ing knife and tom-ax, there are many true Britons that will never be perfuaded to fee him but through a grate.

It has been remarked by the feverer judges, that the falutary forrow of tragick scenes is too foon effaced by the merriment of the epilogue; the fame inconvenience arifes from the improper difpofition of advertisements. The nobleft objects may be fo affociated as to be made ridiculous. The camel and dromedary themselves might have loft much of their dignity between the true flower of mustard and the original Daffy's elixir; and I could not but feel fome indignation when I found this illuftrious Indian warrior immediately fucceeded by a fresh parcel of Dublin butter.

The trade of advertising is now fo near to perfection, that it is not easy to propofe any improvement. But as every art ought to be exercifed in due fubordination to the publick good, I cannot but propofe it as a moral question to these masters of the publick ear, Whether they do not fometimes play too wantonly with our paffions, as when the registrar of lottery tickets invites us to his fhop by an account of the prize which he fold last year; and whether the advertising controvertists do not indulge afperity of language without any adequate provocation; as in the difpute about ftraps for razors, now happily subfided, and in the altercation which at present subfifts concerning eau de luce.

In an advertisement it is allowed to every man to speak well of himself, but I know not why he should affume the privilege of cenfuring his neighbour. He VOL. VIII.

M

may

may proclaim his own virtue or fkill, but ought not to exclude others from the fame pretenfions.

Every man that advertises his own excellence, fhould write with fome confcioufnefs of a character which dares to call the attention of the publick. He fhould remember that his name is to ftand in the fame paper with those of the king of Pruffia and the emperor of Germany, and endeavour to make himself worthy of fuch affociation.

Some regard is likewife to be paid to pofterity. There are men of diligence and curiofity who treafure up the papers of the day merely because others neglect them, and in time they will be fcarce. When thefe collections fhall be read in another century, how will numberlefs contradictions be reconciled? and how fhall fame be poffibly diftributed among the taylors and boddice-makers of the prefent age?

Surely these things deferve confideration. It is enough for me to have hinted my defire that these abuses may be rectified; but fuch is the ftate of nature, that what all have the right of doing, many will attempt without fufficient care or due qualifications.

t

NUMB. 41. SATURDAY, January 27, 1759.

TH

HE following letter relates to an affliction perhaps not neceffary to be imparted to the publick; but I could not perfuade myself to fuppress it, because I think I know the sentiments to be fincere, and I feel no difpofition to provide for this day any other entertainment.

NOTWITHSTANDING the warnings of philofophers, and the daily examples of loffes and misfortunes which life forces upon our obfervation, fuch is the abforption of our thoughts in the business of the present day, fuch the refignation of our reafon to empty hopes of future felicity, or fuch our unwillingness to foresee what we dread, that every calamity comes fuddenly upon us, and not only presses us as a burthen, but crushes as a blow.

There are evils which happen out of the common course of nature, against which it is no reproach not to be provided. A flash of lightning intercepts the traveller in his way. The concuffion of an earthquake heaps the ruins of cities upon their inhabitants. But other miseries time brings, though filently M 2

yet

yet vifibly, forward by its even lapfe, which yet approach us unfeen because we turn our eyes away, and feize us unrefifted because we could not arm ourselves against them, but by fetting them before us.

That it is vain to fhrink from what cannot be avoided, and to hide that from ourselves which must fome time be found, is a truth which we all know, but which all neglect, and perhaps none more than the fpeculative reafoner, whofe thoughts are always from home, whofe eye wanders over life, whofe fancy dances after meteors of happiness kindled by itself, and who examines every thing rather than his own ftate.

Nothing is more evident than that the decays of age must terminate in death; yet there is no man, fays Tully, who does not believe that he may yet live another year; and there is none who does not, upon the fame principle, hope another year for his parent or his friend: but the fallacy will be in time detected; the last year, the last day muft come. It has come, and is past. The life which made my own life pleasant is at an end, and the gates of death are fhut upon my prospects.

The lofs of a friend upon whom the heart was fixed, to whom every wish and endeavour tended, is a ftate of dreary defolation in which the mind looks abroad impatient of itself, and finds nothing but emptiness and horror. The blameless life, the artlefs tenderness, the pious fimplicity, the modest refignation, the patient fickness, and the quiet death, are remembered only to add value to the lofs, to aggravate regret for what cannot be amended, to deepen forrow for what cannot be recalled.

Thefe

These are the calamities by which Providence gradually difengages us from the love of life. Other evils fortitude may repel, or hope may mitigate; but irreparable privation leaves nothing to exercife refolution or flatter expectation. The dead cannot return, and nothing is left us here but languifhment and grief.

Yet fuch is the course of nature, that whoever lives long muft outlive thofe whom he loves and honours. Such is the condition of our prefent exiftence, that life must one time lofe its affociations, and every inhabitant of the earth muft walk downward to the grave alone and unregarded, without any partner of his joy or grief, without any interefted witnefs of his misfortunes or fuccefs.

Misfortune, indeed, he may yet feel; for where is the bottom of the mifery of man? But what is fuccefs to him that has none to enjoy it? Happiness is not found in felf-contemplation; it is perceived only when it is reflected from another.

We know little of the ftate of departed fouls, becaufe fuch knowledge is not neceffary to a good life. Reafon deferts us at the brink of the grave, and can give no further intelligence. Revelation is not wholly filent. There is joy in the angels of Heaven over one finner that repenteth; and furely this joy is not incommunicable to fouls difentangled from the body, and made like angels.

Let hope therefore dictate, what revelation does not confute, that the union of fouls may ftill remain; and that we who are struggling with fin, forrow, and infirmities, may have our part in the attention and kindness of those who have finifhed their course, and are now receiving their reward.