor* 
 ture or execution, this engine, you would say, is to extend 
 the sinews^ this to dislocate the joints; this to break the bones; 
 this to scorch the soles of the feet. Here pain and misery 
 are the very objects of the contrivance* Now nothing of this 
 sort is to be found in the works of nature. We never dis- 
 oover a train of contrivance to bring about an evil purpose. 
 
 9 Since, then, God hath called forth his consummate wis- 
 dom to contrive and provide for our happiness, and the world 
 appears to have been constituted with this design- at first, so 
 long as this constitution is upholden by him, we must in 
 reason suppose the same design to continue. 
 
 10 The contemplation of universal nature rather bewil- 
 ders the mind than affects it. i There is always a bright spot 
 m the prospect upon which the eye rests^ a single example* 
 
151 
 
 perhaps, by which each man finds himself more convinced" 
 than by all others put together. I seem, for my own part,- to 
 see the benevolence of the Deity more clearly in the plea- 
 sures of very young children than in any thing in the world, 
 
 11 The pleasure of grown persons may be reckoned 
 partly of their own procuring ; especially if there has been 
 any industry, or contrivance, or pursuit, to come at them; or 
 if they are founded, like music, painting, &c. upon any qual- 
 ification of their own acquiring. 
 
 12 But the pleasures of a healthy infant are so manifestly 
 provided for it by another, and the benevolence of the pro- 
 vision is so unquestionable, that every child I see at its sport 
 affords to my mind a kind of sensible evidence of the finger 
 of God, and of the disposition which directs it. 
 
 13 But the example which strikes each man most strongly 
 is, the true example for him ; and hardly two minds hit upon 
 the same; which shows the abundance of such example* 
 about us. 
 
 14 We conclude, therefore, that God wills and wishes the 
 happiness of his creatures. And this conclusion being once 
 established, we are at liberty to go on with the rule built upon 
 it, namely, " that the method of coming at the will of God, 
 concerning any action by the light of nature, is to inquire 
 into the tendency of that action to promote or diminish the 
 general happiness." 
 
 SECTION V. 
 
 Promises; contracts of sale; concerning the lending of 
 
 money; of labor. 
 
 1 From whence the obligation to perform promises 
 arises. They who argue from innate, moral principles, sup- 
 pose a sense of the obligation of promises to be one of them ;. 
 but, without assuming this, or any thing else, without proof,, 
 the obligation to perform promises may be deduced from the 
 necessity of such a conduct to the well-being, or the existence 
 indeed, of human society. 
 
 2 Men act from expectation. Expectation is, in most 
 eases, determined by the assurances and engagements which 
 we receive from others. If no dependence could be placed 
 upon these assurances, it would be impossible to know what 
 judgment to form of many future events, or how to regulate 
 our conduct with respect to them. 
 
 3 Confidence, therefore, in promises, is essential to the in- 
 tercourse of human life ; because, without it, the greatest 
 
152 
 
 part *of our conduct would proceed upon chance. But there 
 could be no confidence in promises, if men were not obliged 
 to perform them : the obligation, therefore, to perform prom- 
 ises, is essential to the same end and in the same degree. 
 
 4 The rule of justice which wants most to be inculcated 
 in the making of bargains, is, that the seller is bound in con- 
 science to disclose the faults of what he offers for sale. 
 
 5 To this of concealing the faults of what we want to put 
 off, may be referred the practice of passing bad money. This 
 practice we sometimes hear defended by a vulgar excuse, that 
 we have taken the money for good, and therefore must get 
 ri<l of it. Which excuse is much the same as if one, who 
 had been robbed upon the highway, should allege he had a 
 right to reimburse himself out of the pocket of the first 
 traveller he met ; the justice of which reasoning the travel- 
 ler possibly may not comprehend. 
 
 6 Whoever borrows money is bound in conscience to re- 
 pay it. This every man can see ; but every man cannot see, 
 or does not, however, reflect, that he is, in consequence, also 
 bound to use the means necessary to enable himself to repay it, 
 
 7 "If he pay the money when he has it, or has it to spare. 
 he does all that an honest man can do," and all he imagines 
 that is required of him, whilst the previous measures which are 
 necessary to furnish him with the money? he makes no part 
 of his care, nor observes to be as much his duty as the other ; 
 
 8 Such as selling a family seat, or a family estate, contract- 
 ing his plan of expense, laying down his equipage, reducing 
 the number of his servants, or any of those humiliating sac- 
 rifices, which justice requires of a man in debt, the moment 
 he perceives that he has no reasonable prospect of paying his 
 debts without them. 
 
 9 An expectation which depends upon the continuance of 
 his own life, will not satisfy an honest man if a better provi- 
 sion be in his power : for it is a breach of faith to subject a 
 creditor, when we can help it, to the risk of our life, be the 
 event what it will ; that not being the security to which 
 credit was given. 
 
 10 Service in this country [England] is, as it ought to be, 
 voluntary, and by contract; and the master's authority ex- 
 tends no farther than the terms or equitable construction of 
 the contract will justify. 
 
 11 A servant is not bound to obey the unlawful com- 
 mands of his master ; to minister, for instance, to his un- 
 lawful pleasures, or to assist him by unlawful practices in his 
 
153 
 profession ; as in smuggling or adulterating the articles In 
 
 which he deals. For the servant is bound by nothing but 
 his own promise ; and the obligation of a promise, extends 
 not to things unlawful. 
 
 12 For the same reason, the master's authority is no justifi- 
 cation of the servant in doing wrong; for the servant's own 
 promise, upon which that authority is founded, would be none. 
 
 13 Clerks and apprentices ought to be employed entirely 
 in the profession or trade which they are intended to learn. 
 Instruction is their hire, and to deprive them of the opportu- 
 nities of instruction, by taking up their time with occupations 
 foreign to their business, is to defraud them of their wages. 
 
 14 A master 'of a family is culpable, if he permit any 
 vices among his domestics, which he might restrain by due 
 discipline and a proper interference. This results from the 
 general obligation to prevent misery when in our power; 
 and the assurance which we have, that vice and misery, at 
 the long run, go together. 
 
 SECTION VI. 
 Lies ; revenge; duelling ; slander. 
 
 1 A lie is a breach of promise; for whoever seriously ad> 
 Presses his discourse to another, tacitly promises to speak the 
 truth, because he knows that the truth is expected. 
 
 2 Or the obligation of veracity may be made out from the 
 direct ill consequences of lying to social happiness. Which 
 consequences consist, either in some specific injury to parti- 
 cular individuals, or in the destruction of that confidence, 
 which is essential to the intercourse q{ human life : for which 
 latter reason, a lie may be pernicious in its general tendency, 
 and therefore criminal, though it produce no particular or 
 visible mischief to any one. 
 
 3 All pain occasioned to another in consequence of an of- 
 fence, or injury received from him, farther than what is cal- 
 culated to procure reparation, or promote the just ends of 
 punishment, is so much revenge. It is highly probable, from 
 the light of nature, that a passion, which seeks its gratifica- 
 tion immediately and expressly in giving pain, is disagreea- 
 ble to the benevolent will and counsels of the Creator. 
 
 4 The feuds and animosities in families and between neigh- 
 bors, which disturb the intercourse of human life, and collec- 
 tively compose half the misery of it, have their foundation in 
 the w r ant of a forgiving temper; and can never cease, but by 
 the exercise of this virtue, on one side or both. 
 
154 
 
 5 Duelling, as a punishment, is absurd, because it is an 
 equal chance, whether the punishment fall upon the offender 
 or the person offended. Nor is it much better as a reparation; 
 it being difficult to explain in what the satisfaction consists, 
 or how it tends to undo the injury, or to afford a compensa- 
 tion for the damage already sustained. 
 
 6 For the army, where the point of honor is cultivated 
 with exquisite attention and refinement, I would establish a 
 court of honor, with a power of awarding those submissions 
 and acknowledgments, which it is generally the purpose of 
 a challenge to obtain; and it might grow into fashion, with 
 persons of rank of all professions, to refer their quarrels to 
 the same tribunal. 
 
 7 Malicious slander, is the relating of either truth or false- 
 hood for the purpose of creating misery. I acknowledge that 
 the truth or falsehood of what is related varies the degree of 
 guilt considerably : and that slander, in the ordinary accepta- 
 tion of the term, signifies the circulation of mischievous false- 
 hood ; but truth may be made instrumental to the success of 
 malicious designs as well as falsehood; and if the end be bad, 
 the means cannot be innocent. Information communicated 
 for the real purpose of warning or cautioning, is not slander. 
 
 SECTION VII. 
 Of the duty of parents. Education. 
 
 1 Education, in the most extensive sense of the word, may 
 comprehend every preparation that is made in our youth for 
 the sequel of our lives; and in this sense I use it. 
 
 2 Some such preparation is necessary for children of all 
 conditions, because, without it, they must be miserable, and 
 probably will be vicious, when they grow up, either from 
 want of means of subsistence, or from want of rational and 
 inoffensive occupation. In civilized life, every thing is ■effect- 
 ed by art and skill. 
 
 3 Whence a person who is provided with neither (and 
 neither can be acquired without exercise and instructions) 
 will be useless ; and he that is useless, will generally be at 
 the same time mischievous to the community. So that to 
 send an uneducated child into the world is injurious to the 
 rest of mankind. 
 
 4 In the inferior classes of community, this principle con- 
 demns the neglect of parents, who do not inure their chil- 
 dren by times to labor and restraint, by providing them 
 with apprenticeships, services, or other regular employment, 
 
155 
 
 but who suffer them to waste their youth in idleness and va- 
 grancy, or to betake themselves to some lazy, trifling, and pre- 
 carious calling ; for the consequence of having thus tasted 
 the sweets of natural liberty, at an age when their passion 
 and relish for it are at the highest, is, that they become 
 incapable for the remainder of their lives of continued indus- 
 try, or of persevering attention to any thing ; spend their 
 time in a miserable struggle between the importunity of w T ant, 
 and the irksomeness of regular application ; and are prepared 
 to embrace every expedient, which presents a hope of sup- 
 plying their necessities without confining them to the plow, 
 the loom, the shop, or the counting house. 
 
 5 A man of fortune who permits his son to consume the 
 season of education, in hunting, shooting, or in frequenting 
 horse, races, assemblies, or other unedifying, if not vicious 
 diversions, defrauds the community of a benefactor, and 
 bequeaths them a nuisance. 
 
 6 The health and virtue of a child's future life are consid- 
 erations so superior to all others, that whatever is likely to 
 have the smallest influence upon these, deserves the parent's 
 first attention. In respect of health, agriculture, and all 
 active, rural, and out-of-door employments, are to be prefer- 
 red to manufactures and sedentary occupations. 
 
 7 In respect of virtue, a course of dealings in which the 
 advantage is mutual, in which the profit on one side is con- 
 nected with the benefit of the other (which is the case in 
 trade, and all serviceable art or labor,) is more favorable to the 
 moral character, than callings in which one man's gain is an- 
 other's loss, in which, what you acquire, is acquired without 
 equivalent, and parted with in distress. For security, man- 
 ual arts exceed merchandise, and such as supply the wants of 
 mankind are better than those which minister to their plea- 
 sure. 
 
156 
 CHAPTER 3. 
 
 ABRIDGMENT OP BARON KNIGGE's PRACTICAL PHILOSOPHY 
 OF SOCIAL LIFE, OR THE ART OF CONVERSING WITH MEN % 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN, BY THE REV. P. WILL. 
 
 The advantages which I have derived from the study and application of 
 the excellent observations and rules which this work contains, and the 
 salutary effects which I have seen it produce in the life of those of my 
 pupils to whom I have recommended it, and who followed the sage instruc- 
 tions with which it abounds, made me wish most ardently, to see it dress- 
 ed in an English garb, and circulated in a country which is so dear to me. 
 It went through five editions in the course of a few years, and, if I may 
 presume to judge of its usefulness, from my own experience, stands fore- 
 most amongst all the books which ever have been written to promote so- 
 cial happiness. Translator* 
 
 SECTION I. 
 General rules and observations to guide us in conversa- 
 tion with ?nen. 
 
 1 Strive to render yourself perfect; but avoid -the ap- 
 pearance of perfection and infallibility. Be however not 
 too much the slave of the opinion which others form of you. 
 Be self-consistent ! What need have you to care for the cen- 
 sure of the world if you act as you ought to do ? Your whole 
 wardrobe of external virtues is not worth a pin, if you con- 
 ceal a weak and mean .heart under that tinsel dress, and put 
 it on only to make a show with it in companies. 
 
 2 Above all things take care not to lose your confidence in 
 yourself, your trust in God, in good men and fortune. Dis- 
 close never in an ungenerous manner the defects of your neigh- 
 bor, in order to sound your own praise at his expense ; noi 
 expose the failings of others to shine with additional lustre. 
 
 3 No rule is more generally useful, none ought to be ob- 
 served more sacredly, and tends more to procure us respect 
 and friends than that which teaches us to keep our word rigid- 
 ly, even in the most trifling instances, to be faithful to all 
 our promises, and never to wander from the strait road of 
 truth and veracity. You are entitled in no instance, and by 
 no motive whatever, to say the contrary of what you think, 
 although it would frequently be highly wrong and imprudent 
 to disclose every thought of your heart 
 
 4 No necessity, how imperious soever it be, can excuse an 
 untruth ; no breach of veracity has ever been committed 
 without having produced, sooner or later, painful consequen- 
 ces ; whereas the man who is known to be a slave to his 
 
157 
 
 word, and never to indulge himself with the commission of an 
 untruth, gains confidence, a good name, and general regard. 
 
 5 Be strict, punctual, regular, assiduous and diligent in your 
 calling. Interest yourself for others, if you wish them to 
 interest themselves for you. A person that is destitute of 
 fellow-feeling, of a sense of friendship, benevolence and love, 
 and lives merely for himself, will also be left to shift for 
 himself when he wants the assistance of others. 
 
 6 Above all things be always consistent. Form a certain 
 plan of life, and do not swerve from it the breadth of a hair, 
 although that plan should be rather singular. People will, 
 perhaps, talk a short time of your singularity, but finally be 
 silent, refrain from disturbing you any further, and, esteem 
 you for your firmness. We in general, are always gainers 
 by a regular perseverance and a wise firmness. 
 
 7 Above all things strive to have always a good conscience. 
 Avoid most studiously to give your heart the least occasion 
 to reproach you on account of the object of your actions, and 
 of the means which you employ to attain it. Pursue never 
 crooked ways, and you may firmly rely upon good consequen- 
 ces, the assistance of God and of good men in time of need. 
 
 8 Although you should be thwarted for some time by mis- 
 fortune, yet the blissful consciousness of the goodness of your 
 heart, and of the rectitude of your designs, will afford you 
 uncommon strength and comfort. Attempt never to render 
 a person ridiculous in company, how many defects soever he 
 may have. 
 
 9 If you are desirous to gain lasting respect; if you wish 
 to offend no one ; to tire no person by your conversation ; I 
 advise you not to season your discourse constantly with as- 
 persions, ridicule, and backbiting, nor to use yourself to the 
 contemptible custom of jeering. 
 
 10 This may please now and then, particularly in the cir- 
 cle of a certain class of people ; but a man that constantly 
 labors to amuse the company at the expense of other people, 
 or of truth, will certainly be shunned and despised at last, 
 and he deserves it ; for a man of feeling and understanding 
 will bear with the failings of others, as he must be sensible 
 how much mischief sometimes a single expression of ridicule 
 may produce, though no harm be meant. He also cannot but 
 wish for more substantial and useful conversation, and loathe 
 gibing nonsense. Yet we use ourselves but too easily to that 
 miserable custom, in what are called the fashionable circles. 
 
 11 I do however not mean to condemn all ridicule in gen- 
 
 o 
 
158 
 
 eral, and at all times, nor to deny that many follies and ab- 
 surdities can be counteracted best, in less familiar circles 
 by the lashes of fine, not too plain, nor too personal ridicule. 
 Neither do I desire you to applaud every thing you see and 
 hear, nor to excuse all faults;! rather must confess, that I al- 
 ways suspect people that affect to cover all defects of others 
 with the cloak of charity. 
 
 12 They are generally hypocrites, who wish to bribe others 
 by the honorable terms in which they speak of them, to for- 
 get the injuries which they commit against those very per- 
 sons: or they intend to prevail on us by such a conduct, to 
 be equally indulgent to their own failings and defects. 
 
 13 Be careful not to carry stories from one house to another, 
 nor to relate familiar table talks, family discourses, and obser- 
 vations which you have made on the domestic concerns and 
 life of people with whom you frequently converse. Although 
 you should not be a malicious tale-bearer, yet such an offi- 
 cious garrulity would create mistrust, and might occasion a 
 great deal of animosity and discord. 
 
 14 Whenever you speak of bodily, mental, moral, or other 
 defects, or relate anecdotes that place certain principles in a 
 ridiculous light, or reflect some blame upon certain ranks in 
 life; then be cautious to ascertain first, that no one is present 
 who could be offended by it, or take that censure or ridicule 
 as a reflection upon himself, or his relations and friends. 
 Ridicule the person, shape and features of no one; for it is not 
 in the power of any mortal to alter them. 
 
 SECTION II. 
 On the conversation with ourselves. 
 
 1 Take care of the health of your mind as well as that of 
 your body ; but spoil neither the one nor the other by too 
 much tenderness. The man that endangers his constitution 
 by too much labor or excess, squanders away a treasure which 
 frequently is alone sufficient to raise him above men and fate, 
 and for the loss of which the wealth of all the world cannot 
 compensate. 
 
 2 But he that dreads every breeze of air, and is fearful to 
 exert and exercise his limbs, lives a nerveless life of constant 
 anxiety, and attempts in vain to put the rusty springs in 
 motion when he has occasion to exert his natural powers. 
 
 3 A man that constantly exposes his mind to the tempests 
 of passion, or incessantly crowds the sails of his spirit, either 
 runs aground or must return with his leaky vessel into port, 
 
159 
 
 when the best season for making new discoveries sets in. 
 But he that suffers the faculties of his understanding and 
 memory constantly to sleep, or shudders at every little strug- 
 gle or at any sort of painful exertion, enjoys not only very 
 little of the sweets of life, but is also totally lost as soon as 
 energy, courage and resolution are required. 
 
 4 Take care, therefore, not to torment yourself by imagi- 
 nary sufferings of the body or the mind ; do not give way to 
 every adverse incident or corporeal affliction! Take courage 
 and be resolute ! All the storms of adversity are transient; 
 all difficulties can be overcome by firmness of mind; and the 
 remembrance of every loss can be exploded from the memory, 
 if we bend our attention upon some other object. 
 
 5 Have a proper regard for yourself, if you wish to be 
 esteemed by others. Act well and properly, rather to pre- 
 serve your regard for yourself than to please others. Pre- 
 serve a proper sense of your internal dignity. Never lose 
 your reliance upon yourself, and upon the consciousness of 
 your value in the eyes of your Creator; and although you 
 are sensible not to be as wise and capable as others, yet do 
 not despair; let not your zeal slacken, nor be wanting in 
 probity of heart ! 
 
 6 Have confidence in yourself and trust to Providence! 
 There exists a greatness which is independent of men, fate, 
 and the applause of the world ; it consists in the internal 
 consciousness of our merit and rectitude, and our sense of it 
 grows stronger, the less it is taken notice of. 
 
 7 Be an agreeable companion to yourself: that is, never 
 be entirely unoccupied, nor confide entirely in the store of 
 knowledge which you have treasured up in your mind; but 
 collect new ideas from books and men. 
 
 8 Our own society does, however, never grow more te- 
 dious and distressing to ourselves than when w r e have painful 
 accounts to settle with our heart and conscience. If you wish 
 to convince yourself of the truth of this assertion, you need 
 but to observe the difference of your disposition. 
 
 9 How much dissatisfied with ourselves, how absent, and 
 how burdensome to ourselves, are we after a train of hours 
 which we have trifled away or spent in doing wrong, and how 
 serene, how happy to reflect upon our conduct, and to give 
 audience to our ideas at the close of a well spent day! 
 
160 
 
 SECTION III. 
 On the conversation with people of different tempers and 
 dispositions. 
 
 1 Amongst all adventurers, gamblers by profession are the 
 most contemptible and prejudicial class. On speaking of them, 
 I beg leave to say a few words on gaming in general. 
 
 2 No passion can lead to such extremities, nor involve 
 man in such a complicated train of crimes and vices, and 
 ruin whole families, so completely, as the baneful rage for 
 gambling. It produces and nourishes all imaginable disgrace- 
 ful sensations ; it is the most fertile nursery of covetousness, 
 envy, rage, malice, dissimulation, falsehood, and foolish re- 
 liance on blind fortune j* it frequently leads to fraud, quarrels, 
 murder, forgery, meanness and despair ; and robs us, in the 
 most unpardonable manner, of the greatest and most irre- 
 coverable treasure — Time. 
 
 3 Drunkards, voluptuaries, and all votaries of vice in 
 general, you ought to shun, and if possible, to avoid their so- 
 ciety ; yet if you should not always be able to do it, you 
 cannot be too careful to watch over your innocence lest it 
 should be infected by their example. 
 
 4 This, however, is not sufficient ; it is also your duty not 
 to indulge them in their excesses, how pleasing soever the 
 shape may be in which they appear, but to show, as far as 
 prudence permits, that you have an unconquerable aversion 
 against them, and to be particularly careful never to join in 
 smutty discourses. 
 
 5 We see frequently that elegant rakes are uncommonly 
 well received in the fashionable circles as they are called ; 
 and but too often experience in many societies, particularly 
 
 * The same pernicious consequences are liable to occur more or less, 
 from the toleration of lotteries, horse-racing-, and every description of 
 wagering", or betting ; which, it is to be hoped, will not, much longer, be 
 encouraged and promoted by gentlemen of honor and wealth, who, in 
 all other respects, sustain the reputation of irreproachable morals, patri- 
 otism and beneficence. These fashionable modes of gambling may be 
 amusing to those who have an abundance of money and leisure ; but 
 there are two insuperable objections to their indulgence in them. First, 
 every parent incurs a moral obligation of fidelity and prudence in the 
 management of the property, which, though in his possession and control, 
 his family and descendants have a just claim to a participation in, during 
 his life, and the possession of, after his decease. Second, public games pro- 
 mote dissipation and idleness among all classes who attend them. J. T, 
 
161 
 
 ^in such as consist entirely of males, that the conversation turns 
 upon obscene ambiguities, which inflame the imagination of 
 young people, and spread farther the corruption of morals. 
 
 6 An honest man ought not to contribute the least thing in 
 the world to this general corruption of morals ; he rather is 
 bound to display his aversion to it in the strongest manner, 
 without shewing any respect of persons ; and if he cannot 
 correct people who walk in the path of vice by amicable ad- 
 monitions, and by directing their activity to nobler objects, 
 at least to convince them that he values decency and virtue, 
 and that innocence must be respected in his presence. 
 
 7 People who believe without any sufficient ground in 
 certain doctrines and obligations, or in supernatural causes, 
 agencies and apparitions, who for instance believe that God 
 is an irascible and revengeful being, that those who are here- 
 tics, in their opinion, ought to be deprived of all civil privi- 
 leges, that future events can be foretold from omens and 
 signs, that ghosts and superior beings can appear to men, &c. 
 and who regard these objects of their faith as highly sacred 
 and inviolable are called superstitious. 
 
 S It is a certain criterion of superstition to believe too 
 much, i. e. more than sound reason warrants. People who 
 are given to superstition do not therefore listen to the voice 
 of reason, but are deaf to sober arguments, and believe the 
 most contradictory tenets. They never give up an opinion 
 which they have once adopted, how absurd and incompre- 
 hensible soever it may be, and tlte firmness of their faith is 
 founded merely on habit. 
 
 9 They have heard for instance a certain tenet asserted in 
 their youth, it was recommended to them as a religious truth, 
 and they have believed in it for many years; or something 
 was inculcated into their mind as an invariable duty and ob- 
 ligation ; or they were taught to believe that certain invisi- 
 ble powers produce certain effects ; and now they continue 
 to adhere to that opinion, because they have accustomed them- 
 selves so much to believe it, that the contrary of it appears 
 to them a daring violation of truth, which they are bound to 
 abhor or to hate : and as reason opposes to their belief in- 
 controvertible doubts, their commodiousness leads them to 
 think that the voice of reason ought not to be listened to in 
 matters of faith. 
 
 10 Superstition undoubtedly is a source of numerous 
 evils, and productive of great misery ; and it is extremely 
 painful and distressing for every individual to be connected 
 
 2 
 
162 
 
 with its votaries : for the superstitious abhors every one that 
 is of a different opinion. 
 
 11 And what motive can a person have to suspect the 
 truth of a doctrine of which he is as firmly convinced, as he is 
 of the reality of his existence ? Is it not natural that a person 
 who is to examine a doctrine which he believes, should first 
 think it possible that it may be erroneous ? But if he think 
 it impossible he cannot be reasonably expected to examine it. 
 
 12 From this it appears, that the superstition of many 
 people is very excusable, and that those who are infected 
 with it have a just claim to our forbearance. It would there- 
 fore be as unjust and inhumane to hate a man for his super- 
 stition, as it would be to hate another because he is infected 
 with some constitutional disease. The superstitious is there- 
 fore justly entitled to compassion, and we ought to tolerate 
 him with fraternal love. 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 On the conversation with people of a different age. 
 
 1 Many sensations, which nature has impressed on the 
 soul, aref reasoned away in our enlightened age, which is so 
 carefully cleared of all the rubbish of antiquated prejudices. 
 One of these prejudices is the sense of regard for hoary age. 
 Our youth ripen sooner, grow sooner wise and learned than 
 those of former times did. 
 
 2 They repair by diligent reading, particularly of maga- 
 zines, pamphlets and novels, their want of experience and 
 study. This renders them so intelligent as to be able to de- 
 cide upon subjects which our forefathers thought could only 
 be clearly comprehended after a close and studious application 
 of many years. 
 
 3 Thence arises that noble self-sufficiency and confidence 
 which inferior geniuses mistake for impudence and arrogance, 
 that consciousness of internal worth with which the beardless 
 boys of our age look down upon old men, and decry every 
 thing that happens to come in their way. 
 
 4 The utmost that a man of riper years may expect now- 
 adays, from his children and grand-children is, kind indul- 
 gence, chastening censure, being tutored by them and pitied, 
 because he is so unfortunate as not to have been born in our 
 happy age, in which wisdom rains from heaven, unsown and 
 uncultivated, like manrot in the desert. 
 
 5 There are many things in this world which can be learnt 
 fjaly by experience; there are sciences which absolutely 
 
163 
 
 require close and long study, reiterated reflection and medi- 
 tation, coolness of temper and mature judgment; and there- 
 fore I think the most brilliant and acute genius, in most 
 eases, ought to pay some attention and deference to an old 
 man, whose inferiority of faculties, is compensated by age 
 and experience. 
 
 6 It must be acknowledged in general, that the store of 
 experience which a man gathers in a long course of years, 
 enables him to fix his ideas, to awaken from ideal dreams, to 
 avoid being led pstray by a lively imagination, the warmth of 
 blood and the irritability of nerves, and to behold the objects 
 with which he is surrounded in their proper point of view. 
 
 7 It is, besides, so noble and amiable, to render the latter 
 days of the pilgrimage of life, in which cares and sorrows 
 generally increase, and enjoyment takes its flight, as easy as 
 possible to those that soon are to bid an eternal farewell to the 
 treasures and gratifications of this w r orld, that I feel myself 
 impelled to exclaim, with additional energy, to youth of 
 every description — 
 
 8 " Rise up before the hoary head, and honor the face of 
 the old. Court the society of old and experienced people! 
 Do not despise the counsel of cool reason, nor the advice of 
 experience. Treat the hoary as you wish to be treated, when 
 your hair shall be bleached by old age. Respect them, and 
 do not desert them, when wild and thoughtless youths shun 
 their company." 
 
 9 As for the rest, it cannot be denied that there are many 
 old fools, as there are also ivise young men who have eared 
 already when others scarcely have begun to sow. 
 
 10 The conversation with children is highly interesting 
 to a sensible man. He beholds in them the book of nature in 
 an uncorrupted edition. Children appear as they really are, 
 and as they are not misled by systems, passions or learning, 
 judge of many things better than grown persons; they re- 
 ceive many impressions much sooner, and are not guided by 
 so many prejudices as the latter. 
 
 1 1 In short, if you wish to study men you must not neglect 
 to mix with the society of children. However, the conver- 
 sation with them requires considerations which are not neces- 
 sary in the society of people of maturer years. 
 
 12 It is a sacred duty to give them no offence whatever, 
 to abstain in their company from all wanton discourses and 
 actions, and to display in their presence benevolence, faith, 
 sincerity, decency and every other virtue ; in short, to con* 
 
■ 
 
 164 
 
 tribute as much as possible to their improvement; for their 
 ductile and uncorrupted mind is as ready to receive good im- 
 pressions, as it is open to the seeds of vice, and I may safely 
 maintain that the degeneracy of mankind is greatly owing to 
 the imprudence and inconsideration with which people of a 
 maturer age deport themselves in the presence of children. 
 
 SECTION V. 
 On the conversation between parents and children. 
 
 1 It is not uncommon in our days to see .children neglect 
 their parents, or even treat them ill. The principal ties of 
 human society grow laxer every day ; young men think that 
 their fathers are not wise, entertaining and enlightened 
 enough, and girls yawn in the company of their hoary mother, 
 not reflecting how many tedious hours their parent spent at 
 their cradle in attending and nursing them when they were 
 stretched on a sick bed, or in performing the most disagreea- 
 ble and offensive labors, to render them comfortable and to 
 ease their pains, ami that she denied herself many pleasures, 
 to take care of the little helpless being, who without her ten- 
 der attendance, perhaps, would have perished. 
 
 2 Children forget but too often how many cheerful hours 
 they have imbittered to their parents by their stunning 
 clamor; how many sleepless nights they have caused to their 
 careful father, who exerted himself to the utmost of his abil- 
 ities to provide for his family, and was obliged to deny him- 
 self many comforts for their benefit. Well disposed minds, 
 however, will never be so totally devoid of all sense of grati- 
 tude as to be in want of my advice, and for mean and unfeel- 
 ing souls I do not write. 
 
 3 It is only necessary to observe, that if children really 
 should have reason to be ashamed of the weakness or the 
 vices of their parents, they will do much better to conceal 
 their defects, as much as possible, than to neglect paying 
 them that external regard whtch they owe them in many 
 respects. The blessings of Heaven, and the approbation of 
 all good men, are the certain rewards of the attention which 
 sons and daughters pay to the comfort and happiness of their 
 parents. 
 
 4 It is a great misfortune to a child to be tempted by the 
 discord in which his parents live, or by other causes, to take 
 the part of one against the other. Prudent parents, however, 
 will carefully avoid involving their children in such alterca- 
 tions; and on such occasions good children will behave with 
 
 
i«5 
 that circumspection and tenderness which probity and pru- 
 dence require. 
 
 SECTION VI. 
 On conversation between masters and servants. 
 
 1 It is lamentable enough that the greater part of mankind 
 is forced by weakness, poverty, tyranny and other causes, to 
 be subservient to the smaller number, and that the honest 
 man frequently must obey the nod of the villain. What, there- 
 fore, can be more just than that those whom Providence has 
 entrusted with the power to sweeten the life of their fellow 
 men, and to render its burdens easier, should make the best 
 use of that fortunate situation ? 
 
 2 It is, however, also true, that the majority seem to have 
 been born to be dependent on others for guardianship and 
 employment, and noble and truly magnanimous sentiments 
 to be the inheritance of a small number only. But let us con- 
 sider that the ground of this truth is founded rather on the 
 defective education which the rising generation generally 
 receive than on their natural disposition. 
 
 3 Luxury, and its concomitant train, the despoilers of 
 every age in which they are fostered, create an enormous 
 number of wants, which render the majority of mankind 
 dependant on a few. The insatiable thirst for gain and grat- 
 ification produces mean passions, and forces us to beg, as it 
 were, for those things which we imagine to be necessary for 
 our existence; whereas temperance and moderation are the 
 source of all virtues, and the precursors of true happiness. 
 
 4 Although most people should be callous against more 
 refined sentiments, yet are they not all ungrateful towards 
 those that treat them with generosity, nor are they entirely 
 blind to all intrinsic worth. 
 
 5 A benevolent, serious, firm, and consistent conduct, 
 which must not be confounded with stiff and overbearing so- 
 lemnity ; good and prompt payment, which is proportionate 
 to the importance of their services; rigorous punctuality in 
 enforcing the regularity to which they have bound themselves; 
 kindness and affection, when they make a modest and rea- 
 sonable request; moderation in the exercise of our authority. 
 
 6 A just regard to their abilities in the distribution of labor; 
 a proper allowance of time for innocent recreations, and the 
 improvement of their abilities ; attention to their wants ; 
 rigorous injunction of cleanliness in their dress and proprie- 
 ty in their conduct; readiness to sacrifice our own interest* 
 
166 
 
 when we can contribute to the improvement of their situa 
 tion ; paternal care for their health and morals; these are the 
 only means of obtaining good and faithful servants, and of " 
 insuring their affection. 
 
 7 A father of a family has a just right to demand of his 
 servants to perform all their duties with care -and fidelity ; 
 but he ought never to suffer himself to be impelled by the 
 fervor of passion to vent his indignation at his domestics by 
 swearing at them, calling them names, or even striking them. 
 A generous mind will never demean itself so low as to ill- 
 treat those that have not the power to defend themselves. 
 
 8 All those that serve, are bound to execute the duties they 
 have engaged to perform with the greatest and most strict 
 fidelity ; I would consequently advise their doing too much 
 rather than too little, promoting the interest of their masters 
 as diligently as their own, acting always with such candor, 
 and being so regular and exact in the execution of their task, 
 as to be enabled, at all times, to give a cheerful and satisfac- 
 tory account of their conduct to their employers ; never to 
 make an improper use of the confidence of their master; not 
 to disclose the errors and defects of those whose bread they 
 eat, nor to suffer themselves to be tempted by their passions 
 to violate the respect which they owe those to whom Provi- 
 dence has subjected them. 
 
 SECTION VII. 
 On the relations between benefactors and the objects of 
 their kindness, as well as between instructors and pupils y 
 creditors and debtors. 
 
 1 Gratitude is a sacred duty ; therefore honor the man 
 who has been kind to you. Thank him, not only in terms 
 which express the warmth of your gratitude, but avail your- 
 self also of every opportunity to serve and to be useful to 
 him in return. 
 
 2 The manner in which we dispense benefactions is fre- 
 quently worth more than the action itself. It can enhance 
 the value of every gift, as, on the other hand, it can also de- 
 prive it of all merit. 
 
 3 Do not repel the distressed from your door ! When you 
 are requested by any person to give advice or assistance, you 
 ought to listen kindly, attentively, and with fellow-feeling to 
 his tale. Let him speak without being interrupted ; and if 
 you cannot comply with his request, inform him frankly and 
 without bitterness, of the cause which prevents you from re- 
 
167 
 
 alizing his expectation. Take great care to avoid all ambig- 
 uous subterfuges and deceitful promises ! 
 
 4 No benefaction is superior to that of instructing and cul- 
 tivating the mind of others. Every person who has contrib- 
 uted any thing towards making us wiser, better and happier, 
 lias the strongest claim to our everlasting and warmest grati- 
 tude. Although he should not have exerted himself to the 
 best of his abilities, yet we ought not to be ungrateful for the 
 little improvement which we owe to him. 
 
 5 People who have devoted themselves zealously to the 
 important occupation of educating the rising generation, gen- 
 erally deserve being treated with peculiar regard. To form 
 and cultivate the mind of man is indeed a most difficult and 
 arduous task, the accomplishment of which cannot be reward- 
 ed with money. 
 
 6 The schoolmaster of even the most insignificant village, 
 who executes the duties of his calling with faithful diligence, 
 is unquestionably one of the most useful and important per- 
 sons in the state ; and as his income generally is scanty 
 enough, it is but just we should endeavor to sweeten the la- 
 borious life of such a useful member of society, by treating 
 him at least with due respect. 
 
 7 Humanity and prudence require we should be civil, just 
 and kind to our debtors. It is a very reprehensible principle 
 to think that a person who owes us money, has thereby be- 
 come our slave, that he must take up with all sorts of humili- 
 ation, that he is not at liberty to decline complying with any 
 demand which we may think proper to make, and, in general, 
 that the pecuniary assistance we afford to our fellow creatures 
 can authorize us, at any time, to look contemptuously down 
 upon them, and to treat them as our inferiors. 
 
 8 Pay your creditors punctually, and be faithful to your 
 promises ; confound not the honest man who lends on mod- 
 erate interest to gain a livelihood by it, with the extorting 
 usurer, and you will always find people who are ready to 
 assist you in pecuniary matters. 
 
 SECTION VIII. 
 On our conduct towards others in various and peculiar 
 
 situations and relations. 
 1 It is not always in our power to render ourselves belov- 
 ed, but it depends at all times on ourselves not to be despised. 
 General applause and praise are not necessary to render us 
 happy. Even the knave cannot help respecting a really wise 
 
168 
 
 and virtuous man, and two or three sincere friends are suffi- 
 cient to cheer our path through life. 
 
 2 People who groan under the heavy pressure of adverse 
 fate, who are persecuted by the malice of men, -reduced to 
 poverty, neglected, or have strayed from the path of truth 
 and virtue, have a just claim to our compassion, and ought 
 to be treated with kind forbearance and humanity. 
 
 3 Assist the poor, if Providence have granted you the 
 power to afford him relief in his distress. Send not the pe- 
 nurious from your door while you can give him a small gift 
 without being unjust to your family. Dispense your charity 
 with a cheerful heart and with a good grace. Do not inquire 
 whether the man whom you can relieve, has been the cause 
 of his own misfortunes. Who would be found entirely in- 
 nocent of the sufferings under which he groans, were we al- 
 ways to inquire minutely after their causes ? 
 
 4 Shun not the scenes of human misery, nor flee from the 
 abode of distress and poverty ; for if we desire to be capa- 
 ble of having compassion for the sufferings of an unfortunate 
 brother, we must be acquainted with the various scenes of 
 misery which this world exhibits. 
 
 5 Where humble poverty groans and dares not to step forth 
 from its gloomy retirement to implore assistance; where ad- 
 verse fate persecutes the diligent man who has seen better 
 days ; where a. virtuous and numerous family strive in vain 
 to procure, by the most indefatigable diligence, and the daily 
 labor of their hands, as much as is sufficient to protect them 
 against hunger, nakedness, and disease ; where, upon the 
 hard couch, bashful tears run down the pallid cheek ! thith- 
 er, my charitable and humane readers, bend your steps. 
 There you have the noblest opportunity of laying out your 
 money, the superfluity which Providence has intrusted to 
 you, and to gain that interest which no bank in the world 
 can give you. 
 
 6 Of all the unfortunate sufferers whom this vain world 
 contains, none are more to be pitied than such as have involv- 
 ed themselves in a long train of guilty actions by a single 
 wrong step, suppressed all sense for virtue, acquired a bane- 
 ful habitude in doing wrong, lost all confidence in God and 
 men, and all courage to return again to the path of virtue, or 
 are, at least, on the point of sinking so low. 
 
 *7 They have the strongest claim upon our compassion, be- 
 cause they are deprived of the only consolation, that can sup- 
 port us in the greatest misfortunes, namely, of the conscious 
 
169 
 ness of not having wantonly brought upon themselves the 
 evils under which they groan. 
 
 8 Nothing, moreover, is so apt to render a man mean as 
 public contempt, and the marks of growing mistrust for his 
 amendment. Let us finally believe, for the honor of man- 
 kind, that no person can sink so low, or be corrupted so com- 
 pletely, as to render it impossible for us to save him by a 
 judicious and zealous application of proper means. 
 
 9 An honest, industrious, and skilful tradesman and me- 
 chanic, is one of the most useful persons in the state, and the 
 little deference which we pay to that class of people is very 
 disgraceful to our moral character and understanding. What 
 preference has an idle courtier, or an overgrown merchant, 
 to an honest citizen who gains his bread in a lawful manner 
 by the work of his hands ? 
 
 10 This class of people work to satisfy our principal and 
 most natural wants ; if it were not for their assistance, we 
 should be obliged to prepare all the necessaries of life with 
 our own hand ; therefore, if a tradesman or a mechanic (as 
 frequently is the case) raise himself above the rest by his in- 
 genuity, and shows that he spares no labor to improve his 
 art, he has an additional claim to* our regard. 
 
 Ill must also observe, that we frequently meet amongst 
 this class of people with men of the brightest understanding, 
 who are less given to prejudices than many of a superior rank, 
 who have perverted their sound reason by study and slavish 
 devotion to systems. Therefore honor a worthy and diligent 
 tradesman and mechanic, and treat him with civility, 
 
 SECTION IX. 
 
 Principal causes of the want of domestic pleasures. 
 
 1 Amongst all the numerous sources of human happiness, 
 domestic life undoubtedly is the richest and most productive; 
 but to which unhappily too many of the higher and middling 
 classes rarely resort. This source of pleasure and happiness 
 is accessible at all times to every man; its use is not confined 
 to time, and the enjoyment of it requires not the least labori- 
 ous preparations. 
 
 2 The more pleasures the wise draw from this source, the 
 richer and more copious it grows; the more frequently he re- 
 sorts to it, the more he will relish the blessings which it af- 
 fords. If we really wish to enjoy domestic pleasure and 
 .happiness, mutual love and regard must be the foundation ; 
 
170 
 
 and while we neglect to preserve and strengthen these ties, 
 domestic life must lose its sweetest charms. 
 
 3 Want of mutual concern is one of the most prominent 
 features of the absence of domestic pleasure and happiness. 
 It is impossible we should be capable of enjoying domestic 
 happiness, while we do not take the liveliest interest in ev- 
 ery concern of our consort. Want of taste for innocent and 
 simple pleasures contributes likewise very much to destroy 
 domestic and social happiness, and to render our home irk- 
 some to us. 
 
 4 Married people who must see each other every day, and 
 therefore have opportunities enough to get acquainted with 
 each other's faults and humors, and sufFer many inconveni- 
 ences even from the most trifling of them, cannot be too cir- 
 cumspect in their conduct; and it is highly important for them 
 to find out means of preventing their society from being 
 troublesome and tedious to one another, and to guard against 
 mutual indifference, coldness and aversion. 
 
 5 Dissimulation is one of the worst expedients that can be 
 adopted for that purpose; but nothing is more efficacious than 
 a certain regard for our own person, and an unremitted care 
 to avoid every thing that can produce bad impressions. I 
 would therefore advise married people carefully to cultivate 
 mutual civility, which is the true spirit and characteristic of 
 conjugal familiarity, and at all times distinguishes a man of 
 good breeding. Discord between married people has always 
 a bad influence on the education of their children. Economy 
 is one of the first requisites of conjugal happiness. 
 
 6 Want of materials for conversations and enjoyment is a 
 no less common cause of the want of domestic happiness and 
 pleasure. Conversation, particularly with a smaller circle of 
 friends) requires we should be in possession of various mate- 
 rials to keep it alive, that its sources may not be dried up 
 and make room for tediousness and satiety; and that our en- 
 joyment should be multiplied and refined by noble feelings, 
 if we wish to preserve it from degenerating into disgust. 
 
 7 Those that bring an empty head and a cold heart into 
 social life, and are capable only of supporting a conversation 
 on the most hackneyed subjects, or being affected by violent 
 sensual impressions, cannot indeed expect to derive much 
 pleasure and happiness from it. Pleasures which are merely- 
 sensual are soon exhausted, as well as the little incidents of 
 the day. 
 
 8 But when those in near connexion possess an accom- 
 
171 
 
 plished understanding, and a well disposed heart; when they 
 have a decided taste for every thing which is noble and good; 
 when they have the capacity, and a sincere wish to instruct 
 and to be instructed; when the joint reading of a good and 
 instructive book serves them instead of splendid assemblies; 
 when they mutually strive after wisdom, virtue and higher 
 perfection ; when they unite for the common enjoyment of 
 the pleasures of religion and rational devotion, and take the 
 most lively interest in every thing that concerns mankind 
 and their mutual peace; then it is impossible the sources of 
 domestic pleasures and happiness should ever be exhausted! 
 
 9 How necessary it therefore is for^ every one panting 
 after domestic bliss, that he should never cease to cultivate 
 his mind and heart ; and how natural it is that our modern 
 method of educating our children should render them totally 
 unfit for enjoying the purest pleasures which this sublunary 
 world can afford ! 
 
 10 Is it not natural that our social circles afford us so little 
 real pleasure, while the majority of our young men possess 
 no other knowledge but what they have acquired in taverns^ 
 play houses, &c. or gathered from novels and newspapers, 
 
 SECTION X. 
 On candor and tolerance in conversation. 
 
 1 Want of candor and tolerance in conversation is one of 
 the most common and baneful enemies of social and domes- 
 tic pleasure. 
 
 2 All our notions are produced and shaped by sensual per- 
 ceptions, by instruction, education, reading, conversation, 
 meditation, and the conclusions drawn therefrom. As for 
 the notions produced by sensual perceptions, it is obvious to 
 the most common understanding, that if some object affects 
 the sensual organs, as the eye, for instance, we cannot avoid 
 judging of it conformably to the perceptions it produces 
 through that medium upon the mind. 
 
 3 We must see what we do see. We must think an ob- 
 ject to be green, if it appear in that color to our eyes, al- 
 though to every other person it should seem to be blue. 
 Neither ought we to condemn any one for the notions he 
 owes to his education, instruction, reading, and conversation 
 with others. It is not his fault that he was placed by Provi- 
 dence in the situation in which he is, and that he received 
 no other ideas but such as naturally resulted from it. 
 
 4 But what confusion, what disorder could be occasioned 
 
172 
 
 hy the free exercise of the liberty of speech ? It neither can 
 be injurious to sound religion, nor to a well regulated gov- 
 ernment, nor to the essential principles of morality. Sound 
 religion needs not to fear the light. The more freely its 
 principles are discussed, the more amiable will it appear to an 
 impartial examiner. 
 
 5 Doubts may indeed be raised against some of its tenets, 
 but these very doubts will serve as a new spur to more minute 
 inquiry which ultimately will do it more good than harm. 
 Truth always eventually conquers, and error only cannot 
 stand the test of free examination. 
 
 6 All acrimony, passionate heat, rudeness of language, 
 ridicule and hatred which we display towards those that dif- 
 fer with us in opinion about religious, moral, philosophical, 
 or political subjects, is therefore unbecoming a man of honor, 
 a glaring infringement of the general rights of men, and dis- 
 graceful to a rational being. 
 
 7 If the ideas they advance be really and essentially erro- 
 neous, violent and passionate declamations against them will 
 never contribute any thing towards convincing them of their 
 error, but will rather lead them to think that we are sensible 
 of their superiority and our own weakness, and wish to 
 silence, because we are incapable of refuting them. 
 
 8 Such conduct, of course, will give them just reason to 
 complain, that we use unfair weapons to combat them, ren- 
 der us suspected of arrogance and tyrannical sentiments, and 
 provoke hatred and contempt Tolerate the erring without 
 confirming them in their errors. 
 
173 
 
 PART SIXTH. 
 
 SELECTIONS FROM FRANKLIN'S WORKS. 
 
 Sage Franklin next arose with cheerful mien, 
 And smiPd unruffled o'er the solemn scene ;* 
 His locks of age a various wreath embraced, 
 Palm of all arts that e'er a mortal grac'd ; 
 Beneath him lay the sceptre kings had borne, 
 And the tame thunder from the tempest torn. 
 
 Barlow's Columbiad. 
 
 CHAPTER 1. 
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THE FIRST PART OF THE LIFE OF DR. 
 FRANKLIN, ADDRESSED TO HIS SON WILLIAM FRANKLIN> 
 ESQ. DATED 1771. 
 
 SECTION L 
 His early diligence in reading and improving his mind, $c. 
 
 1 Dear Son — I have ever had a pleasure in obtaining any 
 little anecdotes of my ancestors. You may remember the 
 inquiries I made among the remains of my relations, when 
 you were with me in England. Imagining it may be equal- 
 ly agreeable to you to learn the circumstances of my life, 
 and expecting a few weeks uninterrupted leisure, I sit down 
 to write them. Besides, there are some other inducements 
 to excite me to this undertaking. 
 
 2 From the bosom of poverty and obscurity, in which I 
 drew my first breath and spent my earliest years, I have 
 raised myself ft* a state of opulence, and to some degree of 
 celebrity in the world. A constant good fortune has attend- 
 ed me through every period of life to my present advanced 
 age ; and my descendants may be desirous of learning what 
 were the means of which I made use, and which, thanks to 
 the assisting hand of Providence, have proved so eminently 
 successful. They may also, should they ever be placed in a 
 similar situation, derive some advantage from my narrative. 
 
 3 This good fortune, when I reflect on it, which is fre- 
 quently the case, has induced me sometimes to say, that if it 
 were left to my choice I should have no objection to go over 
 
 * Alluding to the American Revolution* 
 P2 
 
174 
 
 the same career of life again, requesting only the privilege 
 authors have of correcting in a second edition the errors of 
 the first. 
 
 4 I was horn in Boston, in New England. My brothers 
 were all put apprentices to different trades. With respect 
 to myself, I was sent, at the age of eight years, to a grammar 
 school. My father destined me for the church, and already 
 regarded me as the chaplain of the family. 
 
 5 The promptitude with which, from my infancy, I had 
 learned to read, for I do not remember to have been ever 
 without this acquirement, and the encouragements of his 
 friends, who assured him that I should one day certainly be- 
 come a man of letters, confirmed him in this design. My 
 uncle Benjamin approved also of the scheme, and promised to 
 give me all his volumes of sermons, written in the short hand 
 of his invention, if I would take the pains to learn it. 
 
 6 I remained, however, scarcely a year at the grammar 
 school, although, in this short interval, I had risen from the 
 middle to the head of my class, from thence to the class im- 
 mediately above, and was to pass, at the end of the year, to 
 the one next in order. 
 
 7 But my father, burdened with a numerous family, found 
 that he was incapable, without subjecting himself to difficul- 
 ties, of providing for the expense of a collegiate education ; 
 and considering, besides, as I heard him say to his friends, 
 that persons so educated were often poorly provided for, he 
 renounced his first intentions, took me from the grammar 
 school, and sent me to a school for writing and arithmetic, 
 kept by a Mr. George Brownwel, who was a skilful master, 
 and succeeded very well in his profession by employing gen- 
 tle means only, and such as were calculated to encourage his 
 scholars. Under him I soon acquired an excellent hand; but 
 I failed in arithmetic, and made therein no sort of progress. 
 
 8 At ten years of age I was called home to assist my father 
 in his occupation, which was that of soapboiler and tallow- 
 chandler ; a business to which he had served no apprentice- 
 ship, but which he embraced on his arrival in New England, 
 because he found his own, that of a dyer, in too little request 
 to enable him to maintain his family. I was accordingly em- 
 ployed in cutting the wicks, filling the moulds, taking care of 
 the shop, carrying messages, &c. 
 
 9 From my earliest years I had been passionately fond of 
 reading, and I laid out in books all the little money I could 
 procure. I w r as particularly pleased with accounts of voyages. 
 
175 
 
 My first acquisition was Bunyan's collection in small separate 
 volumes. These I afterwads sold in order to buy a histori- 
 cal collection by R. Burton, which consisted of small, cheap 
 volumes, amounting in all to about forty or fifty. My father's 
 little library was principally made up of books of practical 
 and polemical theology. I read the greatest part of them. 
 
 10 I have since often regretted, that at a time when I had 
 so great a thirst for knowledge, more eligible books had not 
 fallen into my hands, as it was then a point decided that I 
 should not be educated for the church. There was also 
 among my father's books Plutarch's Lives, in which I read 
 continually, and I still regard as advantageously employed 
 the time I devoted to them. I found besides a work of De 
 Foe's, entitled "An Essay on Projects," from which, perhaps, 
 I derived impressions that have since influenced some of the 
 principal events of my life. My inclination for books at last 
 determined my father to make me a printer, though he had 
 already a son in that profession. [He was accordingly bound 
 as an apprentice to his brother James.] 
 
 1 1 In a very short time I made great proficiency in this 
 business, and became very serviceable to my brother. I had 
 now an opportunity of procuring better books. The ac- 
 quaintance I necessarily formed with booksellers' apprenti- 
 ces, enabled me to borrow a volume now and then, which I 
 never failed to return punctually, and w r ithout injury. 
 
 12 How often has it happened to me to pass the greater 
 part of the night in reading by my bed-side, when the book 
 had been lent me in the evening, and was to be returned the 
 next morning, lest it might be missed or wanted. 
 
 13 At length, Mr. Matthew Adams, an ingenious trades- 
 man, who had a handsome collection of books, and who fre- 
 quented our printing-house, took notice of me. He invited 
 me to see his library, and had the goodness to lend me any 
 books I was desirous of reading. 
 
 14 About this time I met with an odd volume of the Spec- 
 tator. I had never before seen any of them. I bought it, 
 read it over and over, and was much delighted with it. I 
 thought the writing excellent, and wished if possible to imi- 
 tate it. With that view, I took same of the papers, and 
 making short hints of the sentiments in each sentence, laid 
 them by a few days, and then without looking at the book, 
 tried to complete the papers again, by expressing each hinted 
 sentiment at length, and as fully as it had been expressed be- 
 fore, in any suitable words that should occur to me. 
 
176 
 
 15 Then I compared my Spectator with the original, dis- 
 covered some of my faults, and corrected them. The time 
 which I devoted to these exercises, and to reading, was the 
 evening after my day's labor was finished, the morning be- 
 fore it began, and Sundays w r hen I could escape attending 
 divine service. While I lived with my father, he had insist- 
 ed on my punctual attendance on public worship, and I still 
 indeed considered it as a duty, but a duty which I thought I 
 had no time to practise. 
 
 1 6 When about sixteen years of age, a work of Tryon fell 
 into my hands, in which he recommends vegetable diet I 
 determined to observe it. My brother, being a bachelor, did 
 not keep house, but boarded with his apprentices in a neigh- 
 boring family. 
 
 17 My refusing to eat animal food was found inconvenient, 
 and I w T as often scolded for my singularity. I attended to 
 the mode in which Tryon prepared some of his dishes, par- 
 ticularly how to boil potatoes and rice, and make hasty pud- 
 dings. I then said to my brother, that if he would allow me 
 per week half what he paid for my board, I would undertake 
 to maintain myself. The offer was instantly embraced, and I 
 soon found that of what he gave me I was able to save half. 
 
 18 This was a new fund for the purchase of books; and 
 ether advantages resulted to me from the plan. When my 
 brother and his workmen left the printing house to go to din- 
 ner, I remained behind ; and despatching my frugal meal, 
 which frequently consisted of a biscuit only, or a slice of 
 bread and a bunch of raisins, or a bun from the pastry cook's, 
 with a glass of water, I had the rest of the time till their 
 return, for study; and my progress therein was proportioned 
 to that clearness of ideas, and quickness of conception, which 
 are the fruit of temperance in eating and drinking. 
 
 19 It was about this period that, having one day been put 
 to the blush for my ignorance in the art of calculation, which 
 I had twice failed to learn while at school, I took Cocker's 
 Treatise of Arithmetic, and went through it by myself with 
 the utmost ease. 
 
 20 While laboring to form and improve my style, I met 
 with an English grammar, which I believe was Greenwood's, 
 having at the end of it two little essays, on rhetoric and logic. 
 In the latter I found a model of disputation after the manner 
 of Socrates. Shortly after I procured Xenophon's work, 
 entitled, Memorable Things of Socrates, in which are various 
 examples of the same method. Charmed to a degree of ei> 
 
177 
 thusiasm, with this mode of disputing, I adopted it, and re- 
 nouncing blunt contradiction, and direct and positive argu- 
 ment, I assumed the character of a humble questioner. 
 
 21 This method I continued to employ for some years; 
 but I afterwards abandoned it by degrees, retaining only the 
 habit of expressing myself with modest diffidence, and never 
 making use, when I advanced any proposition which might 
 be controverted, of the words certainly, undoubtedly, or 
 any others that might give the appearance of being obstinately 
 attached to my opinion. 
 
 22 This habit I believe has been of great advantage to me, 
 when I have had occasion to inculcate my opinions, and per- 
 suade men into measures that I have been from time to time 
 engaged in promoting; and as the chief ends of conversation 
 are to inform, or to be informed, to please or to persuade, 
 I wish well meaning and sensible men would not lessen their 
 power of doing good by a positive assuming manner that 
 seldom fails to disgust, tends to create opposition, and to de- 
 feat most of those purposes for which speech was given to us. 
 
 23 In fact, if you wish to instruct others, a positive and 
 dogmatical manner in advancing your sentiments, may occa- 
 sion opposition, and prevent a candid attention. If you desire 
 improvement from others, you should not at the same time 
 express yourself fixed in your present opinions; modest and 
 sensible men who do not love disputation, will leave yOU 
 undisturbed in the possession of your errors. 
 
 24 My brother considered himself as my master, and me 
 as his apprentice, and accordingly expected the same services 
 from me as he would from another, while I thought he de- 
 graded me too much in some things he required of me, who, 
 from a brother, required more indulgence. Our disputes 
 were often brought before our father, and I fancy I was either 
 generally in the right, or else a better pleader, for the judg- 
 ment was generally in my favor. 
 
 25 But my brother was passionate, and often had recourse 
 to blows ; a circumstance which I took in very ill part. This 
 severe and tyrannical treatment contributed, I believe, to 
 imprint on my mind that aversion to arbitrary power, which 
 during my whole life I have ever preserved. My appren- 
 ticeship became insupportable to me, and I continually sighed 
 for an opportunity of shortening it, which at length unex- 
 pectedly offered. 
 

 178 
 
 SECTION II. 
 Having left his brother, he goes to Philadelphia ; and 
 afterwards to London. His temperance, industry and 
 frugality, while employed as a journeyman printer in 
 those cities. 
 
 1 From this period I began to contract acquaintance with 
 such young people of the town [Philadelphia] as were fond 
 of reading, and spent my evenings with them agreeably, 
 while at the same time, I gained money by my industry, 
 and, thanks to my frugality, lived contented. 
 
 2 My most intimate acquaintance at this time were Charles 
 Osborne, Joseph Watson, and James Ralph ; young men 
 who were all fond of reading. It was a custom with us to 
 take a charming walk on Sundays, in the woods that border 
 on the Schuylkill. Here we read together, and afterwards 
 conversed on what we read. 
 
 3 While I lodged in Little Britain, [being then in Lon- 
 don] I formed acquaintance with a bookseller of the name of 
 Wilcox, whose shop was next door to me. Circulating libra- 
 ries were not then in use. He had an immense collection of 
 books of all sorts. 
 
 4 We agreed that, for a reasonable retribution, of which I 
 have now forgotten the price, I should have free access to his 
 library, and take what books I pleased, which I was to return 
 when I had read them. I considered this agreement as a very 
 great advantage, and I derived from it as much benefit as 
 was in my power. 
 
 5 I now began to think of laying by some money. The 
 printing-house of Watts, near Lincoln's Inn-Fields, being a 
 still more considerable one than that in which I worked, it 
 was probable I might find it more advantageous to be em- 
 ployed there. I offered myself, and was accepted ; and in this 
 house I continued during the remainder of my stay in London. 
 
 6 On my entrance I worked at first as a pressman; conceiv- 
 ing that I had need of bodily exercise, to which I had been ac- 
 customed in America, where the printers work alternately as 
 compositors and at the press. I drank nothing but water. The 
 other workmen, to the number of about fifty, were grea. 
 drinkers of beer. 
 
 7 I carried occasionally a large form of letters in each 
 hand, up and down stairs, while the rest employed both 
 hands to carry one. They were surprised to see, by this and 
 many other examples, that the American Aquatic, [ Water- 
 
179 
 
 American^ as they used to call me, was stronger than those 
 who drank porter. 
 
 8 The beer boy had sufficient employment during the whole 
 day in serving that house alone. My fellow pressman drank 
 every day a pint of beer before breakfast, a pint with bread 
 and cheese for breakfast, one between breakfast and dinner, 
 one at dinner, one again about six o'clock in the afternoon, 
 and another after he had finished his day's work. This cus- 
 tom appeared to me abominable; but he had need, he said, 
 of all this beer, in order to acquire strength to work. 
 
 9 I endeavored to convince him that bodily strength fur- 
 nished by the beer, could only be in proportion to the solid 
 part of the barley dissolved in the water of which the beer 
 was composed; that there was a larger portion of flour in a 
 penny loaf, and that, consequently, if he eat this loaf, and 
 drank a pint of water with it, he would derive more strength 
 from it than a pint of beer. 
 
 10 This reasoning, however, did not prevent him from 
 drinking his accustomed quantity of beer, and paying every 
 Saturday night a score of four or five shillings a week for 
 this vile beverage; an expense from which I was wholly ex- 
 empt. Thus do these poor creatures continue all their lives 
 in a state of voluntary wretchedness and poverty. 
 
 11 My example prevailed with several of them to renounce 
 their abominable practice of bread and cheese with beer; and 
 they procured, like me, from a neighboring house, a good 
 basin of warm gruel, in which was a small slice of butter, 
 with toasted bread and nutmeg. This was a much better 
 breakfast which did not cost more than a pint of beer, namely, 
 three halfpence, and at the same time preserving the head 
 clearer. 
 
 12 Those who continued to gorge themselves with beer 
 often lost their credit with the publican, from neglecting to 
 pay their score. They had then recourse to me, to become 
 security for them; their light, as they used to call it, being 
 out. I attended at the pay table every Saturday evening, to 
 take up the little sum of money which I had made myself 
 answerable for ; and which sometimes amounted to nearly 
 thirty shillings a week. 
 
 13 This circumstance, added to my reputation of being a 
 tolerable good gabber, or in other words, skilful in the art of 
 burlesque, kept up my importance in the chapel. I had be- 
 sides, recommended myself to the esteem of my master, by 
 my assiduous application to business, never observing Saint 
 
ISO 
 
 Monday. My extraordinary quickness in composing always 
 procured me such work as was most urgent, and, which is 
 commonly best paid; and thus my time passed away in a 
 very pleasant manner. 
 
 14 At Watt's printing house, I contracted an acquaintance 
 with an ingenious man of the name of Wygate, who, having 
 wealthy relations, had been better educated than most print- 
 ers. He at length proposed to me travelling all over Europe 
 together, supporting ourselves every where by working at 
 our business. 
 
 15 I was once inclined to it; but mentioning it to my good 
 friend Mr. Denham, with whom I often spent an hour when I 
 had leisure, he dissuaded me from it ; advising me to think 
 only of returning to Pennsylvania, which he was about to do. 
 
 16 1 must record one trait of this good man's character. 
 He had formerly been in business at Bristol, but failed, in 
 debt to a number of people, compounded with his creditors, 
 and went to America: there, by close application to business 
 as a merchant, he acquired a plentiful fortune in a few years, 
 
 17 Returning to England in the ship with me, he invited 
 his old creditors to an entertainment, at which he thanked 
 them for the easy terms of compromise they had favored him 
 with, and when they expected nothing but the treat, every 
 man at the first remove found under his plate an order on a 
 banker for the full amount of the unpaid balance, with interest. 
 
 18 Thus I passed about eighteen months in London; most 
 
 f>art of the time I worked hard at my business, and spent but 
 ittle upon myself, except in books. I had improved my 
 knowledge, however, though I had by no means improved 
 my fortune: but I had made some very ingenious acquaint- 
 ance, whose conversation was of great advantage to me; and 
 I had read considerably. 
 
 19 We sailed from Gravesend, on the 23d July, 1726. The 
 most important part of my journal of the voyage, is the plan 
 to be found in it, which I formed at sea for regulating the fu- 
 ture conduct of my life. It is the more remarkable, as being 
 formed when I was so young, and yet being pretty faithfully 
 adhered to quite through to old age. [The Compiler has 
 been much gratified in meeting with a sketch of the interest- 
 ing plan here alluded to, in Delaplaine's Repository of the 
 Lives of Distinguished Americans, which is as follows :] 
 
 20 "During Franklin's voyage homewards from England 
 to Philadelphia, he digested and committed to paper, the plan 
 df life which, as he himself observes, he afterwards pursued;— 
 
181 
 
 a rare instance of grave reflection and virtuous resolution at 
 so early an age. In his Memoirs, he refers to this plan with 
 evident complacency, but it is not contained in any edition 
 of his works. 
 
 21" The preamble and the heads of it were copied from the 
 Autograph, in the year 1785> by Willfam Rawle, Esquire, of 
 Philadelphia, and have been obligingly communicated to us 
 by that distinguished friend of the philosopher. They are, 
 in part, as follows : — 
 
 22 l Those who write of the art of poetry teach us that if 
 we would write what may be worth the reading, we ought 
 always, before we begin, to form a regular plan and design of 
 our piece : otherwise, we might be in danger of incongruity, 
 I am apt to think it is the same as to life. 
 
 23 " I have never fixed a regular design in life ; by which 
 means it has been a confused variety of different scenes. I 
 am now entering upon a new one: let me, therefore, make 
 some resolutions, and form some scheme of action, that hence- 
 forth, I may live in all respects like a rational creature. 
 
 24 "I. It is necessary for me to be extremely frugal for 
 some time, till I have paid what I owe. 
 
 " II. To endeavor to speak truth in every instance ; to give 
 nobody expectations that are not likely to be answered, but 
 aim at sincerity in every word and action — the most amiable 
 excellence in a rational being. 
 
 25 " III. To apply myself industriously to whatever busi- 
 ness I take in hand, and not divert my mind from my business 
 by any foolish project of growing suddenly rich ; for indus- 
 try and patience are the surest means of plenty. 
 
 " IV. I resolve to speak ill of no man whatever* not even in 
 a matter of truth ; but rather by some means excuse the 
 faults I hear charged upon others, and upon proper occasions 
 speak all the good I know of every body/ "&c. 
 
 SECTION III. 
 Franklin establishes a printing-house in Philadelphia; 
 resolves on the inflexible practice of truth , probity , and 
 sincerity; gains the reputation of industry and punc- 
 tuality; founds a society for mental improvement, fyc. 
 1 Before I relate the particulars of my entrance into busi- 
 ness, it may be proper to inform you what was at that time 
 the state of mv mind as to moral principles, that vou may see 
 Q 
 

 
 
 182 
 
 the degree of influence they had upon the subsequent events 
 of my life. 
 
 2 In a word, I was at last convinced that truth, probity, 
 and sincerity, in transactions between man and man, were of 
 the utmost importance to the happiness of life; and I resolved 
 from that moment, and wrote the resolution in my journal, 
 to practise them as long as I lived. Thus, before I entered 
 on my new career, I had imbibed solid principles, and a char- 
 acter of probity. I knew their value; and I made a solemn 
 engagement with myself never to depart from them. 
 
 3 I ought to have related, that, during the autumn of the 
 preceding year, I had united the majority of well-informed 
 persons of my acquaintance into a club, which we called by 
 the name of the Junto, and the object of which was to im- 
 prove our understandings. We met every Friday evening. 
 
 4 The regulations I drew up, obliged every member to 
 propose in his turn, one or more questions upon some point 
 of morality, politics, or philosophy, which were to be discuss- 
 ed by the society; and to read, once in three months, an es- 
 say of his own composition, on whatever subject he pleased. 
 
 5 Our debates were under the direction of a president, and 
 were to be dictated only by a sincere desire of truth ; the 
 pleasure of disputing, and the vanity of triumph having no 
 share in the business; and in order to prevent undue warmth, 
 ev^ry expression which implied obstinate adherence to an 
 opinion, and all direct contradiction, were prohibited, under 
 small pecuniary penalties. 
 
 6 This was the best school of politics and philosophy that 
 then existed in the province; for our questions, which were 
 read a week previous to their discussion, induced us to peruse 
 attentively such books as were jprritten upon the subjects 
 proposed, that we might be able to speak upon them more 
 pertinently. 
 
 7 We thus acquired the habit of conversing more agreea- 
 bly; every subject being discussed conformably to our regu- 
 lations, and in a manner to prevent mutual disgust, To this 
 circumstance may be attributed the long duration of the club; 
 which I shall have frequent occasion to mention as I proceed. 
 
 8 I began to pay by degrees the debt I had contracted ; 
 and in order to insure my credit and character as a trades- 
 man. I took care not only to be really industrious and frugal, 
 but also to avoid every appearance of the contrary. I was 
 plainly dressed, and never seen ia any place of public amuse- 
 ment. 
 
1S3 
 
 $ I never went a fishing or hunting : a book indeed enticed 
 me sometimes from my work, but it was seldom, by stealth, 
 and occasioned no scandal; and to show that I did not think 
 myself above my profession, I conveyed home sometimes in 
 a wheelbarrow the paper I purchased at the warehouses. 
 
 10 I thus obtained the reputation of being an industrious 
 young man, and very punctual in his payments. The mer- 
 chants who imported articles of stationary, solicited my cus- 
 tom; others offered to furnish me with books, and my little 
 trade went on prosperously. 
 
 CHAPTER 2. 
 
 SELECTIONS FROM THE CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF 
 BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 Letter from Mr, Abel James, with notes on my life, 
 (Received in Paris.) 
 
 1 " My dear and honored friend, — I have often been de- 
 sirous of writing to thee/' &c. u Some time since there fell 
 into my hands, to my great joy, about twenty-three sheets in 
 thy own hand writing, containing an account of the parent- 
 age and life of thyself, directed to thy son, ending in the year 
 1730, with which there were notes, likewise in thy writing; 
 a copy of which I enclose, in hopes it may be a means, if thou 
 continued it up to a later period, that the first and latter part 
 may be put together; and if it is not yet continued, I hope 
 thee will not delay it. 
 
 2 a Life is uncertain, as the preacher tells us; and what will 
 the world say, if kind, humane, and benevolent Ben. Frank- 
 lin should leave his friends and the world deprived of so 
 pleasing and profitable a work : a work which would be use 
 ful and entertaining not only to a few, but to millions. 
 
 3 "The influence writings under that class have on the 
 minds of youth, is very great, and has no where appeared to 
 me so plain, as in our public friend's journals. It almost in- 
 sensibly leads the youth into the resolution of endeavoring 
 to become as good and eminent as the journalist. Should thine, 
 for instance, when published, (and I think it could not fail of 
 it,) lead the youth to equal the industry and temperance of 
 thy early youth, what a blessing with that class would such a 
 work be ! 
 
 4 " I know of no character living, nor many of them put 
 

 ■ 184 
 
 together, who has so. much in his power as thyself, to promote 
 a greater spirit of industry and early attention to business, 
 frugality, and temperance, with the American youth. Not 
 that I think the work would have no other merit and use in 
 the world; far from it;, but the first is of such vast importance 
 that I know nothing that can equal it." 
 
 5 Extracts of a Letter from Mr. Benjamin Vaughan. 
 1 Your history is so remarkable, that if you do not give it, 
 somebody else will certainly give it; and perhapsso as nearly 
 to do as much harm, as your own management of the thing 
 might do good. 
 
 6 " But these, Sir, are small reasons, in my opinion, com- 
 pared with the chance which your life would give for the 
 terming of future great men ; and in conjunction with your 
 Art of Virtue, (which you design to publish,) of improving 
 the features of private character, and consequently of aiding 
 all happiness, both public and domestic. 
 
 7 " The two works I allude to, Sir, will give a noble rule 
 md example of self-education. School and other education 
 distantly proceed upon false principles, and show a clumsy 
 apparatus pointed at a false mark; but your apparatus is sim- 
 ple, and the mark a true one; and while parents and young 
 persons are left destitute of other just means of estimating and 
 becoming prepared for a reasonable course in life, your dis- 
 covery, that the thing is in many a man's private power, will 
 be invaluable I 
 
 8 " Influence upon the private character, late in life, is not 
 only an influence late in life, but a weak influence. It is in 
 youth that we plant our chief habits and prejudices; it is in 
 youth we take our party as to profession, pursuits, and mat- 
 rimony. In youth, therefore, the turn is given; in youth 
 the education even of the next generation is given; in youth; 
 the private and public character is determined; and the term 
 of life extending but from youth to age, life ought to begin 
 well from youth; and more especially before we take our 
 party as to our principal objects. 
 
 9 "But your biography will not merely teach self-educa- 
 tion, but the education of a wise man; and the wisest man will 
 receive lights, and improve his progress, by seeing detailed 
 the conduct of another wise man. And why are weaker men 
 to be deprived of such helps, when we see our race has been 
 blundering on in the dark, almost without a guide in this 
 particular, from the farthest trace of time. 
 
 10 " The little private incidents which, you will also have 
 
185 
 
 to relate, will have considerable use, as we want above all 
 things, rules of prudence inordinary affairs; and it will be 
 curious to see how you have acted in these. It will be so far 
 a sort of key to life, and explain many things that all men 
 ought to have once explained to them, to give them a chance 
 of becoming wise by foresight. 
 
 11" Your account of yourself will show that you are 
 ashamed of no origin; a thing the more important, as you 
 prove how little necessary all origin is to happiness, virtue or 
 greatness." " Another thing demonstrated, will be the pro- 
 priety of every man's waiting for his time for appearing upon 
 the stage of the world." 
 
 12 "For the furtherance of human happiness, I have al- 
 ways maintained that it is necessary to prove that man is not 
 even at present a vicious and detestable animal; and still more 
 to prove that good management may greatly amend him." 
 
 13 "As I have not read any part of the life in question, 
 but know only the character that lived it, I write somewhat 
 at hazard. I am sure, however, that the life, and the treatise 
 alluded to, (on the Jirt of Virtue^) will necessarily fulfil the 
 chief of my expectations." 
 
 SECTION II. 
 Continuation, He establishes a public library in Philadel- 
 phia. Luxury introduced in his family by his wife, 
 
 1 At the time I established myself in Pennsylvania, there 
 was not a good bookseller's shop in any of the colonies to the 
 southward of Boston. In New- York and Philadelphia, the 
 printers were indeed stationers, but they sold only paper, &c. 
 almanacs, ballads, and a few common school-books. 
 
 2 Those who loved reading were obliged to send for their 
 books from England: the members of the Junto had each a 
 few. I proposed that we should all of us bring our books to 
 the club room; where they would not only be ready to con- 
 sult in our conferences, but become a common benefit, each 
 of us being at liberty to borrow such as he wished to read at 
 home. Finding the advantage of this little collection, I pro- 
 posed to render the benefit from the books more common, by 
 commencing a public subscription library, 
 
 3 I drew a sketch of the plan and rules that would be ne- 
 cessary, and got a skilful conveyancer, Mr. Charles Brogden, 
 to put the whole in form of articles of agreement to be sub- 
 scribed. So few were the readers at that time in Philadel- 
 phia, and the majority of us so poor, that I was not able, with 
 
 Q2 
 
' I $6 
 
 great industry, to find more than fifty persons, (mostly young 
 tradesmen,) willing to pay down for the purpose, forty shil- 
 lings each, and ten shillings per annum: with this little fund 
 we began. 
 
 4 The books were imported; the library was open one day 
 in the week for lending them to subscribers, on their promis- 
 sory notes to pay double the value if not duly returned. The 
 institution soon manifested its utility, was imitated in other 
 towns, and in other provinces. The libraries were augment- 
 ed by donations; reading became fashionable; and our people 
 having no public amusements to divert their attention from 
 study, became better acquainted with books ; and in a few 
 years were observed by strangers, to be better instructed, and 
 more intelligent than people of the same rank generally are 
 in other countries. 
 
 5 The objections and reluctances I met with in soliciting 
 the subscriptions, made me soon feel the impropriety of pre- 
 senting oneself as the proposer of any useful project, that 
 might be supposed to raise one's reputation in the smallest 
 degree above that of one's neighbors, w r hen one has need of 
 their assistance to accomplish that project. 
 
 6 I therefore put myself as much as I could out of sight, 
 and stated it as a scheme of a number of friends, who had 
 requested of me to go about and propose it to such as they 
 thought lovers of reading. In this way my affair went on 
 more smoothly, and I ever after practised it on such occasions; 
 and from my frequent successes can heartily recommend it. 
 
 7 This library afforded me the means of improvement by 
 constant study, for which I set apart an hour or two each day; 
 and thus repaired in some degree the loss of the learned eau- 
 cation my father once intended for me. Reading was the only 
 amusement I allowed myself. I spent no time in taverns, 
 games, or frolics of any kind; and my industry in my busi- 
 ness continued as indefatigable as it was necessary. 
 
 8 We have an English proverb that says, " He that would 
 thrive must ask his wife." It was lucky for me that I had 
 one as much disposed to industry and frugality as myself. 
 She assisted me cheerfully in my business, folding and stitch- 
 ing pamphlets, tending shop, purchasing old linen rags for 
 the papermakers, &c. We kept no idle servants, our table 
 was plain and simple, our furniture of the cheapest. 
 
 9 For instance, my breakfast was for a long time bread 
 and milk, (no tea) and I ate it out of a two penny earthen 
 porriager, with a pewter spoon: but mark how luxury will 
 
137 
 enter families, and make a progress in spite of principle ; 
 being called one morning to breakfast, I found it in a china 
 bowl, with a spoon of silver. 
 
 10 They had been bought for me, without my knowledge, 
 by my wife, and had cost her the enormous sum of three and 
 twenty shillings ; for which she had no other excuse or apol 
 ogy to make, but that she thought her husband deserved a 
 silver spoon and china bowl as well as any of his neighbors.* 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 His project of arriving at moral perfection: catalogue and 
 
 illustrations of the moral virtues: art of virtue. 
 
 1 It was about this time I conceived the bold and arduous pro- 
 ject of arriving at moral perfection. I wished to live without 
 committing any fault at any time, and to conquer all that either 
 natural inclination, custom or company, might lead me into. 
 
 2 As I knew, or thought I knew what was right and wrong, 
 I did not see why I might not always do the one and avoid 
 the other. But I soon found that I had undertaken a task of 
 more difficulty than I had imagined; while my attention was 
 taken up, and care employed in guarding against one fault, 1 
 was often surprised by another; habit took the advantage ot 
 inattention, inclination was sometimes too strong for reason. 
 
 3 I concluded at length, that the mere speculative convic- 
 tion, that it was our interest to be completely virtuous, was 
 not sufficient to prevent our slipping ; and that the contrary 
 habits must be broken, and good ones acquired and establish- 
 ed, before we can have any dependence on a steady, uniform 
 rectitude of conduct. For this purpose, therefore, I tried the 
 following method : 
 
 4 In the various enumerations of the moral virtues I had 
 met with, in my reading, I found the catalogue more or less 
 numerous, as different writers included more or fewer ideas 
 under the same name. Temperance, for example, was by 
 some confined to eating and drinking; while by others it was 
 extended to mean the moderating every other pleasure, ap- 
 petite, inclination, or passion, bodily or mental, even to our 
 avarice and ambition. 
 
 5 I proposed to myself, for the sake of clearness, to use 
 rather more names, with fewer ideas annexed to each, than 
 
 * This honest confession of Mrs. Franklin, discloses the principal 
 cause of the slavery under which society suffers and struggles, from the 
 rage of its members of all grades to imitate or excel each other in the 
 display of external appearances. — comp. 
 
188 
 
 a few names with more ideas; and I included under thirteen 
 names of virtues, all that at that time occurred to me as 
 necessary or desirable ; and annexed to each a short precept* 
 which explained the extent I gave to its meaning. 
 
 6 These names of virtues ', with their precepts, were: 
 
 I. Temperance, : Eat not to dulness; drink not to elevation. 
 
 II. Silence : Speak not but what may benefit others or 
 yourself ; avoid trifling conversation. 
 
 III. Order: Let all your things have their places: let each 
 part of your business have its time. 
 
 . IV. Resolution: Resolve to perform what you ought; per- 
 form without fail what you resolve. 
 
 7 V. Frugality : Make no expense but to do good to 
 others or yourself: i. e. waste nothing. 
 
 VI. Industry: Lose no time: be always employed in some- 
 thing useful: cut off all unnecessary actions. 
 
 VII. Sincerity: Use no hurtful deceit: think innocently 
 .and justly: and, if you speak, speak accordingly. 
 
 VIII. Justice: Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting 
 the benefits that are your duty. 
 
 8 IX. Moderation : Avoid extremes : forbear resenting 
 injuries so much as you think they deserve. 
 
 X. Cleanliness: Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, clothes, 
 or habitation. 
 
 XI. Tranquillity : Be not disturbed at trifles, nor at acci 
 dents common or unavoidable. 
 
 XII. Chastity. 
 
 XIII. Humility: Imitate Jesus. 
 
 9 My intention being to acquire the habitude of all these 
 virtues, I judged it would be well not to distract my attention 
 by attempting the whole at once, but to fix it on one of them 
 at a time; and when I should be master of that, then to proceed 
 to another ; and so on till I should have gone through the 
 thirteen : and as the previous acquisition of some, might facil- 
 itate the acquisition of others, I arranged them with that 
 view as they stand above. 
 
 10 Temperance first, as it tends to procure that coolness 
 and clearness of head, which is so necessary where constant 
 vigilance was to be kept up, and a guard maintained against 
 the unremitting attraction of ancient habits, and the force of 
 perpetual temptations. 
 
 11 This being acquired and established, Silence would be 
 more easy ; and my desire being to gain knowledge at the 
 same time that I improved in virtue; and considering t 
 
189 
 conversation it was obtained rather by the use of the ear 
 than of the tongue, and therefore wishing to break a habit I 
 was getting into, of prattling, punning) and jesting, (which 
 only made me acceptable to trifling company,) I gave silence 
 the second place. 
 
 12 This and the next, Order, I expected would allow me 
 more time to attend to my project and my studies. Resolu- 
 tion once become habitual, would keep me firm in my en- 
 deavors to obtain all the subsequent virtues. Frugality and 
 Industry, relieving me from my remaining debt, and produ- 
 cing affluence and independence, would make more easy the 
 practice of Sincerity and Justice, &c. &c. 
 
 13 Conceiving then, agreeably to the advice of Pythago- 
 ras in his golden verses, daily examination would be neces- 
 sary, I contrived the following method for conducting that 
 examination : 
 
 14 I made a little book, in which I allotted a page for each 
 of the virtues. I ruled each page with red ink, so as to have 
 seven columns, one for each day in the week, marking each 
 column with a letter for the day. I crossed these columns 
 with thirteen red lines, marking the beginning of each line 
 with the first letter of one of the virtues ; on which line, and 
 in its proper column, I might mark by a little black spot, 
 every fault I found upon examination to have been commit- 
 ted respecting that virtue, upon that day.* 
 
 Form of the Pages. 
 TEMPERANCE. 
 
 EAT NOT TO DULNESS : DRINK NOT TO ELEVATION. 
 
 | Sun. | Mon. 
 
 Tues. 
 
 Wed. | Thur. 
 
 Fri. 
 
 Sat. 
 
 [ Tem.j | 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Sil. | * * 
 
 
 * 
 
 
 * 
 
 
 Ord. |*|* 
 
 * 
 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 Res. | | * 
 
 
 
 
 * 
 
 
 Fru. | | * 
 
 * 
 
 
 
 * 
 
 
 Ind. | | 
 
 * 
 
 
 
 
 
 Sine. | 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 Jus. | 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Mod. | | 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Clea. | 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Tran.| 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chas. | | 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Hum.j 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 * This book is dated Sunday, 12th July, 1733, and is in the possession 
 of Mr. W. T. Franklin, grandson of Dr. Franklin. 
 
15 I determined to give a week's attention to each of the 
 virtues successively. Thus in the first week, my great regard 
 was to avoid every the least offence against Temperance; 
 leaving the other virtues to their ordinary chances, only 
 marking every evening the faults of the day. 
 
 16 Thus, if in the first week I could keep my first line 
 marked Tern, clear of spots, I supposed the habit of that vir- 
 tue so much strengthened, and its opposite weakened, that 
 I might venture extending my attention to include the next; 
 and for the following week keep both lines clear of spots. 
 Proceeding thus to the last, I could get through a course 
 complete in thirteen weeks, and four courses in a year. 
 
 17 And like him who having a garden to weed, does not 
 attempt to eradicate all the bad herbs at once, (which would 
 exceed his reach and his strength,) but works on one of the 
 beds at a time, and having accomplished the first, proceeds 
 to a second ; so I should have (I hoped) the encouraging 
 pleasure, of seeing on my pages the progress made in virtue, 
 by clearing successively my lines of their spots; till in the end, 
 lay a number of courses, I should be happy in viewing a clean 
 book, after a thirteen weeks' daily examination. 
 
 18 This my little book had for its motto, these lines froir 
 Addison's Cato : 
 
 " Here will I hold: if there's a power above us, 
 (And that there is, all nature cries aloud 
 Through all her works,) he must delight in virtue: 
 And that which he delights in must be happy !" 
 
 1 9 Another from the Proverbs of Solomon, speaking o* 
 wisdom and virtue : 
 
 " Length of days is in her right hand, and in her lef: 
 hand riches and honor. Her ways are ways of pleasantness, 
 and all her paths are peace." 
 
 20 Another from Cicero: — "0 vitas philosophia dux! 
 virtutum indigatrix expultrixque vitiorum! Unus Dies bene, 
 et ex prseceptis tuis actus, peccanti immortalitanti est arite- 
 ponendus." [O philosophy, thou guide of life ! Nourisher of 
 the virtues and extinguisher of the vices ! One day well spent, 
 and employed agreeable to thy precepts, is worth more than 
 an eternity of sinning.] 
 
 21 And conceiving God to be the fountain of wisdom, I 
 thought it right and necessary to solicit his assistance for ob- 
 taining it ; to this end I formed the following little prayer, 
 which was prefixed to my tables of examination, for daily use. 
 
 " O powerful Goodness! bountiful Father! merciful 
 
191 
 Guide ! Increase in me that wisdom which discovers my 
 truest interest: Strengthen my resolution to perform what 
 that wisdom dictates: Accept my kind offices to thy other 
 children, as the only return in my poioer for thy continual 
 favors to me." 
 
 22 I used also sometimes a little prayer, which I took from 
 Thomson's poems, viz. 
 
 " Father of light and life, thou Good Supreme ! 
 O teach me what is good; teach me Thyself ! 
 Save me from folly, vanity, and vice, 
 From every low pursuit; and feed my soul 
 With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue pure; 
 Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss!" 
 
 23 The precept of order, requiring that every part of my 
 business should have its allotted time, one page in my little 
 book contained the following scheme of employment for the 
 twenty-four hours of a natural day : — 
 
 SCHEME. 
 Hours. 
 Morning. s ~^ Rise, wash, and address Powerful 
 
 Goodness ! contrive day's busi- 
 
 The question, What good ) „ t 
 shall I do this day? / 7 \ 
 
 Noon. 
 
 Afternoon* 
 
 ness, and take the resolution 
 of the day, prosecute the pre- 
 sent study, and breakfast. 
 
 10 [ work - 
 
 C 12 5 Read, or look over my ac- 
 
 l ^Work. 
 4 
 
 counts and dine. 
 
 Evening. 
 
 The question, What good 
 
 have I done to-day. 
 
 Night. 
 
 5 
 
 6 
 
 7 
 
 8 
 
 9 
 
 10 
 11 
 12 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 4, 
 
 Put things in their places. 
 Supper, music, or diver- 
 sion, or conversation 
 Examination of the day. 
 
 > Sleep. 
 
tan 
 
 24 I entered upon this plan for self-examination, and con- 
 tinued it with occasional intermissions for some time. I was 
 surprised to find myself so much fuller of faults than I had 
 imagined ; but I had the satisfaction of seeing them diminish. 
 
 25 To avoid the trouble of renewing now and then my lit- 
 tle book, which, by scraping out the marks on the paper of 
 old faults to make room for new ones in a new course, be- 
 came fall of holes, I transferred my tables and precepts to 
 the ivory leaves of a memorandum book, on which the lines 
 were drawn with red ink, that made a durable stain ; and on 
 those lines I marked my faults with a black lead pencil, which 
 mark I could easily wipe out with a wet sponge. 
 
 26 After a while I went through one course only in a 
 year, and afterwards only in several years ; till I at length 
 omitted them entirely, being employed in voyages and busi* 
 ness abroad, with, a multiplicity of affairs, that interfered; 
 but I always carried my little book with me. 
 
 21 My scheme of Order gave me the most trouble; and I 
 found that though it might be practicable when a man's busi- 
 ness was such as to leave him the disposition of his time, that 
 of a journeyman printer, for instance, it was not possible to be 
 exactly observed by a master, who must mix with the world, 
 and often receive people of business at their own hours. 
 
 28 But on the whole, though I never arrived at the perfec- 
 tion I had been so ambitious of obtaining, but fell far short 
 of it, yet I was, by the endeavor, a better and a happier man 
 than I otherwise should have been, if I had not attempted it; 
 as those who aim at perfect writing by imitating the engraved 
 copies, though they never reach the w r ished-for excellence 
 of those copies, their hand is mended by the endeavor, and 
 is tolerable while it continues fair and legible. 
 
 29 It may be well my posterity should be informed, that 
 to this little artifice, with the blessing of God, their ancestor 
 owed the constant felicity of his life down to his 79th year, 
 in which this is written. What reverses may attend the re- 
 mainder, are in the hand of Providence; but if they arrive, 
 the reflection on past happiness enjoyed, ought to help his 
 bearing them with more resignation. To temperance he 
 ascribes his long continued health, and what is still left to 
 him of a good constitution. 
 
 30 To industry and frugality ', the early easiness of his 
 circumstances, and acquisition of his fortune, with all that 
 knowledge that enabled him to be a useful citizen, and ob- 
 tained for him some degree of reputation among the learned. 
 
193 
 To sincerity and justice, the confidence of his country, and 
 the honorable employs it conferred on him: and to the joint 
 influence of the whole mass of the virtues, even in the im- 
 perfect state he was able to acquire them, all that evenness c f 
 temper, and that cheerfulness in conversation which makes 
 his company still sought for, and agreeable even to his young 
 acquaintance. I hope, therefore, that some of my descend- 
 ants may follow the example and reap the benefit. 
 
 31 It will be remarked that, though my scheme was not 
 wholly without religion, there was in it no mark of any of 
 the distinguished tenets of any particular sect : I had pur- 
 posely avoided them; for being fully persuaded of the utility 
 and excellency of my method, and that it might be service- 
 able to people in all religions, and intending some time or 
 other to publish it, I would not have any thing in it that 
 should prejudice any one, of any sect, against it. 
 
 32 I proposed writing a little comment on each virtue, 
 in which I would have shown the advantages of possessing 
 it, and the mischiefs of its opposite vice: I should have call- 
 ed my book The Art of Virtue, because it would have 
 shown the means and manner of obtaining virtue, which 
 would have distinguished it from the mere exhortation to be 
 good, that does not instruct and indicate the means, but is 
 like the Apostle's man of verbal charity, who, without show- 
 ing to the naked and hungry how or where they might get 
 clothes or victuals, only exhorted them to be fed and cloth- 
 ed.— James ii. 15, 16. 
 
 33 But it so happened, that my intention of writing and 
 publishing this comment was never fulfilled. I had, indeed, 
 from time to time, put down short hints of the sentiments, 
 reasonings, &c. to be made use of in it; some of which I have 
 still by me; but the necessary close attention to private busi- 
 ness in the earlier part of life, and public business since, have 
 occasioned my postponing it. 
 
 34 For it being connected in my mind with a great and 
 extensive project that required the whole man to execute, 
 and which an unforeseen succession of employs prevented 
 my attention to, it has hitherto remained unfinished. 
 
 35 In this piece it was my design to explain and enforce 
 the doctrine, that vicious actions are not hurtful, because 
 they are forbidden, but forbidden because they are hurtful; 
 the nature of man alone considered : that it was therefore 
 every one's interest to be virtuous, who wished to be happy, 
 even in this world : and I should, from this circumstance, 
 
194 
 
 have endeavored to convince young persons that no qualities 
 are so likely to make a poor man's fortune as those of probi- 
 ty and integrity. 
 
 jy 36 My list of virtues contained, at first, but twelve : But 
 a Quaker friend having kindly informed me that I was gene- 
 rally thought proud; that my pride showed itself frequently 
 in conversation; that I was not content with being in the 
 right when discussing any point, but was overbearing and 
 rather insolent, (of which he convinced me by mentioning 
 several instances,) I determined to endeavor to cure myself 
 if I could, of this vice or folly among the rest ; and I adc 
 humility to my list, giving an extensive meaning to the won 
 
 37 I cannot boast of much success in acquiring the realii b 
 of this virtue, but I had a good deal with regard to the i 
 pearance of it I made it a rule to forbear all direct contra- 
 diction to the sentiments of others, and all positive assertion 
 of my own. I soon found the advantage of this change in 
 my manners ; the conversations I engaged in went on more 
 pleasantly. 
 
 38 The modest way in which I proposed my opinions, 
 procured them a readier reception and less contradiction; I 
 had less mortification when I was found to be in tht wrong, 
 and I more easily prevailed with others to give up theft} mis- 
 takes and join with me when I happened to be in the /ight. 
 And this mode, which I at first put with some violence to 
 natural inclination, became at length easy, and so habitual 
 to me, that, perhaps, for the fifty years past no one has ever 
 heard a dogmatical expression escape me. 
 
 39 And to this habit (after my character of integrity) I 
 think it principally owing that I had early so much weight 
 with my fellow-citizens when I proposed new institutions, 
 or alterations in the old, and so much influence in public 
 councils, when I became a member; for I was but a bad 
 speaker, never eloquent, subject to much hesitation in my 
 choice of words, hardly correct in language, and yet I gene- 
 rally carried my point. 
 
 40 In reality there is, perhaps, no one of our natural pas- 
 sions so hard to subdue as pride; disguise it, struggle with 
 it, stifle it, mortify it as much as one pleases, it is still alive, 
 and will every now and then peep out and show itself; you 
 will see it perhaps often in this history. For even if I could 
 conceive that I had completely overcome it, I should proba- 
 bly be proud of my humility. 
 
 [Here concludes what was written at Passy, near Paris.] 
 
195 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 
 Franklin's extensive project of raising a united party to 
 
 virtue, fyc. 
 
 MEMORANDUM. 
 
 lam now about to write at home, (Philadelphia,) Au- 
 gust, 1788, but cannot have the help expected from my 
 papers, many of them being lost in the war. I have how- 
 ever found the following: 
 
 1 Having mentioned a great and extensive project which 
 1 °tiad conceived, it seems proper, that some account should be 
 ^ev.e given of that project and its object. Its first rise in my 
 
 \ind appears in a little paper accidentally preserved, viz. " Ob- 
 vations on my reading history, in library, May 9, 173L 
 
 2 " That the great affairs of the world, the wars, revolu- 
 tions, &c. are carried on and affected by parties. That the 
 view of these parties is their present general interest; or 
 what they take to be such. That the different views of these 
 different parties occasion all confusion. That while a party 
 is carrying on a general design, each man has his particular 
 private object in view. 
 
 3 " That as soon as a party has gained its general point, 
 each fnember becomes intent upon his particular interest, 
 whic h thwarting others, breaks that party into divisions and 
 occasions more confusion. 
 
 4 " That few in public affairs act from a mere view of the 
 good of others, whatever they may pretend; and though their 
 actings bring real good to their country, yet men primarily 
 considered, that their own and their country's interest were 
 united, and so did not act from a principle of benevolence. 
 That fewer still, in public affairs, act with a view to the good 
 of mankind. 
 
 5 " There seems to me at present to be great occasion for 
 raising a United party to Virtue, by forming the virtuous 
 and good men of all nations into a regular body, to be govern- 
 ed by suitable good and wise rules, which good and wise men 
 may probably be more unanimous in their obedience to, than 
 common people are to common laws. 
 
 6 " I at present think, that whoever attempts this aright, 
 and is well qualified, cannot fail of pleasing God, and of meet- 
 ing with success. B. F." 
 
 7 Revolving this project in my mind, as to be undertak- 
 en hereafter, when my circumstances should afford me the 
 necessary leisure, I put down from time to time, on pieces of 
 
196 
 
 paper, such thoughts as occurred to me respecting it. Most 
 ©f these are lost. 
 
 8 My ideas at that time were, that the sect should be begun 
 and spread at first, among young and single men only, that 
 each person to be initiated, should have exercised himself 
 with the thirteen weeks' examination and practice of all the 
 virtues, as in the beforementioned model; that the existence 
 of such a society should be kept a secret, till it had become 
 considerable, to prevent solicitations for the admission of im 
 proper members ; but that the members should each of them 
 search among his acquaintance for ingenious, well-disposed 
 youths, to whom, with prudent caution, the scheme should 
 be gradually communicated. 
 
 9 That the members should engage to afford their advice, 
 assistance, and support to each other, in promoting one an- 
 other's interest, business, and advancement in life : That for 
 distinction, we should be called The Society of the Free and 
 Easy. Free, as being by the general practice and habits of the 
 virtues, free from the dominion of vice; and particularly by the 
 practice of industry and frugality, free from debt, which exposes 
 a man to constraint, and a species of slavery to his creditors. 
 
 10 I communicated the project in part to two young men, 
 who adopted it with enthusiasm : but my then narrow cir-^ 
 cumstances, and the necessity I was under of sticking close to 
 my business, occasioned my postponing the further prosecu- 
 tion of it at that time, and my multifarious occupations, pub- 
 lic and private, induced me to continue postponing, so that 
 it has been omitted, till I have no longer strength or activity 
 left, sufficient for such an enterprise. 
 
 1 1 Though I am still of opinion it was a practicable scheme, 
 aud might have been very useful, by forming a great number 
 of good citizens : and I was not discouraged by the seeming 
 magnitude of the undertaking, as I have always thought that 
 one man of tolerable abilities, may work great changes, and 
 accomplish great affairs among mankind, if he first forms a 
 good plan; and cutting off all amusements and other employ- 
 ments that would divert his attention, makes the execution 
 of that same plan, his whole study and business. 
 
 12 In 1732, I first published my almanac, under the name 
 of Richard Sanders; it was continued by me about twenty- 
 five years, and commonly called Poor Richard's Almanac. 
 I endeavored to make it both entertaining and useful, and it 
 accordingly came to be in such demand that I reaped consid- 
 erable profit from it; vending annually, near ten thousand. 
 
137 
 
 13 And observing that it was generally read, (scarce any 
 neighborhood in the province being without it,) I considered it 
 a proper vehicle for conveying instruction amongthe common 
 people, who bought scarcely any other books. I therefore 
 filled all the little spaces that occurred between the remarka- 
 ble days in the calendar, with proverbial sentences, chiefly 
 such as inculcated industry and frugality, as the means of 
 procuring wealth, and thereby securing virtue; it being more 
 difficult for a man in want to act always honestly, as (to use 
 here one of those proverbs,) "it is hard for an empty sack 
 to stand upright. " 
 
 14 These proverbs which contained the wisdom of many 
 ages and nations, I assembled and formed into a connected 
 discourse prefixed to the Almanac of 1757, as the harangue 
 of a wise old man to the people attending an auction : the 
 bringing all these scattered counsels thus into a focus, ena- 
 bled them to make greater impression. 
 
 15 The piece being universally approved, was copied in 
 all the newspapers of the American Continent, reprinted in 
 Britain on a large sheet of paper, to be stuck up in houses; 
 two translations were made in France, and great numbers 
 bought by the clergy and gentry, to distribute gratis among 
 their poor parishioners and tenants. 
 
 16 In Pennsylvania, as it discouraged useless expense in 
 foreign superfluities, some thought it had its share of influ- 
 ence in producing that growing plenty of money which was 
 observable for several years after its publication. 
 
 17 1 considered my newspaper as another means of com- 
 municating instruction, and in that view frequently reprinted 
 in it extracts from the Spectator, and other moral writers , 
 and sometimes published little pieces of mine own, which had 
 been first composed for reading in our Junto. 
 
 18 Of these are a Socratic dialogue, tending to prove, that 
 whatever might be his parts and abilities, a vicious man could 
 not properly be called a man of sense : and a discourse on 
 self-denial, showing that virtue was not secure till its prac- 
 tice became a habitude, and was free from the opposition of 
 contrary inclinations: these may be found in the papers about 
 the beginning of 1735. 
 
 19 In the conduct of my newspaper I carefully excluded 
 all libelling and personal abuse, which is of late years be- 
 come so disgraceful to our country. 
 
 20 After ten years' absence from Boston, and having 
 become easy in my circumstances, I made a journev thither 
 
 R2 
 
198 
 
 to visit my relations, which I could not sooner afford. In re- 
 turning I called at Newport, to see my brother James, then 
 settled there with his printing house: our former differences 
 were forgotten, and our meeting was very cordial and affec- 
 tionate : he was fast declining in health, and requested of me 
 that in case of his death, which he apprehended not far dis- 
 tant, I would take home his son, then but twelve years of 
 age, and bring him up to the printing business. 
 
 21 This I accordingly performed, sending him a few years 
 to school before I took him into the office. His mother car- 
 ried on the business till he was grown up, when I assisted 
 him with an assortment of new types, those of his father 
 being in a manner worn out. Thus it was that I made my 
 brother ample amends for the service I had deprived him of 
 by leaving him so early. 
 
 CHAPTER 3. 
 
 ABRIDGMENT OF CICERO S DISCOURSE ON OLD AGE ; AD- 
 DRESSED TO TITUS POMPONIUS ATTICUS. TRANSLATED 
 BY DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 Essential requisites to a happy old age; a well spent life; 
 pursuit of useful knowledge; virtue; exercise, and tem- 
 perance; purity of conscience and conduct. 
 
 1 The subject I have now chose to write on, is old age; 
 which, as it is advancing on us both, and in a little time must 
 unavoidably seize us, I would look out and endeavor to find 
 the best and surest means, to make the burden of it sit as easy 
 on us as possible. 
 
 2 I must own, the thoughts that flowed on me from the 
 subject, in composing it, proved so entertaining and delight- 
 ful to me, while about it, that they have not only divested the 
 prospect of old age, now before us, of every thing shocking 
 or frightful, but they have rendered my expectations of it 
 even agreeable and comfortable. 
 
 3 Which leads me to say, we can never sufficiently ad- 
 mire the excellency of philosophy, to whose dictates whoever 
 submits, he will never find himself at a loss in any stage or 
 condition of life, to render it not only supportable but easy. 
 But on other philosophical subjects I have already wrote 
 several tracts, and shall continue to write. This on old age 
 (as I said) comes to you. 
 
199 
 
 4 I choose for my speaker in it, old Marcus Cato; that the 
 respect paid to his name and character may give greater force 
 and authority to what is said. At his house I suppose Scipio 
 and Laelius to be met, expressing their wonder to the old 
 man, how, with such ease and cheerfulness he could support 
 the weight of his years: to which he fully answers them. 
 And thus they begin : 
 
 SCIPIO. 
 
 5 Our friend Laelius, and myself, Cato, greatly admiring 
 your wisdom and vast compass of knowledge in general, have 
 been particularly wondering to see how very easily and cheer- 
 fully you bear your age; for w T e can't perceive that it gives 
 you any manner of trouble; while we have observed others 
 complaining of theirs, as if the burden w r ere insupportable. 
 
 CATO. 
 
 6 Indeed, my friends, you place your wonder on a matter 
 far below deserving it, a business in which there is little or 
 no difficulty at all; provided proper measures be taken in it. 
 For know this, that those who have no aid or support within 
 themselves, to render their lives easy, will find every state 
 irksome: while such as are convinced, they must owe their 
 happiness to themselves, and if they cannot find it in their 
 own breast, they will never meet with it from abroad; will 
 never consider any thing as an evil, that is but a necessary 
 effect of the established order of nature; which old age most 
 undoubtedly is. 
 
 7 'Tis certainly strange, that while all men hope they may 
 live to attain it, any should find fault with it when it comes 
 to their share. * * * * But it was absolutely necessary, that 
 some term, some period, should be set; and that, as it is with 
 the fruits of trees, and of the earth, seasons should be allowed 
 for their springing, growing, ripening, and at last to drop. 
 This, wise men will submit to, and cheerfully bear. * * 
 
 L^LIUS. 
 
 8 But, Cato, you would highly oblige us both, (for I may 
 venture to speak for Scipio, as well as myself, since we both 
 hope, or doubtless wish at least, to be old in our turn,) if you 
 would be pleased to instruct us beforehand, how, and by what 
 methods, we may avoid the inconveniencies that generally 
 attend old age, so as to render it the more easy to us, when 
 we reach it. 
 
 CATO. 
 
 9 With all my heart, Laelius, in case you both desire it. 
 
20G 
 
 SCIPIO. 
 
 10 We both earnestly desire it, Cato, if not too trouble- 
 some; for as you are now well advanced towards the end of a 
 long journey, which we are probably to travel after you, we 
 would gladly know of you, how you find it, in the stage you 
 are arrived at. 
 
 CATO. 
 
 11 Well, I shall do my best to satisfy you. I have in- 
 deed, been divers times in company with other old men, my 
 equals, as you know the proverb, Birds of a feather will flock 
 together; when they have been loud in their complaints of the 
 inconveniencies of old age; particularly Caius Calinator and 
 Spurius Albinus, men of consular dignity; who used heavily 
 to lament, that they had outlived all the enjoyments of life, 
 for which it was worth the living; and that they found them- 
 selves slighted and forsaken by those who had formerly fol- 
 lowed them, and had treated them with the highest respect. 
 
 12 But to me, such men appear to lay their charge entirely 
 wrong; for if what they complained of were owing only to their 
 years, the ease must be the same with me, and all others of a 
 like age: yet I have known several, who have lived to be very 
 old, without complaining at all; for they appeared not only 
 easy, but pleased at their being delivered from the tyranny of 
 their youthful passions ; and far from finding themselves 
 slighted, were still honored and revered by those about them. 
 
 13 But the true ground of such complaints lies wholly in 
 the manners of the men: for such as take care to be neither 
 peevish, humorsome, nor passionate in old age, will find it tol- 
 erable enough; but a perverse temper, a fretful, or an inhu- 
 mane disposition, will, wherever they prevail, render any state 
 whatsoever, unhappy. 
 
 L.ELIUS. 
 
 14 That is very true, Cato, but may not some allege, it is 
 your easy circumstances in life, with your power and dignity, 
 that produce this happy effect, and render your o\$ age in par- 
 ticular so easy; but these, you know, are articles that fall to 
 but very few people's share. 
 
 CATO. 
 
 15 1 confess, Laelius, there may be something in what you 
 say. * * * But the best armor against old age, Scipio and 
 Laelius, is a well-spent life preceding it; a life employed in 
 the pursuit of useful knowledge, in honorable actions, and 
 the practice of virtue; in which, he who labors to improve 
 himself from his youth, will in age reap the happiest fruits of 
 
201 
 
 them; not only because these never leave a man, not even in 
 the extremest old age ; but because a conscience bearing wit- 
 ness that our life was well spent, together with the remem- 
 brance of past good actions, yields an unspeakable comfort 
 to the soul. * * * * 
 
 16 As the wise and good are in age delighted with the 
 company of young people of sense and good inclinations, and 
 nothing makes age sit lighter on them, than the regard and 
 esteem of such; so all young people, who desire to recom- 
 mend themselves to the world by a virtuous life and solid ac- 
 complishments, must of course be pleased with the opportu- 
 nity of improving themselves by the advice and information 
 of the most experienced : and thus I judge it is, that I ob- 
 serve you to be no less pleased with my conversation than I 
 truly am with yours. * * * * 
 
 17 For, what can be more honorable, what more desirable 
 in life, than to see old men waited on by numbers of the 
 young, making their court to them for their advice and in- 
 struction. For none, certainly, will deny, that the aged are 
 the best qualified for instructing of youth, and training them 
 up in the knowledge, as well as animating them to the dis- 
 charge of every important duty in life. * * * * 
 
 18 And I must ever think, that all those who spend their 
 time in improving others in knowledge, and teaching the no- 
 bler arts, when their natural strength of body fails them, are 
 entitled to our highest regard and esteem ; though it is un- 
 doubtedly true that even this decay is oftener owing to some 
 unhappy courses, and living too fast in youth, than to the 
 natural effects of old age alone. 
 
 19 For a libidinous and intemperate life in youth, will un- 
 avoidably deliver over the body languid and enervate to suc- 
 ceeding old age. * * * Constant exercise, with temperance, 
 will still preserve a competent share of our pristine vigor. 
 
 SECTION II. 
 
 Moderation in exercise and diet : literature and science: 
 rural pursuits : mildness of temper : remembrance of 
 past good deeds: resignation to the laws of nature. 
 
 1 But allowing it, that old people lose their strength, I 
 say again they do not want it. The laws, their administra- 
 tion, the institutions and discipline of our ancestors, public 
 and private, are their proper business. 
 
 2 We must prepare ourselves, my friends, against old age; 
 and as it is advancing, endeavor by our diligence to mitigate 
 
202 
 
 and correct the natural infirmities that attend it: we must use 
 proper preservatives as we do against diseases ; great care 
 must, in the first place, be taken of our health ; all bodily 
 exercise must be moderate, and especially our diet ; which 
 ought to be of such a kind, and in such proportion, as may 
 refresh and strengthen nature, without oppressing it. 
 
 3 Nor must our cares be confined to our bodies only : for 
 the mind requires much more, which, without care will not 
 only decay, but our understanding will as certainly die away 
 in old age, as a lamp not duly supplied with oil. The body, 
 we know, when overlabored, becomes heavy, and, as it 
 were, jaded; but His exercise alone that supports the spirits, 
 and keeps the mind in vigor. * * * * 
 
 4 If the mind has the advantage of literat««^and science, 
 and can by that means feed on, or divert itself with some 
 useful or amusing study, no condition can be imagined more 
 happy than such calm enjoyments, in the leisure and quiet of 
 old age.* * * * * 
 
 5 Upon all which let me ask you, what gratifications of 
 sense, what voluptuous enjoyments in feasting, wine, hunt- 
 ing, or play, and the like, are to be compared with those noble 
 enjoyments? Those pure and serene pleasures of the mind, 
 the rational fruits of knowledge and learning, that grafted on 
 a good natural disposition, cultivated by a liberal education, 
 and trained up in prudence and virtue, are so far from being 
 palled in old age, they rather continually improve, and grow 
 on the possessor. 
 
 6 Excellent, therefore, was that expression of Solon, when 
 he said, that daily learning something ', he grew old : for 
 the pleasures arising from such a course, namely, those of the 
 mind, must be allowed incomparably to excel all others. 
 
 7 But I now come to speak of the pleasures of a country 
 life, with which I am infinitely delighted. To these, old age 
 is never an obstruction. It is the life of nature, and appears 
 to me the exactest plan of that which a wise man ought to 
 lead. Here our whole business is with the earth, the com- 
 mon parent of us all, which is never found refractory, never 
 denies what is required of it, nor fails to return back what is 
 committed to it with advantage, sometimes indeed with less, 
 but generally with a very large interest Nor is it the view 
 
 * If the relish and advantage of science and literature as solaces to old 
 age, were so highly appreciated by Cicero, in whose time printing* presses 
 and types were unknown, how can language express the encomiums those 
 enjoyments are entitled to in the present age. — Comp. 
 
203 
 of this increase only, which yields delight, but there arises 
 yet a greater, from a contemplation of the powers of the 
 earth, and vegetation. * * * * 
 
 8 Old age, in a person graced with honors, is attended 
 with such respect and authority, that the sense of this alone 
 is preferable to all the pleasures youth can enjoy. Yet in all 
 I have said/I desire to be understood to mean the old age of 
 such persons only, as have in their youth laid solid founda- 
 tions for esteem in advancing years; for on no other terms 
 ought we to expect it. 
 
 9 And hence it was, that what I once said in a public 
 speech, met with such general applause, when I observed, 
 that miserable was that man's old age, who needed the help 
 of oratory to defend him. Gray hairs and wrinkles avail no- 
 thing to confer the authority I am here speaking of: it must 
 be a series of good actions, and nothing but a life honorably 
 and virtuously led, through all the advancing steps of it, can 
 crown old age with this blessed harvest of its past labors. 
 
 10 Nor are those common marks of respect, though of but 
 little moment in themselves, to be altogether slighted; such 
 as morning salutations ; to have the way or upperhand given; 
 to be waited on home or from home, and to be consulted ; 
 which, both with us and in all well regulated states, in pro- 
 portion as they are more or less so, are more strictly observ- 
 ed and practised. Lysander of Sparta, was wont to say, that 
 Lacedemon was of all places, the most honorable sanctuary 
 for old age. 
 
 Ill find this also related, that a very old man coming into 
 the theatre at Athens, to see a play, and the throng being so 
 great that he could find no room nor seat among his own 
 citizens, passing along that part where the embassadors of 
 Lacedemon, then present, were placed; they all immediately 
 rose up to give him a seat. 
 
 12 The Athenians observing this, clapped, and much ap- 
 plauded the action; upon which one of the Spartans passed 
 this just reflection, that the Athenians (he perceived) knew 
 very well what was right, but they knew not how to do it. * * 
 But it is said, people as they grow in years, become more 
 peevish, morose, and passionate; and you may add covetous 
 too ; but as I have said, these are the faults of the men, and 
 not of old age. 
 
 13 Yet something of a little moroseness might probably, 
 though not altogether justly be excused; for they may some- 
 times be apt to think themselves slighted and played on ; and 
 
204 
 
 further, a frail body can bear but little, and therefore will be 
 the sooner offended. But all this may by proper application 
 be prevented and remedied : for by reflection and a watchful 
 guard kept on the motions of the heart, natural temper may 
 be sweetened, and our conduct softened. A gravity with 
 some severity is to be allowed ; but by no means ill-nature. 
 
 14 We now come to the fourth and last charge, which is 
 thought most nearly to affect old age, and to give the greatest 
 anxiety of all others, viz. the approach of death, which 'tis cer- 
 tain can be at no great distance. * * * * The spring repre- 
 sents youth, and shows what fruits may be expected; the fol- 
 lowing seasons are for ripening and gathering in those fruits; 
 and the best fruits of old age are, as I have repeatedly said, 
 the recollecting, and, as it were, feeding on the remembrance 
 of that train and store of good and virtuous deeds, of which 
 in the course of life, we lay in as a kind of provision for this 
 season. 
 
 15 But further, we are to consider, that as. all we enjoy is 
 from nature, whatever proceeds from, or is conformable to 
 the established laws of this, must in itself be good. Now can 
 any thing be more agreeable to those laws, than that people 
 in old age should die, since more inconsistently with the or- 
 der of nature, we find the same thing happens to youth, even 
 in the prime of their years. 
 
 16 But the difference is great; for young men seem to be 
 forced from life, as fires are extinguished by great quantities 
 of water thrown on them ; when on the contrary, old men 
 expire of themselves, like a flame, when all its fuel is spent. 
 And as unripe fruit requires some force to part it from its na- 
 tive bough, but when come to its full maturity, it drops of itself, 
 without any hand to touch it; so young people die, by some- 
 thing violent or unnatural ; but the old by mere ripeness. 
 
 17 The thoughts of which to me are now become so agree- 
 able, that the nearer I draw to my end, it seems like discov- 
 ering the land at sea, that, after the tossings of a tedious and 
 stormy voyage, will yield me a safe and quiet harbor. * * * * 
 
 18 We ought then to conclude, that as there is a succes- 
 sion of pursuits and pleasures, in the several stages of life, 
 the one dying away, as the other advances and takes place ; . 
 so in the same manner are those of old age to pass off in their 
 turn. And when this satiety of life has fully ripened us, we 
 are then quietly to lie down in death, as our last resting 
 place, where all anxiety ends, and cares and fears subsist no 
 more! * * * * 
 
205 
 
 19 I am therefore far from being of the mind of some, 
 and amongst them we have known men of good learning, 
 who lament and bewail the condition of human life, as if it 
 were a state of real misery; for I am not at all uneasy that I 
 came into this world ; because I have so lived in it, that I 
 have reason to believe, I have been of some use to it ; and 
 when the close comes, I shall quit life as I would an inn, and 
 not as a real home. For nature appears to me to have ordain- 
 ed this station here for us, as a place of sojournment, a transi- 
 tory abode only, and not as a fixed settlement or permanent 
 habitation. * * 
 
 20 But whether immortal or not, or whatever is to be our 
 future state ; as nature sets limits to all its other productions, 
 it is certainly fit, our frail bodies should, at their proper sea- 
 son, be gathered, or drop into the grave. 
 
 21 Now, these my friends, are the means, (since it was 
 these you wanted to know) by which I make my old age sit 
 easy and light on me; and thus I not only disarm it of every 
 uneasiness, but even render it sweet and delightful. 
 
 CHAPTER 4. 
 
 DIALOGUES BETWEEN PHILOCLES AND HORATIO, MEETING 
 ACCIDENTALLY IN THE FIELDS, CONCERNING VIRTUE AND 
 PLEASURE. BY DR. BEN. FRANKLIN. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 Reasonable self-denial^ economy and prudence^ contrasted 
 
 with unrestrained sensual indulgences j as the means of 
 
 human happiness. 
 
 Philocles. My friend, Horatio ! I am very glad to see you; 
 prithee how came such a man is you alone ? and musing too ? 
 What misfortune in your pleasures has sent you to philoso- 
 phy for relief ? 
 
 Horatio. You guess very right, my dear Philocles: We 
 pleasure hunters are never without them; and yet so enchant- 
 ing is the game, that we cannot quit the chase. How calm 
 and undisturbed is your life! how free from present embar- 
 rassments and future cares ! I know you love me, and look 
 with compassion on my conduct : show me then the path 
 which leads up to that constant and invariable good, which 
 I have heard you so beautifully describe, and which you seem 
 s6 fully to possess. 
 
 Phil. There are few mea in the world I value more than 
 s 
 
206 
 
 you, Horatio! for amidst all your foibles, and painful pursuits 
 of pleasure, I have oft observed in you an honest heart, and a 
 mind strongly bent towards virtue. I wish from my soul I 
 could assist you in acting steadily the part of a reasonable 
 creature; for, if you would not think it a paradox, I should 
 tell you I love you better than you do yourself. 
 
 Hot. A paradox indeed! better than I do myself ! when I" 
 love my dear self so well, that I love every thing else for my 
 own sake. 
 
 Phil. He only loves himself well, who rightly and judi- 
 ciously loves himself. 
 
 Hot. What do you mean by that, Philocles? you men of 
 reason and virtue are always dealing in mysteries, though 
 you laugh at them when the church makes them. I think he 
 loves himself very well and very judiciously too, as you call 
 it, who allows himself to do whatever he pleases. 
 
 Phil. What, though it be the ruin and destruction of that 
 very self which he loves so well ! That man alone loves him- 
 self rightly, who procures the greatest possible good to him- 
 self, through the whole of his existence; and so pursues plea- 
 sure as not to give for it more than it is worth. 
 
 Hor. That depends all upon opinion. Who shall judge 
 what the pleasure is worth? Suppose that pleasure in general 
 is so favorite a mistress, that I will take her as men do their 
 wives, for better, for worse; minding no consequences, nor 
 regarding what is to come. Why should I not do it ? 
 
 Phil. Suppose, Horatio ! that a friend of yours entered into 
 the world, about two and twenty, with a healthful and vigor- 
 ous body, and a fair plentiful estate of about five hundred 
 pounds a year; and yet before he had reached thirty, should, 
 by following his pleasures, and not, as you say, duly regard- 
 ing consequences, have run out of his estate, and disabled his 
 body to that degree, that he had neither the means nor capa- 
 city of enjoyment left; what would you say to this man's con- 
 duct ? Is it wrong by opinion or fancy only? Or is there really 
 a right and a wrong in the case ? Is not one opinion of life 
 and action juster than another? Or, one sort of conduct pre- 
 ferable to another? Or, does that miserable son of pleasure, 
 appear as reasonable and lovely a being in your eyes, as a 
 man who, by prudently and rightly gratifying his natural pas- 
 sions, had preserved his body in full health, and his estate 
 entire, and enjoyed both to a good old age, and then died 
 with a thankful heart for the good things he had received, and 
 with an entire submission to the will of him who first called 
 
207 
 him into being. Say, Horatio! are these men equally wise 
 and happy ? And is every thing to be measured by mere 
 fancy and opinion, without considering whether that fancy 
 or opinion be right ? 
 
 Hor. Hardly so, neither, I think; yet, sure the wise and 
 good Author of nature could never make us to plague us ! 
 He could never give us passions, on purpose to subdue and 
 conquer them ; nor produce this self of mine, or any other self, 
 only that it may be denied; for, that is denying the works of 
 the great Creator himself. Self-denial, then, which is what I 
 suppose you mean by prudence, seems to me not only absurd, 
 but very dishonorable to that supreme Wisdom and Good- 
 ness which is supposed to make so contradictory a creature, 
 that must be always fighting with himself in order to be at 
 rest, and undergo voluntary hardships in order to be happy : 
 Are we created sick only to be commanded to be sound? Are 
 we born under one law, our passions, and yet bound to another, 
 that of reason ? Answer me, Philocles, for I am warmly con- 
 cerned for the honor of nature, the mother of us all. 
 
 PhiL I find, Horatio, my two characters have frightened 
 you, so that you decline the trial of what is good, by reason; 
 and had rather make a bold attack upon Providence, the usual 
 way of you gentlemen of fashion, who, when, by living in 
 defiance of the eternal rules of reason, you have plunged your- 
 selves into a thousand difficulties, endeavor to make your- 
 selves easy, by throwing the burden upon nature. You are, 
 Horatio, in a very miserable condition indeed ; for you say, 
 you cannot be happy if you control your passions; and you 
 feel yourself miserable by an unrestrained gratification of 
 them; so that here is evil, irremediable evil either way. 
 
 Hor. That is very true, at least it appears so to me. Pray, 
 what have you to say, Philocles, in honor of Nature or Provi- 
 dence ; methinks I am in pain for her. How do you rescue her? 
 
 PhiL This, my dear Horatio, I have to say, that what you 
 find fault with, and clamor against, as the most terrible evil 
 in the world, self-denial, is really the greatest good, and the 
 highest gratification: If indeed you use the word in the sense 
 of some sour moralists, you will have just reason to laugh at 
 it; but if you take it as understood by philosophers, and men 
 of sense, you will presently see her charms, and fly to her 
 embraces, notwithstanding her demure looks, as absolutely 
 necessary to produce even your own darling sole good, plea- 
 sure : for, self-denial is a natural means of procuring more 
 pleasure than you can taste without it, so that this grave saint- 
 
208 
 like guide to happiness, as rough and dreadful as she has been 
 made to appear, is in truth, the kindest and most beautiful 
 mistress in the world. 
 
 Hor. Prithee, Philocles, do not wrap yourself in allegory 
 and metaphor; why do you teaze me thus? I long to be satis- 
 fied: what is this philosophical self-denial; the necessity and 
 reason of it? I am impatient and all on fire: explain, there- 
 fore, in your beautiful, natural, easy way of reasoning, what 
 I am to understand by this grave lady of yours, with so for 
 bidding, downcast looks, and yet so absolutely necessary to 
 my pleasures. I stand ready to embrace her, for you know, 
 pleasure I court under all shapes and forms. 
 
 Phil. Attend then, and you shall see the reason of this phi- 
 losophical self-denial. There can be no absolute perfection 
 in any creature; because every creature is derived from some- 
 thing of a superior existence, and dependent on that source 
 for its own existence: no created being can be all-wise, all- 
 good, and all-powerful, because his powers and capacities are 
 Unite and limited; consequently whatever is created must, in 
 its own nature, be subject to error, irregularity, excess, and 
 imperfectness. All intelligent rational agents, find in them- 
 selves a power of judging what kind of beings they are; what 
 actions are proper to preserve them ; and what consequences 
 will generally attend them ; what pleasures they are formed 
 for, and to what degree their natures are capable of receiv- 
 ing them. All we have to do then, Horatio, is to consider, 
 when we are surprised with a new object, and passionately 
 desire to enjoy it, whether the gratifying that passion be 
 consistent with the gratifying other passions and appetites 
 equal, if not more necessary to us, and whether it consists 
 with our happiness, to-morrow, next week, or next year, for, 
 as we all wish to live, we are obliged, by reason, to take 
 as much care for our future, as our present happiness, and 
 not build one upon the ruins of the other : but, if through 
 the strength and power of a present passion, and through 
 want of attending to consequences, we have erred, and ex- 
 ceeded the bounds which nature or reason have set us ; we are 
 then, for our own sakes, to refrain, or deny ourselves a present 
 momentary pleasure, for a future, constant, and durable one: 
 so that this philosophical self-denial is only refusing to do an 
 action, which you strongly desire ; because it is inconsistent 
 with your health, convenience, or circumstances in the world: 
 or in other w^ords, because it costs you more than it was worth. 
 You would lose by it as a man of pleasure. Thus you see. 
 
209 
 Horatio, that self-denial is not only the most reasonable, but 
 the most pleasant thing in the world. 
 
 Hor. We are just coming into town, so that we cannot 
 pursue this argument any farther at present ; you have said a 
 great deal for Nature, Providence and Reason : happy are 
 they who can follow such divine guides. 
 
 Phil. Horatio, good night ; I wish you wise in your plea- 
 sures. 
 
 Hor. I wish, Philocles, I could be as wise in my pleasures, 
 as you are pleasantly wise; your wisdom is agreeable ; your 
 virtue is amiable ; and your philosophy the highest luxury. 
 Adieu ! thou enchanting reasoner. 
 
 SECTION II. 
 t/2 second dialogue on the same subject. Government of 
 
 the passions, and doing good to others, the surest means 
 
 of attaining uninterrupted happiness. 
 
 Philocles. Dear Horatio, where hast thou been these three 
 or four months ? What new adventures have you fallen upon 
 since I met you in these delightful all-inspiring fields, and 
 wondered how such a pleasure-hunter as you could bear to 
 be alone ? 
 
 Horatio. Philocles ! thou best of friends, because a friend 
 to reason and virtue! I am very glad to see you: Do not you 
 remember, I told you then, that some misfortunes in my plea- 
 sures had sent me to philosophy for relief; but now I do assure 
 you, I can, without a sigh, leave other pleasures for those of 
 philosophy : I can hear the word reason mentioned, and vir- 
 tue praised, without laughing : Do not I bid fair for conver 
 sion, think you ? 
 
 Phil. Very fair, Horatio, for I remember the time when 
 reason, virtue, and pleasure, were the same thing with you; 
 when you counted nothing good but what pleased, nor any 
 thing reasonable but what you gained by; when you made a 
 jest of a mind and the pleasures of reflection, and elegantly 
 placed your sole happiness, like the rest of the animal crea- 
 tion, in the gratification of sense. 
 
 Hor. I did so ; but in our last conversation, when walking 
 upon the brow of this hill, and looking down on that broad, 
 rapid river, and yon widely extended, beautifully varied 
 plain, you taught me another doctrine : you showed me that 
 self-denial, which above all things I abhorred, was really the 
 greatest good and the highest gratification, and absolutely ne- 
 cessary to produce even my own darling, sole good, pleasure, 
 S3 
 
210 
 
 Phil. True : I told you that reasonable self-denial was a 
 natural means of procuring more pleasure than we could 
 taste without it ; that, as we all strongly desire to live, and 
 to live only to enjoy, we should take as much care about our 
 future as our present happiness, and not build one upon the 
 ruins of the other; that we should look to the end, and re- 
 gard consequences; and if, through want of attention, w r e had 
 erred, and exceeded the bounds which nature had set us, we 
 were then obliged, for our own sakes, to refrain, or deny 
 ourselves a present, momentary pleasure, for a future, con- 
 stant, and durable good. 
 
 Hor. You have shown, Philocles, that self-denial, which 
 weak or interested men have rendered the most forbidding, 
 is really the most delightful and amiable, the most reason- 
 able and pleasant thing in the world. In a word, if I under- 
 stand you aright, self-denial is, in truth, self-recognizing, 
 self-acknowledging, or self-owning. But now, my friend, 
 you are to perform another promise, and show me the path 
 which leads up to that constant, durable, and invariable good, 
 which I have heard you so beautifully describe, and w T hich 
 you seem so fully to possess. Is not this good of yours a 
 mere chimera ? Can any thing be constant in a world which 
 is eternally changing, and which appears to exist by an ever- 
 lasting revolution of one thing into another, and where every 
 thing without us, and every thing w r ithin us, is in perpetual 
 motion? What is this constant, durable good, then, of yours? 
 
 Phil. You seem enthusiastically warm, Horatio. I will 
 wait till you are cool enough to attend to the sober, dispas- 
 sionate voice of reason. 
 
 Hor. You mistake me, my dear Philocles, my warmth is 
 not so great as to run away with my reason; it is only just 
 raised enough to open my faculties, and fit them to receive 
 those eternal truths, and that durable good, which you so tri- 
 umphantly boast of. Begin, then, I am prepared. 
 
 Phil. I will, I believe, Horatio, with all your scepticism 
 about you; you will allow that good to be constant which is 
 never absent from you, and that to be durable, which never 
 ends but with your being. 
 
 Hor. Yes; go on. 
 
 Phil. That can never be the good of a creature which, 
 when present, the creature may be miserable, and when ab- 
 sent, is certainly so. 
 
 Hot. I think not; but pray explain what you mean; for I 
 
 i not much used to this abstract way of reasoning. 
 
211 
 
 Phil. I mean all the pleasures of sense. The good of 
 man cannot consist in the mere pleasures of sense; because, 
 when any one of those objects which you love is absent, or 
 cannot be come at, you are certainly miserable; and if the 
 faculty be impaired, though the object be present, you can 
 not enjoy it. So that this sensual good depends upon a thou 
 sand things without and within you, and all out of youi 
 power. Can this, then, be the good of man ? Say, Horatio, 
 what think you, is not this a checkered, fleeting, fantastical 
 good ? Can that, in any propriety of speech, be called the 
 good of man, in which even, while he is tasting, he may be 
 miserable, and in which, when he cannot taste, he is neces- 
 sarily so ? Can that be our good which costs us a great deal 
 of pains to obtain, which cloys in possessing, for which we 
 must wait the return of appetite before we can enjoy again ? 
 Or, is that our good which we can come at without difficulty, 
 which is heightened by possession, which never ends in wea- 
 riness and disappointment, and which, the more we enjoy, 
 the better qualified we are to enjoy on ? 
 
 Hot. The latter, I think; but why do you torment me thus? 
 Philocles, show me this good immediately. 
 
 Phil. I have showed you what it is not ; it is not sensual, 
 but it is rational and moral good. It is doing all the good 
 we can to others, by acts of humanity, friendship, generosity, 
 and benevolence : this is that constant and durable good, 
 which will afford contentment and satisfaction always alike, 
 without variation or diminution. I speak to your experience 
 now, Horatio: Did you ever find yourself weary of relieving 
 the miserable ? Or of raising the distressed into life or hap- 
 piness ? Or rather, do not you find the pleasure grow upon 
 you by repetition; and that it is greater in reflection than in 
 the act itself ? Is there a pleasure upon earth to be compared 
 with that which arises from the sense of making others hap- 
 py ? Can this pleasure ever be absent, or ever end but with 
 your being ? Does it not always accompany you ? Doth it not 
 lie down and rise with you, live as long as you live, give you 
 consolation in the article of death, and remain with you in 
 that gloomy hour, when all things are going to forsake you, 
 or you them ? 
 
 Hor. How glowingly you paint, Philocles ! Methinks Ho- 
 ratio is among the enthusiasts. I feel the passion; I am en- 
 chantingly convinced; but I know not why: overborne by 
 something stronger than reason: sure, some divinity speaks 
 within me. But prithee, Philocles, give me coolly the cause 
 
212 
 
 why this rational and moral good so infinitely excels the 
 mere natural or sensual. 
 
 PhiL I think, Horatio, that I have clearly shown you the 
 difference between the merely natural or sensual good, and 
 rational or moral good. Natural or sensual pleasure con- 
 tinues no longer than the action itself ; but this divine or 
 moral pleasure continues when the action is over, and swells 
 and grows upon your hand by reflection: the one is incon- 
 stant, unsatisfying, of short duration, and attended with 
 numberless ills; the other is constant, yields full satisfaction, 
 is durable, and no evils preceding, accompanying, or follow- 
 ing it. But if you inquire farther into the cause of this dif- 
 ference, and would know why the moral pleasures are greater 
 than the sensual, perhaps the reason is the same as in all 
 other creatures, that their happiness or chief good consists 
 in acting up to their chief faculty, or that faculty which dis- 
 tinguishes them from all creatures of a different- species. The 
 chief faculty in man is his reason; and consequently, his chief 
 good; or, that which may justly be called his good, consists 
 not merely in action, but in reasonable action. But in rea- 
 sonable actions, we understand those actions, which are pre- 
 servative of the human kind ; and naturally tend to produce 
 real and unmixed happiness ; and these actions, by w T ay of 
 distinction, we call actions morally good. 
 
 Hor. You speak very clearly, Philocles, but, that no diffi- 
 culty may remain upon my mind, pray, tell me, what is the 
 real difference between natural good and evil, and mora] good 
 and evil ; for I know several people who use the terms with- 
 out ideas. 
 
 Ph it. That may be : the difference lies only in this, that natu- 
 ral good and evil, are pleasure and pain: moral good and evil, 
 are pleasure or pain produced with intention and design. For, it 
 is the intention only that makes the agent morally good or bad. 
 
 Hor. But may not a man, with a very good intention, do 
 an evil action ? 
 
 PhiL Yes ; but then he errs in his judgment, though his 
 design be good : if his error is invincible, or such as, all things 
 considered, he could not help, he is inculpable: but, if it arose 
 from want of diligence in forming his judgment about the na- 
 ture of human actions, he is immoral and culpable. 
 
 Hor. I find then, that in order to please ourselves rightly, 
 or to do good to others morally, we should take great care of 
 our opinions. 
 
 PhiL Nothing concerns you more ; for as the happiness or 
 
213 
 
 real good of man consists in right action ; and right action can- 
 not be produced without right opinion; it behoves us, above 
 all things in this world, to take care that our opinions of things 
 be according to the nature of things. The foundation of all 
 virtue and happiness is thinking rightly. He who sees an ac- 
 tion is right, that is, naturally tending to good, and does it be- 
 cause of that tendency, he only is a moral man; and he alone 
 is capable of that constant, durable, and invariable good, 
 which has been the subject of this conversation. 
 
 Hor. How, my dear philosophical guide, shall I be able 
 to know, and determine certainly, what is right and wrong 
 in life ? 
 
 Phil. As easily as you distinguish a circle from a square, 
 or light from darkness. Look, Horatio, into the sacred book 
 of Nature; read your own nature, and view the relation, 
 which other men stand in to you, and you to them, and you 
 will immediately see what constitutes human happiness, and 
 consequently what is right. 
 
 Hor. We are just coming into town, and can say no more 
 at present. You are my good genius, Philocles, you have 
 showed me w r hat is good; you have redeemed me from the 
 slavery and misery of folly and vice ; and made me a free 
 and happy being. 
 
 Phil. Then am I the happiest man in the world; be you 
 steady, Horatio, never depart from reason and virtue. 
 
 Hor. Sooner will I lose my existence. Good night, Phi- 
 locles. 
 
 Phil. Adieu, dear Horatio! 
 
 CHAPTER 5. 
 
 THE WAY TO WEALTH, AS POINTED OUT IN THE SAYINGS OP 
 POOR RICHARD ;* PUBLISHED BY DR. FRANKLIN IN 1757, 
 AND IN HIS ESSAYS ON INDUSTRY AND ECONOMY. 
 
 But for one end, one much neglected use, are riches worth your care : 
 
 This noble end is, to show the virtues in their fairest light ; 
 
 To make humanity the minister of bounteous Providence, 
 
 And teach the breast the generous luxury of doing good.— Armstrong 
 
 SECTION I. 
 Industry: early rising: vigilance. 
 
 COURTEOUS READER, 
 
 1 I have heard, that nothing gives an author so great plea- 
 sure, as to find his works respectfully quoted by others. Judge, 
 
 *See page 196. 
 
214 
 
 then, how much I must have been gratified by an incident I 
 am going to relate to you. I stopped my horse, lately, where 
 a great number of people were collected at an auction of mer- 
 chants goods. 
 
 2 The hour of the sale not being come, they were convers- 
 ing on the badness of the times ; and one of the company 
 called to a plain, clean old man, with white locks, " Pray, 
 father Abraham, what think you of the times ? Will not these 
 heavy taxes quite ruin the country ? How shall we be ever j 
 able to pay them? What would you advise us to do ?" 
 
 3 Father Abraham stood up, and replied, " If you would 
 have my advice, I will give it you in short ; ' for a word to 
 the wise is enough/ as Poor Richard says. They joined in 
 desiring him to speak his mind, and gathering round him, 
 he proceeded as follows : 
 
 4 " Friends, says he, the taxes are, indeed, very heavy; and 
 if those laid on by the government, were the only ones we had 
 to pay, we might more easily discharge them; but we have 
 many others, and much more grievous to some of us. We 
 are taxed twice as much by our idleness, three times as much 
 by our pride, and four times as much by our folly; and from 
 these taxes the commissioners cannot ease or deliver us, by 
 allowing an abatement. However, let us hearken to good 
 advice, and something may be done for us; 'God helps them 
 that help themselves/ as Poor Richard says. 
 
 5 " It would bethought a hard government that should 
 tax its people one tenth part of their time, to be employed in 
 its service: but idleness taxes many of us much more; sloth, 
 by bringing on diseases, absolutely shortens life. < Sloth, 
 like rust, consumes faster than labor wears, while the used 
 key is always bright/ as Poor Richard says. 
 
 6 " ' But dost thou love life, then do not squander time, for 
 that is the stuff life is made of/ as Poor Richard says. How 
 much more than is necessary do we spend in sleep ! forget- 
 ting that c The sleeping fox catches no poultry, and that there 
 will be sleeping enough in the grave,' as Poor Richard says. 
 
 7 " ' If time be of all things the most precious, wasting time 
 must be/ as Poor Richard says, < the greatest prodigality/ 
 since, as he elsewhere tells us, ' Lost time is never found 
 again ; and what we call time enough always proves little 
 enough:' Let us then up and be doing, and doing to the pur- 
 pose; so by diligence shall we do more with less perplexity. 
 
 8 " ' Sloth makes all things difficult, but industry all easy: 
 and, he that riseth late, must trot all day, and shall scarce 
 
215 
 
 overtake his business at night ; while laziness travels so slow- 
 ly, that poverty soon overtakes him. Drive thy business, let 
 not that drive thee; and early to bed and early to rise, makes 
 a man healthy, wealthy and wise,' as Poor Richard says. 
 
 9 " So that what signifies wishing and hoping for better 
 times ? We may make these times better if we bestir our- 
 selves. ' Industry need not wish, and he that lives upon 
 hope will die fasting. There are no gains without pains : 
 then, help hands for I have no lands/ or if I have they are 
 smartly taxed. ' He that hath a trade, hath an estate; and he 
 that hath a calling, hath an office of profit and honor/ as 
 Poor Richard says ; but then the trade must be worked at, 
 and the calling well followed, or neither the estate nor the 
 office will enable us to pay our taxes. 
 
 10 " 'If we are industrious, we will never starve; for at 
 the working man's house, hunger looks in, but dares not en- 
 ter/ Nor will the bailiff or the constable enter, for 'in- 
 dustry pays debts, while despair increaseth them. 5 What, 
 though you have found no treasure, nor has any rich relation 
 left you a legacy, ' Diligence is the mother of good luck, and 
 God gives all things to industry. 
 
 11 "'Then plow deep, while sluggards sleep, and you 
 shall have corn to sell and to keep. ' Work while it is called 
 to-day, for you know not how much you may be hindered 
 to-morrow. ' One to-day is worth two to-morrows/ as Poor 
 Richard says ; and farther, ' Never leave that till to-morrow, 
 which you can do to-day. ' 
 
 12 "If you were a servant, would you not be ashamed 
 that a good master should catch you idle ? Are you then your 
 own master? be ashamed to catch yourself idle, when there 
 is so much to be done for yourself, your family, your rela- 
 tions, and your country. 
 
 13 " Handle your tools without mittens: remember, that 
 ' The cat in gloves catches no mice/ as Poor Richard says. 
 It is true, there is much to be done, and, perhaps, you are 
 weak-handed; but stick to it steadily, and you will see great 
 effects; for 'constant dropping wears away stones; and by 
 diligence and patience the mouse ate in two the cable ; and 
 little strokes fell great oaks. ' 
 
 14 " Methinks I hear some of you say, ' must a man af- 
 ford himself no leisure V I will tell thee my friend what Poor 
 Richard says ; ' Employ thy time well, if thou meanest to 
 gain leisure ; and, since thou art not sure of a minute, throw 
 not 3 way an hour.' Leisure is time for doing something use- 
 
216 • 
 
 ful ; this leisure the diligent man will obtain, but the lazy man 
 never; for, 'a life of leisure and a life of laziness are two things/ 
 
 15 "'Many, without labor, would live by their wits only, 
 but they break for want of stock ;' whereas industry gives 
 comfort, and plenty, and respect. i Fly pleasures, and they 
 will follow you. The diligent spinner has plenty of clothes; 
 and now I have a sheep and a cow, every body bids me good- 
 morrow.' 
 
 16 "But with our industry, we must likewise be steady, 
 settled, and careful, and oversee our own affairs with our 
 own eyes, and not trust too much to others ; for, as Poor 
 Richard says, 
 
 * I never saw an oft-removed tree, 
 
 Nor yet an oft-removed family, 
 
 That throve so well as those that settled be.' 
 
 17 "And again, 'three removes is as bad as afire;' and 
 again, ' keep thy shop, and thy shop will keep thee ;' and 
 again, ' if you would have your business done, go ; if not, 
 send.' And again, 
 
 c He that by the plow would thrive, 
 Himself must either hold or drive.' 
 
 18 "And again, 'the eye of a master will do more work 
 than both his hands;' and again, ' want of care does us more 
 damage than want of knowledge;' and again, ' not to oversee 
 workmen, is to leave them your purse open.' Trusting too 
 
 ^uch to others' care is the ruin of many; for, 'If you would 
 have a faithful servant, and one that you like, serve yourself. ' 
 
 19 " ' A little neglect may breed great mischief; for want 
 of a nail the shoe was lost; for want of a shoe the horse was 
 lost; and for want of a horse the rider was lost ;' being over- 
 taken and slain by the enemy ; all for w r ant of a little care 
 about a horse-shoe nail. 
 
 SECTION II. 
 Frugality: calamities of pride, extravagance and debts. 
 
 1 "So much for industry, my friends, and attention to 
 one's own business, but to these we must add frugality, if we 
 would make our industry more certainly successful. A man 
 may, if he knows not how to save as he gets, ' keep his nose 
 all his life to the grindstone, and die not worth a groat at last' 
 
 2 " 'A fat kitchen makes a lean will;' and 
 
 c Many estates are spent in the getting*, 
 
 Since women for tea forsook spinning" and knitting", 
 
 And men for punch forsook hewing and splitting. 1 
 
217 
 
 i If you would be wealthy, think of saving, as well as of get- 
 ting. The Indies have not made Spain rich, because her out- 
 goes are greater than her incomes/ 
 
 3 "Away, then, with your expensive follies, and you will 
 not then have so much cause to complain of hard times, heavy 
 taxes, and chargeable families ; and farther, i what maintains 
 one vice, would bring up two children.' 
 
 4 " You may think, perhaps, that a little tea, or a little 
 punch now and then, diet a little more costly, clothes a little 
 finer, and a little entertainment now and then, can be no great 
 matter ; but remember < many a little makes a mickle.' 
 
 5 " Beware of little expenses ; ' a small leak will sink a 
 great ship/ as Poor Richard says; and again, 'who dainties 
 love, shall beggars prove V and moreover, ' fools make feasts, 
 and wise men eat them.' Here you are all got together to this 
 sale of fineries and nick-nacks. You call them goods; but if 
 you do not take care, they will prove evils to some of you. 
 
 6 "You expect they will be sold cheap, and, perhaps, they 
 may for less than they cost; but, if you have no occasion for 
 them, they must be dear to you. Remember wiiat Poor 
 Richard says, ' Buy what thou hast no need of, and ere long 
 thou shalt sell thy necessaries. 5 And again, 'At a great 
 pennyworth pause awhile :' he means, that perhaps the cheap- 
 ness is apparent only, and not real ; or the bargain, by strait- 
 ening thee in thy business, may do thee more harm than good. 
 
 7 " For in another place he says, ' Many have been ruin- 
 ed by buying good penny worths.' Again, 'It is foolish to 
 lay out money in a purchase of repentance / and yet this folly 
 is practised every day at auctions, for want of minding the 
 Almanac. Many a one, for the sake of finery on the back, 
 has gone with a hungry belly, and half starved their families; 
 ' Silks and satins, scarlet and velvets, put out the kitchen 
 fire/ as Poor Richard says. 
 
 8 " These are not the necessaries of life; they can scarcely 
 be called the conveniencies : and yet only because they look 
 pretty, how many want to have them ! By these and other 
 extravagancies, the genteel are reduced to poverty, and 
 forced to borrow of those whom they formerly despised, but 
 who, through industry and frugality, have maintained their 
 standing ; in which case it appears plainly, that C A plowman 
 on his legs is higher than a gentleman on his knees/ as Poor 
 Richard says. 
 
 9 " Perhaps they have had a small estate left them, which 
 thev knew not the getting of : they think ' It is day, and will 
 
 T 
 
218 
 
 never be night:' that a little to be spent out of so much is 
 not worth minding; but ' Always taking out of the meal-tub, 
 and never putting in, soon comes to the bottom/ as Poor 
 Richard says; and then, ' When the well is dry, they know 
 the worth of water.* 
 
 10 "But this they might have known before, if they had 
 taken his advice. ' If you would know the value of money, 
 go and try to borrow some; for he that goes a borrowing 
 goes a sorrowing/ as Poor Richard says ; and, indeed, so 
 does he that lends to such people, when he goes to get it 
 again. Poor Dick farther advises, and says, 
 
 * Fond pride of dress is sure a very curse ; 
 Ere fancy you consult, consult your purse.' 
 
 11 " And again, ' Pride is as loud a beggar as Want, and 
 a great deal more saucy.' When you have bought one fine 
 thing, you must buy ten more, that your appearance may 
 be all of a piece; but Poor Dick says, 'It is easier to sup- 
 press the first desire, than to satisfy all that follow it:' And 
 it is as truly folly for the poor to ape the rich, as for the 
 frog to swell in order to equal the ox. 
 
 ' Vessels large may venture more, 
 But little boats should keep near shore.' 
 
 12 "It is, however, a folly soon punished; for, as Poor 
 Richard says, 'Pride that dines on vanity, sups on contempt; 
 Pride breakfasted with plenty, dined with Poverty, and 
 supped with Infamy.' And, after all, of what use is this 
 pride of appearance for which so much is risked, so much is 
 suffered? It cannot promote health, nor ease pain; it makes 
 no increase of merit in the person, it creates envy, it hastens 
 misfortune. 
 
 13 " But what madness must it be to run in debt for these 
 superfluities ! We are offered, by the terms of this sale, six 
 months credit; and that, perhaps, has induced some of us to 
 attend it, because we cannot spare the ready money, and hope 
 now to be fine without it. But, ah! think what you do when 
 you run in debt ; you give to another power over your liberty. 
 
 14 "If you cannot pay at the time, you will be ashamed to 
 see your creditor ; you will be in fear when you speak to him ; 
 you will make poor, pitiful, sneaking excuses, and, by de- 
 grees, come to lose your veracity, and sink into base, down- 
 right lying; for, 'The second vice is lying, the first is run- 
 ning in debt/ as Poor Richard says; and again, to the same 
 purpose, < Lying rides upon Debt's back :' whereas a free 
 
219 
 
 American ought not to be ashamed, nor afraid to speak to any 
 man living. 
 
 15 "But poverty often deprives a man of all spirit and vir- 
 tue. 'It is hard for an empty bag to stand upright. 5 What 
 would you think of that nation, or of that government, who 
 should issue an edict, compelling you to dress like a gentle- 
 man or gentlewoman, on pain of imprisonment or servitude? 
 Would you not say, that you were free, have a right to dress 
 as you please, and that such an edict would be a breach of 
 your privileges, and such a government tyrannical ? 
 
 16 "And yet you are about to put yourself under that ty- 
 ranny when you run in debt for such a dress! Your creditor 
 has authority to deprive you of your liberty, by confining 
 you in jail, if you should not be able to pay him: when you 
 have got your bargain, you may, perhaps, think little of pay- 
 ment ; but, as Poor Richard says, ' Creditors have better 
 memories than debtors; creditors are a superstitious sect, 
 great observers of set days and times/ 
 
 17 "The day comes round before you are aware, and the 
 demand is made before you are prepared to satisfy it ; or, if 
 you bear your debt in mind, the term, which at first seemed 
 so long, will, as it lessens, appear extremely short : Time will 
 seem to have added wings to his heels as well as his shoul- 
 ders. At present, perhaps, you may think yourselves in thriv- 
 ing circumstances, and that you can bear a little extravagance 
 without injury ; but, 
 
 ' For age and want save while you may, 
 No morning" sun lasts a whole day.' 
 
 18 u Gain may be temporary and uncertain, but ever, while 
 you live, expense is constant and certain ; and, ' It is easier 
 to build two chimneys, than to keep one in fuel/ as Poor 
 Richard says : So, 
 
 4 Get what you can, and what you get hold, 
 
 'Tis the stone that will turn all your lead into gold.* 
 
 And when you have got the philosopher's stone, sure you 
 will no longer complain of bad times, or the difficulty of pay- 
 ing taxes. 
 
 19 " This doctrine, my friends, is reason and wisdom: but, 
 after all, do not depend too much upon your own industry 
 and frugality, and prudence, though excellent thing%; for 
 they may all be blasted without the blessing of Heaven ; and 
 therefore, ask that blessing humbly, and be not uncharitable to 
 those that at present seem to want it, but comfort and help them. 
 Remember, Job suffered, and was afterwards prosperous. 
 
220 
 
 20 "And now to conclude, ' Experience keeps a dear 
 school, but fools will learn in no other/ as Poor Richard says, 
 and scarce in that; for, it is true, ( We may give advice, but 
 we cannot give conduct :' However, remember this, < They 
 that will not be counselled cannot be helped;' and farther, 
 that c If you will not hear Reason, she will surely rap your 
 knuckles/ as Poor Richard says." 
 
 21 Thus the old gentleman ended his harangue. The 
 people heard it, and approved the doctrine, and immediately 
 practised the contrary, just as if it had been a common ser- 
 mon; for the auction opened, and they began to buy extrava- 
 gantly. I found the good man had thoroughly studied my 
 Almanacs, and digested all I had dropped on those topics dur- 
 ing the course of twenty-five years. 
 
 22 The frequent mention he made of me must have tired 
 any one else; but my vanity was wonderfully delighted with 
 it, though I was conscious, that not a tenth part of the wis- 
 dom was my own, which he ascribed to me; but rather the 
 gleanings that I had made of the sense of al] ages and nations. 
 However, I resolved to be the better for the echo of it; and, 
 though at first I had determined to buy stuff for a new coat, 
 I went away, resolved to wear my old one a little longer. 
 Reader, if thou wilt do the same, thy profit will be as great 
 as mine. I am, as ever, thine to serve thee. 
 
 RICHARD SAUNDERS. 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 Advice to a young tradesman. 
 
 [Written 1748.] 
 
 To my friend *#. 13. 
 
 As you have desired it of me, I write the following" hints, which have 
 
 been of service to me, and may, if observed, be so to you. 
 
 1 Remember that time is money. He that can earn ten 
 shillings a day by his labor, and goes abroad, or sits idle one 
 half of that day, though he spends but sixpence during his 
 diversion or idleness, ought not to reckon that the only ex- 
 pense; he has really spent, or rather thrown away, five shil- 
 lings besides. 
 
 2 Remember that credit is money. If a man lets his 
 money lie in my hands after it is due, he gives me the inte- 
 rest, or so much as I can make of it during that time. This 
 amounts to a considerable sum when a man has good and 
 large credit, and makes good use of it. 
 
 3 Remember that money is of a prolific generating nature. 
 
221 
 
 Money can beget money, and its offspring can beget more, 
 and so on. Five shillings turned is six; turned again it is 
 seven and three pence; and so on till it becomes a hundred 
 pounds. The more there is of it, the more it produces, every 
 turning, so that the profits rise quicker and quicker. He 
 that murders a crown, destroys all that it might have pro- 
 duced, even scores of pounds. 
 
 4 Remember that six pounds a year is but a groat a day. 
 For this little sum, which may be daily wasted either in time 
 or expense, unperceived, a man of credit may, on his own 
 security, have the constant possession and use of a hundred 
 pounds. So much in stock, briskly turned by an industrious 
 man, produces great advantage. 
 
 5 Remember this saying, " the good paymaster is lord of 
 another man's pnrse." He that is known to pay punctually 
 and exactly to the time he promises, may at any time, and on 
 any occasion, raise all the money his friends can spare. This 
 is sometimes of great use. After industry and frugality, no- 
 thing contributes more to the raising of a young man in the 
 w r orld, than punctuality and justice in all his dealings: there- 
 fore never keep borrowed money an hour beyond the time 
 you promised, lest a disappointment shut up your friend's 
 purse for ever. 
 
 6 The most trifling actions that affect a man's credit are 
 to be regarded. The sound of your hammer at five in the 
 morning, or nine at night, heard by a creditor, makes him 
 easy six months longer; but if he sees you at a billiard table, 
 or hears your voice at a tavern, when you should be at work, 
 he sefads for his money the next day ; demands it before he 
 can receive it in a lump. It shows, besides, that you are mind- 
 ful of what you owe ; it makes you appear a careful, as well 
 as honest man, and that still increases your credit. 
 
 7 Beware of thinking all your own that you possess, and 
 of living accordingly. It is a mistake that many people who 
 have credit fall into. To prevent this, keep an exact account 
 for some time, both of your expenses and your income. If 
 you take the pains at first to mention particulars, it will have 
 this good effect ; you will discover how wonderfully small 
 trifling expenses mount up to large sums, and will discern 
 what might have been, and may for the future, be saved, with- 
 out occasioning any great inconvenience. 
 
 8 In short, the way to wealth, if you desire it, is as plain 
 as the way to market. It depends chiefly on two words, in- 
 dustry and frugality; that is, waste neither lime nor money. 
 
 T 2 
 
222 
 
 but make the best use of both. Without industry and fru- 
 gality nothing will' do, and with them every thing. He that 
 gets all he can honestly, and saves all he gets (necessary ex- 
 penses excepted) will certainly become rich; if that Being 
 who governs the world, to whom all should look for a bless- 
 ing on their honest endeavors, doth not, in his wise provi- 
 dence otherwise determine. 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 The ivay to make money plenty in every man's pocket. 
 
 1 At this time, when the general complaint is that " money 
 is scarce/' it will be an act of kindness to inform the money- 
 less how- they may reinforce their pockets. I will acquaint 
 them with the true secret of money-catching, the certain way 
 to fill empty purses, and how to keep them always full. Two 
 simple rules, well observed, will do the business. First, Let 
 honesty and industry be thy constant companions ; and, 
 Secondly, Spend one penny less than thy clear gains. 
 
 2 Then shall thy hide-bound pocket soon begin to thrive, 
 neither will creditors insult thee, nor want oppress, nor hun- 
 ger bite, nor nakedness freeze thee. The whole hemisphere 
 will shine brighter, and pleasure spring up in every corner of 
 thy heart. Now, therefore, embrace these rules and be hap- 
 py. Banish the bleak winds of sorrow from thy mind, and 
 live independent. 
 
 3 Then shalt thou be a man, and not hide thy face at the 
 approach of the rich, nor suffer the pain of feeling little when 
 the sons of fortune walk at thy right hand : for independency, 
 whether with little or much, is good fortune, and placeth thee 
 on even ground with the proudest of the golden fleece. Oh, 
 then, be wise, and let industry walk with thee in the morning, 
 and attend thee until thou readiest the evening hour for rest. 
 
 4 Let honesty he as the breath of thy soul, and never for- 
 get to have a penny, when all thy expenses are enumerated 
 and paid ; then shalt thou reach the point of happiness, and 
 independence shall be thy shield and buckler, thy helmet and 
 crown ; then shall thy soul walk upright, nor stoop to the 
 silken wretch because he hath riches, nor pocket an abuse be- 
 cause the hand which offers it, wears a ring set with diamonds. 
 
223 
 CHAPTER 6. 
 
 DETACHED SELECTIONS FROM THE MORAL ESSAYS AND 
 LETTERS OF DR. FRANKLIN. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 The handsome and deformed leg: showing the unhappi- 
 
 ness of a fault-finding disposition. 
 
 1 There are two sorts of people in the world, who, with 
 equal degrees of health and wealth in the world, and the other 
 comforts of life, become the one happy, and the other mise- 
 rable. This arises very much from the different views in 
 which they consider things, persons, and events ; and the 
 effect of those different views upon their own minds. 
 
 2 In whatever situation men can be placed, they may find 
 conveniences and inconveniences ; in whatever company, 
 they may find persons and conversation more or less pleas- 
 ing; at whatever table, they may meet with meats and drinks 
 of better and worse taste, dishes better and worse dressed: in 
 whatever climate, they will find good and bad weather: un- 
 der whatever government, they may find good and bad laws, 
 and good and bad administration of those laws : in whatever 
 poem, or work of genius, they may see faults and beauties: in 
 almost every face, and every person, they may discover fine 
 features and defects, good and bad qualities. 
 
 3 Under these circumstances, the two sorts of people 
 abovementioned, fix their attention; those who are disposed 
 to be happy, on the conveniences of things, the pleasant parts 
 of conversation, the well-dressed dishes, the goodness of the 
 wines, the fine weather, &c. and enjoy all with cheerfulness. 
 Those who are to be unhappy, think and speak only of the 
 contraries. Hence they are continually discontented them- 
 selves, and by their remarks, sour the pleasures of society ; 
 offend personally many people, and make themselves every 
 where disagreeable. 
 
 4 If this turn of mind was founded in nature, such unhap- 
 py persons would be the more to be pitied. But as the dis- 
 position to criticise, and to be disgusted, is, perhaps, taken up 
 originally by imitation, and is, unawares, grown into a habit, 
 which, though at present strong, may nevertheless be cured, 
 when those who have it are convinced of its bad effects on 
 their felicity; I hope this little admonition may be of service 
 to them, and put them on changing a habit, which, though 
 in the exercise it is chiefly an act of imagination, yet has 
 
224 
 
 serious consequences in life, as it brings on real griefs and 
 misfortunes. 
 
 5 For, as many are offended by, and nobody loves this sort 
 of people ; no one shows them more than the most common 
 civility and respect, and scarcely that ; and this frequently 
 puts them dut of humor, and draws them into disputes and 
 contentions. If they aim at obtaining some advantage in 
 rank or fortune, nobody wishes them success, or will stir a 
 step, or speak a word to favor their pretensions. 
 
 6 If they incur public censure or disgrace, no one will de- 
 fend or excuse, and many join to aggravate their misconduct, 
 and render them completely odious : If these people will not 
 change this bad habit, and condescend to be pleased with what 
 is pleasing, without fretting themselves and others about the 
 contraries, it is good for others to avoid an acquaintance with 
 them ; which is always disagreeable, and sometimes very in- 
 convenient, especially w r hen one finds one's self entangled in 
 their quarrels. 
 
 7 An old philosophical friend of mine was grown, from ex- 
 perience, very cautious in this particular, and carefully avoid- 
 ed any intimacy with such people. He had, like other phi- 
 losophers, a thermometer to show him the heat of the weather; 
 and a barometer, to mark when it was likely to prove good 
 or bad; but there being no instrument invented to discover, 
 at first sight, this unpleasing disposition in a person, he, for 
 that purpose, made use of his legs; one of which was remark- 
 ably handsome, the other, by some accident, crooked and de- 
 formed. If a stranger, at the first interview, regarded his 
 ugly teg more than his handsome one, he doubted him. 
 
 8 If he spoke of it, and took no notice of the handsome leg, 
 that was sufficient to determine my philosopher to have no 
 further acquaintance with him. Every body has not this two- 
 legged instrument; but every one, with a little attention, may 
 observe signs of that carping, fault-finding disposition, and 
 take the same resolution of avoiding the acquaintance of those 
 infected with it. I therefore advise those critical, querulous, 
 discontented, unhappy people, that if they wish to be respect- 
 ed and beloved by others, and happy in themselves, they 
 should leave off looking at the ugly leg. 
 
 SECTION II. 
 The art of procuring pleasant dreams, inscribed to 
 
 Miss ***, being written at her request. 
 1 As a great part of our life is spent in sleep, durit : "h 
 
 
225 
 
 we have sometimes pleasing and sometimes painful dreams, 
 it becomes of some consequence to obtain the one kind, and 
 avoid the other: for, whether real or imaginary, pain is pain, 
 and pleasure is pleasure. If we can sleep without dreaming, 
 it is well that painful dreams are avoided. If, while we sleep, 
 we can have any pleasing dreams, it is, as the French say, 
 tant gagne, so much added to the pleasure of life. 
 
 2 To this end it is, in the first place, necessary to be care- 
 ful in preserving health, by due exercise and great tempe- 
 rance; for, in sickness, the imagination is disturbed ; and dis- 
 agreeable, sometimes terrible, ideas are apt to present them- 
 selves. Exercise should precede meals, not immediately fol- 
 low them ; the first promotes, the latter, unless moderate, 
 obstructs digestion. If, after exercise, we feed sparingly, the 
 digestion will be easy and good, the body lightsome, the 
 temper cheerful, and all the animal functions performed agree- 
 ably. Sleep, when it follows, will be natural and undisturbed. 
 
 3 While indolence, with full feeding, occasion nightmares 
 and horrors inexpressible: we fall from precipices, are as- 
 saulted by wild beasts, murderers and demons, and experi- 
 ence every variety of distress. Observe, however, that the 
 quantities of food and exercise are relative things : those who 
 move much, may, and indeed ought to eat more; those who 
 use little exercise, should eat little. In general, mankind, 
 since the improvement of cookery, eat about twice as much 
 as nature requires. 
 
 4 Suppers are not bad, if we have not dined; but restless 
 nights naturally follow hearty suppers, after full dinners. 
 Indeed, as there is a difference in constitutions, some rest 
 well after these meals; it costs them only a frightful dream, 
 and an apoplexy, after which they sleep till doomsday. 
 Nothing is more common in the newspapers, than instances 
 of people, who, after eating a hearty supper, are found dead 
 a-bed in the morning.* 
 
 5 Another means of preserving health, to be attended to, 
 is the having a constant supply of fresh air in your bed-cham- 
 ber. It has been a great mistake, the sleeping in rooms ex- 
 actly closed, and in beds surrounded by curtains. No out- 
 ward air, that may come unto you, is so unwholesome as the 
 unchanged air, often breathed, of a close chamber. As boil- 
 ing water does not grow hotter by longer boiling, if the parti- 
 
 * The use of animal food ought to be avoided as much as possible for 
 suppers, not only to prevent incubus, [nightmare] and laborious dreams, 
 but also for the preservation of health. 
 
226 
 
 cles that receive greater heat can escape ; so living bodies do 
 not putrefy, if the particles as fast as they become putrid, can 
 be thrown off. 
 
 6 Nature expels them by the pores of the skin and lungs, 
 and in a free open air, they are carried off; but in a close 
 room, we receive them again and again, though they become 
 more and more corrupt. * A number of persons crowded into 
 a small room, thus spoil the air in a few minutes, and even 
 render it mortal, as in the Black Hole at Calcutta. A single 
 person is said to spoil only a gallon of air per minute, and 
 therefore requires a longer time to spoil a chamber full; but 
 it is done, however, in proportion, and many putrtd disorders 
 hence have their origin. 
 
 7 Physicians, after having for ages contended that the sick 
 should not be indulged with fresh air, have at length discov- 
 ered that it may do them good. It is therefore to be hoped, 
 that they may in time discover, likewise, that it is not hurtful 
 to those who are in health ; and that we may be then cured 
 of the aerophobia, [dread of air] that at present distresses 
 weak minds, and makes them choose to be stifled and poison- 
 ed, rather than leave open the windows of a bed-chamber, or 
 put down the glass of a coach. 
 
 8 Confined air, when saturated with perspirable matter, t 
 will not receive more ; and that matter must remain in our 
 bodies, and occasion diseases : but it gives some previous no- 
 tice of its being about to be hurtful, by producing certain un- 
 easiness, slight indeed, at first, such as, with regard to the 
 lungs, is a trifling sensation, and to the pores of the skin a kind 
 of restlessness which is difficult to describe, and few that 
 feel it know the cause of it. 
 
 9 The remedies, preventive and curative, follow : 1st. 
 By eating moderately (as before advised for health's sake) 
 
 * The air of rooms, in which several persons are breathing and perspir- 
 ing", ought to be frequently renewed. 
 
 1 " It is not air, 
 
 That from a thousand lungs, reeks back to thine, 
 Sated with exhalations fell and sad." — Armstrong* 
 Close iron stoves emit a noxious effluvia, and are very pernicious to 
 health in close rooms. If iron stoves, therefore, must be used, they ought 
 to be the genuine Franklin stoves, which admit a perpetual current of fresh 
 air into the room : — churches, school-houses, and all buildings occupied 
 by many persons,ought to be furnished with perpetual ventilators. — Comp. 
 f What physicians call the perspirable matter, is that vapor which passes 
 off from our bodies, from the lungs, and through the pores of the skin. 
 The quantity of this is said to be five-eighths of what we eat. 
 
227 
 less perspirable matter is produced in a given time; hence 
 the bed-clothes receive it longer, before they are saturated ; 
 and we may, therefore, sleep longer, before we are made un- 
 easy by their refusing to receive any more. 2d. By using 
 thinner and more porous bed-clothes, which will suffer the 
 perspirable matter more easily to pass through them, we are 
 less incommoded, such being longer tolerable. 
 
 10 These are the rules of the art. But though they will 
 generally prove effectual in producing the end intended, there 
 is a case in which the most punctual observance of them will 
 be totally fruitless. I need not mention the case to you, my 
 dear friend : but my account of the art would be imperfect 
 without it. The case is, when the person who desires to have 
 pleasant dreams has not taken care to preserve, what is neces- 
 sary above all things, A GOOD CONSCIENCE. 
 
 SECTION III. 
 
 TO BENJAMIN VAUGHAN, ESQ. 
 
 Oil luxury, idleness and industry. 
 
 1 If there be a nation that exports its beef and linen to 
 pay for the importation of claret and porter, while a great 
 part of its people live upon potatoes, and wear no shirts, 
 wherein does it differ from the sot, who lets his family starve, 
 and sells his clothes to buy drink? Our American commerce 
 is, I confess, a little in this way. We sell our victuals to the 
 Islands for rum and sugar; the substantial necessaries of life 
 for superfluities. 
 
 2 Foreign luxuries, and needless manufactures, imported 
 and used in a nation, increase the people of the nation that 
 furnishes them, and diminish the people of the nation that 
 use th&m. Laws, therefore, that prevent such importations, 
 and, on the contrary, promote the exportation of manufac- 
 tures to be consumed in foreign countries, increase the w r ealth, 
 population, and means of subsistence of the people that make 
 them, and produce the contrary effect upon their neighbors. 
 
 3 It has been computed by some political arithmetician, 
 that if every man and woman would work for four hours each 
 day on something useful, that labor w T ould produce sufficient 
 to procure all the necessaries and comforts of life, want and 
 misery would be banished out of the world, and the rest of 
 the tw^enty-four hours might be leisure and pleasure. 
 
 4 What occasions then so much want and misery? It is 
 the employment of men and women in works that produce 
 
22S v 
 neither the necessaries nor conveniences of life, who, with 
 those who do nothing, consume necessaries raised by the la- 
 borious. To explain this, 
 
 5 The first elements of wealth are obtained by labor, 
 from the earth and waters. I have land, and can raise corn. 
 With this, if I feed a family that does nothing, my corn will 
 be consumed, and at the end of the year I shall be no richer 
 than I was at the beginning. But, if while I feed them, I 
 employ them, some in spinning, others in making bricks, &c. 
 for building, the value of my corn will be arrested, and re- 
 main with me, and at the end of the year we may all be bet- 
 ter clothed and better lodged. 
 
 6 And if instead of employing a man I feed in making 
 bricks, I employ him in fiddling for me, the corn he eats is 
 gone, and no part of his manufacture remains to augment the 
 wealth and convenience of the family. Look round the world 
 and see the millions employed in doing nothing, or some- 
 thing that amounts to nothing, when the necessaries and con- 
 veniences of life are in question. 
 
 7 A question may be asked; Could all these people now 
 employed in raising, making, or carrying superfluities, be 
 subsisted by raising necessaries ? I think they might. The 
 world is large, and a great part uncultivated. Many hun- 
 dred millions of acres in Asia, Africa, and America, are still 
 in a forest, and a great deal even in Europe. On a hundred 
 acres of this forest, a man might become a substantial farmer. 
 
 8 One reflection more, and I will end this long rambling 
 letter. Almost all parts of our bodies require some expense. 
 The feet demand shoes; the legs stockings; the rest of the 
 body clothing; and the stomach a good deal of victuals. Our. 
 eyes, though exceedingly useful, ask, when reasonable, only the 
 cheap assistance of spectacles, which could not much impair 
 our finances. But the eyes of other people are the eyes that 
 ruin us. If all but myself were blind, I should want neither 
 fine clothes, fine houses, nor fine furniture. 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 
 Extracts of a letter from Dr. Franklin, to the Rev, 
 
 George Whitefield.* 
 
 $ir 9 Philadelphia, June 6, 1753. 
 
 1 I received your kind letter of the 2d instant, and am 
 
 glad to hear that you increase in strength; I hope you will 
 
 * Que of the founders of the religious Society of Methodists. 
 
22'J 
 continue mending, till you recover your former health and 
 firmness. Let me know whether you still use the cold bath, 
 and what effect it has. 
 
 2 As to the kindness you mention, I wish it could have 
 been of more service to you. But if it had, the only thanks 
 I should desire is, that you would always be equally ready to 
 serve any other person that may need your assistance, and so 
 let good offices go round; for mankind are all of a family. 
 
 3 For my own part, when I am employed in serving others, 
 I do not look upon myself as conferring favors, but as paying 
 debts. In my travels, and since my settlement, I have re- 
 ceived much kindness from men, to whom I shall never have 
 any opportunity of making the least direct return; and num- 
 berless mercies from God, who is infinitely above being 
 benefited by our services. 
 
 4 Those kindnesses from men, I can therefore return only 
 on their fellow men, and I can only show my gratitude for 
 these mercies from God, by a readiness to' help his other 
 children, and my brethren. For I do not think that thanks 
 and compliments, though repeated weekly, can discharge 
 our real obligations to each other, and much less those to our 
 Creator. 
 
 5 The faith you mention has certainly its use in the world: 
 I do not desire to see it diminished, nor would I endeavor 
 to lessen it in any man. But I wish it were more productive 
 of good works than I have generally seen it; works of kind- 
 ness, charity, mercy, public spirit; not holiday-keeping, ser- 
 mon-reading or hearing; performing church ceremonies, or 
 making long prayers. 
 
 6 The worship of God is a duty; the hearing and reading 
 of sermons may be useful; but if men rest in hearing and 
 praying, as too many do, it is as if a tree should value itself 
 on being watered and putting forth leaves, though it never 
 
 produced any fruit. 
 
 I _____________ — — ^^— ____—. _-_____________________«________«___._«_«_»«=____= 
 
 [Note. — The preceding selections from the works of Dr. Franklin, have been 
 principally transcribed, for republication in the Moral Instructor, from " Memoirs 
 of the Life and Writings of Benjamin Franklin, L.L.D. 4*c." with the consent of 
 the Proprietor of the copyright. It will be perceived by the reader who is acquainted 
 with the biography of the public as well as private life of Franklin, that his narra- 
 tive, as published in this work, is extended only to the commencement of his public 
 career. A mere outline or profile of his vast political and philosophical services to 
 his country and to mankind would be impracticable in a work according with the 
 title and intention of this. It is the view of the compiler to exhibit to the American 
 youth, examples for their contemplation and imitation in the scene of general, do- 
 mestic, and common life, and common sense, rather than of those public pursuits, 
 stations, and distinctions which but a limited number of us can attain to, were we 
 all equally qualified and competent with a Franklin, a Washington, or a Jeffeison.l 
 U 
 
230 
 
 PART SEVENTH. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS ARTICLES. 
 
 CHAPTER 1. 
 
 SELECTIONS FROM WASHINGTON^ FAREWELL ADDRESS. 
 
 1 The following disinterested parting advice of the late 
 President Washington, the master-workman in the erection 
 of our Republic, ought to be deeply impressed on the mind 
 of every American youth : 
 
 2 In looking forward to the moment which is to terminate 
 the career of my political life, my feelings do not permit me 
 to suspend the deep acknowledgment of that debt of grati- 
 tude which I owe to my beloved country, for the many 
 honors it has conferred upon me; still more for the stedfast 
 confidence with which it has supported me ; and for opportu- 
 nities I have thence enjoyed of manifesting my inviolable at- 
 tachment, by services faithful and persevering, though in use- 
 fulness unequal to my zeal. 
 
 3 If benefits have resulted to our country from these ser- 
 vices, let it always be remembered to your praise, and as an 
 instructive example in our annals, that under circumstances 
 in which the passions, agitated in every direction, were liable 
 to mislead — amidst appearances sometimes dubious — vicissi- 
 tudes of fortune often discouraging — in situations in which 
 not unfrequently want of success has countenanced the spi- 
 rit of criticism — the constancy of your support was the essen- 
 tial prop of the efforts and a guarantee of the plans by which 
 they were effected. 
 
 4 Profoundly penetrated with this idea, I shall carry it 
 with me to my grave, as a strong incitement to unceasing 
 wishes, that Heaven may continue to you the choicest tokens 
 of its beneficence — that your union and brotherly affection 
 may be perpetual — that the free constitution which is the 
 work of your hands, may be sacredly maintained — that its 
 administration in every department may be stamped with wis- 
 dom and virtue — that, in fine, the happiness of the people of 
 these States, under the auspices of liberty, may be made com- 
 plete, by so careful a preservation and so prudent a use ol 
 this blessing, a$ will acquire to them the glory of recommend 
 
231 
 ing it to the applause, the affection, and the adoption of every 
 nation which is yet a stranger to it 
 
 5 Here, perhaps, I ought to stop. But a solicitude for 
 your welfare, which cannot end but with my life, and the ap- 
 prehension of danger natural to that solicitude, urge me, on 
 an occasion like the present, to offer to your solemn contem- 
 plation, and to recommend to your frequent review, some sen- 
 timents, which are the result of much reflection, of no incon- 
 siderable observation, and which appear to me all-important 
 *o the permanency of your felicity &s a people. 
 
 6 These will be offered to you with the more freedom, a 5 ? 
 you can only see in them the disinterested warnings of a 
 parting friend, who can possibly have no personal motive to 
 bias his counsel. Nor can I forget as an encouragement to 
 it, your indulgent reception of my sentiments on a former 
 and not dissimilar occasion. 
 
 7 Interwoven as is the love of liberty with every ligament 
 of your hearts, no recommendation of mine is necessary to 
 fortify or confirm the attachment. The unity of government, 
 which constitutes you one people, is also now dear to you. It is 
 justly so; for it is a main pillar in the edifice of your real in- 
 dependence ; the support of your tranquillity at home; your 
 peace abroad; of your safety, of your prosperity; of that 
 very liberty which you so highly prize. 
 
 8 But as it is easy to foresee, that from different causes 
 and from different quarters, much pains will be taken, many 
 artifices employed, to weaken in your minds the conviction 
 of this truth : as this is the point in your political fortress 
 against which the batteries of internal and external enemies 
 will be most constantly and actively (though often covertly 
 and insidiously) directed, it is of infinite moment, that you 
 should properly estimate the immense value of your national 
 union, to your collective and individual happiness ; 
 
 9 That you should cherish a cordial, habitual, and immove- 
 able attachment to it; accustoming yourselves to think and 
 speak of it as of the palladium of your political safety and 
 prosperity; watching for its preservation with jealous anxiety; 
 discountenancing whatever may suggest even a suspicion that 
 it can in any event be abandoned; and indignantly frown- 
 ing upon the first dawning of every attempt to alienate any 
 portion of our country from the rest, or to enfeeble the sacred 
 ties which now link together the various parts. 
 
 10 For this you have every inducement of sympathy and 
 interest. Citizens by birth or choice of a common country, 
 
232 
 
 that country has a right to concentrate your affections. The 
 name of American, which belongs to you in your national 
 capacity, must always exalt the just pride of patriotism, more 
 than any appellation derived from local discriminations. 
 
 11 With slight shades of difference, you have the same 
 religion, manners, habits, and political principles. You have 
 in a common cause fought and triumphed together; the inde- 
 pendence and liberty you possess, are the work of joint coun- 
 cils, and joint efforts — of common dangers, sufferings, and 
 successes. 
 
 12 The basis of our political systems is the right of the 
 people to make and to alter their constitutions of government. 
 But the constitution which at any time exists, until changed 
 by an explicit and authentic act of the whole people, is 
 sacredly obligatory upon all. The very idea of the power 
 and the right of the people to establish a government, pre- 
 supposes the duty of every individual to obey the established 
 government. 
 
 13 1 have already intimated to you the danger of parties 
 in the state, with particular references to the founding of 
 them on geographical discriminations. Let me now take a 
 more comprehensive view, and warn you in the most solemn 
 manner, against the baneful effects of the spirit of party, 
 generally. 
 
 14 This spirit, unfortunately, is inseparable from our nature, 
 having its root in the strongest passions of the human mind. 
 It exists under different shapes in all governments, more or 
 less stifled, controlled, or repressed ; but in those of the 
 popular form, it is seen in its greatest ranknese, and is truly 
 their worst enemy. 
 
 15 The alternate domination of one faction over another, 
 sharpened by the spirit of revenge natural to party dissension, 
 which in different ages and countries has perpetrated the most 
 horrid enormities, is itself a frightful despotism. But this 
 leads at length to a more formal and permanent despotism. 
 
 16 The disorders and miseries which result, gradually in- 
 cline the minds of men to seek security and repose in the 
 absolute power of an individual ; and sooner or later the 
 chief of some prevailing faction, more able or more fortu- 
 nate than his competitors, turns this disposition to the pur- 
 poses of his own elevation, on the ruins of public liberty. 
 
 17 Without looking forward to an extremity of this kind, 
 (which nevertheless ought not to be entirely out of sight,) the 
 common and continual mischiefs of the spirit of party, are 
 
233 
 
 sufficient to make it the interest and duty of a wise people 
 to discourage and restrain it. 
 
 IS Of all the dispositions and habits which lead to political 
 prosperity, religion and morality are indispensable supports. 
 In vain would that man claim the tribute of patriotism, who 
 should labor to subvert these great pillars of human happi- 
 ness — these firmest props of the duties of men and citizens. 
 The mere politician, equally with the pious man, ought to 
 respect and to cherish them. A volume could not trace all 
 their connexions with private and public felicity. 
 
 1 9 Let it simply be asked, where is the security for prop- 
 erty, for reputation, for life, if the sense of religious obliga- 
 tion desert the oaths, which are the instruments of investiga- 
 tion in courts of justice ? And let us with caution indulge the 
 supposition, that morality can be maintained without religion. 
 Whatever may be conceded to the influence of refined edu- 
 cation on minds fS peculiar structure, reason and experience 
 both forbid us to expect that national morality can prevail in 
 exclusion of religious principles. 
 
 20 It is substantially true, that virtue or morality is a 
 necessary spring of popular government. The rule indeed 
 extends with more or less force to every species of free 
 government. Who that is a sincere friend to it can look with 
 indifference upon attempts to shake the foundation of the 
 fabric ? 
 
 21 Promote, then, as an object of primary importance, in- 
 stitutions for the general diffusion of knowledge. In propor- 
 tion as the structure of a government gives force to public 
 opinion, it is essential that public opinion should be enlight- 
 ened. ^ 
 
 22 Observe good faith and justice towards all nations; cul- 
 tivate peace and harmony with all: religion and morality en- 
 join this conduct; and can it be that good policy does not 
 equally enjoin it ? It will be worthy of a free, enlightened, 
 and, at no distant period, a great nation, to give to mankind the 
 magnanimous and too novel example of a people always 
 guided by an exalted justice and benevolence. 
 
 23 Who can doubt that in the course of time and things, 
 the fruits of such a plan would richly repay any temporary 
 advantages which might be lost by a steady adherence to it? 
 Can it be, that Providence has not connected the permanent 
 felicity of a nation with its virtue? The experiment, at least, 
 is recommended by every sentiment which ennobles human 
 nature. Alas ! is it rendered impossible by its vices ? 
 
 U2# 
 
234 
 
 24 In the execution of such a plan, nothing is more es 
 tial than that permanent and inveterate antipathies against 
 particular nations, and passionate attachments for others, 
 should be excluded; and that, in place of them, just and ami- 
 cable feelings towards all should be. cultivated. 
 
 25 In offering to you, my countrymen, these counsels of an 
 old and affectionate friend, I dare not hope they will make 
 the strong and lasting impression I could wish — that they 
 will control the usual current of the passions, or prevent our 
 nation from running the course which has hitherto marked 
 the destiny of nations. 
 
 26 But if I may even flatter myself, that they may be pro- 
 ductive of some-partial benefit, some occasional good; that 
 they may now and then recur to moderate the fury of party 
 spirit; to warn against the mischiefs of foreign intrigue; to 
 guard against the impostures of pretended patriotism ; this 
 hope will be a full recompense for the solicitude for your 
 welfare, by which they have been dictated. 
 
 CHAPTER 2. 
 
 EXERCISE, PUBLIC EDUCATION, TEMPERANCE, HEALTH, &G. 
 SECTION I. 
 
 Sunday schools: education of the poor: books. 
 
 1 It might appear a paradox in politics, if we were not 
 daily accustomed to absurdities, that Sunday schools have 
 been discountenanced because they have a tendency to cause 
 people to think, and expose them to the risk of reading in- 
 cendiary publications. People who reason after this man- 
 ner may be divided into two classes. 
 
 2 The first would confine all knowledge within the facti- 
 tious arrangements of fortune, and consequently, would make 
 fortune only the test of moral obligation, and of ability. 
 The second, actuated by milder sentiments, although by 
 timorous motives, are apprehensive of evils arising from the 
 abuse of the principle. 
 
 3 Their opinions, therefore, are to be respected, w r hile the 
 former merit contempt and abhorrence. Wise and virtuous 
 magistrates would rather govern thinking men, than mechan- 
 ical brutes; but knaves prefer legislating for fools. Their 
 sentiments are worthy of a Turkish Cadi, and of the meridian 
 of Constantinople, but destructive of the happiness of a free 
 community. 
 
235 
 
 4 If knowledge be- a pernicious acquisition, it is evidently 
 more dangerous in the hands of those who possess the gifts 
 of fortune, and thereby power, than in the hands of the com- 
 monalty, who are deprived of those accursed resources by 
 which the fountains of honor, justice, and freedom have been 
 often corrupted and poisoned. 
 
 5 If on the contrary, its efforts be beneficial, who will 
 presume to limit its circulation? The law of England declares 
 that iguorantia legis non excuset; [The ignorance of the law 
 will not avail the delinquent,] this is the principle of all free 
 governments. In what manner therefore we can reconcile 
 the commission of a crime, and its punishment with utter ig- 
 norance, I leave to the explication of those political sophists, 
 who delight to make a mystery of government, and to con- 
 found the plainest principles of common sense and justice. 
 
 6 It cannot be denied, that a disposition to obtain know- 
 ledge is common to all, and that talents display themselves 
 to a very high degree among the unlettered parts of the com- 
 munity. Poverty is no more an evidence of incapacity, than 
 wealth is, of capacity for knowledge; for many a Cicero has 
 kept sheep, many a Caesar followed the plow, and many 
 a Virgil foddered cattle. — York. — Nicholson's Literary 
 Miscellany. 
 
 7 It is a truth which cannot be too strongly impressed, 
 that of all our exertions for the benefit of our fellow-creatures, 
 the education of the poor is the most efficacious: it invigorates 
 the body politic, and forms and prepares, from every class of 
 society, useful and active members, to fill the most important 
 duties and stations of life. — Moir. — Ibid. 
 
 8 Ignorance is the bane of society ; it is the greatest foe 
 against which a nation has to contend — destroy its reign, and 
 a tyrant falls. Who is the midnight murderer? Who are the 
 disturbers of the peace ! Are they the well-instructed ? 
 Against whom is the strong hand of the magistrate uplifted ? 
 against the man who knows his duty ? No; but against him 
 whom ignorance has made brutish. 
 
 9 Where is the person that will plead for ignorance as for 
 virtue? Who will say that she is the mother of devotion; or 
 the source of subordination ? She is the mother of no good 
 thing. Bigotry and superstition are her offspring. She is 
 the parent of cruelty, and the nurse of crimes. 
 
 10 Read, in the history of the world, the effects of igno- 
 rance. The wandering Arab, the fierce and barbarous Indian, 
 are what they are from ignorance. England, when barbarous, 
 
236 
 
 was the abode of misery : every man's hand was lifted against 
 his neighbor. 
 
 11 That crimes diminish in proportion to the cultivation 
 of knowledge, has been already urged ; in addition to the 
 proofs before adduced, " In one of the protestant Cantons of 
 Switzerland, the people were so well instructed that the ex- 
 ecutioner was called upon to perform his hateful office but 
 once in the long space of twenty years ! Such are some of 
 the fruits of knowledge, which ripen into an immediate har- 
 vest, and amply repay the cultivator." — Report of the Com- 
 mittee of the " Stockpo7*t Sunday School." — Dr. Pole. 
 
 12 Happy are they, who, being disgusted with all violent 
 pleasures, know how to content themselves with the sweets 
 of an innocent life. Happy are they, who are diverted at the 
 same time that they are instructed, and please themselves by 
 enriching their minds with knowledge. 
 
 13 Wherever they may be thrown by adverse fortune, 
 they carry their own entertainment with them; and the un- 
 easiness which preys on others, even in the midst of their 
 pleasures is unknow r n to those who can employ themselves in 
 reading. Happy are they who love books, and are not de- 
 prived of them ! Telem. book ii. 
 
 14 Imagine that we had it in our power to call up the 
 shades of the greatest and wisest men that ever existed, and 
 oblige them to converse with us on the most interesting 
 topics ; what an inestimable privilege should we think it ! how 
 superior to all common enjoyments ! But in a well furnished 
 library, we, in fact, possess this power. 
 
 15 We can question Xenophon and Caesar on their cam- 
 paigns ; make Demosthenes and Cicero plead before us; join 
 in the audiences of Socrates and Plato; and receive demon- 
 strations from Euclid and Newton. In books we have the 
 choicest thoughts of the ablest men, in their best dress. We 
 can, at pleasure, exclude dulness and impertinence; and open 
 our doors to wit and good sense alone. 
 
 16 Without books, I have never been able to pass a single 
 day to my entire satisfaction: with them, no day has been so 
 dark as not to have its pleasures. Even pain and sickness 
 have for a time been charmed away by them. By the easy 
 provision of a book in my pocket, I have frequently worn 
 through long nights and days, in the most disagreeable parts 
 of my profession, with all the difference in my feelings be- 
 tween calm content and fretful impatience. — Dr. •ftikin's 
 Letters from a Father to a Son. 
 
.237 
 
 SECTION II. 
 Labor and exercise indispensable for health. 
 Pray for a sound mind in a sound body. — Juvenal. 
 
 1 Bodily labor is of two kinds, either that which a man 
 submits to for his livelihood; or that which he undergoes for 
 his pleasure. The latter of them generally changes the name 
 of labor for that of exercise, but differs only from ordinary 
 labor as it rises from another motive. A country life abounds 
 in both these kinds of labor, and for that reason gives a man 
 a greater stock of health, and consequently a more perfect 
 enjoyment of himself, than any other way of life. 
 
 2 I consider the body as a system of tubes and glands, or 
 to use a more rustic phrase, a bundle of pipes and strainers, 
 fitted to one another after so w r onderful a manner, as to make 
 a proper engine for the soul to work with. This description 
 does not only comprehend the bowels, bones, tendons, veins, 
 nerves, and arteries, but every muscle and every ligature, 
 which is a composition of fibres, that are so many impercep- 
 tible tubes or pipes interwoven on all sides with invisible 
 glands or strainers. 
 
 3 This general idea of a human body, without considering 
 it in its niceties of anatomy, let us see how absolutely ne- 
 cessary labor is for the right preservation of it. There must 
 be frequent motions and agitations, to mix, digest, and sepa- 
 rate the juices contained in it, as well as to clear and cleanse 
 that infinitude of pipes and Strainers of which it is composed, 
 and to give their solid parts a more firm and lasting tone. 
 Labor or exercise ferments the humors, casts them into their 
 proper channels, throws off redundancies, and helps nature 
 in those secret distributions, without which the body cannot 
 subsist in its vigor, nor the soul act with cheerfulness. 
 
 4 I might here mention the effects which this has upon m all 
 the faculties of the mind, by keeping the understanding clear, 
 the imagination untroubled, and refining those spirits that 
 are necessary for the proper exertion of our intellectual facul- 
 ties, during the present laws of union between soul and body. 
 It is to a neglect in this particular that we must ascribe the 
 spleen, which is so frequent in men of studious and seden- 
 tary tempers, as well as the vapors to which those of the 
 other sex are so often subject. 
 
 5 Had not exercise been so absolutely necessary for our 
 well being, nature would not have made the body so proper 
 for it, by giving such an activity to the limbs, and such a pli- 
 
238 
 ancy to every part, as necessarily produce those compres- 
 sions, extensions, contortions, dilations, and all other kinds 
 of motions that are necessary for the preservation of such a 
 system of tubes and glands as has been before mentioned. 
 
 6 And that we might not want inducements to engage us 
 in such an exercise of the body as is proper for its welfare, it 
 is so ordered, that nothing valuable can be procured without 
 it. Not to mention riches and honor, even food and raiment 
 are not to be come at without the toil of the hands and sweat 
 of the brows. 
 
 7 Providence furnishes materials, but expects that we 
 should work them up ourselves. The earth must be labored 
 before it gives its increase, and when it is forced into its seve- 
 ral products, how many hands must they pass through be- 
 fore they are fit for use ? Manufactures, trade, and agricul- 
 ture, naturally employ more than nineteen parts of the spe- 
 cies in twenty; and as for those who are not obliged to labor, 
 by the condition in which they ^re born, they are more mis- 
 erable than the rest of mankind, unless they indulge them- 
 selves in that voluntary labor which goes by the name of ex- 
 ercise. 
 
 8 There is no kind of exercise which I would so recom- 
 mend to my readers of both sexes as that of riding, as there 
 is none which so much conduces to health, and is every way 
 accommodated to the body, according to the idea which I 
 have given of it. Dr. Sydenham is very lavish in its praises; 
 and if the English reader will see the mechanical effects of it 
 described at length, he may find them in a book published not 
 many years since, under the title of Medicina Gymnastica. 
 
 9 For my own part when I am in town, for want of these 
 opportunities, I exercise myself an hour every morning upon 
 a dumb bell that is placed in a corner of my room, and pleases 
 me the more because it does every thing I require in the most 
 profound silence. My landlady and her daughters are so 
 well acquainted with my hours of exercise, that they never 
 come into my room to disturb me while I am ringing. 
 
 10 To conclude, as I am a compound of soul and body, I 
 consider myself as obliged to a double scheme of duties; and I 
 think I have not fulfilled the business of the day when I do 
 not thus employ the one in labor and exercise, as well as the 
 other in study and contemplation. 
 
 Spectator, No. 115. — Jlddison, 
 
239 
 
 SECTION III. 
 Exercise and temperance preserve health and prolong life. 
 
 Fools not to know that half exceeds the whole, 
 
 How blest the sparing meal and frugal bowl. — Hesiod. 
 
 1 There is a story in the Arabian Nights' Tales, of a king 
 who had long languished under an ill habit of body, and had 
 taken abundance of remedies to no purpose. At length, says 
 the fable, a physician cured him by the following method: he 
 took a hollow ball of wood, and filled it with several drugs ; 
 after which he closed it up so artificially that nothing appear- 
 ed. He likewise took a mall, and after having hollowed the 
 handle, and that part which strikes the ball, enclosed in them 
 several drugs after the same manner as in the ball itself. 
 
 2 He then ordered the sultan, who w r as his patient, to ex- 
 ercise himself early in the morning with these rightly pre- 
 pared instruments, till such time as he should sweat; when, as 
 the story goes, the virtue of the medicaments perspiring 
 through the wood, had so good an influence on the sultan's 
 constitution, that they cured him of an indisposition which 
 all the compositions he had taken inwardly had not been able 
 to remove. 
 
 3 This eastern allegory is finely contrived to show us how 
 beneficial bodily labor is to health, and that exercise is the 
 most effectual physic. I have described in my hundred and 
 fifteenth paper, from the general structure and mechanism of 
 a human body, how absolutely necessary exercise is for its 
 preservation ; I shall in this place recommend another great 
 preservative of health, which in many cases produces the same 
 effects as exercise, and may, in some measure, supply its, 
 place, where opportunities of exercise are wanting. 
 
 4 The preservative I am speaking of is Temperance, which 
 has those particular advantages above all other means of 
 health, that it may be practised by all ranks and conditions, 
 at any season, or in any place. It is a kind of regimen into 
 which every man may put himself without interruption to 
 business, expense of money, or loss of time. 
 
 5 If exercise throws off all superfluities, temperance pre- 
 vents them : if exercise raises proper ferments in the humors, 
 and promotes the circulation of the blood, temperance gives 
 nature her full play, and enables her to exert herself in all her 
 force and vigor: if exercise dissipates a growing distemper, 
 temperance starves it. 
 
 6 Physic, for the most part, is nothing else but the substi- 
 
240 
 
 tute of exercise or temperance. Medicines are indeed abso- 
 lutely necessary in acute distempers ; that cannot wait the 
 slow operations of these two great instruments of health: but 
 did men live in a habitual course of exercise and temper- 
 ance, there / would be but little occasion for them. Accord- 
 ingly we find that those parts of the world are the most 
 healthy, w^here they subsist by the chase; and that men lived 
 longest when their lives were employed in hunting, and w r hen 
 they had little food besides what they caught. 
 
 7 Blistering, cupping, bleeding, are seldom of use to any 
 but to the idle and intemperate ; as all those inward applica- 
 tions, which are so much in practice among us, are, for the 
 most part, nothing else but expedients to make luxury con- 
 sistent with health. The*apothecary is perpetually employed 
 in countermining the cook and the vintner. It is said of 
 Diogenes, that meeting a young man who was going to a feast, 
 he took him up in the street, and carried him home to his 
 friends, as one who was running into imminent danger, had 
 he not prevented him. 
 
 8 What would that philosopher have said, had he been pre- 
 sent at the gluttony of a modern meal ? Would not he have 
 thought the master of a family mad, and had begged his servant 
 to tie down his hands, had he seen him devour fowl, fish, and 
 flesh; swallow oil and vinegar, wines and spices; throw down 
 salads of twenty different herbs, sauces of a hundred ingredi- 
 ents, confections and fruits of numberless sweets and flavors. 
 
 9 What unnatural motions and counter-ferments must such 
 a medley of intemperance produce in the body! For my part, 
 when I behold a fashionable table set out in all its magnifi- 
 cence, I fancy that I see gouts and dropsies, fevers and'lethar- 
 gies, with other innumerable distempers, lying in ambuscade 
 among the dishes. 
 
 10 Nature delights in the most plain and simple diet. 
 Every animal, but man, keeps to one dish. Herbs are the 
 food of this species, fish of that, and flesh of a third. Man 
 falls upon every thing that comes in his way; not the smallest 
 fruit or excrescence of the earth, scarce a berry, or a mush- 
 room, can escape him. 
 
 11 It is impossible to lay down any determinate rule for 
 temperance, because what is luxury in one may be temper- 
 ance in another ; but there are few that have lived any time 
 in the world, w r ho are not judges of their own constitutions, 
 so far as to know what kinds and what proportions of food do 
 best agree with them. 
 
241 
 
 12 Were I to consider my readers as my patients, and to 
 prescribe such a kind of temperance as is accommodated to 
 all persons, and such as is particularly suitable to our climate 
 and way of living, I would copy the following rules of a very 
 eminent physician. Make your whole repast out of one dish. 
 If you indulge in a second, avoid drinking any thing strong 
 till you have finished your meal: at the same time abstain from 
 all sauces, or at least such as are not the most plain and simple. 
 
 13 It is observed by two or three ancient authors, that 
 Socrates, notwithstanding he lived in Athens during that 
 great plague, which has made so much noise through all ages, 
 and has been celebrated at different times by such eminent 
 hands; I say, notwithstanding that he lived- in the time of 
 this devouring pestilence, he never caught the least infection, 
 which those writers unanimously ascribe to that uninterrupt- 
 ed temperance which he always observed. 
 
 14 And here I cannot but mention an observation which I 
 have often made, upon reading the lives of the philosophers, 
 and comparing them with any series of kings or great men 
 of the same number. If we consider these ancient sages, a 
 great part of whose philosophy consisted in a temperate and 
 abstemious course of life, one would think the life of a phi- 
 losopher and the life of a man were of two different dates. 
 For we find, that the generality of these w T ise men were nearer 
 a hundred than sixty years of age at the time of their re- 
 spective deaths. 
 
 15 But the most remarkable instance of the efficacy of tem- 
 perance towards the procuring of long life, is what we meet 
 with in a little book published by Lewis Cornaro, the Vene- 
 tian; which I the rather mention, because it is of undoubted 
 credit, as the late Venetian ambassador, who was of the same 
 family, attested more than once in conversation, when he 
 resided in England. 
 
 16 Cornaro, who was the author of the little treatise I am 
 mentioning, was of an infirm constitution, till about forty, 
 when, by obstinately persisting in an exact course of tem- 
 perance, he recovered a perfect state of health; insomuch that 
 at fourscore he published his book, which has been translated 
 into English, under the title of Siwe and Certain Methods 
 of attaining a Long and Healthy Life. 
 
 17 He lived to give a third or fourth edition of it, and af- 
 ter having passed his hundredth year, died without pain or 
 agony, and like one who falls asleep. The treatise I men- 
 tion has been taken notice of by several eminent authors, and 
 
 X 
 
242 
 is written with such a spirit of cheerfulness, religion, and 
 good sense, as are the natural concomitants of temperance 
 and sobriety. The mixture of the old man in it is rather & 
 recommendation than a discredit to it. 
 
 18 Having designed this paper as the sequel to that upon 
 exercise, I have not here considered temperance as it is & 
 moral virtue, which I shall make the subject of a future spec- 
 ulation, but only as it is the means of health. 
 
 Spectator, No. 195. — Addison. 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 Extracts from Dr. Belknap's address to the inhabitants 
 
 of New-Hampshire, at the close of his history of that 
 
 state. 
 Citizens of New-Hampshire, 
 
 1 Having spent above twenty years of my life with you, 
 and past through various scenes of peace and w r ar within 
 that time, being personally acquainted with many of you, both 
 in your public and private characters; and having an earnest 
 desire to promote your true interest, I trust you will not think 
 me altogether unqualified to give you a few hints by way of 
 advice. 
 
 2 You are oertainly a rising state ; your numbers are rap- 
 idly increasing; and your importance in the political scale 
 will be augmented, in proportion to your improving the 
 natural advantages which your situation affords you, and to 
 your cultivating the intellectual and moral powers of your- 
 selves and your children. 
 
 3 The first article on which I would open my mind to you 
 is that of education. Nature has been as bountiful to you as 
 to any other people, in giving your children genius and ca- 
 pacity; it is then your duty and your interest to cultivate 
 their capacities, and render them serviceable to themselves 
 and the community. 
 
 4 It was the saying of a great orator and statesman of an- 
 tiquity, that " the loss which the commonwealth sustains, by 
 a want of education, is like the loss which the year would 
 suffer by the destruction of the spring." 
 
 5 If the bud be blasted, the tree will yield no fruit. If the 
 springing corn be cut down, there will be no harvest. So if 
 the youth be ruined through a fault in their education, the 
 community sustains a loss which cannot be repaired; " for it 
 is too late to correct them when they are spoiled." 
 
 6. Notwithstanding the care of your legislators in enacting 
 
243 
 
 laws and enforcing them by severe penalties; notwithstand 
 ing the wise and liberal provisions which is made by some 
 towns, and some private gentlemen in the state; yet there 
 is still, in many places, " a great and criminal neglect of 
 education." 
 
 7 You are indeed a very considerable degree better, in this 
 respect, than in the time of the late war; but yet much re- 
 mains to be done. Great care ought to be taken, not only to 
 provide a support for instructors of children and youth; but 
 to be attentive in the choice of instructors; to see that they be 
 men of good understanding, learning and morals; that they 
 teach by their example as well as by their precepts; that they 
 govern themselves and teach their pupils the art of self- 
 government. 
 
 8 Another source of improvement, ^vhich I beg leave to 
 recommend, is the establishment of social libraries. This is 
 the easiest, the cheapest and most effectual mode of diffusing 
 knowledge among the people. For the sum of six or eight 
 dollars at once, and a small annual payment besides, a man 
 may be supplied with the means of literary improvement, 
 during his life, and his children may inherit the blessing. 
 
 9 A few neighbors joined together in setting up a library, 
 and placing it under the care of some suitable person, with 
 a very few regulations, to prevent carelessness and waste, 
 may render the most essential service to themselves and to 
 the community. 
 
 10 Books may be much better preserved in this way, than 
 if they belonged to individuals; and there is an advantage in 
 the social intercourse of persons who have read tme 
 books, by their conversing on the subjects which have occur- 
 red in their reading, and communicating their observations 
 one to another. 
 
 1 1 From this mutual intercourse, another advantage may 
 arise; for the persons who are thus associated may not only 
 acquire, but originate knowledge. By studying nature ana 
 the sciences ; by practising arts, agriculture and manufac- 
 tures, at the same time that theyimprove their minds in read- 
 ing, they may be led to discoveries and improvements, ori- 
 ginal and beneficial; and being already formed into society, 
 they may diffuse their knowledge, ripen their plans, correct 
 their mistakes, and promote the cause of science and human- 
 ity in a very considerable degree. 
 
 12 The book of nature is always open to our view, and we 
 may study it at our leisure. " 'Tis elder scripture, writ by 
 
244 
 
 God's own hand." The earth, the air, the sea, the rivers, the 
 mountains, the rocks, the caverns, the animal and vegetable 
 tribes, are fraught with instruction. Nature is not half ex- 
 plored: and in what is partly known there are many myste- 
 ries, which time, observation and experience must unfold. 
 
 13 Every social library, among other books, should be 
 furnished with those of natural philosophy, botany, zoology, 
 chymistry, husbandry, geography and astronomy: that in- 
 quiring minds may be directed in their inquiries; that they 
 may see what is known, and what still remains to be discov- 
 ered; and that they may employ their leisure and their va- 
 rious opportunities in endeavoring to add to the stock of 
 science, and thus enrich the world with their observations 
 and improvements. 
 
 14 Suffer me to add a few words on the use of spirit ous 
 liquor, that bane of society, that destroyer of health, morals 
 and property. Nature indeed has furnished her vegetable 
 productions with spirit; but she has so combined it with other 
 substances, that unless her work be tortured by fire, the spirit 
 is not separated, and cannot prove pernicious. Why should 
 this force be put on nature, to make her yield a noxious 
 draught, from materials which in their original state are salu- 
 tary ? 
 
 15 The juice of the apple, the fermentations of barley, and 
 decoction of spruce, are amply sufficient for the refreshment 
 of man, let his labor be ever so severe, and his perspiration 
 ever so expensive. Our forefathers, for many years after the 
 settlement of the country, knew not the use of distilled spirits. 
 
 16 Malt was imported from England, and wine from the 
 Western or Canary Islands, with which they were refreshed, 
 before their own fields and orchards yielded them a supply. 
 An expedition was once undertaken against a nation of In- 
 dians, when there was but one pint of strong water (as it was 
 then called) in the whole army, and that was reserved for the 
 sick; yet no complaint was made for want of refreshment. 
 
 17 Could we but return to the primitive manners of our 
 ancestors, in this respect, we should be free from many of the 
 disorders, both of body and mind, which are now experi- 
 enced. The disuse of ardent spirits would also tend to abol- 
 ish the infamous traffic of slaves, by whose labor this baneful 
 material is procured. 
 
 18 Were I to form a picture bf happy society, it would be 
 a town consisting of a due mixture of hills, vallies, and 
 streams of water. The land well fenced and cultivated; the 
 
245 
 
 roads and bridges in good repair; a decent inn for the re- 
 freshment of travellers, and for public entertainments. The 
 inhabitants mostly husbandmen; their wives and daughters 
 domestic manufacturers; a suitable proportion of handicraft 
 workmen, and two or three traders; a physician and a law- 
 yer, each of whom should have a farm for his support. 
 
 \9 A clergyman, of good understanding, of a candid dis- 
 position and exemplary morals; not a metaphysical, nor a 
 polemic, but a serious and practical preacher. A schoolmas- 
 ter who should understand his business, and teach his pupils 
 to govern themselves. A social library, annually increasing, 
 and under good regulation. 
 
 20 A club of sensible men, seeking mutual improvement, 
 a decent musical society. No intriguing politician, horse- 
 jockey, gambler or sot; but all such characters treated with 
 contempt. Such a situation may be considered as the most fa- 
 vorable to social happiness of any which this world can afford. 
 
 SECTION V. 
 
 Dialogue between Mrs. Careless and Mrs. Friendly, upon 
 
 female education. 
 
 Mrs. Careless. Good morning, my dear Mrs. Friendly. I 
 came to request your company in a walk; but I see you are 
 engaged with a book; pray what is it ? 
 
 Mrs. Friendly. It is a treatise on female education, which 
 pleases me much, and will, with domestic avocations, deprive 
 me of the pleasure of walking with you this morning. 
 
 Mrs. Care. And what have you to do with treatises on 
 education? I seldom read any thing, and never books of that 
 kind. I should as soon think of plodding through a volume 
 of old sermons. 
 
 Mrs. Fr. I assure you I consider the education of youth, 
 females in particular, to be a matter of the first importance; 
 and I take great pleasure in reading the observations of inge- 
 nious writers on the subject. I have children, in whose wel- 
 fare, I need not tell you, I am deeply interested; and their 
 happiness or misery, their honor or infamy, entirely depend, 
 in my opinion, on the principles and habits they acquire in 
 youth, whilst the mind is tender, and the voice of instruction 
 sinks deep. 
 
 Mrs. Care. But cannot children be educated, unless their 
 parents read books on the subject ? 
 
 Mrs. Fr. Certainly they can, if their parents are them- 
 selves qualified for the task. But I find it a difficult and 
 X2 
 
246 
 
 delicate business, and therefore I have recourse to the wise 
 and experienced for assistance in conducting it. 
 
 Mrs. Care. The assistance of the dancing, music, and 
 drawing master is all I require for my children. They shall 
 indeed know something of reading, writing and needlework; 
 but to give them a polite education, and make them accom- 
 plished, is my aim. 
 
 Mrs. Fr. I fear, my dear Mrs. Careless, you do not dis- 
 tinguish the advantages, which arise from a useful rather than 
 a polite education ; since you speak with so much indifFer 
 ence of the former, and with such raptures of the latter. 
 
 Mrs. Care. Pray what are the mighty advantages of edu- 
 cating children in what you style a useful manner? I never 
 yet saw them. 
 
 Mrs. Fr. Then you are no very strict observer. (I beg 
 your pardon for speaking thus freely.) But surely each day- 
 brings instances of its advantages; and each day shows the 
 mischief of a contrary mode. The kind of education I men- 
 tion is that which tends to give females well regulated minds 
 and agreeable manners ; and render them beloved, esteemed 
 and admired. For it is by no means necessary in order to 
 this, that a young lady should be mistress of all polite accom- 
 plishments. They often belong to some of the most dis- 
 gusting and insignificant of the sex. No, let parents form the 
 growing mind to virtue, religion, and the calm pleasures of 
 domestic life; at the same time endeavoring that cheerful- 
 ness play round the heart, and innocent gaiety enliven the be- 
 haviour. Let the habit of self government be early produced ; 
 for all the world conspiring cannot make a woman happy 
 who does not govern her passions. Let the first appearance 
 of stubbornness in them be checked and resisted; and let 
 them be taught cheerfully to deny themselves every object of 
 desire, inconsistent with reason, prudence or virtue. Thus 
 cultured, their tempers will be sweet and placid, and their 
 manners gentle and engaging. If they are put under the care 
 of tutors abroad, they will not be unteachable and refractory; 
 and the presence of their parents will not be necessary to 
 make them behave with discretion and propriety.* 
 
 * Instruction is re-productive, ad infinitum; and the domestic station 
 of females gives {hem the best opportunity of transmitting virtuous, senti- 
 ments to future generations. The beautiful sentiment expressed in the 
 following* extract from the letter of the Corresponding Secretary of the 
 American Academy of Languages and Belles Letters, William S. Cardell, 
 Esq. to Gov. Robertson, of Louisiana, deserves to be cordially cherished 
 
247 
 
 Mrs. Care. Well, after their minds are thus taken care of, 
 how would you have them further accomplished ? 
 
 Mrs. Fr. They should be well versed in reading, writing, 
 arithmetic, and English grammar. If their natural genius 
 strongly led them to poetry, painting, or music, and easy 
 fortune admitted, it should be indulged and cultivated, but 
 by no means to such a degree as to interrupt or supersede 
 domestic employments. For these require attention in a 
 greater or less degree from every woman ; and unless she 
 understand and discharge them according to her circumstan- 
 ces, she is contemptible and useless. 
 
 Mrs. Care. Fine accomplishments, truly ! a perfect skill 
 in handling the broom and duster ! Mrs. Friendly, if you 
 educate your children in this way, they will be ruined ; they 
 will be strangers to the charms of dancing, dress and com- 
 pany. The graces will never condescend to adorn those who 
 are accustomed to the kitchen. 
 
 Mrs. Fr. My friend, I have no objection to dancing, dress 
 and company, when they form not the chief object of solici- 
 tude and attention, and are cultivated merely as the recrea- 
 tion and ornaments of life, and not as the business and end 
 of it. Be assured, a well furnished mind, a well governed 
 temper, love of domestic pleasures, and an inclination and 
 capacity to pursue domestic employments, are the first requi- 
 sites in a woman, and the foundation of her respectability 
 and enjoyment. Without these, though her graceful mien 
 and dancing charm every eye, and her music be sweeter than 
 the harp of Orpheus, she must be unhappy in herself, and a 
 vexation and torment to her friends. Let us view a person 
 educated in the school of dissipation, and furnished with 
 merely polite accomplishments. Engrossed by the desire of 
 leading a life of amusement before she can even spell a sen- 
 tence, and unfurnished with just sentiments and industrious 
 habits, she is sent to the dancing academy that her manners 
 may become graceful. Here she sees gayer dresses than her 
 own, which inflame with vanity and envy her giddy, unoc- 
 cupied mind. She is determined to be outdone by none in 
 elegance. She disputes with mamma about fashions and fine 
 clothes ; and if her extravagant desires are not indulged, 
 murmurs and repines at her cruel fate ; becomes confirmed 
 
 by every daughter of Columbia, as a more precious gem than any metal- 
 lic or stony jewel that ever decorated the head or finger of a queen- 
 44 We seldom fail of seeing a superior family of children, where an inteV= 
 ligent and virtuous mother is tha teacher. w — Comp. 
 
248 
 
 in the detestable habit of fretting ; and knows not content but 
 by the name. A fondness for those phantoms which lure to 
 ruin called pleasures, and a passion for show and parade, which 
 perhaps through life she can never indulge, gain entire pos- 
 / session of her heart. All her joys are in gay parties and as- 
 semblies, where, like the butterfly of summer, she pleases by 
 the brilliance of her colors only ; which however, is no sooner 
 familiar to the eye, than it is beheld with indifference ; yet 
 alas! this is all the attraction which this child of vanity can 
 boast. Maturer years steal on ; her mind is so uncultivated 
 that she is incapable of the rational pleasures of thinking and 
 conversation ; her love of dissipation and amusement grows 
 with her growth ; she sighs for new pleasures, but alas! she 
 has so often travelled the circle, that their novelty is destroy- 
 ed. With all her apparent gaiety, she is probably more 
 wretched than the miscreant who begs the morsel that sus- 
 tains his being. If she be ever placed at the head of a family, 
 she disgusts her husband, neglects her children, and order, 
 peace and industry are strangers in her house. Her company 
 is ever uninteresting or disagreeable, her name is synonymous 
 with folly, and her memory is lost with her life. 
 
 Mrs. Care. What a picture, my dear Mrs. Friendly, have 
 you drawn! I turn from it with horror. I assure you^ my 
 chief care shall be to form my children to reflection, self- 
 government and industry; and they and I shall have reason to 
 rejoice in the change you have made in my sentiments. 
 
 Mrs. Fr. I rejoice to hear you express yourself in such a 
 -manner. Believe me, when I say, the best fortune which 
 can be bestowed on a child is a good education. It secures 
 her honor and happiness through life, whatever be her station; 
 and it leads her to the exercise of those noble and virtuous dis- 
 positions which are an indispensable preparation for the en- 
 joyments of the future state. — American Preceptor. 
 
 SECTION VI. 
 
 Extracts from the remarks of Mr. White, in Congress, on 
 the 12 th of February 1823, on offering a resolution in 
 favor of establishing a permanent increasing fund, 
 from the sales of the public lands, for the promotion 
 of education. 
 
 MR. SPEAKER, 
 
 1 Of all the subjtects worthy the consideration of a repub- 
 lican government, education is of the first and highest im- 
 portance. Education is to the republican body politic, w r hat 
 
249 
 
 vital air is to the natural body, necessary to its very eoois- 
 tence; without which, it would sicken, droop, and die. 
 
 2 The republican institutions of this country are bottomed 
 upon the virtue and intelligence of the people, and on the 
 maintenance and preservation of that foundation, will their 
 perpetuity depend. Let the great body of the people be well 
 informed, and their moral character preserved, they will know 
 and understand their rights and privileges ; a correct moral 
 principle, will always prompt them to a faithful performance 
 of civil and social duties, which will, inevitably, ensure the 
 enjoyment of those rights and privileges. 
 
 3 As a matter of policy, education is the first great na- 
 tional interest, to which a republican government ought to 
 lend their support. Keep the great body of the people vir- 
 tuous and well informed, and the penal laws on your statute- 
 book will, in a great measure, become obsolete and a dead 
 letter ; corporeal punishment will scarcely be known in our 
 land. It is certainly safer and easier, by the seasonable ad- 
 ministration of gentle preventives, to ward off a disease from 
 the natural body, than to be compelled to eradicate the dis- 
 order when introduced and seated in the system. 
 
 4 So with the body politic, it is safer, wiser, and less ex- 
 pensive, by good and wholesome regulations, to preserve the 
 virtue and intelligence of the people, and thereby prevent 
 the introduction of erime and moral disease, than when they 
 are once introduced, to be compelled to use harsh and severe 
 measures to root them out. 
 
 5 One hundred dollars, judiciously laid out in the eduea* 
 tion of youth, would go further in the maintenance and sup- 
 port of a free government, and in promoting the prosperity 
 and happiness of the people, than thousands expended in 
 enacting criminal codes, establishing courts of judicature, 
 jails, and penitentiaries, without education. 
 
 6 In this country, government was not established for the 
 benefit and aggrandizement of the few, to the oppression 
 and degradation of the many, as is the case in most other 
 countries ; but for the promotion of the prosperity and hap- 
 piness of all. The government of this country, sir, must 
 depend on, and be regulated by, public opinion, or the sen- 
 timents of the people. Whilst they are virtuous and en- 
 lightened, all is well ; but should they become ignorant, and 
 their moral sense depraved, all is gone. 
 
 7 It would not be possible for the government of this 
 country to establish, and successfully maintain, any course of 
 
250 
 
 measures, however wise and salutary, contrary to the senti- 
 ments of the great body of the people : Hence, the necessity 
 of general information, and the diffusion of correct moral 
 sentiments, throughout all classes of the community. Here, 
 the people are the legitimate source of all power and author- 
 ity: hence, the necessity of preserving the purity of that 
 fountain, that the streams that flow therefrom, may be pure. 
 
 8 " Vox populi, vox Dei"* is a true maxim, when applied 
 to a virtuous and enlightened people, and when their expres- 
 sion flows from a fair and deliberate consideration of the sub- 
 ject matter, of such expression ; but when applied to an ig- 
 norant and depraved people, it is false and dangerous in the 
 extreme. It may be said, sir, that the constitution is the will 
 of the people fairly expressed, by which the government are 
 bound to abide; be it so: but should the great body of the peo- 
 ple become ignorant and corrupt, they might, by constitu- 
 tional provisions, deface the brightest features, and annul and 
 revoke the surest guarantees of that sacred instrument : all, 
 all, depends on the virtue and intelligence of the people. 
 
 9 Much has been said, on former occasions, with respect 
 to the enemies of this country. Ignorance and vice, sir, are 
 the natural enemies of this and every republic on earth ; let 
 these, with their mother idleness, together with their cousins 
 german, profusion and extravagance, be expelled your bor- 
 ders, and fortify the minds of all your citizens, with know- 
 ledge and virtue : these are the legitimate fortifications of a 
 republic. 
 
 10 Knowledge and virtue, generally diffused, throughout 
 all classes of community, will preserve, in its purity, the 
 elective franchise, a virtuous and enlightened people, unin- 
 fluenced by any improper excitement, will uniformly select 
 their wisest and best men for office. 
 
 1 1 Much has been said and written by great and good 
 men, with respect to the importance of the people of this 
 country, forming a national character. The military and 
 naval character of this country, I trust, is now not a whit be- 
 hind the chiefest : and a general diffusion of knowledge and 
 virtue, would soon add, a moral and literary character to this 
 nation, more uniform and glorious, than ever adorned any 
 nation of ancient or modern date. Knowledge and virtue, 
 may be considered, sir, as the solid resources of the nation : 
 they will provide for the payment of your public debt, and 
 
 * The voice of the people is the voice of God. 
 
251 
 
 will sustain every expense compatible with the honor, dig 
 nity, prosperity, and happiness of the nation. 
 
 12 These, sir, are treasures, with which millions, nay, 
 with which all the riches of Potosi, and all the treasures of 
 Golconda will not bear a comparison. Finally, sir, virtue 
 and intelligence, are the two great pillars, on which rests 
 your republican edifice, the ark of your political safety, which 
 was projected by superior wisdom, and erected by the purest 
 patriotism ; the materials of which were bought with the 
 choicest blood that ever besprinkled the altar of liberty; and 
 unless these pillars are constantly kept, well propped and 
 guarded, your fair fabric, which stands without a parallel in 
 the history of nations, and the admiration of the civilized 
 world, will totter — -fall — and crumble to ruins. 
 
 SECTION VII. 
 
 Importance of general information, in popular Govern- 
 ments: — Extracts of a letter from the Hon. James 
 Madison, addressed to the chairman of the school com- 
 
 " mittee of the legislature of Kentucky, dated MonU 
 pelier, August, 4, 1822. 
 
 1 The liberal appropriations made by the legislature of 
 Kentucky, for a general system of education, cannot be too 
 much applauded. A popular government without popular 
 information, or the means of acquiring it, is but a prologue 
 to a farce or a tragedy, or perhaps both. Knowledge will 
 ever govern ignorance ; and a people who mean to be their 
 own governors, must arm themselves with the power which 
 knowledge gives. 
 
 2 Throughout the civilized world, nations are courting the 
 praise of fostering science and the useful arts ; and are open- 
 ing their eyes to the principles and the blessings of repre- 
 sentative government. The American people owe it to 
 themselves, and to the cause of free government, to prove 
 by their establishments for the advancement and diffusion of 
 knowledge, that their political institutions which are attract- 
 ing observation from every quarter, are as favorable to the 
 intellectual and moral improvement of man, as they are con- 
 formable to his individual and social rights. What spectacle 
 can be more edifying or more seasonable, than that of liber- 
 ty and learning, each leaning on the other for their mutual 
 and surest support ? 
 
 3 I know not that I can offer, on the occasion, any sug- 
 gestion not likely to occur to the committee. Were I to 
 
252 
 
 lazard one, it would be in favor of adding to reading, writing 
 and arithmetic, to which the instruction of the poor is com- 
 monly limited, some knowledge of geography, such as can ea- 
 sily be conveyed by a globe and map, and a concise geographi- 
 cal grammar. And how easily and quickly might a general 
 idea even be conveyed of the solar system, by the aid of a 
 planetarium of the cheapest construction. 
 
 4 No information seems better calculated to expand the 
 mind and gratify curiosity ? than what would thus be impart- 
 ed. This is especially the case with what relates to the globe 
 we inhabit, the nations among which it is divided, and the 
 characters and customs which distinguish them. An acquaint- 
 ance with foreign countries, in this mode, has a kindred ef- 
 fect with that of seeing them as travellers : which never fails, 
 in uncorrupted minds, to weaken local prejudices, and en- 
 large the sphere of benevolent feelings. 
 
 5 A knowledge of the globe, and its various inhabitants, 
 however slight, might moreover create a taste for books of 
 travels and voyages ; out of which might grow a general taste 
 for history, an inexhaustible fund of entertainment and in- 
 struction. Any reading not of a vicious species, must be a 
 good substitute for the amusements too apt to fill up the 
 leisure of the labouring classes. 
 
 SECTION VIII. 
 Prospects of America: — -from the address of Jonathan 
 Roberts, Esq. President of the Pennsylvania Agricul- 
 tural Society, delivered at their first annual Exhibition, 
 October ', 1823. 
 
 1 It is impossible to survey the progress of human affairs, 
 without being devoutly impressed with the wisdom and be- 
 neficence of the Creator in opening to man endless hopes of 
 improvement. What wonderful ameliorations of his condi- 
 tion do we find through that period to which history ex- 
 tends ? 
 
 2 What clearer demonstration can be required, that further 
 and higher improvements are to him attainable ? How short 
 a time since this extensive and flourishing republic was over- 
 run by a few hordes of wretched savages, who existed in a 
 state little advanced above the irrational creation. 
 
 3 Our ancestors were permitted to bring with them to these 
 newly found shores, the civilization of thirty centuries: and 
 to leave very many of the errors and vices handed down from 
 darker periods, in the land of their fathers. They seem to 
 
have been led by one of those signal dispensations of Provi- 
 dence, which promise mighty blessings to the human family. 
 
 4 Though formidable obstacles were opposed, yet what 
 amazing results have a period of less than two centuries pro- 
 duced. It was not merely a wilderness, separated from the 
 civilized world by a watery expanse of a thousand leagues, that 
 was to be tamed and cultivated — the unjust restrictions of the 
 mother country were to be courageously resisted; even though 
 supported by tremendous power, and maintained with fero- 
 cious obstinacy. 
 
 5 Thanks to a kind Providence, a brighter prospect opens 
 on us. No soil seems left in which the seeds of future con- 
 flicts can vegetate. Our country is called upon to realize all 
 the philanthropist can wish or hope. 
 
 6 In establishing for themselves and their posterity the 
 rights of a separate and independent community, and in con- 
 secrating the fundamental principles of civil and religious 
 liberty as the corner stone of their polity, our fathers planted 
 the seeds from which we, their children, may hope to gather, 
 under the blessings of that Providence which has so eminently 
 watched over us, an abundant harvest of individual and so- 
 cial happiness. 
 
 7 It would be little reasonable to expect that the great re- 
 sults, which in the economy of Providence may be reserved 
 for this western world, should reach an early consummation. 
 The history of all times proves that moral advancements are 
 the more durable for having been gradually attained. Their 
 solidity, it would seem, was in the ratio of their march. 
 
 8 The cultivation of the youthful mind is the lever which 
 must raise individuals and communities — It is not the busi- 
 ness of a day to diffuse through a whole community a taste 
 for reading and a relish for knowledge. It must be the work 
 of time, under the influence of wise laws faithfully and dili- 
 gently administered. 
 
 9 A high state of moral improvement can justly be looked 
 for only when a people are happy — plenty is an essential in- 
 gredient in the elements of individual and social happiness. — 
 Among the pursuits promotive of public prosperity, the 
 cultivation of the soil, and rural industry, stand pre-eminent 
 It would be useless to insist upon a truth so obvious. 
 
 10 With us the rural population will ever be most nume- 
 rous. Though individually they may not be the most wealthy., 
 they must collectively be the possessors of the greater por- 
 tion of national wealth. In the community of public buiv 
 
 Y 
 
254 
 
 dens, they will ever sustain a full share. I claim for thern, 
 however, no extraordinary merit or virtue. 
 
 11 The tilling of the soil has every where been deemed 
 honorable, but the farmers of United America seem destined 
 to form a more respectable and more intelligent body of men 
 than those of any other country. Their numbers, and our 
 political institutions, secure to them much consideration — 
 Education is within their reach. They are invited to the 
 acquisition of knowledge. Intelligence and virtue are every 
 where secure of respect. 
 
 12 After a long period of calamity and carnage, suffering 
 humanity has demanded, not in vain, a pacificated world. A 
 state of peace has thrown nations very much upon their own 
 resources ; such is emphatically our attitude at present. We 
 must seek to produce those things at home, which we can ob- 
 tain no longer abroad on the principle of exchange, and 
 they are only so to be obtained without certain and speedy 
 ruin. It ought to be our felicity, that the resources of this 
 widely spread and growing empire are immense, and that 
 the energies of a free people may be directed to develope 
 them. 
 
 13 Our heretofore national prosperity has given us a taste 
 for productions which we must either seek to domesticate or 
 forego their use. Wine, silk and tea, may be named among 
 these conveniences. — Millions are annually exported and ex- 
 pended to obtain for us those articles. 
 
 14 Household industry comprehends an essential interest 
 in rural economy. It is the department in which the influ- 
 ence of that sex, to whom we are bound by the strongest ties 
 of love and gratitude, is most conspicuous — it is the scene 
 where the thrift, the ingenuity, the taste and intelligence of 
 woman, has full latitude of operation. 
 
 15 How many comforts — how T many enjoyments are accu- 
 mulated — how many endearments are secured, by raising her 
 to her proper elevation ! A community will be formed, re- 
 fined and happy, in proportion as woman is secure of respect. 
 Employment is ever the shield of innocence, and the nurse of 
 virtue. 
 
 16 In a farmer's house it is the besl maxim, to make what 
 you can, even when foreign commodities are most depressed. 
 Who would not prefer having their spinner, their dyer, their 
 clothier, for their neighbors, rather than in a foreign land ? 
 Independently of all interested considerations, we must de- 
 light to cultivate an interchange of kindnesses and mutual 
 
255 
 good offices. How much must life languish where they are 
 wanted ! 
 
 17 It is not in relation to the comforts of families only, that 
 household manufactures deserve high regard and considera- 
 tion: They are of essential importance to national prosperity. 
 The community whose time is the most carefully and usefully 
 employed, will be the most flourishing. Where there is no 
 household manufactures, much time will be consumed to lit- 
 tle purpose, and much expense must accrue, to purchase that 
 which is not produced. 
 
 IS The wealth sent abroad for foreign conveniences, as 
 things now are, will slowly, perhaps not at all, return. Thus 
 the nation will become impoverished. National penury must 
 militate against individual and domestic happiness. It is a 
 point of sound policy, to nourish a taste for household manu- 
 factures — It is for the ladies to facilitate and effect their es- 
 tablishment — Teach them it is for their country's good, and 
 they will do their duty. 
 
 SECTION IX. 
 Persuasive to early Piety and Moral Rectitude : — -from an 
 address delivered by Frederick Beasly, D. D. Provost 
 of the University of Pennsylvania, to the senior class 
 of the students, on the 22d of July, 1821. 
 
 MY YOUNG BRETHREN, 
 
 1 Your intentions, are, no doubt, at this time upright, and 
 all your views laudable. — The evil propensities and passions 
 which are common to your race, you must be presumed to 
 possess, but they have not yet gained the ascendency over 
 your better powers. If vicious inclinations have occasion- 
 ally transported you into excess, this excess has been speedi- 
 ly succeeded by remorse and penitence, which have operated 
 as an immediate corrective of such evil. 
 
 2 Whatever may have been the follies or vices, into 
 which you may have been hurried, habits of irregularity and 
 excess are not yet contracted, and evil propensities have not 
 subjected you to their dominion. From your commerce with 
 a corrupt world, and exposure to the allurements of its plea- 
 sures, and its temptations to dishonor, you have not yet relax- 
 ed your principles or tainted your morals. 
 
 3 If you are beginning to lisp the language of profanity, 
 a delicate and sensitive conscience gives you warning of the 
 outrage you are committing against God. If you have giv- 
 en way to the impulses of unbridled passions, the pangs of 
 
256 
 
 contrition have been their bitter fruits. At the prospect of 
 shame, dishonor and infamy, your spirits would shudder 
 within you. 
 
 4 Not only are you free, as yet. from the slavery of sin- 
 ful passions, but the virtuous principles of your constitution, 
 aided by the holy spirit of God, maintain a decided prepon- 
 derance over those which incline you to evil. Your heart 
 dilates with secret emulation and delight, when you hear 
 recounted any generous and noble deeds which have been 
 performed by others. Your moral feelings are alive to all 
 the claims of duty. 
 
 5 The doctrines of the gospel interest and touch your 
 heart, while its moral precepts recommend themselves by an 
 irresistible evidence to your understandings. You cannot 
 walk abroad and contemplate the wonders of creation, with- 
 out feeling a sacred glow of gratitude and love to their be- 
 neficent Author. 
 
 6 Such, at this time, my young brethren, in all probabili- 
 ty, is your moral condition, and such are your views, feel- 
 ings and principles of action. It is a happy and most pre- 
 cious moment of your lives, could you but be rendered sensi- 
 ble of its full importance. This is to you emphatically the 
 accepted time, this is the day of salvation. 
 
 7 From the days of infancy to those of boyhood, and from 
 those of boyhood to those of youth, no determinate plans 
 are formed, and scarcely ever any definite character impress- 
 ed upon the mind. — Through this portion of the journey of 
 life, almost all of us pass with equal thoughtlessness and fri- 
 volity, and when arrived at youth find ourselves at the same 
 stage and pursuing the same road. 
 
 8 Not so, however, when we have attained to youth and 
 manhood. From the moment in which you commence an 
 intercourse with the world on your own account, and mingle 
 amongst its actors, entering into its interests, its sympathies 
 and its conflicts, the paths in which you walk begin to diverge 
 from each other. Some of them will lead you to respecta- 
 bility, peace, honor, fame, immortality ; while others will 
 conduct you in a downward course to shame, disgrace, mise- 
 ry and everlasting contempt. 
 
 9 You stand, my young brethren, upon the point from 
 which this divergence begins. — Does it not infinitely con- 
 cern you to give heed to the steps which you shal 1 take next* 
 to pause seriously, reflect and deliberate before you precipi- 
 tate yourselves into unseen dangers, and begin to contest with 
 
257 
 
 enemies with whose strength and wiles you are unacquainted ? 
 
 10 Hitherto amidst the levity and heedlessness of younger 
 years, reflection and seriousness were more difficult to be at- 
 tained by you ; but it is now time, that you should be sus- 
 ceptible of the impressions of truth and duty, and should im- 
 bibe the lessons of wisdom and sobriety. 
 
 11 It is fearful to reflect upon the changes which often 
 take place in the fortunes and conditions of young men, im- 
 mediately after that period of life to which you have now 
 attained. How many opening prospects of youth are soon 
 clouded or sunk in perpetual night! How many hearts of 
 parents and friends are wrung with anguish at the sudden 
 disappointment of those hopes which they had long and fond- 
 ly cherished ! 
 
 12 You yourselves are entirely unapprised of the severi- 
 ty of that trial to which you must be subjected in making 
 your way through the world — what evil communications 
 will essay to corrupt your good manners. What blasphe- 
 mies and impieties will incessantly assail your ear and insin- 
 uate a secret poison into your hearts ! 
 
 1 3 And it is to be remarked as an awful admonition, on 
 this head, that the progress which our unruly appetites and 
 passions make towards subjecting us to their despotism, is im- 
 perceptible ; and that the demands which they make upon us 
 are increased by every indulgence which we grant them. 
 We are subjected to their yoke before we are aware ; and 
 then, of all the criminal desires, it may be truly said, that 
 increase of appetite doth grow by the very aliment they have 
 fed upon. 
 
 1 4 How precious, in this point of light, is the period of youth, 
 and how infinitely important the restraining influence of reli- 
 gion, to save it from the miseries it may bring upon itself! 
 
 15 My young brethren, you may now be awake to every 
 virtuous and noble sentiment, and susceptible of the tender- 
 est impressions of religion — and yet, a little familiarity with 
 scenes of guilt, may diminish your sensibility in this respect, 
 gradually harden your heart, and vitiate your thoughts and 
 principles of action. 
 
 16 Vice insidiously spreads its contamination through the 
 youthful mind; and when once it is deeply imbibed, where is 
 the antidote that shall check its fatal progress ? — What an im- 
 pressive lesson does this consideration teach you, to cultivate 
 an early piety, whieh is the only effectual expedient by which 
 vou shall be saved from the evils to come ! 
 
 Y2 
 
258 
 
 17 The next consideration which should lead you to seek 
 the grace of early piety, is, that it furnishes you with the 
 best provision for a long and happy life. 
 
 18 But if virtue has sometimes to encounter persecutions 
 and be tested by its trials, it never fails ultimately to contri- 
 bute to our welfare, and promote our true enjoyment. Vice, 
 on the other hand, by the tumult and inquietude which it 
 awakes in the bosom, never fails, not only to imbitter our 
 pleasures, but also to abridge the term of our present lives. 
 
 19 The wicked shall not live out half their days. — Intem- 
 perance, debauchery, avarice, inordinate ambition, revenge, 
 all the wild and lawless passions, hurry their victims to un- 
 timely graves. Do you not perceive that righteousness ex- 
 alteth to honor, but that sin sinketh down to shame ? Are 
 not the good, although not always, yet, for the most part, 
 the prosperous upon earth ? 
 
 20 Do they not find that while the name of the wicked is 
 allowed to rot in public estimation, a good name is to them 
 better than great riches, and loving favor than silver and 
 gold? 
 
 21 Their meekness and gentleness of disposition concili- 
 ate the esteem and affection of others, — their soft words ex- 
 tinguish wrath, — their patience and forbearance under pro- 
 vocations and injuries disarm resentment and revenge, — 
 their blameless lives and scrupulous integrity attract univer- 
 sal confidence, — their habitual intercourse with God, both 
 by internal and external acts of homage, purifies their minds 
 from all unholy desires, and quells the turbulence of unruly- 
 passions, while that ardent love of mankind which springs 
 out of the pure fountain of religion in the heart, prompts 
 them to those benevolent, humane and disinterested exer- 
 tions, which never fail to reward the performers of them 
 with the gratitude and attachment of their fellow-men. 
 
 SECTION X. 
 Selections from the first Message of Governor Thomas, 
 to the Legislature of fielaivare, Jan. 7, 1824. 
 1 I would earnestly press upon your attention the propri- 
 ety of adopting some plan, by which the means of educa- 
 tion may be accessible to every member of the community. 
 This is a subject of primary importance, and I trust it will 
 receive from you that serious consideration to which it is 
 justly entitled. The school fund is gradually increasing; 
 out if permitted to remain untouched, it would require at 
 
259 
 
 least twenty or thirty years before it would be sufficient to 
 carry instruction into every family. 
 
 2 If nursed with the most assiduous car£, one generation 
 must pass away before it would be productive of any bene- 
 fit to the community. In these portentous times, it seems 
 rather a hazardous experiment to permit one generation to 
 sleep in ignorance, in order that light and knowledge may 
 be extended in the succeeding. The best way to secure the 
 blessings of education to the next generation is to confer 
 them upon the present. 
 
 3 Ignorance cannot appreciate what it never enjoyed : they 
 alone who have been favored with the blessings of educa- 
 tion, can estimate them at their proper value ; and they alone 
 will be anxious to transmit them, unimpaired, to their 
 posterity. 
 
 4 If the rising generation is permitted to remain in igno- 
 rance, there is little security that the treasures you design 
 for their children w 7 ill not be directed into some other chan- 
 nel : but if we bestow upon the rising youth those benefits 
 which flow from virtue and knowledge, it seems a needless 
 apprehension to suppose that they will be less solicitous than 
 we are, to transmit to their descendants those blessings from 
 which they themselves have derived such sensible comforts. 
 
 5 I would, therefore, recommend to your consideration 
 the propriety of calling the school fund into active opera- 
 tion, and of supplying its deficiency to promote the object 
 for which it was originally designed, by a school tax. Such 
 a tax would be a blessing to the people, rather than a bur- 
 den, for it would tend to relieve them from the most intole- 
 rable of all burdens, the burden of immorality and ignorance. 
 
 6 In a country like ours, where all power, directly or in- 
 directly, flows from the people, it is a matter of astonishment 
 that the diffusion of knowledge and the extension of religion 
 and morality among the people were not the first object of 
 public patronage. Some of our sister states have wisely ex- 
 tended the arm of public protection over the education of 
 the poor. I trust that you will not be backward in following 
 this example. 
 
 7 No longer satisfied with passing laws to punish bad 
 habits, let us unite our efforts in the enactment of laws to 
 prevent their formation. If the fountain is permitted to re- 
 main open, it is a useless labor to throw barriers across the 
 stream. It is in vain that we swell our penal code, if every 
 rising generation is permitted to be raised in ignorance and 
 
260 
 
 vice. In vain do we boast of our elective franchise, and ot 
 our civil rights, if a large portion of our citizens are unable 
 to read the tickets which they annually present at the polls. 
 
 8 Some men may think themselves free, but in fact they 
 are slaves. Ignorance always has been, and always will be, 
 the slave of knowledge. If information is generally diffused 
 among a people, that people will always be their own mas- 
 ters — they will always govern. An enlightened people 
 never has been, and never can be, enslaved. But, if the door 
 of knowledge is closed upon the poor, who are always the 
 great mass of the people ; if education is confined to the 
 circles of the rich, the few will govern. 
 
 9 The people may, for a while, be flattered with the idea 
 thai they are free, and rest contented under the delusion ; 
 but this dream will vanish, and they will soon openly be 
 constrained to wear the chains which their own ignorance 
 forged. 
 
 10 The unhappy situation of foreign nations induces me, 
 thus urgently, to press upon you the subject of education. 
 What but ignorance, and its necessary accompaniment, vice, 
 have reared that disgusting spectacle of moral debasement 
 which Europe at present exhibits ? Sensible of the incom- 
 patibility between knowledge and slavery, the masters of 
 the old world have closed every avenue against the people, 
 and openly declared that a nation, to be kept in chains, must 
 be kept in ignorance. 
 
 11 The circulation of all books that advocate political 
 liberty and civil rights, has been suppressed, and the free- 
 dom of the press is totally destroyed. If we would avoid 
 these effects, let us avoid the cause. Human nature is the 
 same in every clime, and in the same circumstance with the 
 same causes pressing upon it, will always produce the same 
 effects. 
 
 12 Every page of history exposes to us the shoals upon 
 which other nations have shipwrecked their liberty, and the 
 present state of Europe dreadfully confirms the lesson. En- 
 lighten the people — open schools for the instruction of the 
 poor, and our liberty will be perpetual. But, if we close 
 our ears against the admonitions of history, and shut our 
 eyes against the light of experience, the fairest prospects 
 that ever opened upon the world will be blighted, and the 
 hopes of humanity, and the prayers of the pious, will be 
 fruitless and unavailing. 
 
 13 1 would also earnestly recommend to you the abolish- 
 
261 
 merit of imprisonment for debt. That a practice so obviously- 
 opposed to every principle of justice and humanity, should, 
 in an age like this, still remain sanctioned by the laws of the 
 land, is truly a matter of surprise and regret. It is a source 
 of pleasure, to observe the attention of some of our sister 
 states awakening to this subject. It is worthy of our serious 
 consideration, whether upon this subject also we will linger 
 behind the age, and still refuse to do homage to the spirit of 
 improvement that is moving over our land. 
 
 14 Pecuniary embarrassments are seldom the result of moral 
 turpitude: They most frequently flow from causes to which 
 the honorable and upright are equally exposed with the 
 worthless; and against which, often, no human prudence can 
 guard. Your own observation will warrant me in the asser- 
 tion that ninety-nine debtors out of a hundred are such from 
 improvidence or misfortune. 
 
 15 It is difficult to perceive why, in the case of the debtor, 
 the benign maxim of the criminal law should be reversed, 
 and that ninety-nine innocent persons should be forced to 
 suffer, rather than one guilty person should escape. Our 
 law relative to debtors is unjust, for innocence and guilt are 
 treated with indiscriminating severity, — It is inhuman, for 
 neither the weakness of woman, nor the helplessness of age 
 is secure from its operation,— it is partial, for it exempts the 
 rich, and falls exclusively upon the poor. 
 
 16 To imprison for debt, is, in effect, to tax our virtues for 
 the gratification of our vices. It seems calculated to pro- 
 mote no good end. If a debtor has property and is honest, 
 the law is useless : if he has property and is a rogue, no law 
 will be of any service: — but if he has really no property, the 
 law is not only useless, but oppressive and cruel. 
 
 17 The unhappy debtor, by being thus deprived of his per- 
 sonal liberty, is deprived of the only means left him of dis- 
 charging his debts. His only prospect, perhaps, is his labor, 
 and his personal attention to business. This prospect im- 
 prisonment destroys; — and it has often happened that large 
 families, whose daily subsistence depended upon the personal 
 labor and attention of their head, have thus by being depriv- 
 ed of that head, by an unfeeling creditor, been scattered and 
 thrown upon the charity of the public. The many exhibi- 
 tions of hardship which the prisons of our country frequently 
 present, will, it is confidently hoped, quicken your attention 
 to this subject 
 
2m 
 
 SECTION XI. 
 Early rising conducive to health and longevity. 
 
 1 The first sensation of drowsiness is nature's call for 
 sleep. Waking shows the body is rested. After the degree 
 of strength, of which the state of the system is capable, is 
 restored by sleep, longer stay in bed only relaxes. He per- 
 verts reason, who, by habit or artificial excitement, keeps 
 awake so late that he is not ready to rise at daybreak, nature's 
 undoubted signal for quitting repose, obedience to w T hich se- 
 cures desire of rest at the fit hour. Some people close their 
 shutters against it. 
 
 2 George III. consulted his household physicians, separate- 
 ly, as to the modes of life conducive to health and longevity; 
 as to the importance of early rising, there was full coinci- 
 dence. Old people, examined as to the cause of longevity, 
 all agree that they have been in the habit of going to bed 
 early and rising early. 
 
 3 We lose vigor by lying abed in health, longer than for 
 necessary sleep; the mind is less tranquil, the body less dis- 
 posed for refreshing sleep, appetite and digestion are lessen- 
 ed. Few things contribute so much to preserve health and 
 prolong life, as going to bed early and rising early. 
 
 Boston Medical Intelligencer. 
 
 4 It is a reprehensible practice, in many parents, to pre- 
 vent their younger children from acquiring the pleasant habit 
 of early rising, for the purpose of " keeping them out of the 
 way in the morning." The habit of rising at daybreak 
 or earlier during the winter season, and washing the face and 
 hands with cold water, ought to be enjoined as an indispen- 
 sible duty in every public school, or domestic nursery. 
 
 5 Rising early is not only a healthy and agreeable habit, 
 and cheap, — and easy to preserve, when once acquired, — but 
 profitable, — and generally absolutely necessary to success in 
 the pursuit of wealth, prosperity, and happiness. 
 
 6 Mr. John M'Leod, the proprietor and principal of the 
 Central Academy, at Washington City, has given an exam- 
 ple worthy of universal imitation, and demonstrated how 
 easily children can be led into the path of duty by rewards 
 and proper discipline. His pupils rise vo hint arily and con 
 stantly at day light or earlier. J. T. 
 
263 
 
 PART EIGHTH. 
 
 POPE'S ESSAY ON MAN &c. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 AN ESSAY ON MAN ; IN FOUR EPISTLES TO H. ST. JOHN, LORD 
 BOLINGBROKE. TO WHICH IS ADDED, THE UNIVERSAL 
 PRAYER. BY ALEXANDER POPE, ESQ. 
 
 EPISTLE I. 
 
 Of the Nature and State of Man, with respect to the 
 Universe. 
 
 1 AWAKE ! my St. John ! leave all meaner things 
 To low ambition, and the pride of kings. 
 
 Let us (since life can little more supply 
 
 Than just to look about us and to die) 
 
 Expatiate free o'er all this scene of man; 
 
 A mighty maze ! but not without a plan; 
 
 A wild, where weeds and flow'rs promiscuous shoot, 
 
 Or garden, tempting with forbidden fruit. 
 
 2 Together let us beat this ample field, 
 Try what the open, what the covert yield, 
 The latent tracks, the giddy heights explore 
 Of all who blindly creep, or sightless soar; 
 Eye nature's walks, shoot folly as it flies, 
 And catch the manners living as they rise; 
 Laugh where we must, be candid where we can, 
 But vindicate the ways of God to man. 
 
 3 Say first, of God above, or man below, 
 What can we reason, but from what we know; 
 Of man what see we, but his station here, 
 From which to reason, or to which refer? 
 
 Through worlds unnumbered, though the God be known, 
 'Tis curs to trace him only in our own. 
 
 4 He, who through vast immensity can pierce, 
 See worlds on worlds compose one universe, 
 Observe how system into system runs, 
 
 What other plants circle other suns, 
 
 What varied being peoples every star, 
 
 May tell, why Heav'n has made us as we are. 
 
264 
 
 5 But of this frame, the bearings and the ties, 
 The strong connexions, nice dependencies, 
 Gradations just, has thy pervading soul 
 Look'd through ? Or, can a part contain the whole? 
 
 6 Respecting man, whatever wrong we call, 
 May, must be right, as relative to all. ' 
 
 In hun^m works, though labour'd on with pain, 
 A thousand movements scarce one purpose gain; 
 In God's, one single can its end produce, 
 Yet serves to second too some other use. 
 
 7 When the proud steed shall know why man restrains 
 His fiery course, or drives him o'er the plains; 
 
 When the dull ox, why now he breaks the clod, 
 Is now a victim, and now Egypt's god; 
 Then shall man's pride and dulness comprehend 
 His actions', passions', being's use and end; 
 Why doing, suffering, check'd, impell'd; and why 
 This hour a slave, the next a deity. 
 
 8 Then say not, man's imperfect, Heav'n in fault; 
 Say rather, man's as perfect as he ought; 
 
 His knowledge measur'd to his state and place, 
 
 His time a moment, and a point his space. 
 
 If to be perfect in a certain sphere, 
 
 What matter soon or late, or here or there? 
 
 The blest to-day, is as completely so, 
 
 As who began a thousand years ago. 
 
 9 Heaven from all creatures hides the book of fate, 
 All but the page prescrib'd, their present state: 
 From brutes w r hat men, from men what spirits know; 
 Or who could suffer being here below T ? 
 
 The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day, 
 Had he thy reason, would he skip and play? 
 Pleas'd to the last, he crops the flowery food, 
 And licks the hand just rais'd to shed his blood. 
 
 10 blindness to the future ! kindly giv'n, 
 That each may fill the circle mark'd by Heav'n; 
 Who sees with equal eye, as God of all, 
 
 A hero perish, or a sparrow fall, 
 
 Atoms or systems into ruin hurl'd, 
 
 And now a bubble burst, and now a world. 
 
 11 Hope humbly then ; with trembling pinions soar ; 
 Wait the great teacher, death, and God adore! 
 
 What future bliss, he gives not thee to know, 
 But gives that hope to be thy blessing now. 
 
266 
 
 Hope springs eternal in the human breast : ■ 
 Man never is, but always to be blest. 
 The soul uneasy, and confin'd from home, 
 Rests and expatiates in a life to come. 
 
 12 Lo ! the poor Indian, whose untutor'd mind 
 Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind ; 
 His soul proud science never taught to stray 
 Far as the solar walk, or milky way; 
 
 Yet simple nature to his hope has giv'n, 
 Behind the cloud-topt hill, an humbler heav'n; 
 Some safer world in depth of woods embraced, 
 Some happier island in the wat'ry waste, 
 Where slaves once more their native land behold, 
 No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold! 
 To be, contents his natural desire, 
 He asks no angel's wings, no seraph's fire; 
 But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, 
 His faithful dog shall bear him company. 
 
 1 3 Go, wiser thou ! and in thy scale of sense 
 Weigh thy opinion against Providence; 
 
 Call imperfection what thou fancy'st such, 
 Say, here he gives too little, there too much; 
 Destroy all creatures for thy sport or gust ; 
 Yet cry, if man's- unhappy, God's unjust. 
 
 14 In pride, in reasoning pride, our error lies; 
 All quit their sphere, and rush into the skies. 
 And who but wishes to invert the laws 
 
 Of order, sins against th' Eternal Cause. 
 
 15 Ask for what end the heavenly bodies shine, 
 Earth for whose use? Pride answers, "'Tis for mine; 
 "For me kind Nature wakes her genial power, 
 "Suckles each herb, and spreads out every flower; 
 "Annual for me, the grape, the rose renew 
 
 " The juice nectareous, and the balmy dew ; 
 "For me, the mine a thousand treasures brings; 
 "Forme, health gushes from a thousand springs; 
 " Seas roll to waft me, suns to light me rise ; 
 "My footstool earth, my canopy the skies." 
 
 16 But errs not Nature from this gracious end, 
 From burning suns when livid deaths descend, 
 When earthquakes swallow, or when tempests sweep 
 Towns to one grave, whole nations to the deep? 
 "No ('tis reply'd) the first Almighty Cause 
 "Acts not bv partial, but by general laws ; 
 
 Z 
 
266 
 
 "TV exceptions few ; some change since all began: 
 "And what created perfect ?" Why then man ? 
 
 17 If the great end be human happiness, 
 Then nature deviates ; and can man do less ? 
 As much that end a constant course requires 
 Of showers and sun-shine, as of man's desires; 
 As much eternal springs and cloudless skies, 
 As men for ever template, calm, and wise. 
 
 Why charge we Heav'n in those, in these acquit? 
 In both, to reason right, is to submit. 
 
 18 Better for us, perhaps it might appear, 
 Were there all harmony, all virtue here ; 
 That never air or ocean felt the wind ; 
 That never passion discomposed the mind ; 
 But all subsists by elemental strife ; 
 
 And passions are the elements of life. 
 The gen'ral order, since the whole began> 
 Is kept in nature, and is kept in man. 
 
 19 What would this man ? now upward will he soar, 
 And little less than angel, would be more; 
 
 Now looking downward, just as gFiev'd appears 
 To want the strength of bulls, the fur of bears. 
 Made for his use all creatures if he call, 
 Say what their use, had he the powers of all ? 
 
 20 Nature to these, without profusion kind, 
 The proper organs, proper pow'rs assigned; 
 Each seeming want compensated of course, 
 Here, with degrees of swiftness, there, of force; 
 All in exact proportion to the state; 
 
 Nothing to add, and nothing to abate. 
 
 Each beast, each insect, happy in its own ; 
 
 Is Heav'n unkind to man, and man alone? 
 
 Shall he alone, whom rational we call, 
 
 Be pleas'd with nothing, if not blest with all? 
 
 21 The bliss of man (could pride that blessing find) 
 Is, not to act or think beyond mankind; 
 
 No pow'rs of body or of soul to share, 
 But what his nature and his state can bear. 
 Why has not man a microscopic eye? 
 For this plain reason — man is not a fly. 
 
 22 Say what the use, were finer optics giv'n, 
 T> inspect a mite, not comprehend the heav'n? 
 Or touch, if tremblingly alive all o'er, 
 
 To smart and agonize at every pore? 
 
267 
 Or quick effluvia darting through the brain, 
 Die of a rose in aromatic pain? 
 If nature thundered in his opening ears, 
 And stunn'd him with the music of the spheres, 
 How would he wish that Heav'n had left him still 
 The whispering zephyr, and the purling rill! 
 Who finds not Providence all good and wise, 
 Alike in what it gives, and what denies? 
 
 23 Far as creation's ample range extends, 
 The scale of sensual, mental pow'rs ascends: 
 Mark how it mounts to man's imperial race, 
 From the green myriads in the peopled grass: 
 What modes of sight betwixt each wide extreme, 
 The mole's dim curtain and the lynx's beam: 
 
 Of smell, the headlong lioness between, 
 And hound sagacious on the tainted green: 
 Of hearing, from the life that fills the flood, 
 To that which warbles through the vernal wood ! 
 
 24 The spider's touch, how exquisitely fine! 
 Feels at each thread, and lives along the line: 
 In the nice bee, what sense so subtly true, 
 From pois'nous herbs extracts the healing dew! 
 How instinct varies in the grov'ling swine, 
 Compar'd, half-reas'ning elephant, with thine! 
 'Twixt that and reason, what a nice barrier! 
 For ever sep'rate, yet for ever near! 
 
 25 Remembrance and reflection how ally'd! 
 What thin partitions sense from thought divide! 
 And middle natures how they long to join, 
 
 Yet never pass'd th' insuperable line! 
 Without this just gradation, could they be 
 Subjected these to those, or all to thee? 
 The powers of all subdu'd by thee alone, 
 Is not thy reason all these pow'rs in one? 
 
 26 What if the foot, ordain'd the dust to tread, 
 Or hand to toil, aspir'd to be the head? 
 
 What if the head, the eye, or ear repin'd 
 
 To serve mere engines to the ruling mind? 
 
 Just as absurd for any part to claim 
 
 To be another in this gen'ral frame: 
 
 Just as absurd, to mourn the tasks or pains 
 
 The great directing Mind of all ordains. 
 
 21 All are but parts of one stupendous whole, 
 Whose body nature is, and God the soul ; 
 
268 
 
 That, changed through all, and yet in all the same; 
 Great in the earth, as in th' ethereal frame; 
 Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze, 
 Glows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees; 
 Lives through all life, extends through all extent; 
 Spreads undivided, operates unspent; 
 Breathes in our soul, informs our mortal part, 
 As full, as perfect, in a hair as heart; 
 To him, no high, no low, no great, no small: 
 He fills, he bounds, connects, and equals all. 
 
 28 Cease then, nor order imperfection name: 
 Our proper bliss depends on what we blame. 
 JCnow thy own point: this kind, this due degree 
 Of blindness, weakness, Heav'n bestows on thee. 
 Submit. — In this, or any other sphere, 
 
 Secure to be as blest as thou canst bear: 
 Safe in the hand of one disposing Pow'r, 
 Or in the natal, or the mortal hour. 
 
 29 All nature is but art, unknown to thee; 
 All chance, direction, which thou canst not see: 
 All discord, harmony, not understood: 
 
 All partial evil, universal good: 
 
 And, spite of pride, in erring reason's spite, 
 
 One truth is clear, Whatever is, is right. 
 
 EPISTLE II. 
 
 Of the Nature and State of Man, with respect to him 
 
 self as an individual. 
 
 1 Know then thyself, presume not God to scan! 
 The proper study of mankind is man. 
 
 Could he, whose rules the rapid comet bind,* 
 Describe or fix one movement of his mind? 
 Who saw its fires here rise, and there descend, 
 Explain his own beginning, or his end? 
 Alas, what wonder! man's superior part 
 Unchecked may rise, and climb from art to art: 
 But when his own great work is but begun, 
 What reason weaves, by passion is undone. 
 
 2 Trace science, then, with modesty thy guide; 
 First strip oif all her equipage of pride; 
 
 Deduct what is but vanity, or dress, 
 Or learning's luxury, or idleness ; 
 
 * Alluding to Newton. 
 
269 
 
 Or tricks to show the stretch of human brain, 
 
 Mere curious pleasure, or ingenious pain; 
 
 Expunge the whole, or lop th' excrescent parts 
 
 Of all our vices have created arts: 
 
 Then see how little the remaining sum, 
 
 Which serv'd the past, and must the times to come! 
 
 3 Two principles in human nature reign; 
 Self-love to urge, and reason to restrain; 
 JNor this a good, nor that a bad we call, 
 Each works its end, to move or govern all: 
 And to their proper operation still, 
 Ascribe all good ; to their improper, ill. 
 
 4 Self-love, the spring of motion, acts the soul; 
 Reason's comparing balance rules the whole. 
 Man, but for that, no action could attend, 
 
 And, but for this, were active to no end; 
 
 Fix'd like a plant on his peculiar spot, 
 
 To draw nutrition, propagate and rot; 
 
 Or, meteor-like, flame lawless through the void, 
 
 Destroying others, by himself destroyed. 
 
 5 Most strength the moving principle requires; 
 Active its task, it prompts, impels, inspires, 
 Sedate and quiet the comparing lies, 
 
 Form'd but to check, deliberate, and advise. 
 Self-love still stronger, as its object's nigh; 
 Reason's at distance, and in prospect lie: 
 That sees immediate good by present sense; 
 Reason, the future, and the consequence. 
 
 6 Thicker than arguments, temptations throng ; 
 At best more watchful this, but that more strong. 
 The action of the stronger to suspend, 
 
 Reason still use, to reason still attend : 
 Attention, habit and experience gains, 
 Each strengthens reason, and self-love restrains. 
 
 7 Let subtle schoolmen teach these friends to fight, 
 More studious to divide than to unite; 
 
 And grace and virtue, sense and reason split, 
 With all the rash dexterity of wit. 
 Wits, just like fools, at war about a name, 
 Have full as oft no meaning, or the same. 
 
 8 Self-love and reason to one end aspire, 
 Pain their aversion, pleasure their desire: 
 But greedy that, its object would devour, 
 This taste the honey, and not wound the flow's; 
 
 Z 2 
 
270 
 
 Pleasure, or wrong or rightly understood, 
 Our greatest evil or our greatest good. 
 
 9 Modes of self-love the passions we may call; 
 'Tis real good, or seeming, moves them all; 
 
 But since not ev'ry good we can divide, 
 And reason bitis us for our own provide, 
 Passions, though selfish, if their means be fair, 
 List under reason, and deserve her care; 
 Those, that imparted, court a nobler aim, 
 Exalt their kind, and take some virtue's name. 
 
 10 In lazy apathy let stoics boast 
 Their virtue fix'd; 'tis fix'd as in a frost; 
 Contracted all, retiring to the breast; 
 
 But strength of mind is exercise, not rest: 
 
 The rising tempest puts in act the soul, 
 
 Parts it may ravage, but preserves the whole. 
 
 On life's vast ocean diversely we sail, 
 
 Reason the card, but passion is the gale; 
 
 Nor God alone in the still calm we find, 
 
 He mounts the storm, and walks upon the wind. 
 
 11 Passions, like elements, though born to fight, 
 Yet, mix'd and soften'd, in his work unite: 
 
 These 'tis enough to temper and employ; 
 But what composes man, can man destroy? 
 Suffice that reason keep to nature's road, 
 Subject, compound them, follow her and God. 
 
 12 Love, hope and joy, fair pleasure's smiling train, 
 Hate, fear and grief, the family of pain; 
 
 These mix'd with art, and to due bounds confin'd, 
 Make and maintain the balance of the mind: 
 The lights and shades, whose well-accorded strife 
 Gives all the strength and color of our life. 
 
 1 3 Pleasures are ever in our hands or eyes, 
 And when in act they cease, in prospect rise: 
 Present to grasp, and future still to find, 
 The whole employ of body and of mind. 
 
 All spread their charms, but charm not all alike^ 
 On different senses diff'rent objects strike; 
 Hence diff'rent passions more or less inflame, 
 As strong or weak, the organs of the frame: 
 And hence one master passion in the breast, 
 Like Aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest. 
 
 14 Yes, nature's road must ever be preferr'd: 
 Reason is here no guide, but still a guard: 
 
271 
 'Tis hers to rectify, not overthrow, 
 And treat this passion more as friend than foe: 
 A mightier pow'r the strong direction sends, 
 And several men impels to sev'ral ends. 
 
 15 Like varying winds, by other passions tost, 
 This drives them constant to a certain coast. 
 
 16 Th' eternal art, educing good from ill, 
 Grafts on this passion our best principle. 
 'Tis thus the mercury of man is fix'd, 
 Strong grows the virtue with his nature mix'd; 
 The dross cements what else were too refin'd, 
 And in one interest body acts with mind. 
 
 17 As fruits ungrateful to the planter's care, 
 On savage stocks inserted learn to bear; 
 
 The surest virtues thus from passions shoot, 
 
 Wild nature's vigor working at the root. 
 
 What crops of wit and honesty appear 
 
 From spleen, from obstinacy, hate or fear! 
 
 See anger, zeal and fortitude supply; 
 
 Ev'n avarice, prudence; sloth, philosophy; 
 
 Envy, to which th' ignoble mind's a slave, 
 
 Is emulation in the learn'd or brave: 
 
 Nor virtue, male or female, can we name, 
 
 But what will grow on pride, or grow on shame. 
 
 18 Thus nature gives us (let it check our pride) 
 The virtue nearest to our vice ally'd; 
 
 Reason the bias turns to good from ill, 
 And Nero reigns a Titus, if he will. 
 The fiery soul abhorr'd in Catiline, 
 In Decius charms, in Curtius is divine. 
 The same ambition can destroy or save, 
 And makes a patriot as it makes a knave. 
 
 19 This light and darkness in our chaos join'd, 
 What shall divide? The God within the mind.* 
 Extremes in nature equal ends produce, 
 
 .In man they join to some mysterious use ; 
 
 * A Platonic phrase for conscience ; and here employed with great 
 judgment and propriety. For conscience either signifies, speculatively, 
 the judgment we pass of things upon whatever principle we chance to 
 have ; and then it is only opinion, a very unable judge and divider. Or 
 else it signifies, practically, the application of the eternal rule of right (re- 
 ceived by us as the law of God) to the regulations of our actions ; and then 
 it is properly conscience, the God (or the law of God) within the mind, of 
 power to divide the light from the darkness in this chaos of the passions, 
 
272 
 >Though each by turns the other's bounds invade, 
 As in some well-wrought picture, light and shade; 
 And oft so mixt, the difference is too nice 
 Where ends the virtue, or begins the vice. 
 
 20 Fools ! who from hence into the notion fall. 
 That vice or virtue there is none at all. 
 
 If white and black blend, soften and unite 
 A thousand ways, is there no black or white? 
 Ask your own heart, and nothing is so plain; 
 'Tis to mistake them, costs the time and pain. 
 
 21 Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, 
 As, to be hated, needs but to be seen ; 
 
 Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, 
 
 We first endure, then pity, then embrace. 
 
 But where th' extreme of vice, was ne'er agreed ; 
 
 Ask where's the North? at York, 'tis on the Tweed: 
 
 In Scotland, at the Orcades; and there, 
 
 At Greenland, Zembla, or the Lord knows where. 
 
 22 No creature owns it in the first degree, 
 But thinks his neighbor farther gone than he: 
 Ev'n those who dwell beneath its very zone, 
 Or never feel the rage, or never own ; 
 
 What happier natures shrink at with affright, 
 The hard inhabitant contends is right. 
 
 23 Virtuous and vicious every man must be, 
 Few in th' extreme, but all in the degree ; 
 The rogue and fool by fits is fair and wise, 
 And ev'n the best, by fits, w T hat they despise. 
 'Tis but by parts we follow good or ill, 
 
 For, vice or virtue, self directs it still ; 
 
 Each individual seeks a sev'ral goal; 
 
 But Heav'n's great, view is one, and that the whole: 
 
 24 That counterworks each folly and caprice; 
 That disappoints th' effect of ev'ry vice: 
 That, happy frailties to all ranks apply'd, 
 Shame to the virgin, to the matron pride, 
 
 Fear to the statesman, rashness to the chief, 
 To kings presumption, and to crowds belief: 
 That, virtue's ends from vanity can raise, 
 Which seeks no int'rest, no reward but praise; 
 And build on wants, and on defects of mind, 
 The joy, the peace, the glory of mankind. 
 
 25 Heav'n, forming each on other to depend, 
 A master, or a servant, or a friend, 
 
Bids each on other for assistance call, 
 
 Till one man's weakness grows the strength of all. 
 
 Wants, frailties, passions, closer still ally 
 
 The common interest, or endear the tie. 
 
 26 To these we owe true friendship, love sincere. 
 Each home-felt joy that life inherits here: 
 Yet from the same we learn, in its decline, 
 Those joys, those loves, those interests to resign: 
 Taught half by reason, half by mere decay, 
 To welcome death, and calmly pass away. 
 
 21 Whatever the passion, knowledge, fame, or pelf, 
 i Not one will change his neighbor with himself. 
 The learn'd is happy nature to explore, 
 The fool is happy that he knows no more; 
 The rich is happy in the plenty giv'n, 
 The poor contents him with the care of Heav'n. 
 
 2S See the blind beggar dance, the cripple sing, 
 The sot a hero, lunatic a king; 
 The starving chymist in his golden views 
 Supremely blest, the poet in his muse. 
 See some strange comfort ev'ry state attend, 
 And pride bestow'd on all, a common friend; 
 See some fit passion ev'ry age supply, 
 Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die. 
 
 29 Behold the child, by nature's kindly law, 
 Pleas'd with a rattle, tickled with a straw; 
 Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight, 
 A little louder, but as empty quite: 
 
 Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage; 
 And beads and pray'r-books are the toys of age: 
 Pleas'd with this bauble still, as that before; 
 Tin tir'd he sleeps, and life's poor play is o'er! 
 
 30 Meanwhile opinion gilds with varying rays 
 Those painted clouds that beautify our days; 
 Each want of happiness by hope supply 'd; 
 
 And each vacuity of sense by pride: 
 
 These build as fast as knowledge can destroy; 
 
 In folly's cup still laughs the bubble, joy; 
 
 One prospect lost, another still we gain$ 
 
 And not a vanity is giv'n in vain; 
 
 Ev'n mean self-love becomes, by force divine, 
 
 The scale to measure others' wants by thine. 
 
 See! and confess one comfort still must rise; 
 
 'Tis this, though man's a fool, yet God is ivise. 
 
274 
 
 EPISTLE III. 
 
 Of the Nature and State of Man, with respect to 
 Society. 
 
 Here then we rest: " The universal cause 
 u Acts to one end, but acts by various laws." 
 In all the madness of superfluous health, 
 The trim of pride, the impudence of wealth, 
 Let this great truth be present night and day; 
 But most be present, if we preach or pray. 
 
 2 Look round our world; behold* the chain of love 
 Combining all below and all above. 
 
 See plastic nature working to this end, 
 The single atoms each to other tend, 
 Attract, attracted too, the next in place 
 Formed and impell'd its neighbor to embrace. 
 See matter next, with various life endu'd, 
 Press to one centre still, the gen'ral good. 
 
 3 See dying vegetables life sustain, 
 See life dissolving vegetate again: 
 
 All forms that perish other forms supply, 
 (By turns we catch the vital breath, and die:) 
 Like bubbles on the sea of matter borne, 
 They rise, they break, and to that sea return. 
 
 4 Nothing is foreign; parts relate to whole; 
 One all-extending, all-preserving soul 
 Connects each being, greatest with the least; 
 Made beast in aid of man, and man of beast; 
 AH serv'd, all serving: nothing stands alone; 
 The chain holds on, and where it ends, unknown. 
 
 5 Has God, thou fool ! workM solely for thy good, 
 Thy joy, thy pastime, thy attire, thy food? 
 
 Who for thy table feeds the wanton fawn, 
 For him as kindly spreads the flowery lawn. 
 Is it for thee the lark ascends and sings? 
 Joy tunes his voice, joy elevates his wings. 
 Is it for thee the linnet pours his throat? 
 Loves of his own, and raptures swell the note. 
 
 6 The bounding steed you pompously bestride, 
 Shares with his lord the pleasure and the pride. 
 
 Is thine alone the seed that strews the plain? 
 The birds of heav'n shall vindicate their grain. 
 Thine the full harvest of the golden year? 
 Part pays, and justly, the deserving steer: 
 
The hog, that plows not, nor obeys thy call, 
 Lives on the labors of this lord of all. 
 
 7 Know, nature's children all divide her care; 
 The fur that warms a monarch, warm'd a bear. 
 While man exclaims, " See all things for my use!" 
 " See man for mine!" replies a pamper'd goose: 
 And just as short of reason he must fall, 
 
 Who thinks all made for one, not one for all. 
 
 8 Grant that the powerful still the weak control, 
 Be man the wit and tyrant of the whole: 
 Nature that tyrant checks; he only knows, 
 
 And helps, another creature's wants and woes. 
 Say, will the falcon, stooping from above, 
 Smit with her varying plumage, spare the dove? 
 Admires the jay the insect's gilded wings? 
 Or hears the hawk when Philomela sings? 
 
 9 Man cares for all: to birds he gives his woods, 
 To beasts his pastures, and to fish his floods; 
 
 For some his int'rest prompts him to provide, 
 For more his pleasure, yet for more his pride: 
 All feed on one vain patron, and enjoy 
 The extensive blessing of his luxury. 
 
 10 That very life his learned hunger craves, 
 He saves from famine, from the savage saves: 
 Nay, feasts the animal, he dooms his feast, 
 And, till he ends the being, makes it blest; 
 Which sees no more the stroke, nor feels the pain, 
 Than favor'd man by touch ethereal slain:* 
 
 The creature had his feast of life before; 
 Thou too must perish when thy feast is o'er. 
 
 11 To each unthinking being, Heav'n a friend, 
 Gives not the useless knowledge of its end; 
 
 To man imparts it; but with such a view 
 As, while he dreads it, makes him hope it too: 
 The hour conceal'd, and so remote the fear, 
 Death still draws nearer, never seeming near. 
 Great standing miracle! that Heav'n assigned 
 Its only thinking thing this turn of mind. 
 
 12 Whether with reason, or with instinct blest, 
 Know, all enjoy that power which suits them best: 
 
 * Several of the ancients, and many of the orientals since, esteemed 
 those who were struck by lightning as sacred persons and the particulai 
 favorites of heaven. 
 
27b 
 
 To bliss alike by that direction tend, 
 And find the means proportioned to their end. 
 Say, where full instinct is th' unerring guide, 
 What pope or council can they need beside? 
 
 13 Reason, however able, cool at best, 
 Cares not for service, or but serves when prest, 
 Stays till we call, and then not often near! 
 But honest instinct comes a volunteer; 
 
 Sure never to o'ershoot, but just to hit, 
 While still too wide or short is human wit; 
 Sure by quick nature happiness to gain, 
 Which heavier reason labors at in vain. 
 
 14 This too serves always, Reason never long; 
 One must go right, the other may go wrong. 
 See then the acting and comparing powers, 
 
 One in their nature, which are two in ours; 
 And reason raise o'er instinct as you can, 
 In this 'tis God directs, and that 'tis man. 
 
 15 Who taught the nations of the field and wood 
 To shun their poison, and to choose their food? 
 Prescient, the tides or tempests to withstand, 
 Build on the wave, or arch beneath the sand? 
 
 Who made the spider parallels design, 
 Sure as De Moivre, without rule or line? 
 Who bid the stork, Columbus-like, explore 
 Heav'ns not his own, and worlds unknown before? 
 Who calls the council, states the certain day, 
 Who forms the phalanx, and who points the way? 
 
 16 God, in the nature of each being, founds 
 Its proper bliss, and sets its proper bounds: 
 But, as he framM the whole, the whole to bless, 
 On mutual wants built mutual happiness: 
 
 So from the first, eternal order ran, 
 
 And creature link'd to creature, man to man. 
 
 Whatever of life all-quick'ning ether keeps, 
 
 Or breathes through air, or shoots beneath the deeps, 
 
 Or pours profuse on earth, one nature feeds 
 
 The vital flame, and swells the genial seeds. 
 
 17 Not man alone, but all that roam the wood, 
 Or wing the sky, or roll along the flood, 
 
 Each loves itself, but not itself alone, 
 
 Each sex desires alike, till two are one. 
 
 Thus beast and bird their common charge attend, 
 
 The mothers nurse it, and the sires defend; 
 
The young dismissed to wander earth or air, 
 There stops the instinct, and there ends the care. 
 
 18 A longer care man's helpless kind demands; 
 That longer care contracts more lasting bands: 
 Reflection, reason, still the ties improve, 
 
 At once extend the interest and the love; 
 With choice we fix, with sympathy we burn ; 
 Each virtue in each passion takes its turn; 
 And still new needs, new helps, new habits rise, 
 That graft benevolence on charities. 
 
 19 Still as one brood, and as another rose, 
 These natural love maintained, habitual those: 
 The last, scarce ripen' d into perfect man, 
 Saw helpless him from whom their life began: 
 Memory and forecast just returns engage, 
 That pointed back to youth, this on to age; 
 While pleasure, gratitude, and hope combined, 
 Still spread the int'rest, and preserved the kind. 
 
 20 Nor think, in nature's state they blindly trod; 
 The state of nature was the reign of God: 
 Self-love and social at her birth began, 
 
 Union the bond of all things, and of man. 
 Pride then was not; nor arts, that pride to aid: 
 Man walkM with beast, joint tenant of the shade; 
 The same his table, and the same his bed; 
 No murder cloth'd him, and no murder fed. 
 
 21 In the same temple, the resounding wood, 
 All vocal beings hymn'd their equal God: 
 
 The shrine with gore unstained, with gold undrest, 
 Unbrib'd, unbloody, stood the blameless priest: 
 Heav'n's attribute w T as universal care, 
 And man's prerogative, to rule, but spare. 
 Ah! how unlike the man of times to come! 
 Of half that live, the butcher, and the tomb; 
 Who, foe to nature, hears the general groan, 
 Murders their species, and betrays his own. 
 
 22 But just disease to luxury succeeds, 
 And every death its own avenger breeds; 
 The fury passions from that blood began, 
 And turn'd on man a fiercer savage, man. 
 
 23 Converse and love, mankind might strongly draw, 
 When love was liberty, and nature law. 
 
 Love all the faith, and all th' allegiance then; 
 For nature knew no rieht divine in men: 
 Aa 5 
 
278 
 No ill could fear in God; and understood 
 A sovereign being, but a sovereign good. 
 True faith, true policy, united ran, 
 That was but love of God, and this of man. 
 
 24 Who first taught souls enslav'd, and realms undone, 
 Th' enormous faith of many made for one; 
 
 That proud exception to all nature's laws, 
 
 T' invert the world, and counterwork its cause? 
 
 Force first made conquest, and that conquest, law; 
 
 Till superstition taught the tyrant awe. 
 
 Then shar'd the tyranny, then lent it aid, 
 
 And gods of conquerors, slaves of subjects made: 
 
 She, 'midst the lightning's blaze, and thunder's sound, 
 
 When rock'd the mountains, and when groan'd the ground, 
 
 She taught the weak to bend, the proud to pray, 
 
 To power unseen, and mightier far than they: 
 
 25 She, from the rending earth, and bursting skies, 
 Saw gods descend, and fiends infernal rise: 
 
 Here fix'd the dreadful, there the blest abodes; 
 Fear made her devils, and weak hope her gods; 
 Gods partial, changeful, passionate, unjust, 
 Whose attributes were rage, revenge or lust; 
 Such as the souls of cowards might conceive, 
 And, form'd like tyrants, tyrants would believe. 
 
 26 Zeal then, not charity, became the guide, 
 And hell was built on spite, and heav'n on pride. 
 Then sacred seem'd th' ethereal vault no more; 
 Altars grew marble then, and reek'd with gore: 
 Then first the Flamen tasted living food; 
 
 Next his grim idol smear'd with human blood. 
 
 21 So drives self-love, through just, and through unjust, 
 To one man's power, ambition, lucre, lust: 
 The same self-love, in all, becomes the cause 
 Of what restrains him, government and laws. 
 
 28 For, what one likes, if others like as well, 
 What serves one will, when many wills rebel, 
 How shall he keep, what, sleeping or awake, 
 A weaker may surprise, a stronger take? 
 His safety must his liberty restrain: 
 All join'd to guard what each desires to gain. 
 Forc'd into virtue thus, by seJf-defenee, 
 E'en kings learn'd justice and benevolence: 
 Self-love forsook the path it first pursu'd, 
 And found the private in the public good. 
 
279 
 
 29 Such is the world's great harmony, that springs 
 From order, union, full consent of things: 
 
 Where small and great, where weak and mighty, made 
 To serve, not suffer, strengthen, not invade; 
 Mare powerful each as needful to the rest, 
 And, in proportion as it blesses, blest 
 
 30 For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight; 
 His can't be wrong whose life is in the right: 
 
 In faith and hope the world will disagree, 
 But all mankind's concern is charity: 
 All must be false that thwarts this one great end, 
 And all of God, that bless mankind, or mend. 
 
 31 Man, like the gen'rous vine, supported lives; 
 The strength he gains is from th' embrace he gives. 
 On their own axis as the planets run, 
 
 Yet make at once their circle round the sun; 
 So two consistent motions acts the soul; 
 And one regards itself, and one the whole. 
 Thus God and nature link'd the general frame, 
 And bade self-love and social be the same. 
 
 EPISTLE IV. 
 
 Of the Nature and State of Man, with respect to 
 
 Happiness. 
 
 1 happiness! our being's end and aim; 
 Good, pleasure, ease, content! whate'er thy name: 
 That something still which prompts th' eternal sigh, 
 For which we bear to live, or dare to die, 
 
 Which still so near us, yet beyond us lies, 
 O'erlook'd, seen double, by the fool and wise. 
 Plant of celestial seed; if dropt below, 
 Say, in what mortal soil thou deign'st to grow? 
 
 2 Fair op'ning to some court's propitious shrine, 
 Or deep with di'monds in the flaming mine? 
 Twin'd with the wreaths Parnassian laurels yield, 
 Or reap'd in iron harvests of the field? 
 
 Where grows? — Where grows it not? — if vain our toil, 
 
 We ought to blame the culture, not the soil: 
 
 Fix'd to no spot is happiness sincere, 
 
 *Tis no where to be found, or ev'ry where: 
 
 *Tis never to be bought, but always free, 
 
 And, fled from monarchs, St. John! dwells with thee. 
 
 3 Ask of the learn'd the way? The learnM are blind: 
 This bids to serve, and that to shun mankind; 
 
280 
 
 Some place the bliss in action, some in ease, 
 Those call it pleasure, and contentment these; 
 Some, sunk to beasts, find pleasure end in pain; 
 Some, swell'd to gods, confess e'en virtue vain; 
 Or indolent, to each extreme they fall, 
 To trust in every thing, or doubt of all. 
 Who thus define it, say they more or less 
 Than this, That happiness is happiness? 
 
 4 Take Nature's path, and mad Opinion's leave; 
 All states can reach it, and all heads conceive; 
 Obvious her goods, in no extreme they dwell; 
 There needs but thinking right, and meaning well: 
 And, mourn our various portions as we please, 
 Equal is common sense, and common ease. 
 
 5 Remember, man, " the Universal Cause 
 u Acts not by partial, but by general laws;" 
 And makes what happiness we justly call, 
 Subsist not in the good of one, but all. 
 There's not a blessing individuals find, 
 
 But some way leans and hearkens to the kind: 
 No bandit fierce, no tyrant mad with pride, 
 No cavern'd hermit, rests self-satisfied: 
 
 6 Who most to shun or hate mankind pretend, 
 Seek an admirer, or would fix a friend: 
 Abstract what others feel, what others think, 
 All pleasures sicken, and all glories sink: 
 
 Each has his share; and who would more obtain, 
 Shall find, the pleasure pays not half the pain. 
 
 7 ORDER is Heaven's first law; and this confest, 
 Some are, and must be, greater than the rest, 
 More rich, more wise; but who infers from hence 
 That such are happier, shocks all common sense. 
 Heaven to mankind impartial we confess, , 
 
 If all are equal in their happiness; 
 
 But mutual wants this happiness increase; 
 
 All nature's diff'rence keeps all nature's peace. 
 
 8 Condition, circumstance is not the thing; 
 Bliss is the same in subject or in king. 
 
 In who obtain defence, or who defend, 
 
 In him who is, or him who finds a friend: 
 
 Heaven breathes through ev'ry member of the whole 
 
 One common blessing, as one common soul. 
 
 But fortune's gifts, if each alike possest, 
 
 And each were equal, must not all contest? 
 
261 
 
 If then to all men happiness was meant, 
 God in externals could not place content. 
 
 9 Fortune her gifts may variously dispose, 
 And these be happy call'd, unhappy those; 
 But Heav'n's just balance equal will appear, 
 While those are plac'd in hope, and these in fear: 
 Not present good or ill, the joy or curse, 
 
 But future views of better, or of worse. 
 
 10 sons of earth! attempt ye still to rise, 
 By mountains pil'd on mountains, to the skies? 
 Heaven still with laughter the vain toil surveys, 
 And buries madmen in the heaps they raise. 
 
 11 Know, all the good that individuals find, 
 Or God and nature meant to mere mankind, 
 Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense, 
 Lie in three words, health, peace, and competenoe. 
 But health consists with temperance alone; 
 
 And peace, virtue! peace is all thy own. 
 The good or bad the gifts of fortune gain; 
 But these less taste them, as they worse obtain. 
 
 12 Say, in pursuit of profit or delight, 
 
 Who risk the most, that take wrong means or.right? 
 Of vice or virtue, whether blest or curst, 
 Which meets contempt, or which compassion first? 
 Count all th' advantage prosperous vice attains, 
 ? Tis but what virtue flies from and disdains: 
 And grant the bad what happiness they would, 
 One they must want, which is, to pass for good. 
 
 13 blind to truth, and God's whole scheme below, 
 Who fancy bliss to vice, to virtue wo! 
 
 Who sees and follows that great scheme the best, 
 Best knows the blessing, and will most be blest. 
 But fools, the good alone, unhappy call, 
 For ills or accidents that chance to all. 
 
 14 See Falkland dies, the virtuous and the just! 
 See godlike Turenne prostrate on the dust! 
 
 See Sidney bleeds amid the martial strife! 
 
 Was this their virtue, or contempt of life? 
 
 Say, was it virtue, more though Heav'n ne'er gave, 
 
 Lamented Digby! sunk thee to the grave? 
 
 15 Tell me, if virtue made the son expire, 
 Why, full of days and honor, lives the sire? 
 Why drew Marseilles' good bishop purer breath, 
 When nature sieken'd, and each gale was death? 
 
 Aa2 
 
282 
 
 Or why so long (in life if long can be) 
 Lent Heaven a parent to the poor and me? 
 
 16 What makes all physical or moral ill? 
 There deviates nature, and here wanders will. 
 God sends not ill, if rightly understood, 
 
 Or partial ill is universal good, 
 
 Or change admits, or nature lets it fall, 
 
 Short, and but rare, till man improv'd it all. 
 
 Think we, like some weak prince, th' Eternal Cause 
 
 Prone for his favorites to reverse his laws ? 
 
 17 Shall burning Etna, if a sage requires,* 
 Forget to thunder, and recall her fires? 
 
 On air or sea new motions be imprest, 
 
 blameless Bethel! to relieve thy breast? 
 
 When the loose mountain trembles from on high, 
 
 Shall gravitation cease, if you go by? 
 
 Or some old temple, nodding to its fall, 
 
 For Chartres' head reserve the hanging wall? 
 
 IS But still this world (so fitted for the knave) 
 Contents us not. A better shall we have? 
 A kingdom of the just then let it be: 
 But first consider how those just agree. 
 The good must merit Cod's peculiar care; 
 But who, but God, can tell us who they are? 
 One thinks on Calvin Heaven's own spirit fell, 
 Another deems him instrument of hell; 
 If Calvin feel Heaven's blessing, or its rod, 
 This cries, there is, and that, there is no God. 
 
 19 What shocks one part will edify the rest, 
 Nor with one system can they all be blest; 
 The very best will variously incline, 
 
 And what rewards your virtue, punish mine. 
 "Whatever is, is right." — This world, 'tis true, 
 Was made for Caesar— but for Titus too : 
 And which more blest? Who chain'd his country, say, 
 Or he whose virtue sigh'd to lose a day? 
 
 20 "But sometimes virtue starves, while vice is fed." 
 What then? Is the reward of virtue bread? 
 
 That, vice may merit, 'tis the price of toil; 
 The knave deserves it, when he tills the soil. 
 
 * Alluding to the fate of those two great naturalists, Empedocles and 
 Pliny, who both perished by too near an approach to Etna and Vesuvius, 
 while they were exploring the cause of their eruptions 
 
283 
 The knave deserves it, when he tempts tlie main, 
 Where folly fights for kings, or dives for gain. 
 The good man may be weak, be indolent; 
 Nor is his claim to plenty, but content. 
 
 21 But grant him riches, your demand is o'er? 
 "No: shall the good want health, the good want power?** 
 Add health and power, and ev'ry earthly thing; 
 
 " Why bounded pow'r? why private? why no king? 
 " Nay, why external for internal giv'n? 
 " Why is not man a God and earth a heav'n?" 
 Who ask and reason thus, will scarce conceive 
 God gives enough, while he has more to give; 
 Immense the pow'r, immense were the demand; 
 Say, at what part of nature will they stand? 
 
 22 What nothing earthly gives or call destroy, 
 The soul's calm sun-shine, and the heart-felt joy, 
 Is virtue's prize: a better would you fix? 
 
 Then give humility a coach and six, 
 
 Justice a conqu'ror's sword, or truth a gown, 
 
 Or public spirit, its great cure, a crown. 
 
 Weak, foolish man ! will Heav'n reward us there 
 
 With the same trash mad mortals wish for here? 
 
 The boy and man an individual makes, 
 
 Yet sigh'st thou now for apples and for cakes? 
 
 23 Go, like the Indian, in another life, 
 Expect thy dog, thy bottle, and thy wife; 
 As well as dream such trifles are assigned, 
 As toys and empires for a godlike mind. 
 Rewards, that either would to virtue bring 
 No joy, or be destructive of the thing; 
 How oft by these at sixty are undone 
 The virtues of a saint at twenty-one! 
 
 24 To whom can riches give repute, or trust, 
 Content or pleasure, but the good and just? 
 Judges and senates have been bought for gold; 
 Esteem and love were never to be sold. 
 
 fool ! to think God hates the worthy mind, 
 The lover and the love of human-kind, / 
 
 I Whose life is healthful, and whose conscience clear, 
 Because he wants a thousand pounds a year. 
 
 25 Honor and shame from no condition rise; 
 Act well your part, there all the honor lies. 
 Fortune in men has some small difference made, 
 One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade; 
 
284 
 The cobbler apron'd, and the parson gown'd, 
 The friar hooded, and the monarch crown'd. 
 
 26 " What differ more (you cry) than crown and cowl?*' 
 I'll tell you, friend! a wise man and a fool. 
 
 You'll find, if once the monarch acts the monk, 
 Or, cobbler-like, the parson will be drunk, 
 Worth makes the man, and want of it the fellow: 
 The rest is all but leather or prunello. 
 
 27 Stuck o'er with titles and hung round with strings, 
 That thou may'st be by kings, or slaves of kings, 
 Boast the pure blood of an illustrious race, 
 
 In quiet flow from Lucrece to Lucrece: 
 
 But by your fathers' worth if yours you rate, 
 
 Count me those only who were good and great. 
 
 2S Go! if your ancient, but ignoble blood 
 Has crept through scoundrels ever since the flood, 
 Go ! and pretend your family is young! 
 " Nor own your fathers have been fools so long. 
 What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards? 
 Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards. 
 
 29 Look next on greatness; say where greatness lies? 
 " Where, but among the heroes and the wise?" 
 Heroes are much the same, the point's agreed, 
 
 From Macedonia's madman to the Swede; 
 
 The whole strange purpose of their lives, to find 
 
 Or make an enemy of all mankind! 
 
 Not one looks backward, onward still he goes, 
 
 Yet ne'er looks forward further than his nose. 
 
 30 No less alike the politic and wise; 
 
 All sly-slow things, with circumspective eyes: 
 Men in their loose unguarded hours they take, 
 Not that themselves are wise, but others weak. 
 But grant that those can conquer, these can cheat-j 
 ? Tis phrase absurd to call a villain great: 
 Who wickedly is wise,* or madly brave, 
 Is but the more a fool, the more a knave. 
 
 31 Who noble ends by noble means obtains, 
 Or failing, smiles in exile or in chains, 
 
 Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed 
 Like Socrates, that man is great indeed. 
 
 * This is a solecism : wickedness and wisdom are incompatible. Wick 
 edness is an infallible evidence of folly and mental imbecility.— Comp. 
 
2S5 
 
 32 What's fame? a fancy'd life in others' breath, 
 A thing beyond us, e'en before our death. 
 
 Just what you hear, you have, and what's unknown 
 
 The same (my lord) if Tully's or your own. 
 
 All that we feel of it begins and ends 
 
 In the small circle of our foes or friends; 
 
 To all beside as much an empty shade 
 
 An Eugene living, as a Caesar dead; 
 
 Alike or when, or where they shone or shine, 
 
 Or on the Rubicon, or on the Rhine. 
 
 33 A wit's a feather, and a chief's a rod; 
 An honest man's the noblest work of God. 
 Fame but from death a villain's name can save, 
 As justice tears his body from the grave; 
 When what t' oblivion better were resigned, 
 
 Is hung on high, to poison half mankind. 
 
 34 All fame is foreign, but of true desert; 
 Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart: 
 One self-approving hour whole years outweighs 
 Of stupid starers, and of loud huzzas; 
 
 And more true joy Marcellus exil'd feels, 
 Than Caesar with a senate at his heels. 
 
 35 In parts superior what advantage lies? 
 Tell (for you can) what is it to be wise? 
 Truths would you teach, or save a sinking land? 
 All fear, none aid you, and few understands 
 Painful pre-eminence! yourself to view 
 Above life's weakness, and its comforts too. 
 
 36 Bring then these blessings to a strict account; 
 Make fair deductions; see to what they 'mount: 
 How much of other each is sure to cost; 
 
 How each for other oft is wholly lost; 
 How inconsistent greater goods with these; 
 How sometimes life is risk'd, and always ease: 
 Think, and if still the things thy envy call, 
 Say, would'st thou be the man to whom they fall? 
 
 37 To sigh for ribands if thou art so silly, 
 Mark how they grace Lord Umbra, or Sir Billy. 
 Is yellow dirt the passion of thy life? 
 
 Look but on Gripus, or on Gripus' wife. 
 If parts allure thee, think how Bacon shin'd, 
 The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind: 
 Or, ravish'd with the whistling of a name, 
 See Cromwell damn'd to everlasting fame! 
 
286 
 
 38 If all, united, thy ambition call, 
 From ancient story, learn to scorn them all. 
 There, in the rich, the honor'd, fam'd, and great, 
 See tj*e false scale of happiness complete! 
 
 39 Mark by what wretched steps their glory grows, 
 From dirt and sea- weed, as proud Venice rose; 
 
 In each how guilt and greatness equal ran, 
 And all that rais'd the hero, sunk the man; 
 Now Europe's laurels on their brows behold, 
 But stained with blood, or ill exchanged for gold: 
 Then see them brdke with toils, or sunk in ease, 
 Or infamous for plundered provinces. 
 
 40 wealth ill-fated ! which no act of fame 
 E'er taught to shine, or sanctify 'd from shame! 
 What greater bliss attends their close of life? 
 Some greedy minion, or imperious wife, 
 
 The trophy'd arches, story'd halls invade, 
 
 And haunt their slumbers in the pompous shade. 
 
 Alas! not dazzled with their noon-tide ray, 
 
 Compute the morn and ev'ning to the day; 
 
 The whole amount of that enormous fame, 
 
 A tale, that blends their glory with their shame! 
 
 41 Know then this truth (enough for man to know) 
 "Virtue alone is happiness below." 
 
 The only point where human bliss stands still, 
 And tastes the good without the fall to ill; 
 Where only merit constant pay receives, 
 Is blest in what It takes, and what it gives; 
 The joy unequall'd, if its end it gain, 
 And if it lose, attended with no pain: 
 
 42 Without satiety, though e'er so bless'd, 
 And but more relish'd as the more distressed: 
 The broadest mirth unfeeling Folly wears, 
 Less pleasing far than Virtue's very tears: 
 Good, from each object, from each place acquir'd, 
 For ever exercis'd, yet never tir'd; 
 
 Never elated, while one man's oppress'd; 
 Never dejected, while another's bless'd; 
 And where no wants, no wishes can remain, 
 Since but to wish more virtue is to gain. 
 
 43 See the sole bliss Heav'n could on all bestow! 
 Which who but feels can taste, but thinks can know: 
 Yet poor with fortune, and with learning blind, 
 The bad must miss, the good untaught will find; 
 
2£7 
 Slave to no sect, who takes no private road, 
 But looks through nature up to nature's God: 
 
 44 Pursues that chain which links th' immense design, 
 Joins heav'n and earth, and mortal and divine; 
 
 Sees, that no being any bliss can know, 
 But touches some above, and some below; 
 Learns, from this union of the rising whole, 
 The first, last purpose of the human soul; 
 And knows where faith, law, morals, all began, 
 All end, in Love of God. and Love of Man. 
 
 45 For him alone, hope leads from goal to goal, 
 And opens still, and opens on his soul; 
 
 Till lengthened on to faith, and unconfin'd, 
 It pours the bliss that fills up all the mind. 
 
 46 He sees, why nature plants in man alone 
 Hope of known bliss, and faith in bliss unknown: 
 (Nature, whose dictates to no other kind 
 
 Are giv'n in vain, but what they seek they find) 
 Wise is her present; she connects in this 
 His greatest virtue with his greatest bliss; 
 At once his own bright prospect to be blest, 
 And strongest motive to assist the rest. 
 
 47 Self-love thus push'd to social, to divine, f . 
 Gives thee to make thy neighbor's blessing thine. 
 
 Is this too little for thy boundless heart? 
 
 Extend it, let thy enemies have part: 
 
 Grasp the whole worlds of reason, life, and sense, 
 
 In one close system of benevolence: 
 
 Happier as kinder, in whate'er degree, 
 
 And height of bliss but height of charity. 
 
 4S God loves from whole to parts; but human soul 
 Must rise from individual to the whole. 
 Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake, 
 As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake; 
 The centre mov'd, a circle straight succeeds, 
 Another still, and still another spreads: 
 Friend, parent, neighbor, first it will embrace, 
 His country next, and next all human race; 
 Wide and more wide, the o'erflowings of the mind 
 Take every creature in, of every kind; 
 Earth smiles around, with boundless bounty blest, 
 And Heav'n beholds its image in his breast. 
 
 49 Come then, my friend, my genius, come along, 
 O master of the poet, and the song! 
 
23S 
 
 And while the muse now stoops, or now ascends, 
 To man's low passions, or their glorious ends, 
 Teach me, like thee, in various nature wise, 
 To fall with dignity, with temper rise; 
 Form'd by thy converse, happily to steer 
 From grave to gay, from lively to severe; 
 Correct with spirit, eloquent with ease, 
 Intent to reason, or polite to please. 
 
 50 ! while along the stream of time thy name 
 Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame; 
 
 Say, shall my little bark attendant sail, 
 Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale? 
 When statesmen, heroes, kings, in dust repose, 
 Whose sons shall blush their fathers were thy foes^ 
 Shall then this verse to future age pretend 
 Thou wert my guide, philosopher and friend! 
 
 51 That, urg'd by thee, I turn'd the tuneful art, 
 From sounds to things, from fancy to the heart; 
 For wit's false mirror held up nature's light; 
 Shew'd erring pride, whatever is, is right; 
 That reason, passion, answer one great aim; 
 That true self-love and social are the same; 
 
 That virtue only makes our bliss below; 
 And all our knowledge is, ourselves to knoiv? 
 
 SECTION V. 
 The Universal Prayer. 
 
 Deo Optimo Maximo- 
 
 1 Father of All ! in ev'ry age, 
 
 In ev'ry clime ador'd, 
 By saint, by savage, and by sage, 
 Jehovah, Jove, or Lord ! 
 
 2 Thou Great First Cause, least understood; 
 
 Who all my sense confin'd 
 To know but this, that Thou art good, 
 And that myself am blind; 
 
 [Note. — Several passages of the Essay on Man, some of which are 
 more calculated to display dexterous feats of a vaulting' imagination, than 
 to impart demonstrable moral truth to the youthful mind ; — and others 
 being characterized by unnecessary amplification, and sometimes by a 
 roughness of expression, unsuited to the more refined taste of the present 
 age, have been omitted by the Compiler, as not being adapted, in his 
 judgment, for class-reading in our public schools.] 
 
289 
 
 Yet gave me, in this dark estate, 
 
 To see the good from ill; 
 And, binding nature fast ia fate, 
 
 Left free the human will. 
 
 3 What conscience dictates to be done, 
 
 Or warns me not to do, 
 This, teach me more than hell to shun, 
 That, more than heav'n pursue. 
 
 4 What blessings thy free bounty gives, 
 
 Let me not cast away; 
 For God is paid when man receives, 
 T* enjoy, is to obey. 
 
 5 Yet not to earth's contracted span, 
 
 Thy goodness let me bound, 
 Or think Thee Lord alone of man, 
 
 When thousand worlds are round: 
 Let not this weak, unknowing hand 
 
 Presume thy bolts to throw, 
 • And deal damnation round the land, 
 
 On each I judge thy foe: 
 
 6 If I am right, thy grace impart, 
 
 Still in the right to stay; 
 If I am wrong, O teach my heart 
 To find that better way. 
 
 7 Save me alike from foolish pride, 
 
 Or impious discontent, 
 At aught thy wisdom has deny'd, 
 Or aught thy goodness lent. 
 
 8 Teach me to feel another's wo ; 
 
 To hide the fault I see : 
 
 That mercy I to others show, 
 
 That mercy show to me. 
 
 9 Mean though I am, not wholly so, 
 
 Since quieken'd by thy breath; 
 lead me, wheresoe'er I go, 
 Through this day's life or death. 
 
 10 This day be bread and peace my lot: 
 
 All else beneath the sun, 
 Thou know'st if best bestow'd or not, 
 And let thy will be done. 
 
 11 To Thee, whose temple is all space, 
 
 Whose altar, earth, sea, skies! 
 One chorus let all beings raise! 
 
 All nature's incense rise! 
 Bb 
 
290 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 FRAGMENTS FROM THOMSON^ SEASONS. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 Early rising, — Address to the Sun! 
 
 1 Falsely luxurious! will not man awake; 
 And, springing from the bed of sloth, enjoy 
 The cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour, 
 To meditation due and sacred song? 
 
 For is there aught in sleep can charm the wise? 
 To lie in dead oblivion, losing half 
 The fleeting moments of too short a life; 
 Total extinction of the enlightened soul! 
 
 2 Or else to feverish vanity alive, 
 
 Wilder'd, and tossing through distempered dreams? 
 Who would in suck a gloomy state remain 
 Longer than nature craves; when every Muse 
 And every blooming pleasure wait without, 
 To bless the wildly devious morning walk? 
 
 3 But yonder comes the powerful King of Day, 
 Rejoicing in the east. The lessening cloud, 
 
 The kindling azure, and the mountain's brow 
 
 Illum'd with fluid gold, his near approach 
 
 Betoken glad. Lo! now, apparent all, 
 
 Aslant the dew-bright earth, and colorM air, 
 
 He looks in boundless majesty abroad; 
 
 And sheds the shining day, that burnished plays 
 
 On rocks, and hills, and tow'rs, and wand'ring streams, 
 
 High gleaming from afar. Prime cheerer, Light! 
 
 Of all material beings first, and best! 
 
 Efflux divine ! Nature's resplendent robe ! 
 
 Without whose vesting beauty all were wrapt 
 
 In unessential gloom; and thou, Sun! 
 
 Soul of surrounding worlds ! in whom best seen 
 
 Shines out thy Maker! may I sing of thee? 
 
 4 'Tis by thy secret, strong, attractive force, 
 As with a chain indissoluble bound, 
 
 Thy system rolls entire: from the far bourne 
 Of utmost Saturn, wheeling wide his round 
 Of thirty years; to Mercury, whose disk 
 Can scarce be caught by philosophic eye, 
 Lost in the near effulgence of thy blaze. 
 Informer of the planetary train ! 
 
291 
 
 Without whose quickening glance their cumbrous orbs 
 
 Were brute unlovely mass, inert and dead, 
 
 And not, as now, the green abodes of life. 
 
 How many forms of being wait on thee, 
 
 Inhaling spirit! from the unfetter'd mind, 
 
 By thee sublinr'd, down to the daily race, 
 
 The mixing myriads of thy setting beam. 
 
 SECTION II. 
 Charity. 
 1 Be not too narrow, husbandmen! but fling 
 From the full sheaf, with charitable stealth, 
 The liberal handful. Think, oh! grateful think 1 
 How good the God of harvest is to you; 
 Who pours abundance o'er your flowing fields; 
 While these unhappy partners of your kind 
 Wide-hover round you, like the fowls of heaven, 
 And ask their humble dole. The various turns 
 Of fortune ponder; that your sons may want 
 What now, with hard reluctance, faint, ye give. 
 
 SECTION III. 
 Primeval Innocence. 
 
 1 Then spring the living herbs, profusely wild, 
 O'er all the deep-green earth, beyond the power 
 Of ^botanists to number up their tribes: 
 Whether he steals along the lonely dale, 
 
 In silent search; or through the forest, rank 
 With what the dull incurious weeds account, 
 Bursts his blind way; or climbs the mountain rock, 
 FirM by the nodding verdure of its brow. 
 
 2 With such a liberal hand has nature flung 
 Their seeds abroad, blown them about in winds, 
 Innumerous mixed them with the nursing mould, 
 The moistening current, and prolific rain. 
 
 3 But who their virtues can declare? who pierce, 
 With vision pure, into the secret stores 
 
 Of health, and life, and joy? The food of Man, 
 While yet he liv'd in innocence, and told * 
 A length of golden years; unfleshM in blood, 
 A stranger to the savage arts of life, 
 Death, rapine, carnage, surfeit, and disease j- 
 The lord, and not the tyrant, of the world. 
 
 4 Nor yet injurious act, nor surly deed, 
 
292 
 
 Was known among those happy sons of heaven - 7 
 For reason and benevolence were law. 
 
 5 And yet the wholesome herb neglected dies; 
 Though with the pure exhilarating soul 
 
 Of nutriment and health, and vital powers, 
 
 Beyond the search of art, *tis copious blest. 
 
 For, with hot ravine fir'd, ensanguined Man 
 
 Is now become the lion of the plain, 
 
 And worse. The wolf, who from the nightly fold 
 
 Fierce drags the bleating prey, ne'er drunk her milk 
 
 Nor wore her warming fleece: nor has the steer, 
 
 At whose strong chest the deadly tiger hangs, 
 
 E'er plow'd for him. They too are tempered high, 
 
 With hunger stung and wild necessity, 
 
 Nor lodges pity in their shaggy breast. 
 
 6 But Man, whom Nature formed of milder clay, 
 With every kind emotion in his heart, 
 
 And taught alone to weep; while from her lap 
 
 She pours ten thousand delicacies, herbs, 
 
 And fruits, as numerous as the drops of rain 
 
 Or beams that gave them birth: shall he, fair form! 
 
 Who wears sweet smiles, and looks erect on heaven, 
 
 E'er stoop to mingle with the prowling herd, 
 
 And dip his tongue in gore? 
 
 SECTION IV. 
 Barbarity of hunting and shooting merely for sport 
 
 1 Here the rude clamor of the sportsman's joy, 
 The gun fast thundering, and the winded horn, 
 Would tempt the Muse to sing the rural game: 
 
 These are not subjects for the peaceful Muse, 
 Nor will she stain with such her spotless song: 
 
 2 Then most delighted, when she social sees 
 The whole mix'd animal-creation round 
 Alive, and happy. 'Tis not joy to her, 
 
 This falsely-cheerful barbarous game of death, 
 This rage of pleasure, which the restless youth 
 Awakes, impatient, with the gleaming morn: 
 
 3 When beasts of prey retire; that all night long, 
 Urg'd by necessity, had rang'd the dark, 
 
 As if their conscious ravage shunn'd the light, 
 Asham'd. Not so the steady tyrant Man, 
 Who with the thoughtless insolence of power 
 Inflam'd, beyond the most infuriate wrath 
 
293 
 
 Of the worst monster that e'er roam'd t^e waste, 
 For sport alone pursues the cruel chase, 
 Amid the beamings of the gentle days. 
 
 4 Upbraid, ye ravening tribes, our wanton rage, 
 For hunger kindles you, and lawless want; 
 But lavish fed, in Nature's bounty roll'd, 
 To joy at anguish, and delight in. blood, 
 Is what your horrid bosoms never knew. 
 
 * SECTION V. 
 
 Address to Philosophy: — advantages of science, arU 9 
 and civilization. 
 
 1 With thee, serene Philosophy, with thee, 
 And thy bright garland, let me crown my song! 
 Effusive source of evidence, and truth! 
 
 A lustre shedding o'er W ennobled mind, 
 Stronger than summer-noon; and pure as that, 
 Whose mild vibrations soothe the parted soul, 
 $Iew to the dawning of celestial day. 
 
 2 Hence through her nourish'd powers, enlarged bv the*; 
 She springs aloft, with elevated pride, 
 
 Above the tangling mass of low desires, 
 
 That bind the fluttering crowd; and, angel-wing'd, 
 
 The heights of < science and of virtue gains, 
 
 Where all is calm and clear; with Nature round, 
 
 Or in the starry regions, or th' abyss, 
 
 To Reason's and to Fancy's eye display 'd: 
 
 , 3 The First up-tracing, from the dreary void, 
 The chain of causes and effects to Him, 
 The world-producing Essence, who alone 
 Possesses being; while the Last receives 
 The whole magnificence of heaven and earth, 
 And every beauty, delicate or bold, 
 Obvious or more remote, with livelier sense, 
 Diffusive painted on the rapid mind. 
 
 4 Tutor'd by thee, hence Poetry exalts 
 Her voice to ages; and informs the page 
 With music, image, sentiment, and thought, 
 Never to die! the treasure of mankind! 
 Their highest honor, and their truest joy! 
 Without thee what were unenlighten'd Man? 
 
 5 A savage roaming through the woods and wilds, 
 In quest of prey ; and with th' unfashion'd fur 
 Rough-clad ; devoid of every finer art, 
 
 Bb2 
 
294 
 
 And elegance of life. Nor happiness 
 Domestic, mix'd of tenderness and care, 
 Nor moral excellence, nor sociarbliss, 
 Nor guardian law were his; nor various skill 
 To turn the furrow, or to guide the tool 
 Mechanic; noi the heaven-conductedprow 
 Of navigation bold, that fearless braves 
 The burning line, or dares the wintry pole: 
 Mother severe of infinite delights! 
 
 6 Nothing, save rapine, indolence, and guile, 
 And woes on woes, a still-revolving train! 
 Whose horrid circle had made human life 
 Than non-existence worse: but, taught by thee, 
 Ours are the plans of policy and peace; 
 
 To live like brothers, and conjunctive all 
 Embellish life. While thus laborious crowds 
 Ply the tough oar, Philosophy directs 
 The ruling helm; or like the liberal breath 
 Of potent heaven, invisible, the sail 
 Swells out, and bears th' inferior world along. 
 
 7 Nor to this evanescent speck of earth 
 Poorly confined, the radiant tracts on high 
 Are her exalted range; intent to gaze 
 Creation through; and, from that full complex 
 Of never-ending wonders, to conceive 
 
 Of the Sole Being right, who spoke the Word, 
 And Nature mov'd complete. 
 
 SECTION VI. 
 Domestic Happiness. 
 1 But happy they! the happiest of their kind! 
 Whom gentler stars unite; and in one fate 
 Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend. 
 Tis not the coarser tie of human laws, 
 Unnatural oft, and foreign to the mind, 
 That binds their peace, but harmony itself, 
 Attuning all their passions into love; 
 Where friendship full exerts her softest power, 
 Perfect esteem enlivened by desire 
 IneSable, and sympathy of soul; 
 Thought meeting thought, and will preventing will 
 With boundless confidence: For nought but love 
 Oan answer love, and render bliss secure. 
 
295 
 
 2 Let him, ungenerous, who, alone intent 
 To bless himself, from sordid parents buys 
 The loathing virgin, in eternal care, 
 Well-merited, consume his nights and days; 
 Let barbarous nations, whose inhuman love 
 Is wild dpsire, fierce as the suns they feel; 
 Let eastern tyrants from the, light of heaven 
 Seclude their bosom-slaves, meanly possessed 
 Of a mere lifeless, violated form; 
 
 While those whom love cements in holy faith, 
 And equal transport, free as Nature live, 
 Disdaining fear. 
 
 3 What is the world to them? 
 
 Its pomp, its pleasure, and its nonsense all? 
 Who in each other clasp whatever fair 
 High fancy forms, and lavish hearts can wish; 
 Something than beauty dearer, should they look 
 Or on the mind, or mind-illumin'd face; 
 Truth, goodness, honor, harmony, and love, 
 The richest bounty of indulgent Heaven. 
 
 4 Meantime a smiling offspring rises round, 
 And mingles both their graces. By degrees, 
 The human blossom blows; and every day, 
 Soft as it rolls along, shows some new charm, 
 The father's lustre, and the mother's bloom. 
 Then infant reason grows apace, and calls 
 For the kind hand of an assiduous care. 
 
 5 Delightful task! to rear the tender thought, 
 To teach the f"oung idea how to shoot, 
 
 To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind, 
 To breathe th' enlivening spirit, and to fix 
 The generous purpose in the glowing breast. 
 
 6 Oh, speak the joy! ye, whom the sudden tear 
 Surprises often, while you look around, 
 
 And nothing strikes your eye but sights of bliss, 
 All various Nature pressing on the heart; 
 An elegant sufficiency, content, 
 Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books, 
 Ease and alternate labor, useful life, 
 Progressive virtue, and approving Heaven! 
 
 7 These are the matchless joys of virtuous love; 
 And thus their moments fly. The Seasons thus, 
 As ceaseless round a jarring world they roll, 
 
 Still find them happy; and consenting Spbing 
 
296 
 Sheds her own rosy garland on their heads: 
 Till evening comes at last, serene and mild ; 
 When after the long vernal day of life, 
 Enamor'd more, as more remembrance swells 
 With many a proof of recollected love, 
 Together down they sink in social sleep; 
 Together freed, their gentle spirits fly 
 To scenes where love and bliss immortal reign. 
 
 CHAPTER 3. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS ARTICLES. 
 
 SECTION I. 
 
 Happiness: — By Miss Ann Candler, of Suffolk^ 
 England. 
 
 1 Delusive phantom, light as air, 
 
 Whose shadow we pursue, \ 
 Each rising morn with anxious care, 
 
 We still the chase renew. 
 Elate with hope we persevere, 
 
 Still flatter'd with success; 
 Yet unforeseen events defer 
 
 Our visionary bliss. 
 
 2 Our fruitless toil augments our pain, 
 
 Our hopes flit swiftly by; 
 We sigh, despairing to obtain 
 ' The transitory joy. 
 Can gold untainted pleasure give? 
 
 Can we depend on power? 
 Can fame the sick'ning heart relieve, 
 
 Or bring one happy hour? 
 
 3 Will titles, birth, or pompous shows, 
 
 Youth, beauty, wit combined, 
 Will these, I ask, avert the woes 
 
 EntaiPd on human kind? 
 Yet still t)ur wish we may effect, 
 
 Substantial blessings know: 
 What from the shadow we expect, 
 
 The substance will bestow. 
 
297 
 4 With wisdom dwells our dearest bliss, 
 Abounding with increase; 
 " Her ways are ways of pleasantness, 
 
 And all her paths are peace. " 
 Lay hold on her, and you'll possess 
 
 The treasure you have sought; 
 Her price beyond the ruby is, 
 Or gold from Ophir brought. 
 
 Nicholson's Literary Miscellany, 
 
 SECTION II. 
 Cruelty to inferior animals censured. 
 
 1 I would not enter on my list of friends, 
 (Though gracM with polish'd manners and fine sense> 
 Yet wanting sensibility,) the man 
 
 Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm. 
 An inadvertent step may crush the snail, 
 That crawls at evening in the public path; 
 But he that has humanity, forewarned, 
 Will tread aside, and let the reptile live. 
 
 2 The creeping vermin, loathsome to the sight, 
 And charged perhaps with venom, that intrudes 
 A visiter unwelcome into scenes 
 
 Sacred to neatness and repose, th' alcove, 
 The chamber, or refectory, may die. 
 A necessary act incurs no blame. 
 
 3 Not so, when held within their proper bounds, 
 And guiltless of offence they range the air, 
 
 Or take their pastime in the spacious field: 
 There they are privileged. And he that hunts 
 Or harms them there, is guilty of a wrong; 
 Disturbs th' economy of Nature's realm, 
 Who when she form'd, designM them an abode. 
 
 4 The sum is this: if man's convenience, health, 
 Or safety, interfere, his rights and claims, 
 
 Are paramount, and must extinguish theirs. 
 Else they are all — the meanest things that are, 
 As free to live and to enjoy that life, 
 As God was free to form them at the first, 
 Who, in his sovereign wisdom, made them all. 
 
 5 Ye, therefore, who love mercy, teach your sons 
 To love it too. The spring time of our years 
 
 fs soon dishonored and defil'd, in most, 
 
298 
 
 By budding ills, that ask a prudent hand 
 To check them. But alas! none sooner shoots 
 If unrestrained, into luxuriant growth, 
 Than cruelty. 
 
 SECTION III. 
 Mischievous Amusements of Schoolboys.* 
 Schools, unless discipline were doubly strong, 
 Detain their adolescent charge too long; 
 The management of ty roes of eighteen 
 Is difficult, their punishment obscene. 
 The stout tall captain, w r hose superior size 
 The minor heroes view with envious eyes, 
 Becomes their pattern, upon whomthey fix 
 Their whole attention, and ape all his tricks. 
 His pride, that scorns t 9 obey or to submit, 
 With them is courage: his effront'ry wit. 
 His wild excursions, window-breaking feats, 
 Robbery of gardens, quarrels in the streets, 
 His hairbreadth 'scapes, and all his daring schemes, 
 Transport them, and are made their favorite themes. 
 In little bosoms such achievements strike 
 A kindred spark: they burn to do the liker 
 
 Cowper. 
 
 THE END. 
 
299 
 
 APPENDIX* 
 
 AN ECONOMICAL PROJECT, FOR THE EXPEDITIOUS AND 
 UNIVERSAL DIFFUSION OF KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 In the hope that the impulse of a disposition to "do good" may influence 
 some patron of knowledge, or generous youth, in every neighborhood where 
 these sheets may be circulated, to volunteer his exertions for the institution 
 ttf a Free Library and Reading Society^ I annex the following form of a con- 
 stitution, which such friends to society are earnestly desired to transcribe and 
 present for subscription, to citizens and young people, as speedily and gene- 
 rally as possible : 
 
 THE CONSTITUTION, 
 
 Of the Juvenile Society of for the Acquisition of 
 
 Knowledge. 
 
 We the subscribers, being convinced that it is indispensably necessary for 
 our welfare and happiness, that we improve our minds by the acquirement 
 of useful knowledge, do hereby agree to associate as a Library and Reading 
 Society, and conform to the following articles of regulation ; which may, at 
 any time, be altered or amended, by agreement of two thirds of the mem- 
 bers of the society, who are permitted to vote. 
 
 I. The society may be composed of young persons of both sexes, between 
 ten and twenty-one years of age ; who are equally admitted to the benefits 
 of this institution, (except that those who are under sixteen years of age are 
 not permitted to vote) by signing these articles, and complying with their re- 
 gulations. The elder members to be denominated senior, and the younger, 
 junior members. 
 
 II. Persons over twenty-one years of age, may also be admitted, and shall 
 be entitled to all the privileges of senior members, by contributing two dol- 
 lars, or more, at the time of their admission, and one dollar annually after- 
 wards. 
 
 HI. The society shall meet on the first Monday in the month of 
 
 at o'clock, p. m. and choose seven trustees, a majority of whom 
 
 shall be more than twenty-one years of age. The trustees shall appoint a 
 librarian from among themselves, or the other senior members, and fill vacan- 
 cies in the board, protempore, at each meeting, whenever they occur, from 
 non-attendance or otherwise ; or if there should not a sufficient number be 
 present for that purpose, four of the board shall be competent to transact 
 business. 
 
 IV. The librarian shall act as chairman, at the meetings of the society or 
 of the trustees, and have a casting vote. He shall act as treasurer and secre- 
 tary. He shall number the books, and keep a record of all that, are drawn 
 and returned. He shall purchase for the library only such books as are 
 authorised by the trustees. He shall keep an account of all the books, given 
 or lent to the society, and of receipts and expenditures. He is authorized to 
 loan books to persons who are not members, at one dollar per year, or three 
 cents per week, or without any charge to those who shall obtain the certified 
 consent of two of the trustees. He shall keep a distinct account of fines col- 
 lected on the books lent to the society, which shall be paid to the owners. 
 On the first Mondays in March and September, he shall exhrbit notices on the 
 
300 
 
 doors of churches, schoolhouses, or at such other places as he may deem 
 proper, inyiting all the youth to join the society, who are entitled to the priv- 
 ilege, as specified in the first article. Whenever the librarian shall deem it 
 expedient, he is authorized to require deposits, or orders from responsible 
 persons, to be left by any person to whom he shall deliver books. 
 
 V. All the books of the library shall be returned every week, at, or before 
 
 o'clock, on p. m. or on the first Monday of every month ; the 
 
 penalty for the neglect of which, shall be six cents on each book, and one 
 cent per day until returned ; or if not returned within one month after the 
 time aforesaid, to be paid for, if required by the trustees. 
 
 VI. It shall be the duty of the trustees, to decide what books shall be ad 
 mitted, whether offered as donations, or in payment for subscriptions, or lent ; 
 to examine the books returned at each meeting, and impose reasonable fines 
 on such as are damaged by ill usage ; and, if materially injured, to be paid 
 for, at the appraisal of the trustees. Books which are received as donations, 
 and decided to be inadmissible, shall be exchanged by the trustees, or sold at 
 auction. 
 
 VII. Those who neglect to pay fines, or other dues to the society, within 
 one month after incurred, shall be prohibited the use of the library until paid. 
 
 VIII. The library shall be open, for the delivery of books, every Satur- 
 day, from one to five o'clock, for females, and from five to nine o'clock, p. m. 
 for males : and books may be returned and exchanged, at all other times, 
 when convenient to the librarian. 
 
 IX. The first choice of books, at each meeting, shall belong to the patrons 
 and members of the society who shall have subscribed, and paid, the greatest 
 amount for the benefit of the institution, in gradation to those who shall have 
 paid the least. And to others, the precedence shall belong to the oldest, in 
 gradation to the youngest. 
 
 X. A reading meeting is appointed to be held every Thursday evening, 
 from six to eight o'clock ; for which purpose, any senior member of the soci- 
 ety may prepare essays, or select and designate instructive and interesting 
 articles from books, for the consideration of the librarian, or such of the trus- 
 tees as he may nominate, who shall decide upon the pieces to be read at each 
 meeting. No person to read more than than two pages at once. 
 
 We hereby mutually recommend it to each other, to contribute twenty-five 
 cents, quarterly, if possible, every year, for the purchase of new books for 
 the library ; and severally promise to pay to the librarian, the amount, or. its 
 value in such books as shall be accepted by the trustees, set respectively 
 against our names. 
 
 [Note. — The Compiler of the preceding work projected and established 
 a free circulating library, in the year 1804, at New Lebanon, (N. Y.) for the 
 exclusive benefit of Apprentices and youth of both sexes, between 12 and 
 21 years of age, and similar institutions have recently been adopted in vari- 
 ous parts of the United States.] 
 
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