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that is accepted from thein, as the hopes which are given to them, are become a fort of creditors; and thefe debts, being debts of honour, ought, according to the accustomed maxim, to be first discharged.

WHEN I speak of dependents, I would not be under{tood to mean those who are worthless in themselves, or who, without any call, will press into the company of their betters. Nor, when I speak of patrous, do I mean those who either liave it not in their power, or have no obligation to assist their friends; but I speak of fich leagues wliere there is power and obligation on the one part, and merit and expectation on the other.

The division of patron and clicnt, may, I believe, include a third of our nation; the want of inerit and real worth in the client, will strike out about ninety nine in a hundred of these; and the want of ability in patrons, as many of that kind. But however, I must beg leave to say, that he who will take up another's time and fortune in his Service, though he has no prospect of rewarding his merit towards him, is as unjust in his dealings, as he who takes up goods of a tradesinav without intention or ability to pay hiin. Of the few of the class which I think fit to confider, there are not two in ten who succeed, insomuch that I know a man of good sense, who put luis fon to a blackfinith, though an offer was made him of his being received as a page to a man of quality. There are not more cripples come out of the wars than there are froin those great services; some thorough discontent lose their speech, foine their memories, others their senses or thcir lives; and I feldom fee a man thoroughly discontented, but I conclude he has had the favour of fome great man. I have known of such as have heen for twenty years together within a month of a good employment, but never arrived at the happiness of being possessed of any thing.

. THERE is nothing more ordinary, than that a man who has got into a considerable station, shall immediately alter his manner of treating all his friends, and from that moment he is to deal with you as if he were your foe. You are no longer to be consulted, even in matters which concern yourself; but your patron is of a specics above you, and a free communication with you is not to be expe ted. This, perhaps, may be your condition all the while he VOL. III.



you keep

It is very

bears office, and when that is at an end, you are as intimate as ever you were, and he will take it


ill if the distance he prescribed you towards him in his grandeur. One would think this should be a behaviour a man could fill into with the worst grace imaginable, but they who know the world have seen it more than once I have often, with secret pity, heard the fame man, who has professed lis abhorrence against all kind of pallive behaviour, lose minutes, lours, days, and years in a fruitless attendance on one who had no inclination to befriend him. much to be regarded, that the great have one particular privilege above the rest of the world, of being slow in receiving impressions of kindness, and quick in taking offence. The elevation above the rest of mankind, except in very great minds, inakes men so giddy, that they do not fee after the same manner they did before: thus they despise their old friends, and strive to extend their interest to new pretenders. By this means it often happens, that when you come to know how you lost fuch an employment, you will find the man who got it never dreamed of it; but, forsooth, he was to be surprised into it, or perhaps solicited to receive it. Upon fuch occasions as these a man may perhaps grow out of humour; if you are so, all man. kind will fall in with the patron, and you are an humorist and untractable if you are capable of being four at a disappointinent: but it is the same thing, whether you do or do not refent ill usage, you will be used after the same manner; as fome good mothers will be fure to whip their children till they cry, and then whip them for crying.

THERE are but two ways of doing any thing with great people, and those are by making yourself either considerable or agieeable; the former is not to be attained but by finding a way to live without them, or concealing that you want them ; the latter is only by falling into their taste and pleasures : this is of all the employments in the world the most fervile, except it happens to be of your own natural humour. For to be agreeable to another, especially if he be above you, is not to be possessed of such qualities and accomplishments as should render you agreeable in yourself, but fuch as inake you agreeable in respect to him. An imitation of his faults, or a compliance, if not subsersience to his vices, must be the measures of your conduct.



When it comes to that, the unnatural state a man lives in, when his patron pleases, is ended;" and his guilt aid complaisance are objected to him, tho’the man who rejects him for his vices was not only his partner but feducer. Thus the client (like a young woman who has given up the innocence which inade her charming) has not only lost his time, but also the virtue which could render liiin capable of resenting the injury which is done bim.

It would be endless to recount the tricks of turning you off from themselves to persons who have less power to ferve

you, the art of being forry for such an unaccountable accident in your behaviour, that such a one (who, periiaps, has never heard of you) opposes your advancenent; and if have any thing more than ordinary in you, you are flattered with a whisper, that it is no wonder people are fo flow in doing for a man of your talents, and the like.

AFTER all this treatment; I must still add the pleasant. est infolence of all, which I have once or twice feen; to wit, that when a filly rogue has thrown away one part in three of his life in unprofitable attendance, it is taken twardei fully ill that he withdraws, and is iéfølved to einploy the rest for himself.

When we consider these things, and reflest upon so many honest natures (which one, who makes observation of what passes, may have seen) that have miscarried by such sort of applications, it is too melancholy a scene to dwell upon; therefore I shall take another opportunity to discourle of good patrons, and distinguish such as have done their duty to those who have depended upon them, and were not able to act without their favour. Vorthy patrons are like Plato's guardian angels, who are always doing good to their wards ; but negligent patrons are like Epicurus's gods, that lie lolling on the clouds, and, instead: of blessings, pour down storins and tempests on the heads of those that are offering incenle to thein.


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N° 215.

Tuesday, Novembir 6.

Ingenuas didiciffe fideliter artes
F.mollit mores, nec finit le feros.

Ovid. cf. g. l. 2. de ponto. V. 476

Tugenuous arts, where they an entrance find,
Sofien the manners, and siubdue the mind.


CONSIGER an huinan soul without education like

inarbel in the quarry, which shews none of its inherent beauties, till the skill of the polisher fetches out the colours, inakes the surface shine, and discovers every ornainental cloud, fpot and vain that runs through the body of it.. Education, after the fame manner, when it works upou a noble mind, draws out to vie:v every latent virtue and perfection, whicle without such hel;s are never able to make their appearance.

If my reader will give leave to change the allufico so foon upon him, I shall make use of the fime instance to illustrate the force of cclucation, which Arisi otle has, brought to explain his doctrine of fubftantial fornis, when le tells us that a statue lics hid io a block of marble; and that the art of the statuary only clears away the superflu.. ous matter, and removes the rubbish. The figure is in the stone, the sculptor only finds it. What fculpture is to a block of marble, education is to an human soul. The plilofopher, the faint, or the hero, the wise, the good, or the great man, very often lie hid and concealed in a plebcian, which a proper education might have dif-interred, and have brought to lig!t. I am therefore niuch delightcil with reading the accounts of favage nations, and with contemplating thole virtues which are wild and uncultivas ted; to sec courage exerting itself in fierceness, resolution. in obstinacy, wisdom in cunning, patience in fulienness and delpair.

Men's passions operate variously, and appear in different kinds of actions, according as they are inore or less rectified and swayed by reason. When one hears of negroes,, who, upon the death of their masters, or upon changing their


service, hang themselves upon the next tree, as it frequenta ly happens in our American plantations, who can forbear admiring their fidelity, tho? it expresses itself in fo dreadful a manner? What might not that favage greatness of foul which appears in these poor wretches on many occasions, be raised to, were it rightly cultivated ? And what colour of excuse can there be for the contempt with which we treat this part of our species that we should not put . tberi upon

the common, foot of hunanity, that we should only set an insignificant fme upon the nian who murders them; nay, that we should, as much as in us lies, cut them cff from the prospects of happiness in another world as well as in this, and deny them that which we look upon as the proper means for attaining it?

SINCE I am engaged on this subject, I cannot forbear mentioning a story which I have lately heard, and which is fo well attested, that I have no manner of reason to ful. peet the truth of it. I may call it a kind of wild tragedy that passed about twelve years ago at St Chrislophers, one of our British leeward islands. The negroes, who were. the persons concerned in it, were all of them the slaves of a gentleman who is now in England.

This gentleman among his negroes had a young woman, who was looked upon as a moft extraordinary beauty by those of her own complexion. He had at the same tinie two young

fellows who were likewise negroes and lives, remarkable for the comeliness of their persons, and for the friendship which they bore to one another. It unfortunately happened that both of them fell in love with the fernale negroe above-mentioned, who would have been very glad to have taker either of them for her husband, provided they could agree between themselves which should bé the man.

But they were both To passionately in love with her, that neither of them could think of giving her up to his rival; and at the same time were so true to one another, that neither of them would think of gaining her without his friend's confent. The torments of these two lovers were the discourse of the funily to which they be. longed, who could not forbear observing the strange complication of passions which perplexed the hearts of the poor negroes, that often dropped expressions of the uneasiness



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