fame goodness blefs your fifters in like manner; perfect you in every good work, and give you a right underftanding in all things. Amen. Your most loving father, T. WENTWorth. LETTER III. From a gentleman at Lisbon, immediately after the earthquake, to his fon in London. My dear Son, RE you receive this from your unhappy father, you will have heard of the deftruction of this place, and of the calamitous fituation of its few remaining miferable inhabitants. God, in his infinite mercy protect us! All that you have heard will fall fhort of what I have feen; for no words have energy fufficient to convey an idea of a scene fo amazingly dreadful.-Your poor mother is no more! Ask me not for your fifters!-And, as for myfelf, I am a vagabond, and condemned to seek my bread from those who can ill afford to feed me. But the Lord gave, and the Lord bath taken away.-I am fatisfied.-All may be for the beft, and our friends are, I doubt not, removed to a more permanent city, whofe foundations are not to be shaken, and where forrow is no more. Let us, my dear child, prepare to follow them; and that we may do fo, let us live here that we may fear no diffolution, nor dread what may hap pen hereafter. Let us always be prepared for the worst, and not depend on a death-bed repentance; for you fee we have not a moment that we can call our own. St. Auftin fays, We read of one man who was faved at the last hour, that none may difpair; and of but one, that none may prefume. How unfafe, how foolish, therefore, is it to put off that until to-morrow, which is fo effentially neceffary to be done to day! Tomorrow may never come!-Oh think of that! You may be fnatched away in au inftant, as thoufands here have been, for there is no withstanding the arm of the Almighty no! the attempt would be vain, would be prefumptuous, would be impious: and you would find, my dear fon, (I hope not too late), that the only fecurity against accidents of this fort, is the leading a religious and good life. AN CA I am your truly affectionate father. LETTER IV. To Amelia, with a gold thimble. you believe me, my little friend, when I say, that the prefent I now make you may be of more service to you in the courfe of your life, than the ring of Gyges; and that I deserve your thanks as much as if I had given you the cap of Fortunatus. Perhaps you may have heard only of the latter, I will explain to you the virtues of the ring. This, my little fair, would render you invifible whenever you chofe to be fo; you might then range through the apartments of your play-fellows unfeen, play ten thoufand little tricks which at present is not in your power to do; but, indeed, the greatest advantages of the ring are referved for another age, when you may be prefent with your lover, and difcover the true fentiments of his heart, perplex your rival, hide her Bruffels and her jewels the night before a ball, and torment her with all the arts of ingenious mischief. These are advantages which at prefent, perhaps, may not tempt you; the cap, as I can eafily imagine, will be rather the object of your wifhes. But tell me, you fay, how this thimble can be of fuch infinite fervice? At your age, my little friend, employment is of the utmost use: to be busy, if it be not learning to be virtuous, will at least protect you from the contrary impreffions. Whilft your imagination is employed how best to fhade a rofe, or your fancy determines the colours of the various parts of your work, vanity will scarce have time to whisper in your ear, that you have more beauty than another, or inspire you with too early a love of gaiety and pleasure.. When When you have lived to that age in which your reafon fhall be ripened, you will, perhaps, perceive, that thofe little follies which your fex are guilty of, proceed from a fault in their education, and that idleness is the parent of vice. Thus then, in the early years of life, whilst you place the thimble on your finger, you are guarding your bofom against the approach of foibles which might banish those from your fociety, who were attracted by the charms of your person. 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 affiftance, has fupported herself with decency, and felt the pleasures of living without depending on the beneficence of others. A few years hence, when the youth, whom your eyes have wounded, shall beg your acceptance of fome trifle in the warmest terms imaginable, he will entreat you to preferve it; but I, on the contrary, fhall defire you to be frequent in the use of this, and to wear it out for my fake. I am, &c. LETTER V. On the viciffitudes of human life. EMEMBER, my fon, that human life is the joura day. We rife in the morning of youth, full of vigour, and full of expectation; we fet forward with fpirit, and hope, with gaiety and with diligence, and travel on a while, in the straight road of piety, towards the manfions of reft. In a fhort time we remit our fervour, and endeavour to find fome mitigation of our duty, and fome more cafy means of obtaining the fame end. We then relax our vigour, and refolve no longer to be terrified with crimes at a diftance, but rely upon our own conftancy, and venture to approach what we refolve never to touch. We thus enter the bowers of case, and re pofe A pose in the fhades of fecurity. Here the heart foftens, and vigilance fubfides: we are then willing to inquire whe ther another advance cannot be made, and whether we may not, at least, turn our eyes upon the gardens of pleafure. We approach them with fcruple and hesitation; we enter them, but enter timorous and trembling, and always hope to pafs through them without lofing the road of virtue, which we, for a while, keep in our fight, and to which we propose to return. But temptation fucceeds temptation, and one compliance 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 ourselves in bufinefs, 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 forrow, with repentance; and wish, but too often vainly wish, that we had not forfaken the ways of virtue. Happy are they, my fon, who learn not to despair, but fhall remember, that though the day is past, and their ftrength 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 ftrength and courage from above, fhall find danger and difficulty give way before him. LETTER VI. From a father to his fon, on his admifion into the univerfity. My dear Son, YOU OU are now going into the wide world. Every flep 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. where. Few will have concern or affection enough to aðvise 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 fimplicity of life which the rules of academical focieties prescribe. Mix not intemperance with your growing years, nor treasure up infirmities against an age the fittest for employment. You have received health from your parents, and you owe it to your children. Be careful in the choice of your company; pay civility to all; have friendship with few; not too quickly with any. An idle companion will corrupt and disgrace you while you affociate with him, and afperfe and expofe you when you fhall fhake him off. In this, be advised by thofe whom I truft to do all good offices for you. Whenever you find yourself with perfons of fuperior age, or quality, or ftation, or endowments, pay a deference to them; so much is due to their experience and character. Modesty is the moft amiable virtue, especially in a young man who profeffes himself a learner. Poffibly, in a large fociety, you may meet with fome bold young men who will think to arrogate to themselves 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 true magnanimity. A brave mind is feen in perfevering through the difficulties of a virtuous course; in the conqueft of irregular appetites and paffions, and in fcorning to do any thing that is mean or base. Have nothing to do with politics, 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 purpose, and in which, if you could really have any fkill, at your age it would feem to be affected. Take the proper advantages of living in a fociety. Obferve the different tempers and difpofitions of men; fhun their vices, imitate their virtues, make use of |