proceed from a Fault in your Education, and that Idleefs is the Parent of Vice. Thus then, in the early Years of Life, whilft you place the Thimble on your Finger, you are guarding your Bofom against the Ap. proach of Foibles which might banish those from your Society, who were attracted by the Charms of your Perfon.

Another of its Virtues, which, in all Probability, you can never want to experience, is, that if properly applied, it contains a Charm against the Calamities of Poverty. I have known many a Female, who, by its Affillance, has fupported herself with Decency, and felt the Pleafure of living without depending on the Beneficence of others.

A few Years fince, when the Youth, whom your Eyes have wounded, fhall beg your Acceptance of fome Trifle, in the warmest Teems imaginable, he will intreat you to preferve it; but I, on the contrary, fhall defire you to be frequent in the Ufe of this, and to wear it out for my Sake. I am, &c.

On the Viciffitudes of human Life.

EMEMBER, my Son, that human Life is the Journey of a Day. We rife in the Morning of Youth, full of Vigour and full of Expectation; we fet forward with Spirit and Hope, with Gaiety and with Diligence, and travel on a while, in the ftrait Road of Piety, towards the Manfions of Reft. In a fhort Time we remit our Fervor, and endeavour to find some Mitigation of our Duty, and fome more eafy Means' of obtaining the fame End. We then relax our Vigour, and refolve no longer to be terrified with Crimes at a Distance, but rely upon our own Conftancy, and venture to approach what we refolve never to touch. We thus enter the Bowers of Eafe, and repofe in the Shades of Security. Here the Heat foftens, and Vigi lance fubfides; we are then willing to enquire, whether another Advance cannot be made, and whether we may not, at leaft, turn our Eyes upon the Gardens of Pleafure. We approach them with Scruple and Hesi. tation; we enter them, but enter timorous and trem

bling,

bling, and always hope to pafs through, them without lofing the Road of Virtue, which we, for a while, keep in our Sight, and to which we propofe to return. But Temptation fucceeds Temptation, and one Comp'iance prepares us for another; we, in Time, lofe the Happiness of Innocence, and folace our Difquiet with fenfual Gratifications. By Degrees we let fall the Remembrance of our original Intention, and quit the only adequate Object of rational Defire. We entangle ourfelves in Bufirefs, immerge ourselves in Luxury, and rove through the Labyrinths of Inconftancy, till the Darkness of old Age begins to invade us, and Disease and Anxiety obstruct our Way. We then look back upon our Lives with Horror, with Sorrow, with Repentance; and with, but too often vainly wifsh, that we had not forfaken the Ways of Virtue. Happy are they, my Son, who learn not to defpair, but fhall remember, that though the Day is paft, and their Strength is wafted, there yet remains one Effort to be made; that Reformation is never hopeless, nor fincere Endeavours ever unaffifted; that the Wanderer may at length return after all his Errors, and that he, who implores Strength and Courage from above, fhall find Danger and Difficulty give Way before him.

LETTER VI.

From a Father to his Son on his Admiffion into the Univerfity.

My dear Son,

You

OU are now going into the wide World. Every Step you take is attended with Danger, and requires Caution. My Eye is upon you no longer, and the Vigilance of Governors, and the Care of Tutors, cannot follow you every where. Few will have Concern or Affection enough to advife you faithfully. Your Conduct must be a good deal regulated by your own Reflections. The only fecure-Paths are thofe of Religion and Virtue, in which it will not be difficult for you to walk, if you live agreeably to that Simplicity of Life, which the Rules of Academical Societies prefcribe. Mix not Intemperance with your growing

Years,

3

Years, nor treasure up Infirmities against an Age the fitteft for Employment. You have received Heal.h from your Parents, and you owe it to your Children. Be careful in the Choice of your Company, pay Civility to all; have Friendthip with few; not too quickly with any: An idle Companion will corrupt and difgrace you while you affociate with him, and afperfe and expofe you when you fhall fhake him off. In this, be advifed by thofe whom I truft to, to do all good Offices. for you. Whenever you find yourself with Perfons of fuperior Age, or Quality, or Station, or Endowments, pay a Deference to them; fo much is due to their Experience and Character. Modefty is the most amiable. Virtue, efpecially in a young Man who profeffes himfelf a Learner. Poffibly, in a large Society you may meet with fome bold young Men, who will think to arrogate to themfelves a Value amongst their ill-bred Companions, by daring to fay and do abufive Things to their Governors; but do not you imitate fuch Examples; for Prudence is not Magnanimity. A brave Mind is een in perfevering through the Difficulties of a virtuous Courfe; in the Conqueft of irregular Ap petites and Paffions, and in fcorning to do any Thing that is mean or bafe. Have nothing to do with Po litics, which, when you fhall have ftudied all your Life, you will not have found out what will hereafter be the Humours or Refentments, or private Interefts or public Views of Men in Power: A Study, which, as it is generally directed, rather leads from Virtue, is foreign to your prefent Purpofe, and in which, if you could really have any Skill, at your Age it would feem to be affected. Take the proper Advantages of living in a Society. Obferve the different Tempers and Dif pofitions of Men; fhun their Vices, imitate their Virtues, make Ufe of their Learning, and let the many Eyes that are upon you, the Confcioufnefs of your Du ty, and the Indignation to be infignificant, raife an Emulation in you to excel in fome Kind of Art or Knowledge that may hereafter be ufeful to the Public. From the Moment of your Entrance take Care of your Reputation. Let not one Exercise go out of your Hands' that hath not employed your utmoft Diligence,

Not

Notwithstanding the Affection I have for you, I shall not be able to do you the Service I defire, unless you affift me with your Character. And, in all doubtful Cafes, let not your Father, who loves you best, and your Governors, who are well able to direct you, be the only Friends that you will not confult. [ am, &c.

LETTER VII.

To Demetrius, with a Present of Fruit, on early rising.

You

June 28, 1770. YOU would have received a much larger Quantity of Fruit, but to fay the Truth, my Band of Muficians have made bold with more of it this Summer than ufual; however, when I confider that 'tis the only Wages I pay them, I am no otherwife difpleafed with it, than as it prevents me from obliging my Friends in Town as I could wish.

My Lucinda, you know, is extremely fond of Birds, and the fays, it would be cruel to deprive them of their Liberty, when we can be entertained with their Songs without it; to encourage then their Refidence amongit us, they are not denied a great Share of the Productions of my Garden.

We were this Morning at Six o'Clock in our Garden, an Hour which you are totally unacquainted with, and which, notwithstanding, affords the noblest Scene which a human Creature can be prefent at

The Sun, my Demetrius, was just risen above the Horizon, and all the Eaftern Sky was tinged with Blushes, the Zephyrs, as they paffed, were fraught with Fragrance from the opening Flowers, and the feathered Songfters were waked to their refpective Parts, in their Morning Hymn to the Author of Nature.

Whilft my Lucinda and I were walking, like a fond old-fashioned Couple, Arm in Arm, I could not but recollect that Part of the Paradise loft, where Milton has described our first Parents as rifing to their Labours, and addreffing their grateful Orifons to the bounteous Father of every Bleffing.

Thee

There is indeed fomething which, at this time, infpires us with Gratitude to our Maker, and produces Sentiments in almost every Bofom, like those which are given to Adam:

Thefe are thy glorious Works, Parent of Good,
Almighty, thine this univerfal Frame,

Thus wondrous Fair, thyfelf how wondrous then!
Unfpeakable, who firft above these Heavens
To us invifible or dimly feen,

In these thy loweft Works, yet these declare Thy Goodnefs beyond Thought, and Pow'r divine. There is likewife fomething which must create a grateful Sense of our Obligation to Heaven, when we wake again to Life, with the Bleffing of Health, and recollect that many have paffed the Night in all the Anguish of Pain and Difeafe. As for myfelf I fhould retire to Sleep with no little Anxiety, if I were not affured that we are protected in thofe Hours by our Maker, when we are not confcious of our own Exiftence. There cannot furely be a more comfortable Reflection, than being convinced that a Power who commands and directs all Nature is our Guard, without whofe Knowledge no Action is committed, nor even the most secret Thought can arise.

With this Confidence of Security, the good Man commits himself to the Arms of Sleep, where all befides muft fear it, and feels Serenity, where every other Breaft must be difcompofed.

The unufual Serenity of the Morning, which in fpired every Warbler with Chearfulness, detained us in the Garden till our little Boy came running to inform us that the Breakfaft waited.

Is it not extremely abfurd, faid Lucinda, as we returned, for Mankind to complain of the fhort Du'ration of their Lives, when they even refufe to live a Number of Hours which Providence has bestowed on them. How many can we recollect amongst our Acquaintance, who have been loft to every Joy this Morning has afforded us, and who may, notwithftanding, before Night affert, that the Age which Men in general attain to, ferves only to conduct them to a fuperficial Knowledge of the Sciences, or,

H

• that