I observe that most of the Bills agree in one Expression, viz. that (with God's Blessing) they perform such and such Cures: This Expression is certainly very proper and emphatical, for that is all they have for it. And if ever a Cure is performed on a Patient where they are concerned, they can claim no greater Share in it than Virgil's Japis in the curing of AEneas; he tried his Skill, was very assiduous about the Wound, and indeed was the only visible Means that relieved the Hero; but the Poet assures us it was the particular Assistance of a Deity that speeded the Operation. An English Reader may see the whole Story in Mr. Dryden's Translation.

Prop'd on his Lance the pensive Heroe stood, And heard, and saw unmov'd, the Mourning Crowd. The fam'd Physician tucks his Robes around, With ready Hands, and hastens to the Wound. With gentle Touches he performs his Part, This Way and that, solliciting the Dart, And exercises all his Heavenly Art. All softning Simples, known of Sov'reign Use, He presses out, and pours their noble Juice; These first infus'd, to lenifie the Pain, He tugs with Pincers, but he tugs in vain. Then to the Patron of his Art he pray'd; The Patron of his Art refus'd his Aid. But now the Goddess Mother, mov'd with Grief, And pierc'd with Pity, hastens her Relief. A Branch of Healing Dittany she brought, Which in the Cretan Fields with Care she sought; Rough is the Stem, which woolly Leaves surround; The Leafs with Flow'rs, the Flow'rs with Purple crown'd: Well known to-wounded Goats; a sure Relief To draw the pointed Steel, and ease the Grief. This Venus brings, in Clouds involv'd; and brews Th' extracted Liquor with Ambrosian Dews, And od'rous Panacee: Unseen she stands, Temp'ring the Mixture with her heav'nly Hands: And pours it in a Bowl, already crown'd With Juice of medc'nal Herbs, prepared to bathe the Wound. The Leech, unknowing of superior Art, Which aids the Cure, with this foments the Part; And in a Moment ceas'd the raging Smart. Stanched is the Blood, and in the bottom stands: The Steel, but scarcely touched with tender Hands, Moves up, and follows of its own Accord; And Health and Vigour are at once restor'd. Japis first perceiv'd the closing Wound; And first the Footsteps of a God he found. Arms, Arms! he cries, the Sword and Shield prepare, And send the willing Chief, renew'd to War. This is no mortal Work, no cure of mine, Nor Art's effect, but done by Hands Divine.



[Footnote 1: Dr. Zachary Pearce, Bishop of Rochester, with alterations by Addison.]



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No. 573. Wednesday, July 28, 1714.



'—Castigata remordent—'

Juv.



My Paper on the Club of Widows has brought me in several Letters; and, among the rest, a long one from Mrs. President, as follows.



Smart SIR,

'You are pleased to be very merry, as you imagine, with us Widows: And you seem to ground your Satyr on our receiving Consolation so soon after the Death of our Dears, and the Number we are pleased to admit for our Companions; but you never reflect what Husbands we have buried, and how short a Sorrow the Loss of them was capable of occasioning. For my own Part, Mrs. President as you call me, my First Husband I was marry'd to at Fourteen, by my Uncle and Guardian (as I afterwards discovered) by way of Sale, for the Third part of my Fortune. This Fellow looked upon me as a meer Child, he might breed up after his own Fancy; if he kissed my Chamber-Maid before my Face, I was supposed so ignorant, how could I think there was any Hurt in it? When he came home Roaring Drunk at five in the Morning, 'twas the Custom of all Men that live in the World. I was not to see a Penny of Money, for, poor Thing, how could I manage it? He took a handsome Cousin of his into the House, (as he said) to be my Housekeeper, and to govern my Servants; for how should I know how to rule a Family? and while she had what Money she pleased, which was but reasonable for the Trouble she was at for my Good, I was not to be so censorious as to dislike Familiarity and Kindness between near Relations. I was too great a Coward to contend, but not so ignorant a Child to be thus imposed upon. I resented his Contempt as I ought to do, and as most poor passive blinded Wives do, 'till it pleased Heaven to take away my Tyrant, who left me free Possession of my own Land, and a large Jointure. My Youth and Money brought me many Lovers, and several endeavoured to establish an Interest in my Heart while my Husband was in his last Sickness; the Honourable Edward Waitfort was one of the first who addressed to me, advised to it by a Cousin of his that was my intimate Friend, and knew to a Penny what I was worth. Mr. Waitfort is a very agreeable Man, and every Body would like him as well as he does himself, if they did not plainly see that his Esteem and Love is all taken up, and by such an Object, as 'tis impossible to get the better of. I mean himself. He made no doubt of marrying me within Four or Five Months, and begun to proceed with such an assured easie Air, that piqued my Pride not to banish him; quite contrary, out of pure Malice, I heard his first Declaration with so much innocent Surprize, and blushed so prettily, I perceived it touched his very Heart, and he thought me the best-natured Silly poor thing on Earth. When a Man has such a Notion of a Woman, he loves her better than he thinks he does. I was overjoy'd to be thus revenged on him, for designing on my Fortune; and finding it was in my Power to make his Heart ake, I resolved to compleat my Conquest, and entertain'd several other Pretenders. The first Impression of my undesigning Innocence was so strong in his Head, he attributed all my Followers to the inevitable Force of my Charms, and from several Blushes and side Glances, concluded himself the Favourite; and when I used him like a Dog for my Diversion, he thought it was all Prudence and Fear, and pitied the Violence I did my own Inclinations to comply with my Friends, when I marry'd Sir Nicholas Fribble of Sixty Years of Age. You know, Sir, the Case of Mrs. Medlar, I hope you would not have had me cry out my Eyes for such a Husband. I shed Tears enough for my Widowhood a Week after my Marriage, and when he was put in his Grave, reckoning he had been two Years dead, and my self a Widow of that Standing, I married three Weeks afterwards John Sturdy, Esq., his next Heir. I had indeed some Thoughts of taking Mr. Waitfort, but I found he could stay, and besides he thought it indecent to ask me to marry again 'till my Year was out, so privately resolving him for my Fourth, I took Mr. Sturdy for the present. Would you believe it, Sir, Mr. Sturdy was just Five and Twenty, about Six Foot high, and the stoutest Fox-hunter in the Country, and I believe I wished ten thousand times for my old Fribble again; he was following his Dogs all the Day, and all the Night keeping them up at Table with him and his Companions: however I think my self obliged to them for leading him a Chase in which he broke his Neck. Mr. Waitfort began his Addresses anew, and I verily believe I had married him now, but there was a young Officer in the Guards, that had debauched two or three of my Acquaintance, and I could not forbear being a little vain of his Courtship. Mr. Waitfort heard of it, and read me such an insolent Lecture upon the Conduct of Women, I married the Officer that very Day, out of pure Spight to him. Half an Hour after I was married I received a Penitential Letter from the Honourable Mr. Edward Waitfort, in which he begged Pardon for his Passion, as proceeding from the Violence of his Love: I triumphed when I read it, and could not help, out of the Pride of my Heart, shewing it to my new Spouse: and we were very merry together upon it. Alas! my Mirth lasted a short time; my young Husband was very much in Debt when I marry'd him, and his first Action afterwards was to set up a gilt Chariot and Six, in fine Trappings before and behind. I had married so hastily, I had not the Prudence to reserve my Estate in my own Hands; my ready Money was lost in two Nights at the Groom Porter's; and my Diamond Necklace, which was stole I did not know how, I met in the Street upon Jenny Wheadle's Neck. My Plate vanished Piece by Piece, and I had been reduced to downright Pewter, if my Officer had not been deliciously killed in a Duel, by a Fellow that had cheated him of Five Hundred Pounds, and afterwards, at his own Request, satisfy'd him and me too, by running him through the Body. Mr. Waitfort was still in Love, and told me so again; and to prevent all Fears of ill Usage, he desir'd me to reserve every thing in my own Hands: But now my Acquaintance begun to wish me Joy of his Constancy, my Charms were declining, and I could not resist the Delight I took in shewing the young Flirts about Town, it was yet in my Power to give Pain to a Man of Sense: This, and some private Hopes he would hang himself, and what a Glory would it be for me, and how I should be envy'd, made me accept of being third Wife to my Lord Friday. I proposed from my Rank and his Estate, to live in all the Joys of Pride, but how was I mistaken? he was neither extravagant, nor ill-natured, nor debauched? I suffered however more with him than with all my others. He was splenatick. I was forced to sit whole Days hearkening to his imaginary Ails; it was impossible to tell what would please him; what he liked when the Sun shined, made him sick when it rained; he had no Distemper, but lived in constant Fear of them all: my good Genius dictated to me to bring him acquainted with Doctor Gruel; from that Day he was always contented, because he had Names for all his Complaints; the good Doctor furnished him with Reasons for all his Pains, and Prescriptions for every Fancy that troubled him; in hot Weather he lived upon Juleps, and let Blood to prevent Fevers; when it grew cloudy he generally apprehended a Consumption; to shorten the History of this wretched Part of my Life, he ruined a good Constitution by endeavouring to mend it, and took several Medicines, which ended in taking the grand Remedy, which cured both him and me of all our Uneasinesses. After his Death, I did not expect to hear any more of Mr. Waitfort, I knew he had renounced me to all his Friends, and been very witty upon my Choice, which he affected to talk of with great Indifferency; I gave over thinking of him, being told that he was engaged with a pretty Woman and a great Fortune; it vexed me a little, but not enough to make me neglect the Advice of my Cousin Wishwell, that came to see me the Day my Lord went into the Country with Russel; she told me experimentally, nothing put an unfaithful Lover and a dear Husband so soon out of ones Head, as a new one; and, at the same time, propos'd to me a Kinsman of hers; You understand enough of the World (said she) to know Money is the most valuable Consideration; he is very rich, and I am sure cannot live long; he has a Cough that must carry him off soon. I knew afterwards she had given the self-same Character of me to him; but however I was so much persuaded by her, I hastned on the Match, for fear he should die before the time came; he had the same Fears, and was so pressing, I married him in a Fortnight, resolving to keep it private a Fortnight longer. During this Fortnight Mr. Waitfort came to make me a Visit; he told me he had waited on me sooner, but had that Respect for me, he would not interrupt me in the first Day of my Affliction for my dead Lord; that as soon as he heard I was at Liberty to make another Choice, he had broke off a Match very advantageous for his Fortune, just upon the Point of Conclusion, and was forty times more in Love with me than ever. I never received more Pleasure in my Life than from this Declaration, but I composed my Face to a grave Air, and said the News of his Engagement had touched me to the Heart, that in a rash jealous Fit, I had married a Man I could never have thought on if I had not lost all hopes of him. Good-natured Mr. Waitfort had like to have dropped down dead at hearing this, but went from me with such an Air as plainly shewed me he laid all the Blame upon himself, and hated those Friends that had advised him to the Fatal Application; he seemed as much touched by my Misfortune as his own, for he had not the least Doubt I was still passionately in Love with him. The Truth of the Story is, my new Husband gave me Reason to repent I had not staid for him; he had married me for my Money, and I soon found he loved Money to Distraction; there was nothing he would not do to get it, nothing he would not suffer to preserve it; the smallest Expence keep him awake whole Nights, and when he paid a Bill, 'twas with as many Sighs, and after as many Delays, as a Man that endures the Loss of a Limb. I heard nothing but Reproofs for Extravagancy whatever I did. I saw very well that he would have starved me, but for losing my Jointures; and he suffered Agonies between the Grief of seeing me have so good a Stomach, and the Fear that if he made me fast, it might prejudice my Health. I did not doubt he would have broke my Heart, if I did not break his, which was allowed by the Law of Self-defence. The Way was very easy. I resolved to spend as much Money as I could, and before he was aware of the Stroke, appeared before him in a two thousand Pound Diamond Necklace; he said nothing, but went quietly to his Chamber, and, as it is thought, composed himself with a Dose of Opium. I behaved my self so well upon the Occasion, that to this Day I believe he died of an Apoplexy. Mr. Waitfort was resolved not to be too late this time, and I heard from him in two Days. I am almost out of my Weed at this present Writing, and am very doubtful whether I'll marry him or no. I do not think of a Seventh, for the ridiculous Reason you mention, but out of pure Morality that I think so much Constancy should be rewarded, tho' I may not do it after all perhaps. I do not believe all the unreasonable Malice of Mankind can give a Pretence why I should have been constant to the Memory of any of the Deceased, or have spent much time in grieving for so insolent, insignificant, negligent, extravagant, splenatick, or covetous Husband; my first insulted me, my second was nothing to me, my third disgusted me, the fourth would have ruined me, the fifth tormented me, and the sixth would have starved me. If the other Ladies you name would thus give in their Husbands Pictures at length, you would see they have had as little Reason as my self to lose their Hours in weeping and wailing.



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574. Friday, July 30, 1714. Addison.



'Non possidentem multa vocaveris Recte Beatum, reclius occupat Nomen Beati, qui Deorum Muneribus sapienter uti Duramque callet pauperiem pati.'

Hor.

I was once engaged in Discourse with a Rosicrusian about the great Secret. As this kind of Men (I mean those of them who are not professed Cheats) are over-run with Enthusiasm and Philosophy, it was very amusing to hear this religious Adept descanting on his pretended Discovery. He talked of the Secret as of a Spirit which lived within an Emerald, and converted every thing that was near it to the highest Perfection it is capable of. It gives a Lustre, says he, to the Sun, and Water to the Diamond. It irradiates every Metal, and enriches Lead with all the Properties of Gold. It heightens Smoak into Flame, Flame into Light, and Light into Glory. He further added, that a single Ray of it dissipates Pain, and Care, and Melancholy from the Person on whom it falls. In short, says he, its Presence naturally changes every Place into a kind of Heaven. After he had gone on for some Time in this unintelligible Cant, I found that he jumbled natural and moral Ideas together into the same Discourse, and that his great Secret was nothing else but Content.

This Virtue does indeed produce, in some measure, all those Effects which the Alchymist usually ascribes to what he calls the Philosopher's Stone; and if it does not bring Riches, it does the same thing, by banishing the Desire of them. If it cannot remove the Disquietudes arising out of a Man's Mind, Body, or Fortune, it makes him easie under them. It has indeed a kindly Influence on the Soul of Man, in respect of every Being to whom he stands related. It extinguishes all Murmur, Repining, and Ingratitude towards that Being who has allotted him his Part to act in this World. It destroys all inordinate Ambition, and every Tendency to Corruption, with regard to the Community wherein he is placed. It gives Sweetness to his Conversation, and a perpetual Serenity to all his Thoughts.

Among the many Methods which might be made use of for the acquiring of this Virtue, I shall only mention the two following. First of all, A Man should always consider how much he has more than he wants; and Secondly, How much more unhappy he might be than he really is.

First of all, A Man should always consider how much he has more than he wants. I am wonderfully pleased with the Reply which Aristippus made to one who condoled him upon the Loss of a Farm, Why, said he, I have three Farms still, and you have but one; so that I ought rather to be afflicted for you, than you for me. On the contrary, foolish Men are more apt to consider what they have lost than what they possess; and to fix their Eyes upon those who are richer than themselves, rather than on those who are under greater Difficulties. All the real Pleasures and Conveniences of Life lie in a narrow Compass; but it is the Humour of Mankind to be always looking forward, and straining after one who has got the Start of them in Wealth and Honour. For this Reason, as there are none can be properly called rich, who have not more than they want; there are few rich Men in any of the politer Nations but among the middle Sort of People, who keep their Wishes within their Fortunes, and have more Wealth than they know how to enjoy. Persons of a higher Rank live in a kind of splendid Poverty, and are perpetually wanting, because instead of acquiescing in the solid Pleasures of Life, they endeavour to outvy one another in Shadows and Appearances. Men of Sense have at all times beheld with a great deal of Mirth this silly Game that is playing over their Heads, and by contracting their Desires, enjoy all that secret Satisfaction which others are always in quest of. The Truth is, this ridiculous Chace after imaginary Pleasures cannot be sufficiently exposed, as it is the great Source of those Evils which generally undo a Nation. Let a Man's Estate be what it will, he is a poor Man if he does not live within it, and naturally sets himself to Sale to any one that can give him his Price. When Pittacus, after the Death of his Brother, who had left him a good Estate, was offered a great Sum of Money by the King of Lydia, he thanked him for his Kindness, but told him he had already more by Half than he knew what to do with. In short, Content is equivalent to Wealth, and Luxury to Poverty; or, to give the Thought a more agreeable Turn, Content is natural Wealth, says Socrates; to which I shall add, Luxury is artificial Poverty. I shall therefore recommend to the Consideration of those who are always aiming after superfluous and imaginary Enjoyments, and will not be at the Trouble of contracting their Desires, an excellent Saying of Bion the Philosopher; namely, That no Man has so much Care, as he who endeavours after the most Happiness.

In the second Place, every one ought to reflect how much more unhappy he might be than he really is. The former Consideration took in all those who are sufficiently provided with the Means to make themselves easie; this regards such as actually lie under some Pressure or Misfortune. These may receive great Alleviation from such a Comparison as the unhappy Person may make between himself and others, or between the Misfortune which he suffers, and greater Misfortunes which might have befallen him.

I like the Story of the honest Dutchman, who, upon breaking his Leg by a Fall from the Mainmast, told the Standers-by, It was a great Mercy that 'twas not his Neck. To which, since I am got into Quotations, give me leave to add the Saying of an old Philosopher, who, after having invited some of his Friends to dine with him, was ruffled by his Wife that came into the Room in a Passion, and threw down the Table that stood before them; Every one, says he, has his Calamity, and he is a happy Man that has no greater than this. We find an Instance to the same Purpose in the Life of Doctor Hammond, written by Bishop Fell. As this good Man was troubled with a Complication of Distempers, when he had the Gout upon him, he used to thank God that it was not the Stone; and when he had the Stone, that he had not both these Distempers on him at the same time.

I cannot conclude this Essay without observing that there was never any System besides that of Christianity, which could effectually produce in the Mind of Man the Virtue I have been hitherto speaking of. In order to make us content with our present Condition, many of the ancient Philosophers tell us that our Discontent only hurts our selves, without being able to make any Alteration in our Circumstances; others, that whatever Evil befalls us is derived to us by a fatal Necessity, to which the Gods themselves are subject; whilst others very gravely tell the Man who is miserable, that it is necessary he should be so to keep up the Harmony of the Universe, and that the Scheme of Providence would be troubled and perverted were he otherwise. These, and the like Considerations, rather silence than satisfy a Man. They may shew him that his Discontent is unreasonable, but are by no means sufficient to relieve it. They rather give Despair than Consolation. In a Word, a Man might reply to one of these Comforters, as Augustus did to his Friend who advised him not to grieve for the Death of a Person whom he loved, because his Grief could not fetch him again: It is for that very Reason, said the Emperor, that I grieve.

On the contrary, Religion bears a more tender Regard to humane Nature. It prescribes to every miserable Man the Means of bettering his Condition; nay, it shews him, that the bearing of his Afflictions as he ought to do will naturally end in the Removal of them: It makes him easie here, because it can make him happy hereafter.

Upon the whole, a contented Mind is the greatest Blessing a Man can enjoy in this World; and if in the present Life his Happiness arises from the subduing of his Desires, it will arise in the next from the Gratification of them.



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No. 575. Monday, August 2, 1714. Addison.



'—Nec merti esse locum—'

Virg.



A lewd young Fellow seeing an aged Hermit go by him barefoot, Father, says he, you are in a very miserable Condition if there is not another World. True, Son, said the Hermit; but what is thy Condition if there is? Man is a Creature designed for two different States of Being, or rather, for two different Lives. His first Life is short and transient; his second permanent and lasting. The Question we are all concerned in is this, In which of these two Lives it is our chief Interest to make our selves happy? Or, in other Words, Whether we should endeavour to secure to our selves the Pleasures and Gratifications of a Life which is uncertain and precarious, and at its utmost Length of a very inconsiderable Duration; or to secure to our selves the Pleasures of a Life which is fixed and settled, and will never end? Every Man, upon the first hearing of this Question, knows very well which Side of it he ought to close with. But however right we are in Theory, it is plain that in Practice we adhere to the wrong Side of the Question. We make Provisions for this Life as tho' it were never to have an End, and for the other Life as tho' it were never to have a Beginning.

Should a Spirit of superior Rank who is a Stranger to human Nature, accidentally alight upon the Earth, and take a Survey of its Inhabitants; what would his Notions of us be? Would not he think that we are a Species of Beings made for quite different Ends and Purposes than what we really are? Must not he imagine that we were placed in this World to get Riches and Honours? Would not he think that it was our Duty to toil after Wealth, and Station, and Title? Nay, would not he believe we were forbidden Poverty by Threats of eternal Punishment, and enjoined to pursue our Pleasures under Pain of Damnation? He would certainly imagine that we were influenced by a Scheme of Duties quite opposite to those which are indeed prescribed to us. And truly, according to such an Imagination, he must conclude that we are a Species of the most obedient Creatures in the Universe; that we are constant to our Duty; and that we keep a steddy Eye on the End for which we were sent hither.

But how great would be his Astonishment, when he learnt that we were Beings not designed to exist in this World above threescore and ten Years? and that the greatest Part of this busy Species fall short even of that Age? How would he be lost in Horrour and Admiration, when he should know that this Sett of Creatures, who lay out all their Endeavours for this Life, which scarce deserves the Name of Existence, when, I say, he should know that this Sett of Creatures are to exist to all Eternity in another Life, for which they make no Preparations? Nothing can be a greater Disgrace to Reason, than that Men, who are perswaded of these two different States of Being, should be perpetually employed in providing for a Life of three-score and ten Years, and neglecting to make Provision for that, which after many Myriads of Years will be still new, and still beginning; especially when we consider that our endeavours for making ourselves great, or rich, or honourable, or whatever else we place our Happiness in, may after all prove unsuccessful; whereas if we constantly and sincerely endeavour to make our selves happy in the other Life, we are sure that our Endeavours will succeed, and that we shall not be disappointed of our Hope.

The following Question is started by one of the Schoolmen. Supposing the whole Body of the Earth were a great Ball or Mass of the finest Sand, and that a single Grain or Particle of this Sand should be annihilated every thousand Years. Supposing then that you had it in your Choice to be happy all the while this prodigious Mass of Sand was consuming by this slow Method till there was not a Grain of it left, on Condition you were to be miserable for ever after; or, supposing that you might be happy for ever after, on Condition you would be miserable till the whole Mass of Sand were thus annihilated at the Rate of one Sand in a thousand Years: Which of these two Cases would you make your Choice?

It must be confessed in this Case, so many Thousands of Years are to the Imagination as a kind of eternity, tho' in reality they do not bear so great a Proportion to that Duration which is to follow them, as a Unite does to the greatest Number which you can put together in Figures, or as one of those Sands to the supposed Heap. Reason therefore tells us, without any Manner of Hesitation, which would be the better Part in this Choice. However, as I have before intimated, our Reason might in such a Case be so overset by the Imagination, as to dispose some Persons to sink under the Consideration of the great Length of the first Part of this Duration, and of the great Distance of that second Duration which is to succeed it. The Mind, I say, might give it self up to that Happiness which is at Hand, considering that it is so very near, and that it would last so very long. But when the Choice we actually have before us is this, Whether we will chuse to be happy for the space of only three-score and ten, nay perhaps of only twenty or ten Years, I might say of only a Day or an Hour, and miserable to all Eternity; or, on the contrary, miserable for this short Term of Years, and happy for a whole Eternity: What Words are sufficient to express that Folly and want of Consideration which in such a Case makes a wrong Choice?

I here put the Case even at the worst, by supposing (what seldom happens) that a Course of Virtue makes us miserable in this Life: But if we suppose (as it generally happens) that Virtue would make us more happy even in this Life than a contrary Course of Vice; how can we sufficiently admire the Stupidity or Madness of those Persons who are capable of making so absurd a Choice?

Every wise Man therefore will consider this Life only as it may conduce to the Happiness of the other, and chearfully sacrifice the Pleasures of a few Years to those of an Eternity.



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No. 576. Wednesday, August 4, 1714. Addison.



'Nitor in adversum; nec me, qui coetera, vincit Impetus; et rapido contrarius euchor Orbi.'

Ovid.



I remember a young Man of very lively Parts, and of a sprightly Turn in Conversation, who had only one Fault, which was an inordinate Desire of appearing fashionable. This ran him into many Amours, and consequently into many Distempers. He never went to Bed till two a-Clock in the Morning, because he would not be a queer Fellow; and was every now and then knocked down by a Constable, to signalize his Vivacity. He was initiated into Half a Dozen Clubs before he was One and twenty, and so improved in them his natural Gayety of Temper, that you might frequently trace him to his Lodgings by a range of broken Windows, and other the like Monuments of Wit and Gallantry. To be short, after having fully established his Reputation of being a very agreeable Rake, he died of old Age at Five and twenty.

There is indeed nothing which betrays a Man into so many Errors and Inconveniences, as the Desire of not appearing singular; for which Reason it is very necessary to form a right Idea of Singularity, that we may know when it is laudable, and when it is vicious. In the first Place, every Man of Sense will agree with me, that Singularity is laudable, when, in Contradiction to a Multitude, it adheres to the Dictates of Conscience, Morality, and Honour. In these Cases we ought to consider, that it is not Custom, but Duty, which is the Rule of Action; and that we should be only so far sociable, as we are reasonable Creatures. Truth is never the less so, for not being attended to; and it is the Nature of Actions, not the Number of Actors, by which we ought to regulate our Behaviour. Singularity in Concerns of this Kind is to be looked upon as heroick Bravery, in which a Man leaves the Species only as he soars above it. What greater Instance can there be of a weak and pusillanimous Temper, than for a Man to pass his whole Life in Opposition to his own Sentiments? or not to dare to be what he thinks he ought to be?

Singularity therefore is only vicious when it makes Men act contrary to Reason, or when it puts them upon distinguishing themselves by Trifles. As for the first of these, who are singular in any thing that is irreligious, immoral, or dishonourable, I believe every one will easily give them up. I shall therefore speak of those only who are remarkable for their Singularity in things of no Importance, as in Dress, Behaviour, Conversation, and all the little Intercourses of Life. In these Cases there is a certain Deference due to Custom; and notwithstanding there may be a Colour of Reason to deviate from the Multitude in some Particulars, a Man ought to sacrifice his private Inclinations and Opinions to the Practice of the Publick. It must be confessed that good Sense often makes a Humourist; but then it unqualifies him for being of any Moment in the World, and renders him ridiculous to Persons of a much inferiour Understanding.

I have heard of a Gentleman in the North of England, who was a remarkable Instance of this foolish Singularity. He had laid it down as a Rule within himself, to act in the most indifferent Parts of Life according to the most abstracted Notions of Reason and Good Sense, without any Regard to Fashion or Example. This Humour broke out at first in many little Oddnesses: He had never any stated Hours for his Dinner, Supper or Sleep; because, said he, we ought to attend the Calls of Nature, and not set our Appetites to our Meals, but bring our Meals to our Appetites. In his Conversation with Country Gentlemen, he would not make use of a Phrase that was not strictly true: He never told any of them, that he was his humble Servant, but that he was his Well-wisher; and would rather be thought a Malecontent, than drink the King's Health when he was not a-dry. He would thrust his Head out of his Chamber-Window every Morning, and after having gaped for fresh Air about half an Hour, repeat fifty Verses as loud as he could bawl them for the Benefit of his Lungs; to which End he generally took them out of Homer; the Greek Tongue, especially in that Author, being more deep and sonorous, and more conducive to Expectoration, than any other. He had many other Particularities, for which he gave sound and philosophical Reasons. As this Humour still grew upon him, he chose to wear a Turban instead of a Perriwig; concluding very justly, that a Bandage of clean Linnen about his Head was much more wholsome, as well as cleanly, than the Caul of a Wig, which is soiled with frequent Perspirations. He afterwards judiciously observed, that the many Ligatures in our English Dress must naturally check the Circulation of the Blood; for which Reason, he made his Breeches and his Doublet of one continued Piece of Cloth, after the Manner of the Hussars. In short, by following the pure Dictates of Reason, he at length departed so much from the rest of his Countrymen, and indeed from his whole Species, that his Friends would have clapped him into Bedlam, and have begged his Estate; but the Judge being informed that he did no Harm, contented himself with issuing out a Commission of Lunacy against him, and putting his Estate into the Hands of proper Guardians.

The Fate of this Philosopher puts me in Mind of a Remark in Monsieur Fontinell's Dialogues of the Dead. The Ambitious and the Covetous (says he) are Madmen to all Intents and Purposes, as much as those who are shut up in dark Rooms; but they have the good Luck to have Numbers on their Side; whereas the Frenzy of one who is given up for a Lunatick, is a Frenzy hors d'oeuvre; that is, in other Words, something which is singular in its Kind, and does not fall in with the Madness of a Multitude.

The Subject of this Essay was occasioned by a Letter which I received not long since, and which, for want of Room at present, I shall insert in my next Paper.



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No. 577. Friday, August 6, 1714.



'—Hoc tolerabile, si non Et furere incipias—'

Juv.



The Letter mentioned in my last Paper is as follows.

SIR,

'You have so lately decryed that Custom, too much in use among most People, of making themselves the Subjects of their Writings and Conversation, that I had some difficulty to perswade my self to give you this Trouble, till I had considered that tho' I should speak in the First Person, yet I could not be justly charged with Vanity, since I shall not add my Name; as also, because what I shall write will not, to say the best, redound to my Praise; but is only designed to remove a Prejudice conceived against me, as I hope, with very little Foundation. My short History is this.

I have lived for some Years last past altogether in London, till about a Month ago an Acquaintance of mine, for whom I have done some small Services in Town, invited me to pass part of the Summer with him at his House in the Country. I accepted his Invitation, and found a very hearty Welcome. My Friend, an honest plain Man, not being qualified to pass away his Time without the Reliefs of Business, has grafted the Farmer upon the Gentleman, and brought himself to submit even to the servile Parts of that Employment, such as inspecting his Plough, and the like. This necessarily takes up some of his Hours every Day; and as I have no Relish for such Diversions, I used at these Times to retire either to my Chamber, or a shady Walk near the House, and entertain my self with some agreeable Author. Now you must know, Mr. SPECTATOR, that when I read, especially if it be Poetry, it is very usual with me, when I meet with any Passage or Expression which strikes me much, to pronounce it aloud, with that Tone of the Voice which I think agreeable to the Sentiments there expressed; and to this I generally add some Motion or Action of the Body. It was not long before I was observed by some of the Family in one of these heroick Fits, who thereupon received Impressions very much to my Disadvantage. This however I did not soon discover, nor should have done probably, had it not been for the following Accident. I had one Day shut my self up in my Chamber, and was very deeply engaged in the Second Book of Milton's Paradise Lost. I walked to and fro with the Book in my Hand, and, to speak the Truth, I fear I made no little Noise; when presently coming to the following Lines,

'—On a sudden open fly, With impetuous Recoil and jarring Sound, Th' infernal Doors, and on their Hinges grate Harsh Thunder, &c.'

'I in great Transport threw open the Door of my Chamber, and found the greatest Part of the Family standing on the Out-side in a very great Consternation. I was in no less Confusion, and begged Pardon for having disturbed them; addressing my self particularly to comfort one of the Children, who received an unlucky fall in this Action, whilst he was too intently surveying my Meditations through the Key-hole. To be short, after this Adventure I easily observed that great Part of the Family, especially the Women and Children, looked upon me with some Apprehensions of Fear; and my Friend himself, tho' he still continued his Civilities to me, did not seem altogether easie: I took Notice, that the Butler was never after this Accident ordered to leave the Bottle upon the Table after Dinner. Add to this, that I frequently overheard the Servants mention me by the Name of the crazed Gentleman, the Gentleman a little touched, the mad Londoner, and the like. This made me think it high Time for me to shift my Quarters, which I resolved to do the first handsome Opportunity; and was confirmed in this Resolution by a young Lady in the Neighbourhood who frequently visited us, and who one Day, after having heard all the fine Things I was able to say, was pleased with a scornful Smile to bid me go to sleep.

'The first Minute I got to my Lodgings in Town I set Pen to Paper to desire your Opinion, whether, upon the Evidence before you, I am mad or not. I can bring Certificates that I behave my self soberly before Company, and I hope there is at least some Merit in withdrawing to be mad. Look you, Sir, I am contented to be esteemed a little touched, as they phrase it, but should be sorry to be madder than my Neighbours; therefore, pray let me be as much in my Senses as you can afford. I know I could bring your self as an Instance of a Man who has confessed talking to himself; but yours is a particular Case, and cannot justify me, who have not kept Silence any Part of my Life. What if I should own my self in Love? You know Lovers are always allowed the Comfort of Soliloquy.—But I will say no more upon this Subject, because I have long since observed, the ready Way to be thought Mad is to contend that you are not so; as we generally conclude that Man drunk, who takes Pains to be thought sober. I will therefore leave my self to your Determination; but am the more desirous to be thought in my Senses, that it may be no Discredit to you when I assure you that I have always been very much

Your Admirer.

P.S. _If I must be mad, I desire the young Lady may believe it is for her.



The humble Petition of_ John a Nokes _and_ John a Stiles, _Sheweth,_

'That your Petitioners have had Causes depending in Westminster-Hall above five hundred Years, and that we despair of ever seeing them brought to an Issue: That your Petitioners have not been involved in these Law Suits, out of any litigious Temper of their own, but by the Instigation of contentious Persons; that the young Lawyers in our Inns of Court are continually setting us together by the Ears, and think they do us no Hurt, because they plead for us without a Fee; That many of the Gentlemen of the Robe have no other Clients in the World besides us two; That when they have nothing else to do, they make us Plaintiffs and Defendants, tho' they were never retained by either of us; That they traduce, condemn, or acquit us, without any manner of Regard to our Reputations and good Names in the World. Your Petitioners therefore (being thereunto encouraged by the favourable Reception which you lately gave to our Kinsman Blank) do humbly pray, that you will put an End to the Controversies which have been so long depending between us your said Petitioners, and that our Enmity may not endure from Generation to Generation; it being our Resolution to live hereafter as it becometh Men of peaceable Dispositions.

And your Petitioners (as in Duty bound) shall ever Pray, &c.



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No. 578. Monday, August 9, 1714.



'—Eque feris humana in corpora transit, Inque feras Noster—'

Ovid.



There has been very great Reason, on several Accounts, for the learned World to endeavour at settling what it was that might be said to compose personal Identity.

Mr. Lock, after having premised that the Word Person properly signifies a thinking intelligent Being that has Reason and Reflection, and can consider it self as it self; concludes That it is Consciousness alone, and not an Identity of Substance, which makes this personal Identity of Sameness. Had I the same Consciousness (says that Author) that I saw the Ark and Noah's Flood, as that I saw an Overflowing of the Thames last Winter; or as that I now write; I could no more doubt that I who write this now, that saw the Thames overflow last Winter, and that viewed the Flood at the general Deluge, was the same Self, place that Self in what Substance you please, than that I who write this am the same My self now whilst I write, (whether I consist of all the same Substance material or immaterial or no) that I was Yesterday; For as to this Point of being the same Self, it matters not whether this present Self be made up of the same or other Substances.

I was mightily pleased with a Story in some Measure applicable to this Piece of Philosophy, which I read the other Day in the Persian Tales, as they are lately very well translated by Mr. Philips; and with an Abridgement whereof I shall here present my Readers.

I shall only premise that these Stories are writ after the Eastern Manner, but somewhat more correct.

'Fadlallah, a Prince of great Virtues, succeeded his Father Bin-Ortoc, in the Kingdom of Mousel. He reigned over his faithful Subjects for some time, and lived in great Happiness with his beauteous Consort Queen Zemroude; when there appeared at his Court a young Dervis of so lively and entertaining a Turn of Wit, as won upon the Affections of every one he conversed with. His Reputation grew so fast every Day, that it at last raised a Curiosity in the Prince himself to see and talk with him. He did so, and far from finding that common Fame had flatter'd him, he was soon convinced that every thing he had heard of him fell short of the Truth.

'Fadlallah immediately lost all Manner of Relish for the Conversation of other Men; and as he was every Day more and more satisfied of the Abilities of this Stranger, offered him the first Posts in his Kingdom. The young Dervis, after having thanked him with a very singular Modesty, desired to be excused, as having made a Vow never to accept of any Employment, and preferring a free and independent State of Life to all other Conditions.

'The King was infinitely charmed with so great an Example of Moderation; and tho' he could not get him to engage in a Life of Business, made him however his chief Companion and first Favourite.

'As they were one Day hunting together, and happened to be separated from the rest of the Company, the Dervis entertained Fadlallah with an Account of his Travels and Adventures. After having related to him several Curiosities which he had seen in the Indies, It was in this Place, says he, that I contracted an Acquaintance with an old Brachman, who was skilled in the most hidden Powers of Nature: He died within my Arms, and with his parting Breath communicated to me one of the most valuable of his Secrets, on Condition I should never reveal it to any Man. The King immediately reflecting on his young Favourite's having refused the late Offers of Greatness he had made him, told him he presumed it was the Power of making Gold. No Sir, says the Dervis, it is somewhat more wonderful than that; it is the Power of re-animating a dead Body, by flinging my own Soul into it.

'While he was yet speaking a Doe came bounding by them; and the King, who had his Bow ready, shot her through the Heart; telling the Dervis, that a fair Opportunity now offered for him to show his Art. The young Man immediately left his own Body breathless on the Ground, while at the same Instant that of the Doe was re-animated, she came to the King, fawned upon him, and after having play'd several wanton Tricks, fell again upon the Grass; at the same Instant the Body of the Dervis recovered its Life. The King was infinitely pleased at so uncommon an Operation, and conjured his Friend by every thing that was sacred to communicate it to him. The Dervis at first made some Scruple of violating his Promise to the dying Brachman; but told him at last that he found he could conceal nothing from so excellent a Prince; after having obliged him therefore by an Oath to Secrecy, he taught him to repeat two Cabalistick Words, in pronouncing of which the whole Secret consisted. The King, impatient to try the Experiment, immediately repeated them as he had been taught, and in an Instant found himself in the Body of the Doe. He had but little Time to contemplate himself in this new Being; for the treacherous Dervis shooting his own Soul into the Royal Corps, and bending the Prince's own Bow against him, had laid him dead on the Spot, had not the King, who perceiv'd his Intent, fled swiftly to the Woods.

'The Dervis, now triumphant in his Villany, returned to Mousel, and filled the Throne and Bed of the unhappy Fadlallah.

'The first thing he took Care of, in order to secure himself in the Possession of his new-acquired Kingdom, was to issue out a Proclamation, ordering his Subjects to destroy all the Deer in the Realm. The King had perished among the rest, had he not avoided his Pursuers by re-animating the Body of a Nightingale which he saw lie dead at the Foot of a Tree. In this new Shape he winged his Way in Safety to the Palace, where perching on a Tree which stood near his Queen's Apartment, he filled the whole Place with so many melodious and Melancholy Notes as drew her to the Window. He had the Mortification to see that instead of being pitied, he only moved the Mirth of his Princess, and of a young Female Slave who was with her. He continued however to serenade her every Morning, 'till at last the Queen, charmed with his Harmony, sent for the Bird-catchers, and ordered them to employ their utmost Skill to put that little Creature into her Possession. The King, pleased with an Opportunity of being once more near his beloved Consort, easily suffered himself to be taken; and when he was presented to her, tho' he shewed a Fearfulness to be touched by any of the other Ladies, flew of his own Accord, and hid himself in the Queen's Bosom. Zemroude was highly pleased at the unexpected Fondness of her new Favourite, and ordered him to be kept in an open Cage in her own Apartment. He had there an Opportunity of making his Court to her every Morning, by a thousand little Actions which his Shape allowed him. The Queen passed away whole Hours every Day in hearing and playing with him. Fadlallah could even have thought himself happy in this State of Life, had he not frequently endured the inexpressible Torment of seeing the Dervis enter the Apartment and caress his Queen even in his Presence.

The Usurper, amidst his toying with the Princess, would often endeavour to ingratiate himself with her Nightingale; and while the enraged Fadlallah peck'd at him with his Bill, beat his Wings, and shewed all the Marks of an impotent Rage, it only afforded his Rival and the Queen new Matter for their Diversion.

Zemroude was likewise fond of a little Lap-Dog which she kept in her Apartment, and which one Night happened to die.

The King immediately found himself inclined to quit the shape of the Nightingale, and enliven this new Body. He did so, and the next Morning Zemroude saw her favourite Bird lie dead in the Cage. It is impossible to express her Grief on this Occasion, and when she called to mind all its little Actions, which even appeared to have somewhat in them like Reason, she was inconsolable for her Loss.

Her Women immediately sent for the Dervis, to come and comfort her, who after having in vain represented to her the Weakness of being grieved at such an Accident, touched at last by her repeated Complaints; Well Madam, says he, I will exert the utmost of my Art to please you. Your Nightingale shall again revive every Morning and serenade you as before. The Queen beheld him with a Look which easily shewed she did not believe him; when laying himself down on a Sofa, he shot his Soul into the Nightingale, and Zemroude was amazed to see her Bird revive.

'The King, who was a Spectator of all that passed, lying under the Shape of a Lap-Dog, in one Corner of the Room, immediately recovered his own Body, and running to the Cage with the utmost Indignation, twisted off the Neck of the false Nightingale.

'Zemroude was more than ever amazed and concerned at this second Accident, 'till the King entreating her to hear him, related to her his whole Adventure.

'The Body of the Dervis, which was found dead in the Wood, and his Edict for killing all the Deer, left her no Room to doubt of the Truth of it: But the Story adds, That out of an extream Delicacy (peculiar to the Oriental Ladies) she was so highly afflicted at the innocent Adultery in which she had for some time lived with the Dervis, that no Arguments even from Fadlallah himself could compose her Mind. She shortly after died with Grief, begging his Pardon with her last Breath for what the most rigid Justice could not have interpreted as a Crime.

'The King was so afflicted with her Death, that he left his Kingdom to one of his nearest Relations, and passed the rest of his Days in Solitude and Retirement.



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No. 579. Wednesday, August 11, 1714. Addison.



'—Odora canum vis—'

Virg.

In the Reign of King Charles I., the Company of Stationers, into whose Hands the Printing of the Bible is committed by Patent, made a very remarkable Erratum or Blunder in one of their Editions: For instead of Thou shalt not commit Adultery, they printed off several thousands of Copies with Thou shalt commit Adultery. Archbishop Laud, to punish this their Negligence, laid a considerable Fine upon that Company in the Star-Chamber.

By the Practice of the World, which prevails in this degenerate Age, I am afraid that very many young Profligates, of both Sexes, are possessed of this spurious Edition of the Bible, and observe the Commandment according to that faulty Reading.

Adulterers, in the first Ages of the Church, were excommunicated for ever, and unqualified all their Lives from bearing a Part in Christian Assemblies, notwithstanding they might seek it with Tears, and all the Appearances of the most unfeigned Repentance.

I might here mention some ancient Laws among the Heathens which punished this Crime with Death: and others of the same Kind, which are now in Force among several Governments that have embraced the Reformed Religion. But because a Subject of this Nature may be too serious for my ordinary Readers, who are very apt to throw by my Papers, when they are not enlivened with something that is diverting or uncommon; I shall here publish the Contents of a little Manuscript lately fallen into my Hands, and which pretends to great Antiquity, tho' by Reason of some modern Phrases and other Particulars in it, I can by no means allow it to be genuine, but rather the Production of a Modern Sophist.

It is well known by the Learned, that there was a Temple upon Mount AEtna dedicated to Vulcan, which was guarded by Dogs of so exquisite a Smell, (say the Historians) that they could discern whether the Persons who came thither were chast or otherwise. They used to meet and faun upon such as were chast, caressing them as the Friends of their Master Vulcan; but flew at those who were polluted, and never ceased barking at them till they had driven them from the Temple.

My Manuscript gives the following Account of these Dogs, and was probably designed as a Comment upon this Story.

'These Dogs were given to Vulcan by his Sister Diana, the Goddess of Hunting and of Chastity, having bred them out of some of her Hounds, in which she had observed this natural Instinct and Sagacity. It was thought she did it in Spight to Venus, who, upon her Return home, always found her Husband in a good or bad Humour, according to the Reception which she met with from his Dogs. They lived in the Temple several Years, but were such snappish Curs that they frighted away most of the Votaries. The Women of Sicily made a solemn Deputation to the Priest, by which they acquainted him, that they would not come up to the Temple with their annual Offerings unless he muzzled his Mastiffs; and at last comprimised the Matter with him, that the Offering should always be brought by a Chorus of young Girls, who were none of them above seven Years old. It was wonderful (says the Author) to see how different the Treatment was which the Dogs gave to these little Misses, from that which they had shown to their Mothers. It is said that the Prince of Syracuse, having married a young Lady, and being naturally of a jealous Temper, made such an Interest with the Priests of this Temple, that he procured a Whelp from them of this famous Breed. The young Puppy was very troublesome to the fair Lady at first, insomuch that she sollicited her Husband to send him away, but the good Man cut her short with the old Sicilian Proverb, Love me love my Dog. From which Time she lived very peaceably with both of them. The Ladies of Syracuse were very much annoyed with him, and several of very good Reputation refused to come to Court till he was discarded. There were indeed some of them that defied his Sagacity, but it was observed, though he did not actually bite them, he would growle at them most confoundedly. To return to the Dogs of the Temple: After they had lived here in great Repute for several Years, it so happened, that as one of the Priests, who had been making a charitable Visit to a Widow who lived on the Promontory of Lilybeum, return'd home pretty late in the Evening, the Dogs flew at him with so much Fury, that they would have worried him if his Brethren had not come in to his Assistance: Upon which, says my Author, the Dogs were all of them hanged, as having lost their original Instinct.

I cannot conclude this Paper without wishing, that we had some of this Breed of Dogs in Great Britain, which would certainly do Justice, I should say Honour, to the Ladies of our Country, and shew the World the difference between Pagan Women and those who are instructed in sounder Principles of Virtue and Religion.



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No. 580. Friday, August 13, 1714. Addison.



'—Si verbo audacia detur, Non metuam magni dixisse palatia Coeli.'

Ovid. Met.



SIR,

'I considered in my two last Letters [1] that awful and tremendous Subject, the Ubiquity or Omnipresence of the Divine Being. I have shewn that he is equally present in all Places throughout the whole Extent of infinite Space.

'This Doctrine is so agreeable to Reason, that we meet with it in the Writings of the enlightened Heathens, as I might show at large, were it not already done by other Hands. But tho' the Deity be thus essentially present through all the Immensity of Space, there is one Part of it in which he discovers himself in a most transcendent and visible Glory. This is that Place which is marked out in Scripture under the different Appellations of Paradise, the third Heaven, the Throne of God, and the Habitation of his Glory. It is here where the glorified Body of our Saviour resides, and where all the celestial Hierarchies, and the innumerable Hosts of Angels, are represented as perpetually surrounding the Seat of God with Hallelujahs and Hymns of Praise. This is that Presence of God which some of the Divines call his Glorious, and others his Majestatick Presence. He is indeed as essentially present in all other Places as in this, but it is here where he resides in a sensible Magnificence, and in the midst of those Splendors which can affect the Imagination of created Beings.

'It is very remarkable that this Opinion of God Almighty's Presence in Heaven, whether discovered by the Light of Nature, or by a general Tradition from our first Parents, prevails among all the Nations of the World, whatsoever different Notions they entertain of the Godhead. If you look into Homer, that is, the most ancient of the Greek Writers, you see the supreme Powers seated in the Heavens, and encompassed with inferior Deities, among whom the Muses are represented as singing incessantly about his Throne. Who does not here see the main Strokes and Outlines of this great Truth we are speaking of? The same Doctrine is shadowed out in many other Heathen Authors, tho' at the same time, like several other revealed Truths, dashed and adulterated with a mixture of Fables and human Inventions. But to pass over the Notions of the Greeks and Romans, those more enlightened Parts of the Pagan World, we find there is scarce a People among the late discovered Nations who are not trained up in an Opinion, that Heaven is the Habitation of the Divinity whom they worship.

As in Solomon's Temple there was the Sanctum Sanctorum, in which a visible Glory appeared among the Figures of the Cherubims, and into which none but the High Priest himself was permitted to enter, after having made an Atonement for the Sins of the People; so if we consider the whole Creation as one great Temple, there is in it this Holy of Holies, into which the High-Priest of our Salvation entered, and took his Place among Angels and Archangels, after having made a Propitiation for the Sins of Mankind.

'With how much Skill must the Throne of God be erected? With what glorious Designs is that Habitation beautified, which is contrived and built by him who inspired Hyram with Wisdom? How great must be the Majesty of that Place, where the whole Art of Creation has been employed, and where God has chosen to show himself in the most magnificent manner? What must be the Architecture of Infinite Power under the Direction of Infinite Wisdom? A Spirit cannot but be transported, after an ineffable manner, with the sight of those Objects, which were made to affect him by that Being who knows the inward Frame of a Soul, and how to please and ravish it in all its most secret Powers and Faculties. It is to this Majestic Presence of God, we may apply those beautiful Expressions in holy Writ: Behold even to the Moon, and it shineth not; yea the Stars are not pure in his sight. The Light of the Sun, and all the Glories of the World in which we live, are but as weak and sickly Glimmerings, or rather Darkness itself, in Comparison of those Splendors which encompass the Throne of God.

'As the Glory of this Place is transcendent beyond Imagination, so probably is the Extent of it. There is Light behind Light, and Glory within Glory. How far that Space may reach, in which God thus appears in perfect Majesty, we cannot possibly conceive. Tho' it is not infinite, it may be indefinite; and though not immeasurable in its self, it may be so with regard to any created Eye or Imagination. If he has made these lower Regions of Matter so inconceivably wide and magnificent for the Habitation of mortal and perishable Beings, how great may we suppose the Courts of his House to be, where he makes his Residence in a more especial manner, and displays himself in the Fulness of his Glory, among an innumerable Company of Angels, and Spirits of just Men made perfect?

'This is certain, that our Imaginations cannot be raised too high, when we think on a Place where Omnipotence and Omniscience have so signally exerted themselves, because that they are able to produce a Scene infinitely more great and glorious than what we are able to imagine. It is not impossible but at the Consummation of all Things, these outward Apartments of Nature, which are now suited to those Beings who inhabit them, may be taken in and added to that glorious Place of which I am here speaking; and by that means made a proper Habitation for Beings who are exempt from Mortality, and cleared of their Imperfections: For so the Scripture seems to intimate when it speaks of new Heavens and of a new Earth, wherein dwelleth Righteousness.

'I have only considered this Glorious Place, with Regard to the Sight and Imagination, though it is highly probable that our other Senses may here likewise enjoy their highest Gratifications. There is nothing which more ravishes and transports the Soul, than Harmony; and we have great Reason to believe, from the Descriptions of this Place in Holy Scripture, that this is one of the Entertainments of it. And if the Soul of Man can be so wonderfully affected with those Strains of Musick, which Human Art is capable of producing, how much more will it be raised and elevated by those, in which is exerted the whole Power of Harmony! The Senses are Faculties of the Human Soul, though they cannot be employed, during this our vital Union, without proper Instruments in the Body. Why therefore should we exclude the Satisfaction of these Faculties, which we find by Experience are Inlets of great Pleasure to the Soul, from among those Entertainments which are to make up our Happiness hereafter? Why should we suppose that our Hearing and Seeing will not be gratify'd with those Objects which are most agreeable to them, and which they cannot meet with in these lower Regions of Nature; Objects, which neither Eye hath seen, nor Ear heard, nor can it enter into the Heart of Man to conceive? I knew a Man in Christ (says St Paul, speaking of himself) above fourteen Years ago (whether in the Body, I cannot tell, or whether out of the Body, I cannot tell: God knoweth) such a one caught up to the third Heaven. And I knew such a Man, (whether in the Body, or out of the Body, I cannot tell: God knoweth,) how that he was caught up into Paradise, and heard unspeakable Words, which it is not possible for a Man to utter. By this is meant, that what he heard was so infinitely different from any thing which he had heard in this World, that it was impossible to express it in such Words as might convey a Notion of it to his Hearers.

'It is very natural for us to take Delight in Enquiries concerning any Foreign Country, where we are some Time or other to make our Abode; and as we all hope to be admitted into this Glorious Place, it is both a laudable and useful Curiosity, to get what Informations we can of it, whilst we make Use of Revelation for our Guide. When these everlasting Doors shall be open to us, we may be sure that the Pleasures and Beauties of this Place will infinitely transcend our present Hopes and Expectations, and that the glorious Appearance of the Throne of God, will rise infinitely beyond whatever we are able to conceive of it. We might here entertain our selves with many other Speculations on this Subject, from those several Hints which we find of it in the Holy Scriptures; as whether there may not be different Mansions and Apartments of Glory, to Beings of different Natures; whether as they excel one another in Perfection, they are not admitted nearer to the Throne of the Almighty, and enjoy greater Manifestations of his Presence; whether there are not solemn Times and Occasions, when all the Multitude of Heaven celebrate the Presence of their Maker in more extraordinary Forms of Praise and Adoration; as Adam, though he had continued in a State of Innocence, would, in the Opinion of our Divines, have kept Holy the Sabbath-Day, in a more particular Manner than any other of the Seven. These, and the like Speculations, we may very innocently indulge, so long as we make use of them to inspire us with a Desire of becoming Inhabitants of this delightful Place.

'I have in this, and in two foregoing Letters, treated on the most serious Subject that can employ the Mind of Man, the Omnipresence of the Deity; a Subject which, if possible, should never depart from our Meditations. We have considered the Divine Being, as he inhabits Infinitude, as he dwells among his Work, as he is present to the Mind of Man, and as he discovers himself in a more glorious Manner among the Regions of the Blest. Such a Consideration should be kept awake in us at all Times, and in all Places, and possess our Minds with a perpetual Awe and Reverence. It should be interwoven with all our Thoughts and Perceptions, and become one with the Consciousness of our own Being. It is not to be reflected on in the Coldness of Philosophy, but ought to sink us into the lowest Prostration before him, who is so astonishingly Great, Wonderful, and Holy.'



[Footnote 1: See Nos. 565, 571, 590, and 628.]



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No. 581. Monday, August 16, 1714. Addison.



'Sunt bona, sunt quaedam mediocria, sunt mala plura Quae legis.'

Mart.



I am at present sitting with a Heap of Letters before me, which I have received under the Character of SPECTATOR; I have Complaints from Lovers, Schemes from Projectors, Scandal from Ladies, Congratulations, Compliments, and Advice in abundance.

I have not been thus long an Author, to be insensible of the natural Fondness every Person must have for their own Productions; and I begin to think I have treated my Correspondents a little too uncivilly in Stringing them all together on a File, and letting them lye so long unregarded. I shall therefore, for the future, think my self at least obliged to take some Notice of such Letters as I receive, and may possibly do it at the end of every Month.

In the mean time, I intend my present Paper as a short Answer to most of those which have been already sent me.

The Publick however is not to expect I should let them into all my Secrets; and though I appear abstruse to most People, it is sufficient if I am understood by my particular Correspondents.

My Well-wisher Van Nath is very arch, but not quite enough so to appear in Print.

Philadelphus will, in a little time, see his Query fully answered by a Treatise which is now in the Press.

It was very improper at that time to comply with Mr. G.

Miss Kitty must excuse me.

The Gentleman who sent me a Copy of Verses on his Mistress's Dancing, is I believe too thoroughly in Love to compose correctly.

I have too great a Respect for both the Universities to praise one at the Expence of the other.

Tom Nimble is a very honest Fellow, and I desire him to present my humble Service to his Cousin Fill Bumper.

I am obliged for the Letter upon Prejudice.

I may in due time animadvert on the Case of Grace Grumble.

The Petition of P. S. granted.

That of Sarah Loveit, refused.

The Papers of A. S. are returned.

I thank Aristippus for his kind Invitation.

My Friend at Woodstock is a bold Man, to undertake for all within Ten Miles of him.

I am afraid the Entertainment of Tom Turnover will hardly be relished by the good Cities of London and Westminster.

I must consider further of it, before I indulge W. F. in those Freedoms he takes with the Ladies Stockings.

I am obliged to the ingenious Gentleman, who sent me an Ode on the Subject of a late SPECTATOR, and shall take particular Notice of his last Letter.

When the Lady who wrote me a Letter, dated July the 20th, in relation to some Passages in a Lover, will be more particular in her Directions, I shall be so in my Answer.

The poor Gentleman, who fancies my Writings could reclaim an Husband who can abuse such a Wife as he describes, has I am afraid too great an Opinion of my Skill.

Philanthropos is, I dare say, a very well-meaning Man, but a little too prolix in his Compositions.

Constantius himself must be the best Judge in the Affair he mentions.

The Letter dated from Lincoln is received.

Arethusa and her Friend may hear further from me.

Celia is a little too hasty.

Harriot is a good Girl, but must not Curtsie to Folks she does not know.

I must ingeniously confess my Friend Sampson Bentstaff has quite puzzled me, and writ me a long Letter which I cannot comprehend one Word of.

Collidan must also explain what he means by his Drigelling.

I think it beneath my Spectatorial Dignity, to concern my self in the Affair of the boiled Dumpling.

I shall consult some Litterati on the Project sent me for the Discovery of the Longitude.

I know not how to conclude this Paper better, than by inserting a Couple of Letters which are really genuine, and which I look upon to be two of the smartest Pieces I have received from my Correspondents of either Sex.

Brother SPEC.

'While you are surveying every Object that falls in your way, I am wholly taken up with one. Had that Sage, who demanded what Beauty was, lived to see the dear Angel I love, he would not have asked such a Question. Had another seen her, he would himself have loved the Person in whom Heaven has made Virtue visible; and were you your self to be in her ompany, you could never, with all your Loquacity, say enough of her good Humour and Sense. I send you the Outlines of a Picture, which I can no more finish than I can sufficiently admire the dear Original. I am

Your most Affectionate Brother, Constantio Spec.

Good Mr. Pert,

'I will allow you nothing till you resolve me the following Question. Pray what's the Reason that while you only talk now upon Wednesdays, Fridays, and Mondays, you pretend to be a greater Tatler, than when you spoke every Day as you formerly used to do? If this be your plunging out of your Taciturnity, pray let the Length of your Speeches compensate for the Scarceness of them.

I am, Good Mr. Pert, Your Admirer, if you will be long enough for Me, Amanda Lovelength.



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No. 582. Wednesday, August 18, 1714.



'—Tenet insanabile multos Scribendi Cacoethes—'

Juv.



There is a certain Distemper, which is mentioned neither by Galen nor Hippocrates, nor to be met with in the London Dispensary. Juvenal, in the Motto of my Paper, terms it a Cacoethes; which is a hard Word for a Disease called in plain English, the Itch of Writing. This Cacoethes is as Epidemical as the Small-Pox, there being very few who are not seized with it some time or other in their Lives. There is, however, this Difference in these two Distempers, that the first, after having indisposed you for a time, never returns again; whereas this I am speaking of, when it is once got into the Blood, seldom comes out of it. The British Nation is very much afflicted with this Malady, and tho' very many Remedies have been applied to Persons infected with it, few of them have ever proved successful. Some have been cauterized with Satyrs and Lampoons, but have received little or no Benefit from them; others have had their Heads fastned for an Hour together between a Cleft Board, which is made use of as a Cure for the Disease when it appears in its greatest Malignity. [1] There is indeed one kind of this Malady which has been sometimes removed, like the Biting of a Tarantula, with the sound of a musical Instrument, which is commonly known by the Name of a Cat-Call. But if you have a Patient of this kind under your Care, you may assure your self there is no other way of recovering him effectually, but by forbidding him the use of Pen, Ink and Paper.

But to drop the Allegory before I have tired it out, there is no Species of Scriblers more offensive, and more incurable, than your Periodical Writers, whose Works return upon the Publick on certain Days and at stated Times. We have not the Consolation in the Perusal of these Authors, which we find at the reading of all others, (namely) that we are sure if we have but Patience, we may come to the End of their Labours. I have often admired a humorous Saying of Diogenes, who reading a dull Author to several of his Friends, when every one began to be tired, finding he was almost come to a blank leaf at the End of it, cried, Courage, Lads, I see Land. On the contrary, our Progress through that kind of Writers I am now speaking of is never at an End. One Day makes Work for another, we do not know when to promise our selves Rest.

It is a melancholy thing to consider, that the Art of Printing, which might be the greatest Blessing to Mankind, should prove detrimental to us, and that it should be made use of to scatter Prejudice and Ignorance through a People, instead of conveying to them Truth and Knowledge.

I was lately reading a very whimsical Treatise, entitled, William Ramsey's Vindication of Astrology. This profound Author, among many mystical Passages, has the following one:

'The Absence of the Sun is not the Cause of Night, forasmuch as his Light is so great that it may illuminate the Earth all over at once as clear as broad Day, but there are tenebrificous and dark Stars, by whose Influence Night is brought on, and which do ray out Darkness and Obscurity upon the Earth, as the Sun does Light.'

I consider Writers in the same View this sage Astrologer does the Heavenly Bodies. Some of them are Stars that scatter Light as others do Darkness. I could mention several Authors who are tenebrificous Stars of the first Magnitude, and point out a Knot of Gentlemen, who have been dull in Consort, and may be looked upon as a dark Constellation. The Nation has been a great while benighted with several of these Antiluminaries. I suffered them to ray out their Darkness as long as I was able to endure it, till at length I came to a Resolution of rising upon them, and hope in a little time to drive them quite out of the British Hemisphere.



[Footnote 1: Put in the Pillory.]



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No. 583. Friday, August 20, 1714. Addison.



'Ipse thymum pinosque ferens de montibus altis, Tecta serat late circum, cui talia Curae: Ipse labore manum duro terat, ipse feraces Figat humo plantas, et amicos irriget Imbres.'

Virg.



Every Station of Life has Duties which are proper to it. Those who are determined by Choice to any particular kind of Business, are indeed more happy than those who are determined by Necessity, but both are under an equal Obligation of fixing on Employments, which may be either useful to themselves or beneficial to others. No one of the Sons of Adam ought to think himself exempt from that Labour and Industry which were denounced to our first Parent, and in him to all his Posterity. Those to whom Birth or Fortune may seem to make such an Application unnecessary, ought to find out some Calling or Profession for themselves, that they may not lie as a Burden on the Species, and be the only useless Parts of the Creation.

Many of our Country Gentlemen in their busie Hours apply themselves wholly to the Chase, or to some other Diversion which they find in the Fields and Woods. This gave occasion to one of our most eminent English Writers to represent every one of them as lying under a kind of Curse pronounced to them in the Words of Goliah, I will give thee to the Fowls of the Air, and to the Beasts of the Field.

Tho' Exercises of this kind, when indulged with Moderation, may have a good Influence both on the Mind and Body, the Country affords many other Amusements of a more noble kind.

Among these I know none more delightful in itself, and beneficial to the Publick, than that of PLANTING. I could mention a Nobleman whose Fortune has placed him in several Parts of England, and who has always left these visible Marks behind him, which show he has been there: He never hired a House in his Life, without leaving all about it the Seeds of Wealth, and bestowing Legacies on the Posterity of the Owner. Had all the Gentlemen of England made the same Improvements upon their Estates, our whole Country would have been at this time as one great Garden. Nor ought such an Employment to be looked upon as too inglorious for Men of the highest Rank. There have been Heroes in this Art, as well as in others. We are told in particular of Cyrus the Great, that he planted all the Lesser Asia. There is indeed something truly magnificent in this kind of Amusement: It gives a nobler Air to several Parts of Nature; it fills the Earth with a Variety of beautiful Scenes, and has something in it like Creation. For this Reason the Pleasure of one who Plants is something like that of a Poet, who, as Aristotle observes, is more delighted with his Productions than any other Writer or Artist whatsoever.

Plantations have one Advantage in them which is not to be found in most other Works, as they give a Pleasure of a more lasting Date, and continually improve in the Eye of the Planter, When you have finished a Building or any other Undertaking of the like Nature, it immediately decays upon your Hands; you see it brought to its utmost Point of Perfection, and from that time hastening to its Ruin. On the contrary, when you have finished your Plantations, they are still arriving at greater Degrees of Perfection as long as you live, and appear more delightful in every succeeding Year than they did in the foregoing.

But I do not only recommend this Art to Men of Estates as a pleasing Amusement, but as it is a kind of Virtuous Employment, and may therefore be inculcated by moral Motives; particularly from the Love which we ought to have for our Country, and the Regard which we ought to bear to our Posterity. As for the first, I need only mention what is frequently observed by others, that the Increase of Forest-Trees does by no Means bear a Proportion to the Destruction of them, insomuch that in a few Ages the Nation may be at a Loss to supply it self with Timber sufficient for the Fleets of England. I know when a Man talks of Posterity in Matters of this Nature, he is looked upon with an Eye of Ridicule by the cunning and selfish part of Mankind. Most People are of the Humour of an old Fellow of a College, who, when he was pressed by the Society to come into something that might redound to the good of their Successors, grew very peevish, We are always doing, says he, something for Posterity, but I would fain see Posterity do something for us.

But I think Men are inexcusable, who fail in a Duty of this Nature, since it is so easily discharged. When a Man considers that the putting a few Twigs into the Ground, is doing good to one who will make his appearance in the World about Fifty Years hence, or that he is perhaps making one of his own Descendants easy or rich, by so inconsiderable an Expence, if he finds himself averse to it, he must conclude that he has a poor and base Heart, void of all generous Principles and Love to Mankind.

There is one Consideration, which may very much enforce what I have here said. Many honest Minds that are naturally disposed to do good in the World, and become Beneficial to Mankind, complain within themselves that they have not Talents for it. This therefore is a good Office, which is suited to the meanest Capacities, and which may be performed by Multitudes, who have not Abilities sufficient to deserve well of their Country and to recommend themselves to their Posterity, by any other Method. It is the Phrase of a Friend of mine, when any useful Country Neighbour dies, that you may trace him: which I look upon as a good Funeral Oration, at the Death of an honest Husbandman, who hath left the Impressions of his Industry behind him, in the Place where he has lived.

Upon the foregoing Considerations, I can scarce forbear representing the Subject of this Paper as a kind of Moral Virtue: Which, as I have already shown, recommends it self likewise by the Pleasure that attends it. It must be confessed, that this is none of those turbulent Pleasures which is apt to gratifie a Man in the Heats of Youth; but if it be not so Tumultuous, it is more lasting. Nothing can be more delightful than to entertain ourselves with Prospects of our own making, and to walk under those Shades which our own Industry has raised. Amusements of this Nature compose the Mind, and lay at Rest all those Passions which are uneasie to the Soul of Man, besides that they naturally engender good Thoughts, and dispose us to laudable Contemplations. Many of the old Philosophers passed away the greatest Parts of their Lives among their Gardens. Epicurus himself could not think sensual Pleasure attainable in any other Scene. Every Reader who is acquainted with Homer, Virgil and Horace, the greatest Genius's of all Antiquity, knows very well with how much Rapture they have spoken on this Subject; and that Virgil in particular has written a whole Book on the Art of Planting.

This Art seems to have been more especially adapted to the Nature of Man in his Primaeval State, when he had Life enough to see his Productions flourish in their utmost Beauty, and gradually decay with him. One who lived before the Flood might have seen a Wood of the tallest Oakes in the Accorn. But I only mention this Particular, in order to introduce in my next Paper, a History which I have found among the Accounts of China, and which may be looked upon as an Antediluvian Novel.



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No. 584. Monday, August 23, 1714. Addison.



'Hec gelidi fontes, hic mollia prata, Lycori, Hic Nemus, hic toto tecum consumerer aevo.'

Virg.



Hilpa was one of the 150 Daughters of Zilpah, of the Race of Cohu, by whom some of the Learned think is meant Cain. She was exceedingly beautiful, and when she was but a Girl of threescore and ten Years of Age, received the Addresses of several who made Love to her. Among these were two Brothers, Harpath and Shalum; Harpath, being the First-born, was Master of that fruitful Region which lies at the Foot of Mount Tirzah, in the Southern Parts of China. Shalum (which is to say the Planter in the Chinese Language) possessed all the neighbouring Hills, and that great Range of Mountains which goes under the Name of Tirzah. Harpath was of a haughty contemptuous Spirit; Shalum was of a gentle Disposition, beloved both by God and Man.

It is said that, among the Antediluvian Women, the Daughters of Cohu had their Minds wholly set upon Riches; for which Reason the beautiful Hilpa preferr'd Harpath to Shalum, because of his numerous Flocks and Herds, that covered all the low Country which runs along the Foot of Mount Tirzah, and is watered by several Fountains and Streams breaking out of the Sides of that Mountain.

Harpath made so quick a Dispatch of his Courtship, that he married Hilpa in the hundredth Year of her Age; and being of an insolent Temper, laughed to Scorn his Brother Shalum for having pretended to the beautiful Hilpa, when he was Master of nothing but a long Chain of Rocks and Mountains. This so much provoked Shalum, that he is said to have cursed his Brother in the Bitterness of his Heart, and to have prayed that one of his Mountains might fall upon his Head if ever he came within the Shadow of it.

From this Time forward Harpath would never venture out of the Vallies, but came to an untimely End in the 250th Year of his Age, being drowned in a River as he attempted to cross it This River is called to this Day, from his Name who perished in it, the River Harpath, and, what is very remarkable, issues out of one of those Mountains which Shalum wished might fall upon his Brother, when he cursed him in the Bitterness of his Heart.

Hilpa was in the 160th Year of her Age at the Death of her Husband, having brought him but 50 Children, before he was snatched away, as has been already related. Many of the Antediluvians made Love to the young Widow, tho' no one was thought so likely to succeed in her Affections as her first Lover Shalum, who renewed his Court to her about ten Years after the Death of Harpath; for it was not thought decent in those Days that a Widow should be seen by a Man within ten Years after the Decease of her Husband.

Shalum falling into a deep Melancholy, and resolving to take away that Objection which had been raised against him when he made his first Addresses to Hilpa, began immediately, after her Marriage with Harpath, to plant all that mountainous Region which fell to his Lot in the Division of this Country. He knew how to adapt every Plant to its proper Soil, and is thought to have inherited many traditional Secrets of that Art from the first Man. This Employment turn'd at length to his Profit as well as to his Amusement: His Mountains were in a few Years shaded with young Trees, that gradually shot up into Groves, Woods, and Forests, intermixed with Walks, and Launs, and Gardens; insomuch that the whole Region, from a naked and desolate Prospect, began now to look like a second Paradise. The Pleasantness of the Place, and the agreeable Disposition of Shalum, who was reckoned one of the mildest and wisest of all who lived before the Flood, drew into it Multitudes of People, who were perpetually employed in the sinking of Wells, the digging of Trenches, and the hollowing of Trees, for the better Distribution of Water through every Part of this spacious Plantation.

The Habitations of Shalum looked every Year more beautiful in the Eyes of Hilpa, who, after the Space of 70 Autumns, was wonderfully pleased with the distant Prospect of Shalum's Hills, which were then covered with innumerable Tufts of Trees and gloomy Scenes that gave a Magnificence to the Place, and converted it into one of the finest Landskips the Eye of Man could behold.

The Chinese record a Letter which Shalum is said to have written to Hilpa, in the Eleventh Year of her Widowhood. I shall here translate it, without departing from that noble Simplicity of Sentiments, and Plainness of Manners which appears in the Original.

Shalum was at this Time 180 Years old, and Hilpa 170.

Shalum, Master of Mount Tirzah, to Hilpa, Mistress of the Vallies.

In the 788th Year of the Creation.

'What have I not suffered, O thou Daughter of Zilpah, since thou gavest thy self away in Marriage to my Rival? I grew weary of the Light of the Sun, and have been ever since covering my self with Woods and Forests. These threescore and ten Years have I bewailed the Loss of thee on the Tops of Mount Tirzah, and soothed my Melancholy among a thousand gloomy Shades of my own raising. My Dwellings are at present as the Garden of God; every Part of them is filled with Fruits, and Flowers, and Fountains. The whole Mountain is perfumed for thy Reception. Come up into it, O my Beloved, and let us People this Spot of the new World with a beautiful Race of Mortals; let us multiply exceedingly among these delightful Shades, and fill every Quarter of them with Sons and Daughters. Remember, O thou Daughter of Zilpah, that the Age of Man is but a thousand Years; that Beauty is the Admiration but of a few Centuries. It flourishes as a Mountain Oak, or as a Cedar on the Top of Tirzah, which in three or four hundred Years will fade away, and never be thought of by Posterity, unless a young Wood springs from its Roots. Think well on this, and remember thy Neighbour in the Mountains.

Having here inserted this Letter, which I look upon as the only Antediluvian Billet-doux now extant, I shall in my next Paper give the Answer to it, and the Sequel of this Story.



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No. 585. Wednesday, August 25, 1714. Addison.



'Ipsi laetitia voces ad sidera jactant Intonsi montes: ipsae jam carmina rupes, Ipsae sonant arbusta—'

Virg.



The Sequel of the Story of Shalum and Hilpa.

The Letter inserted in my last had so good an Effect upon Hilpa, that she answered it in less than a Twelvemonth, after the following Manner.

Hilpa, Mistress of the Vallies, to Shalum, Master of Mount Tirzah.

In the 789th Year of the Creation.

'What have I to do with thee, O Shalum? Thou praisest Hilpa's Beauty, but art thou not secretly enamoured with the Verdure of her Meadows? Art thou not more affected with the Prospect of her green Vallies, than thou wouldest be with the Sight of her Person? The Lowings of my Herds, and the Bleatings of my Flocks, make a pleasant Eccho in thy Mountains, and sound sweetly in thy Ears. What tho' I am delighted with the Wavings of thy Forests, and those Breezes of Perfumes which flow from the Top of Tirzah: Are these like the Riches of the Valley?

'I know thee, O Shalum; thou art more wise and happy than any of the Sons of Men. Thy Dwellings are among the Cedars; thou searchest out the Diversity of Soils, thou understandest the Influences of the Stars, and markest the Change of Seasons. Can a Woman appear lovely in the Eyes of such a one? Disquiet me not, O Shalum; let me alone, that I may enjoy those goodly Possessions which are fallen to my Lot. Win me not by thy enticing Words. May thy Trees increase and multiply; mayest thou add Wood to Wood, and Shade to Shade; but tempt not Hilpa to destroy thy Solitude, and make thy Retirement populous.

The Chinese say, that a little time afterwards she accepted of a Treat in one of the neighbouring Hills to which Shalum had invited her. This Treat lasted for two Years, and is said to have cost Shalum five hundred Antelopes, two thousand Ostriches, and a thousand Tun of Milk; but what most of all recommended it, was that Variety of delicious Fruits and Pot-herbs, in which no Person then living could any way equal Shalum.

He treated her in the Bower which he had planted amidst the Wood of Nightingales. This Wood was made up of such Fruit-Trees and Plants as are most agreeable to the several Kinds of Singing Birds; so that it had drawn into it all the Musick of the Country, and was filled from one End of the Year to the other with the most agreeable Consort in Season.

He shewed her every Day some beautiful and surprising Scene in this new Region of Woodlands; and as by this Means he had all the Opportunities he could wish for of opening his Mind to her, he succeeded so well, that upon her Departure she made him a kind of Promise, and gave him her Word to return him a positive Answer in less than fifty Years.

She had not been long among her own People in the Vallies, when she received new Overtures, and at the same Time a most splendid Visit from Mishpach, who was a mighty Man of old, and had built a great City, which he called after his own Name. Every House was made for at least a thousand Years, nay there were some that were leased out for three Lives; so that the Quantity of Stone and Timber consumed in this Building is scarce to be imagined by those who live in the present Age of the World. This great Man entertained her with the Voice of musical Instruments which had been lately invented, and danced before her to the Sound of the Timbrel. He also presented her with several domestick Utensils wrought in Brass and Iron, which had been newly found out for the Conveniency of Life. In the mean time Shalum grew very uneasie with himself, and was sorely displeased at Hilpa for the Reception which she had given to Mishpach, insomuch that he never wrote to her or spoke of her during a whole Revolution of Saturn; but finding that this Intercourse went no further than a Visit, he again renewed his Addresses to her, who during his long Silence is said very often to have cast a wishing Eye upon Mount Tirzah.