THE WAY TO WEALTH. greatly lessens a man's value. An odd volume of a set of books bears not the value of its proportion to the set. What think you of the odd half of a pair of scissors? it can't well cut any thing-it may possibly serve to scrape a trencher. Pray make my compliments and best wishes acceptable to your bride. I am old and heavy, or I should ere this have presented them in person. I shall make but small use of the old man's privilege, that of giving advice to younger friends. Treat your wife always with respect; it will procure respect to you, not only from her but from all that observe it. Never use any slighting expression to her even in jest; for slights in jest, after frequent bandyings, are apt to end in angry earnest. Be studious in your profession, and you will be learned. Be industrious and frugal, and you will be rich. Be sober and temperate, and you will be healthy. Be in general virtuous, and you will be happy. At least, you will, by such conduct, stand the best chance for such consequences. I pray God to bless you both! being ever your affectionate friend, B. FRANKLIN. THE WAY TO WEALTH; A Preliminary Address to the Pennsylvania Almanack, entitled, "Poor Richard's Almanack, for the year 1758." I HAVE heard, that nothing gives an author so great pleasure as to find his works respectfully quoted by other learned authors. This pleasure I have seldom enjoyed; for though I have been, if I may say it without vanity, an eminent author (of almanacks) annually now a full quarter of a century, my brother authors in the same way (for what reason I know not) have ever been very sparing in their applauses; and no other author has taken the least notice of me: so that, did not my writings produce me some solid pudding, the great deficiency of praise would have quite discouraged me. I concluded, at length, that the people were the best judges of my merit, for they buy my works; and besides, in my rambles, where I am not personally known, I have frequently heard one or other of my adages repeated, with "As poor Richard says," at the end on't. This gave me some satisfaction, as it showed not only that my instructions were regarded, but discovered likewise some respect for my authority; and I own, that, to encourage the practice of remembering and repeating those wise sentences, I have sometimes quoted myself with great gravity. Judge then how much I have been gratified by an incident which I am going to relate to you. I stopped my horse lately where a great number of people were collected at an auction of merchant's goods. The hour of sale not being come, they were conversing on the badness of the times; and one of the company called to a plain, clean, old man, with white locks, " Pray, father Abraham, what think ye of the times? Won't these heavy taxes quite ruin the country? How shall we be ever able to pay them? What would you advise us to?" Father Abraham stood up, and replied" If you'd have my advice, I'll give it to you in short; 'for a word to the wise is enough; and many words won't fill a bushel,' as poor Richard says." They joined in desiring him to speak his mind; and, gathering round him, he proceeded as follows: "Friends" says he," and neighbours, the taxes are indeed very heavy; and if those laid on by the government were the only ones we had to pay, we might more easily discharge them; but we have many others, and much more grievous to some of us. We are taxed twice as much by our idleness, three times as much by our pride, and four times as much by our folly; and from these taxes the commissioners cannot ease or deliver us, by allowing an abatement. However, let us hearken to good advice, and something may be done for us; God helps them that help themselves,' as poor Richard says in his almanack. 49 It would be thought a hard government that should tax its people one-tenth part of their time, to be employed in its service; but idleness taxes many of us much more, if we reckon all that is spent in absolute sloth, or doing of nothing, with that which is spent in idle employments or amusements that amount to nothing. Sloth, by bringing on diseases, absolutely shortens life. Sloth, like rust, consumes faster than labour wears, while the key often used is always bright,' as poor Richard says. But dost thou love life? then do not squander time, for that's the stuff life is made of,' as poor Richard says. How much more than is necessary do we spend in sleep! forgetting that the sleeping fox catches no poultry, and that there will be sleeping enough in the grave, as poor Richard says. • If time be of all things the most precious, wasting time must be,' as poor Richard says, 'the greatest prodigality; since, as he elsewhere tells us, Lost time is never found again; and what we call time enough, always proves little enough. Let us then up and be doing, and doing to the purpose: so by diligence shall we do more with less perplexity. Sloth makes all things difficult, but industry all easy,' as poor Richard says; and He that riseth late must trot all day, and shall scarce overtake his business at night; while laziness travels so slowly that poverty soon overtakes him,' as we read in poor Richard; who adds, Drive thy business, let not that drive thee;' and Early to bed, and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.' So what signifies wishing and hoping for better times? We may make these times better if we bestir ourselves. Industry needs not wish,' as poor Richard says; and 'He that lives upon hope will die fasting.' There are no gains without pains; then help hands, for I have no lands; or if I have, they are smartly taxed; and, as poor Richard likewise observes, He that hath a trade hath an estate, and he that hath a calling hath an office of profit and honour; but then the trade must be worked at, and the calling well followed, or neither the estate nor the office will enable us to pay our taxes. If we are industrious, we shall never starve; for, as poor Richard says, 'At the working-man's house hunger looks in, but dares not enter.' Nor will the bailiff or the constable enter; for Industry pays debts, but despair increaseth them,' says poor Richard. What though you have found no treasure, nor any rich relation left you a legacy; Diligence is the mother of good luck,' as poor Richard says; and God gives all things to industry; then plough deep while sluggards sleep, and you shall have corn to sell and to keep,' says poor Dick. Work while it is called today, for you know not how much you may be hindered to-morrow; which makes poor Richard say, 'One today is worth two to-morrows; and farther, Have you somewhat to do to-morrow, do it to-day. If you were a servant, would you not be ashamed that a good master should catch you idle? Are you then your own master, be ashamed to catch yourself idle,' as poor Dick says. When there is so much to be done for yourself, your family, your country, and your gracious king, be up by peep of day; 'Let not the sun look down, and say, Inglorious here he lies! Handle your tools without mittens; remember that "The cat in gloves catches no mice,' as poor Richard says. It is true there is much to be done, and perhaps you are weak-handed; but stick to it steadily, and you will see great effects; for 'Continual dropping wears away stones, and by diligence and patience the mouse ate into the cable; and light strokes fell great oaks,' as poor Richard says in his almanack, the year I cannot just now remember. 6 Methinks I hear some of you say, 'Must a man afford himself no leisure? I will tell thee, my friend, what poor Richard says Employ thy time well, if thou meanest to gain leisure; and since thou art not sure of a minute, throw not away an hour.' Leisure is time for doing something useful: this leisure the diligent man will obtain, but the lazy man never; so that, as poor Richard says, 'A life of leisure and a life of laziness are two things. Do you imagine that sloth will afford you more comfort than labour? No; for, | means, that perhaps the cheapness is apparent only, as poor Richard says, "Troubles spring from idleness, 'I never saw an oft removed tree, That throve so well as those that settled be.' And again,Three removes are as bad as a fire;' and again, Keep thy shop, and thy shop will keep thee; and again, If you would have your business done, go; if not, send.' And again, 'He that by the plough would thrive, Himself must either hold or drive.' And again, The eye of a master will do more work than both his hands;' and again, Want of care does us more damage than want of knowledge; and again, Not to oversee workmen is to leave them your purse open.' Trusting too much to other's care is the ruin of many; for, as the almanack says,' In the affairs of the world, men are saved not by faith, but by the want of it; but a man's own care is profitable; for, saith poor Dick, Learning is to the studious, and riches to the careful, as well as power to the bold, and heaven to the virtuous.' And farther, 'If you would have a faithful servant, and one that you like, serve yourself.' And again, he adviseth to circumspection and care, even in the smallest måtters, because sometimes A little neglect may breed great mischief; adding, 'For want of a nail the shoe was lost; for want of a shoe the horse was lost; and for want of a horse the rider was lost; being overtaken and slain by the enemy, all for want of a little care about a horse-shoe nail. So much for industry, my friends, and attention to one's own business; but to these we must add frugality, if we would make our industry more certainly successful. A man may, if he knows not how to save as he gets,Keep his nose all his life to the grindstone, and die not worth a groat at last.' 'A fat kitchen makes a lean will,' as poor Richard says; and Many estates are spent in the getting; Since women for tea forsook spinning and knitting, And men for punch forsook hewing and splitting.' 'If you would be wealthy,' says he, in another almanack, 'think of saving as well as of getting: the Indies have not made Spain rich, because her out-goes are greater than her in-comes.' Away then with your expensive follies, and you will not have so much cause to complain of hard times, heavy taxes, and chargeable families; for, as poor Dick says, 'Women and wine, game and deceit, Make the wealth small, and the want great.' And farther, 'What maintains one vice, would bring up two children.' You may think, perhaps, that a little tea, or a little punch now and then, diet a little more costly, clothes a little finer, and a little entertainment now and then, can be no great matter; but remember what poor Richard says, 'Many a little makes a meikle; and farther, Beware of little expenses; a small leak will sink a great ship; and again, Who dainties love, shall beggars prove; and, moreover, 'Fools make feasts, and wise men eat them.' Here you are all got together at this sale of fineries and nicknacks. You call them goods; but if you do not take care, they will prove evils to some of you. You expect they will be sold cheap, and perhaps they may for less than they cost: but if you have no occasion for them, they must be dear to you. Remember what poor Richard says, 'Buy what thou hast no need of, and ere long thou shalt sell thy necessaries.' And again, At a great pennyworth pause a while.' He and not real; or the bargain, by straitening thee in Fond pride of dress is sure a very curse: "Vessels large may venture more, "What is a butterfly? at best as poor Richard says. But what madness must it be to run in debt for the superfluities! We are offered by the terms of this s six months' credit; and that perhaps has induced so of us to attend it, because we cannot spare the resti money, and hope now to be fine without it. But at You g think what you do when you run in debt. to another power over your liberty. If you can pay at the time, you will be ashamed to see your cre" tor: you will be in fear when you speak to him: ya will make poor, pitiful, sneaking excuses, and by de grees come to lose your veracity, and sink into bas, downright lying; for, as poor Richard says, "The secon vice is lying; the first is running into debt.' Ar again, to the same purpose, Lying rides upon debts LETTER TO THE LATE DR MATHER OF BOSTON. thee, 51 TO THE LATE DOCTOR MATHER OF BOSTON. REVEREND SIR,-I received your kind letter, with your excellent advice to the people of the United States, which I read with great pleasure, and hope it will be duly regarded. Such writings, though they may be lightly passed over by many readers, yet, if they make a deep impression on one active mind in a hundred, the effects may be considerable. back; whereas a free-born Englishman ought not to be | coat, I went away, resolved to wear my old one a little ashamed nor afraid to speak to any man living. But longer. Reader, if thou wilt do the same, thy profit poverty often deprives a man of all spirit and virtue: will be as great as mine. It is hard for an empty bag to stand upright,' as I am, as ever, thine to serve poor Richard truly says. RICHARD SAUNDERS. What would you think of that prince, or that government, who would issue an edict, forbidding you to dress like a gentleman or a gentlewoman, on pain of imprisonment or servitude? Would you not say, that you are free, have a right to dress as you please, and that such an edict would be a breach of your privileges, and such a government tyrannical? And yet you are about to put yourself under that tyranny, when you run in debt for such dress! Your creditor has authority, at his pleasure, to deprive you of your liberty, by confining you in jail for life, or by selling you for a servant, if you should not be able to pay him. When you have got your bargain, you may perhaps think little of payment; but Creditors' poor Richard tells us, have better memories than debtors; and in another place he says, Creditors are a superstitious sect, great observers of set days and times.' The day comes round before you are aware, and the demand is made before you are prepared to satisfy it. Or if you bear your debt in mind, the term which at first seemed so long, will, as it lessens, appear extremely short. Time will seem to have added wings to his heels as well as his shoulders. Those have a short lent,' saith poor Richard, who owe money to be paid at Easter.' Then since, as he says, 'The borrower is a slave to the lender, and the debtor to the creditor,' disdain the chain, preserve your freedom, and maintain your independency: be industrious and free; be frugal and free. At present, perhaps you may think yourselves in thriving circumstances, and that you can bear a little extravagance without injury; but For age and want save while you may, as poor Richard says. Gain may be temporary and 'Get what you can, and what you get hold, 'Tis the stone that will turn all your lead into gold,' as poor Richard says. And when you have got the philosopher's stone, sure you will no longer complain of bad times, or the difficulty of paying taxes! This doctrine, my friends, is reason and wisdom; but, after all, do not depend too much upon your own industry, and frugality, and prudence, though excellent things; for they may be blasted without the blessing of Heaven: and therefore ask that blessing humbly, and be not uncharitable to those that at present seem to want it, but comfort and help them. Remember Job suffered, and was afterwards prosperous. And now, to conclude, Experience keeps a dear school; but fools will learn in no other, and scarce in that; for it is true, we may give advice, but we cannot give conduct,' as poor Richard says. However, remember this,They that will not be counselled, cannot be helped,' as poor Richard says; and farther, that If you will not hear reason, she will surely rap your knuckles." Thus the old gentleman ended his harangue. The people heard it, and approved the doctrine, and immediately practised the contrary, just as if it had been a common sermon; for the auction opened, and they began to buy extravagantly, notwithstanding all his cautions, and their own fear of taxes. I found the good man had thoroughly studied my almanacks, and digested all I had dropped on those topics during the course of twenty-five years. The frequent mention he made of me must have tired every one else: but my vanity was wonderfully delighted with it, though I was conscious that not a tenth part of the wisdom was my own which he ascribed to me, but rather the gleanings that I had made of the sense of all ages and nations. However, I resolved to be the better for the echo of it; and though I had first determined to buy stuff for a new Permit me to mention one little instance, which, though it relates to myself, will not be quite uninteresting to you. When I was a boy, I met with a book entitled "Essays to do good," which I think was written by your father. It had been so little regarded by a former possessor, that several leaves of it were torn out; but the remainder gave me such a turn of thinking as to have an influence on my conduct through life; for I have always set a greater value on the character of a doer of good than any other kind of reputation; and if I have been, as you seem to think, a useful citizen, the public owes the advantage of it to that book. You mention your being in your seventy-eighth year. I am in my seventy-ninth. We are grown old together. It is now more than sixty years since I left Boston; but I remember well both your father and grandfather, having heard them both in the pulpit, and seen them in their houses. The last time I saw your father was in the beginning of 1724, when I visited him after my first trip to Pennsylvania. He received me in his library, and on my taking leave, showed me a shorter way out of the house, through a narrow passage, which was crossed by a beam over-head. We behind, and I turning partly towards him, when he were still talking as I withdrew, he accompanying me said hastily, "Stoop! stoop!" I did not understand him till I felt my head hit against the beam. He was a man who never missed any occasion of giving inyoung, and have the world before you; stoop as you struction; and upon this he said to me "You are go through it, and you will miss many hard thumps." This advice, thus beat into my head, has frequently been of use to me; and I often think of it when I see pride mortified, and misfortunes brought upon people by their carrying their heads too high. hoped to lay my bones there. This powerful monarchy continues its friendship for the United States. It is a friendship of the utmost importance to our security, and should be carefully cultivated. Britain has not yet well digested the loss of its dominion over us, and has still at times some flattering hopes of recovering it. Accidents may increase those hopes, and encourage dangerous attempts. A breach between us and France would infallibly bring the English again upon our backs; and yet we have some wild beasts among our countrymen who are endeavouring to weaken that connection.. engagements our credit by fulfilling our contracts- Passy, May 12th, 1784. 52 THE WHISTLE-HANDSOME AND DEFORMED LEG. THE WHISTLE; A TRUE STORY-WRITTEN TO HIS NEPHEW. WHEN I was a child, at seven years old, my friends on a holiday filled my pockets with coppers. I went directly to a shop where they sold toys for children; and being charmed with the sound of a whistle, that I met by the way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered him all my money for one. I then came home, and went whistling all over the house, much pleased with my whistle, but disturbing all the family. My brothers, and sisters, and cousins, understanding the bargain I had made, told me I had given four times as much for it as it was worth. This put me in mind what good things I might have bought with the rest of the money; and they laughed at me so much for my folly that I cried with vexation, and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the whistle gave me pleasure. This, however, was afterwards of use to me, the impression continuing on my mind; so that, often when I was tempted to buy some unnecessary thing, I said to myself, Don't give too much for the whistle; and so I saved my money. As I grew up, came into the world, and observed the actions of men, I thought I met with many, very many, who gave too much for the whistle. When I saw any one too ambitious of court favourssacrificing his time in attendance on levées, his repose, his liberty, his virtue, and perhaps his friends, to attain it-I have said to myself, This man gives too much for his whistle. When I saw another full of popularity, constantly employing himself in political bustles, neglecting his own affairs, and ruining them by that neglect; He pays indeed, says I, too much for his whistle. If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of comfortable living, all the pleasure of doing good to others, all the esteem of his fellow-citizens, and the joys of benevolent friendship, for the sake of accumulating wealth; Poor man, says I, you do indeed pay too much for your whistle. When I meet a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudable improvement of the mind, or of his fortune, to mere corporeal sensations; Mistaken man, says I, you are providing pain for yourself instead of pleasure: you give too much for your whistle. If I see one fond of fine clothes, fine furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he contracts debts, and ends his career in prison; Alas, says I, he has paid dear, very dear for his whistle. When I see a beautiful, sweet-tempered girl married to an ill-natured brute of a husband; What a pity it is, says I, that she has paid so much for a whistle. In short, I conceived that great part of the miseries of mankind were brought upon them by the false estimates they had made of the value of things, and by their giving too much for their whistles. A PETITION TO THOSE WHO HAVE THE SUPERINTENDENCY OF EDUCATION. I ADDRESS myself to all the friends of youth, and conjure them to direct their compassionate regards to my unhappy fate, in order to remove the prejudices of which I am the victim. There are twin sisters of us; and the two eyes of man do not more resemble, or are capable of being upon better terms with each other, than my sister and myself, were it not for the partiality of our parents, who made the most injurious distinctions between us. From my infancy, I have been led to consider my sister as a being of a more elevated rank. I was suffered to grow up without the least instruction, while nothing was spared in her education. She had masters to teach her writing, drawing, music, and other accomplishments; but if, by chance, I touched a pencil, a pen, or a needle, I was bitterly rebuked-and more than once I have been beaten for being awkward, and wanting a graceful manner. It is true, my sister asso ciated me with her upon some occasions; but she always made a point of taking the lead, calling upon me only from necessity, or to figure by her side. But conceive not, Sirs, that my complaints are instigated merely by vanity-No; my uneasiness is occasioned by an object much more serious. It is the practice in our family, that the whole business of providing for its subsistence falls upon my sister and myself. If any indisposition should attack my sisterand I mention it in confidence upon this occasion, that she is subject to the gout, the rheumatism, and cramp, without making mention of other accidents what would be the fate of our poor family? Must not the regret of our parents be excessive, at having placed so great a difference between sisters who are so perfectly equal! Alas! we must perish from distress: for it would not be in my power even to scrawl a suppliant petition for relief, having been obliged to employ the hand of another in transcribing the request which I have now the honour to prefer to you. Condescend, Sirs, to make my parents sensible of the injustice of an exclusive tenderness, and of the necessity of distributing their care and affection among all their children equally. I am, with a profound respect, Sirs, your most obedient servant, THE LEFT HAND. HANDSOME AND DEFORMED LEG. THERE are two sorts of people in the world, who, with equal degrees of health and wealth, and the other comforts of life, become, the one happy, and the other miserable. This arises very much from the different views in which they consider things, persons, and events; and the effect of those different views upon their own minds. In whatever situation men can be placed, they may find conveniences and inconveniences: in whatever company, they may find persons and conversation more or less pleasing: at whatever table, they may meet with meats and drinks of better and worse taste, dishes better and worse dressed: in whatever climate, they will find good and bad weather: under whatever government, they will find good and bad laws, and good and bad administration of those laws: in whatever poem, or work of genius, they may see faults and beauties: in almost every face, and every person, they may discover fine features and defects, good and bad qualities. Under these circumstances, the two sorts of people above mentioned fix their attention; those who are disposed to be happy, on the conveniences of things, the pleasant parts of conversation, the well-dressed dishes, the goodness of the wines, the fine weather, &c., and enjoy all with cheerfulness. Those who are to be unhappy, think and speak only of the contraries. Hence they are continually discontented themselves, and, by their remarks, sour the pleasures of society, offend personally many people, and make themselves every where disagreeable. If this turn of mind was founded in nature, such unhappy persons would be the more to be pitied. But as the disposi tion to criticise, and to be disgusted, is, perhaps, taken up originally by imitation, and is, unawares, grown into a habit, which, though at present strong, may nevertheless be cured, when those who have it are convinced of its bad effect on their felicity, I hope this little admonition may be of service to them, and put them on changing a habit, which, though in the exercise it is chiefly an act of imagination, yet it has serious consequences in life, as it brings on real griefs and misfortunes. For as many are offended by, and nobody loves, this sort of people-no one shows them more than the most common civility and respect, and scarcely that-and this frequently puts them out of humour, and draws them into disputes and contentions. If they aim at obtaining some advantage in rank or fortune, nobody wishes them success, or will stir a step, or speak a word, to favour their pretensions. If they CONVERSATION OF EPHEMERA-MORALS OF CHESS. 53 incur public censure or disgrace, no one will defend or | light to all nature, and which in my time has evidently excuse, and many join to aggravate their misconduct, declined considerably towards the ocean at the end of and render them completely odious. If these people the earth, it must then finish its course, be extinguished will not change this bad habit, and condescend to be in the waters that surround us, and leave the world pleased with what is pleasing, without fretting them- in cold and darkness, necessarily producing universal selves or others about the contraries, it is good for death and destruction. I have lived seven of those others to avoid an acquaintance with them, which is hours: a great age, being no less than 420 minutes of always disagreeable, and sometimes very inconvenient, time! How very few of us continue so long! I have especially when one finds one's self entangled in their seen generations born, flourish, and expire. My prequarrels. sent friends are the children and grandchildren of the friends of my youth, who are now, alas, no more! and I must soon follow them; for, by the common course of nature, though still in health, I cannot expect to live above seven or eight minutes longer. What now avails all my toil and labour in amassing honey-dew on this leaf, which I cannot live to enjoy! What the political struggles I have been engaged in, for the good of my compatriot inhabitants of this bush, or my philosofor in politics (what can laws do without morals?) our present race of ephemera will in a course of minutes become corrupt, like those of other and older bushes, and consequently as wretched! And in philosophy how small our progress! Alas! art is long, and life is short! My friends would comfort me with the idea of a name, they say, I shall leave behind me; and they tell me I have lived long enough to nature and to glory. But what will fame be to an ephemera who no longer exists? and what will become of all history in the eighteenth hour, when the world itself, even the whole | Moulin Joly, shall come to its end, and be buried in a universal ruin ?" An old philosophical friend of mine was grown, from experience, very cautious in this particular, and carefully avoided any intimacy with such people. He had, like other philosophers, a thermometer to show him the heat of the weather, and a barometer to mark when it was likely to prove good or bad; but there being no instrument invented to discover, at first sight, this unpleasing disposition in a person, he, for that purpose, made use of his legs; one of which was remark-phical studies, for the benefit of our race in general: ably handsome, the other, by some accident, crooked and deformed. If a stranger, at first interview, regarded his ugly leg more than his handsome one, he doubted him-if he spoke of it, and took no notice of the handsome leg, that was sufficient to determine my philosopher to have no farther acquaintance with him. Every body has not this two-legged instrument; but every one, with a little attention, may observe signs of that carping, fault-finding disposition, and take the same resolution of avoiding the acquaintance of those infected with it. I therefore advise those critical, querulous, discontented, unhappy people—if they wish to be respected and beloved by others, and happy in themselves, they should leave off looking at the ugly leg. CONVERSATION OF A COMPANY OF WITH THE SOLILOQUY OF ONE ADVANCED IN AGE. You may remember, my dear friend, that when we To me, after all my eager pursuits, no solid pleasures now remain, but the reflection of a long life spent in meaning well, the sensible conversation of a few good lady ephemera, and now and then a kind smile and a tune from the ever amiable Brilliant. B. FRANKLIN. MORALS OF CHESS. PLAYING at chess is the most ancient and universal game known among men; for its original is beyond the memory of history, and it has, for numberless ages, been the amusement of all the civilised nations of Asia, the Persians, the Indians, and the Chinese. Europe has had it above a thousand years; the Spaniards have spread it over their part of America, and it begins to make its appearance in these States. It is so interesting in itself as not to need the view of gain to induce engaging in it; and thence it is never played for money. Those, therefore, who have leisure for such diversions, cannot find one that is more innocent; and the following piece-written with a view to correct (among a few young friends) some little improprieties in the practice of it shows at the same time that it may, in its effects on the mind, be not merely innocent but advantageous, to the vanquished as well as the victor : The game of chess is not merely an idle amusement. Several very valuable qualities of the mind, useful in the course of human life, are to be acquired or strengthened by it, so as to become habits, ready on all occasions. For life is a kind of chess, in which we have points to gain, and competitors or adversaries to contend with, and in which there is a vast variety of good and ill events, that are, in some degree, the effects of prudence or the want of it. By playing at chess then, we learn, 1. Foresight, which looks a little into futurity, considers the consequences that may attend an action; for it is continually occurring to the player-" If Í move this piece, what will be the advantage of my new situation? What use can my adversary make of it to annoy me? What other moves can I make to support "It was," says he, "the opinion of learned philoso-it, and to defend myself from his attacks?" phers of our race, who lived and flourished long before my time, that this vast world, the Moulin Joly, could not itself subsist more than eighteen hours: and I think there was some foundation for that opinion; since, by the apparent motion of the great luminary that gives 2. Circumspection, which surveys the whole chessboard, or scene of action, the relations of the several pieces and situations, the dangers they are respectively exposed to, the several possibilities of their aiding each other, the probabilities that the adversary may take |