you would find, that it is not all that is to be faid uponnight and many more qualities and effects of night would occur to you. As, for inftance, though night is in general the time of quiet and repofe, yet it is often the time too for the commiffion and fecurity of. crimes; fuch as robberies, murders, and violations; which generally feek the advantage of darknefs as fa- vourable for the escapes of the guilty. Night too, tho' it brings reft and refreshment to the innocent and vir- tuous, brings difquiet and horror to the guilty. The confeioufnefs of their crimes torments them, and de-nies them fleep and quiet. You might, from thefe re- flexions, confider what would be the proper epithets to give to night; as, for example, if you were to rerefent night in its moft pleafing fhape, as procuring quiet and refreshment from labour and toil, you might : call it the friendly night, the filent night, the welcome night, the peaceful night; but if, on the contrary, you were to reprefent it as inviting to the commiffion of crimes, you would call it the guilty night, the confcious night, the horrid night, with many other epithetsthat carry along with them the idea of horror and guilt; for an epithet, to be proper, muft always be adapted (that is, fuited) to the circumstances of the perfon or thing to which it is given. Thus Virgil, who generally gives Æneas the epithet of pious, because of ais piety to the Gods, and his duty to his father, calls im dux Eneas where he reprefents him making love o Dido, às a proper epithet for him in that fituation; ecaufe making love becomes a General much better han a man of fingular piety. Lay afide, for a few minutes, the thoughts of play, nd think of this seriously. Amoto quæramus feria Ludo.* Adieu ! * Amufement for once laid alide, let us apply to serious business. DEAR BOY, LETTER XXI. Writing Themes recommended...Virtue. Sunday, I SHALL not foon leave the fubject of invention and thinking; which I would have you apply to, as much as your age and giddinefs will permit. Ufe will make it every day eaffer to you, and age and obfervation will improve it. Virtue is a fubject that deferves your and every man's attention; and fuppofe I were to bid you make fome verfes, or give me your thoughts in profe, upon the fubject of virtue, how would you go about it? Why you would firft confider what virtue is, and then what are the effects and marks of it, both with regard to others and one's-felf. You would find, then, that virtue confifts in doing good, and in fpeaking truth; and that the effects of it are advantageous to ail mankind, and to one's-felf in particular. Virtue makes us pity and relieve the misfortunes of mankind; it makes us promote juftice and good order in fociety; and, in general, contributes to whatever tends to the real good of mankind. To ourfelves it gives an inward comfort and fatisfaction, which nothing elfe can do, and which nothing can rob us of. All other advantages depend upon others, as much as upon ourselves. Riches, power, and greatnefs, may be taken away from us by the violence and injuftice of others, or by inevitable accidents; but virtue depends only upon ourfelves, and nobody can take it away from us. Sicknefs may deprive us of all the pleafures of the body; but it cannot deprive us of virtue, nor of the fatisfaction which we feel from it. A virtuous man, under all the misfortunes of life, ftill finds an inward comfort and fatisfaction, which makes him happier than any wicked man can be, with all the other advantages of life. If a man has acquired great power and riches by falfehood, injuftice and oppreffion, he cannot enjoy them; because his confcience will torment him, and conftantly reproach him with the means by which he got them. The flings of his conscience will not even Let him fleep quietly; but he will dream of his crimes; and in the day-time, when alone, and when he has time to think, he will be uneafy and melancholy. He is afraid of every thing; for, as he knows mankind. muft hate him, he has reafon to think they will hurt: him if they can. Whereas, if a virtuous man be ever fo poor or unfortunate in the world, ftill his virtue is its own reward, and will comfort him under all afflic tions. The quiet and fatisfaction of his confcience make him cheerful by day, and fleep found by night; he can be alone with pleafure, and is not afraid of his own thoughts. Befides this, he is univerfally efteemed and refpected; for even the moft wicked people themfelves cannot help admiring and respecting virtue in others. All thefe, and many other advantages, you would afcribe to virtue, if you were to compofe upon that fubject. Adieu! DEAR BOT, You LETTER XXII. Wednesday OU behaved yourself fo well at Mr. Boden's, laft Sunday, that you júftly deferve commendation: befides, you encourage me to give you fome rules of politeness and good-breeding, being perfuaded that you will obferve them. Know then, that as-learning, honour, and virtue, are abfolutely necellary to gain you the efteem of mankind, politenefs and good-breeding are equally neceffary to make you welcome and agreeable in con verfation and common life. Great talents, fuch as honour, virtue, learning, and parts, are above the generality of the world, who neither poffefs them themfelves, nor judge of them rightly in others: but all people are judges of the leffer talents, fuch as civility, affability, and an obliging, agreeable addrefs and manner; becaufe they feel the effects of them, as making fociety eafy and pleafing. Good-fenfe muft, in many cafes, determine good-breeding; because the same thing that would be civil at one time, and to one perfon, would be quite otherwife at another time, and to another perfon; but there are fome general rules of good-breeding, that hold always true, and in all cafes. As, for example, it is always extremely rude to anfwer only Yes or No to any body, without adding Sir, or Madam, according to the quality of the perfon you fpeak to. It is likewife extremely rude not to give the proper attention, and a civil anfwer, when people fpeak to you; or to go away, or be doing fomething elfe, while they are fpeaking to you; for that convinces them that you defpife them, and do not think it worth your while to hear or anfwer what they fay. I dare lay I need not tell you how rude it is to take the best place in a room, or to fize immediately upon what you like at table, without offering firit to help others, as if you confidered nobody but yourfelf. On the contrary, you fhould always endeavour to procure all the conveniences you can to the people you are with. Befides being civil, which is abfolutely neceffary, the perfection of good-breeding is, to be civil with eafe, and in a gentleman-like manner. For this, you fhould obferve thofe people, who excel in it, and whofe politenefs feems as eafy and natural as any other part of their converfation. But, remember never to be afhamed pray, do you of doing what is right: you would have a great deal of reafon to be afhamed if you were not civil, but what reafon can you have to be afhamed of being civil? And why not fay a civil and an obliging thing as eafily and as naturally as you would ask what o'clock it is? This kind of bafhfulness, which is juflly called, by the French, mauvaije honte, is the diftinguished character of a booby, who is frightened out of his wits, when people of fashion fpeak to him; and, when he is to anfwer them, blufhes, ftammers, can hardly get out what he would fay, and becomes really ridiculous, from groundlefs fear of being laughed at; whereas, a really well-bred man would fpeak to all the great men * *Falfe shame. in the world, with as little concern, and as much eafe, as he would fpeak to you. Remember then, that to be civil, and to be civil with eafe (which is properly called good-breeding,) is the only way to be belovefl, and well-received in company; that to be ill-bred, and rude, is intolerable, and the way to be kicked out of company. As I am fure you will mind and practife all this, I expect that whent you are novennis, you will not only be the beft fcholar, but the beit-bred boy in England of your age. Adieu! LETTER XXIII. The lefer Talents... Awkwardness...Dejcription of an awkward" DEAR BOY, Perf.n. Spa, the 25th July. I HAVE often told you in my former letters (and it is most certainly true) that the strictest and most scrupulous honour and virtue can alone make you efteemed and valued by the best part of mankind; that parts and learning can alone make you esteemed by them; but that the poffeffion of leffer talents was moft abfolutely neceflary, towards making you liked and beloved, in private life. Of thefe leffer talents, good-breeding is the principal and moft neceffary one, not only as it is very important in itfelf; but as it adds great luftre to the more folid advantages both of the heart and the mind. I have often touched upon good-breeding to you before; fo that this letter fhall be upon the next neceflary qualification to it, which is a genteel eafy manner and carriage, wholly free from thofe odd tricks, ill habits, and awkwardneffes, which even many very worthy and fenfible people have in their behaviour. However trifling a genteel manner may found, it is of very great confequence towards pleafing in private life, efpecially the women, whom, one time or other, you. will think worth pleafing and I have known many a man, from his awkwardnefs, give people fuch a diflike |