NUMB. 19. SATURDAY, August 19, 1758,

OME of those ancient fages that have exercised

SOM

their abilities in the enquiry after the Supreme good, have been of opinion, that the highest degree of earthly happiness is quiet; a calm repose both of mind and body, undisturbed by the fight of folly or the noife of bufinefs, the tumults of publick commotion, or the agitations of private intereft; a state in which the mind has no other employment, but to obferve and regulate her own motions, to trace thought from thought, combine one image with another, raife fyftems of fcience, and form theories of

virtue.

To the scheme of these folitary fpeculatifts it has been justly objected, that if they are happy, they are happy only by being useless. That mankind is one vaft republick, where every individual receives many benefits from the labour of others, which, by labouring in his turn for others, he is obliged to repay; and that where the united efforts of all are not able to exempt all from mifery, none have a right to withdraw from their task of vigilance, or to be indulged in idle wisdom or folitary pleasures.

It is common for controvertists, in the heat of difputation, to add one pofition to another till they reach the extremities of knowledge, where truth and falfehood lofe their diftinction. Their admirers follow them to the brink of abfurdity, and then start back from each fide towards the middle point. So

it has happened in this great difquifition. Many perceive alike the force of the contrary arguments, find quiet fhameful, and bufinefs dangerous, and therefore pass their lives between them, in bustle without business and negligence without quiet.

Among the principal names of this moderate fet is that great philofopher Jack Whirler, whofe bufinefs keeps him in perpetual motion, and whofe motion always eludes his business; who is always to do what he never does, who cannot stand still because he is wanted in another place, and who is wanted in many places because he stays in none.

Jack has more business than he can conveniently tranfact in one house; he has therefore one habitation near Bow Church, and another about a mile diftant. By this ingenious diftribution of himfelf between two houses, Jack has contrived to be found at neither. Jack's trade is extenfive, and he has many dealers; his conversation is sprightly, and he has many companions; his difpofition is kind, and he has many friends. Jack neither forbears pleasure for business, nor omits business for pleasure, but is equally invifible to his friends and his cuftomers; to him that comes with an invitation to a club, and to him that waits to fettle an account.

When you call at his houfe, his clerk tells you, that Mr. Whirler was just stept out, but will be at home exactly at two; you wait at a coffee-houfe till two, and then find that he has been at home, and is gone out again, but left word that he should be at the Halfmoon tavern at feven, where he hopes to meet you. At feven you go to the tavern. At eight in comes Mr. Whirler to tell you, that he is glad to see you, and

only

only begs leave to run for a few minutes, to a gentleman that lives near the Exchange, from whom he will return before fupper can be ready. Away he runs to the Exchange, to tell those who are waiting for him, that he must beg them to defer the business till tomorrow, because his time is come at the Half-moon.

Jack's cheerfulness and civility rank him among those whose presence never gives pain, and whom all receive with fondness and careffes. He calls often on his friends, to tell them, that he will come again to-morrow; on the morrow he comes again to tell them how an unexpected fummons hurries him away. When he enters a house, his first declaration is, that he cannot fit down; and fo fhort are his vifits, that he feldom appears to have come for any other reafon but to fay, He must go.

The dogs of Egypt, when thirft brings them to the Nile, are faid to run as they drink for fear of the crocodiles. Jack Whirler always dines at full speed. He enters, finds the family at table, fits familiarly down, and fills his plate; but while the first morfel is in his mouth, hears the clock strike, and rises; then goes to another house, fits down again, recollects another engagement; has only time to tafte the foup, makes a fhort excufe to the company, and continues through another ftreet his defultory dinner.

But overwhelmed as he is with business, his chief defire is to have ftill more. Every new propofal takes poffeffion of his thoughts; he foon balances' probabilities, engages in the project, brings it almoft to completion, and then forfakes it for another, which he catches with fome alacrity, urges with the

fame

fame vehemence, and abandons with the fame coldnefs.

Every man may be obferved to have a certain ftrain of lamentation, fome peculiar theme of complaint on which he dwells in his moments of dejection. Jack's topick of forrow, is the want of time. Many an excellent defign languishes in empty theory for want of time. For the omiffion of any civilities, want of time is his plea to others; for the neglect of any affairs, want of time is his excufe to himself. That he wants time, he fincerely believes; for he once pined away many months with a lingering diftemper, for want of time to attend his health.

Thus Jack Whirler lives in perpetual fatigue without proportionate advantage, because he does not confider that no man can fee all with his own eyes, or do all with his own hands; that whoever is engaged in multiplicity of bufinefs, muft tranfact much by substitution, and leave something to hazard; and that he who attempts to do all, will wafte his life in doing little.

NUMB. 20. SATURDAY, August 26, 1758.

THE

HERE is no crime more infamous than the violation of truth. It is apparent that men can be focial beings no longer than they believe each other. When fpeech is employed only as the vehicle of falfehood, every man muft difunite himself from others, inhabit his own cave, and feek prey only for himself.

Yet the law of truth, thus facred and neceffary, is broken without punishment, without cenfure, in compliance with inveterate prejudice and prevailing paffions. Men are willing to credit what they wish, and encourage rather thofe who gratify them with pleafure, than thofe that inftruct them with fidelity.

For this reafon every hiftorian discovers his country, and it is impoffible to read the different accounts of any great event, without a wifh that truth had more power over partiality.

Amidst the joy of my countrymen for the acquifition of Louisbourg, I could not forbear to confider how differently this revolution of American power is not only now mentioned by the contending nations, but will be reprefented by the writers of another century.

The English hiftorian will imagine himself barely doing iuftice to English virtue, when he relates