A good Beginning makes a good End.

THIS Proverb is not ſo general, in its views, as ſome, being rather limited in its meaning. It does not imply, that a piece of work, well be⯑gun, muſt be well finiſhed; though the likelieſt me⯑thod of completing it to your wiſh, is to begin it ſo; and a good beginning is a favourable index of a good end; but the maxim has a moral ten⯑dency, directing its views to mankind who rarely, [2]in fact, practiſe in manhood the principles they in⯑bibe in their youth. Juſt as the twig is bent, the tree's inclined. The youth, educated, and brought up in the paths of virtue, ſeldom ſtrays. It begets a love and veneration for thoſe paths, which ma⯑ture years ſerve only to increaſe.

If, therefore, the ſeeds of religion and honor are ſown in youth, they will bring forth the fruits of temporal happineſs in riper life.— "Train up a child," ſays Solomon, "in the way he ſhould go, and when he is old, he will not de⯑part from it."—Thus will a good Beginning make a good End.

Behold, in the ſcene before us, the calmneſs and ſerenity with which the good man meets his end. Death approaches him at his window; ſhews him that his glaſs is run, and calls him to futurity. Far from ſhrinking at the awful ſummons—far from ſhuddering at that call, which thouſands dread, he receives the notice with open arms; not merely re⯑joicing to be releaſed from the bed of ſickneſs, but eager to meet his Redeemer, which the holy ſcrip⯑tures have taught him to expect, and with an anxi⯑ouſneſs [3]to be with Chriſt; which, in the hour of death, can only flow from the conſciouſneſs of a well-ſpent life. He had been well educated—his begin⯑ning was good—ſo was his end. Death is armed with no terrors for him. He boldly throws aſide the curtain, and ſtretches forth his arms to em⯑brace him. Thus doth the evening of life crown the day.

By the pious precepts, and the virtuous exam⯑ple of an indulgent parent, the fair Laura profits. See her, on her knees, offering her prayers to the throne of Heaven, and beſeeching the gracious Au⯑thor of her being to enable her to live as has her father, and that "her latter end may be like his." His care had thrown within her tender mind a light upon the goſpel, of which the bible before her, and the burning taper are types, and raiſes her eyes to her Redeemer on the croſs, not as to an idol, but as a memento that he died for all. Methinks I hear the good man thus addreſſing her: "See," ſays he, laying his ſpectacles near the ſcriptures beſide him. "See, my Laura, whence I have derived the happineſs I now enjoy,—The ſacred truths in this book have inſpired me with a love for virtue. A well-ſpent life is the beſt com⯑fort of old age.—It diſarms death of all its terrors, and enables us to meet it without reluctance.—This [4]is the bock that tells us "we ſhall never die"; but that, if our Beginning is good, and we ſow the ſeeds of virtue early, our End will be good alſo, and, after this life, we ſhall reap the fruit of eter⯑nal happineſs in the next. We ſhall be able, on the bed of ſickneſs, to welcome Death, with extend⯑ed arms, to view with compoſure the laſt of our ſand running, and exclaim with the good man be⯑fore us—"O Death! where is thy ſting?"

On the contrary—If, in early life, we aſſociate with bad company; if we indulge our wiſhes, gra⯑tify our paſſions, and run heedleſs and headlong into every vice, we may enjoy a tranſitory happi⯑neſs, a little pleaſure for awhile; but when Death ſhall come, as, ſooner or later, it is ſure to do, we ſhall tremble at its approach, ſhudder at its ghaſt⯑ly viſage, draw the curtain round us, ſhriek at the ſight of it's dart, and call upon "the mountains to fall on us and to cover us."

If then we would meet Death without horror, let us lead a good life: if our conſcience does not condemn us, we ſhall have nothing to dread; for, as a bad Beginning makes a bad End, ſo "A good Beginning makes a good End."

The Worth of a Thing is beſt known by its Want.

THE French have a Proverb ſimilar to this. "The cow knows not what her tail is worth till ſhe hath loſt it," as it ſerves to whiſk the flies from her; teaching us not to diſregard a thing, becauſe we have no preſent uſe for it, be it, in it's own nature, ever ſo inſignificant. All things are equally important in their way; and there is no [6]trifle, be it of what kind it will, but may, at times, be converted to ſome good purpoſe. A prudent man, therefore, will never make waſte of any thing he has, but uſe it diſcreetly, and bleſs Providence for all it's gifts. The painter has ſhewn us the force of this truth in the want of water. A hot, ſcorching ſeaſon has dried up a well, whoſe water, not being the ſweeteſt in the neighbourhood, was diſregarded; but, at the ſame time was never known to dry away. When every other ſpring had ſailed, the people flocked to this, ſaying, "Bad water was better than none," and they muſt have recourſe to the ſtinking well at laſt. Here then they flocked, in a ſultry, parching day, both men and animals; but how great was their diſap⯑pointment at finding this dry alſo, and how mani⯑feſt is their chagrin painted in their countenances! Even ſtinking water would have now been accepta⯑ble; but theſe thoughtleſs people are made to feel the want of it.

Learn then, ye inconſiderate of the age, from the moral of this ſtory, not to ſpurn at the good offices of thoſe below you; nor become thankleſs in the hour of proſperity. It may happen that your reſources may be dried up, and that you may be in want of thoſe very ſervices you now deſpiſe. Friends are not eaſily acquired; when a man, [7]therefore, fortunately has friends, let him "ſhew himſelf friendly;" and endeavour to keep them. There is no friend ſo poor, but may have it in his power to be of uſe to us in the courſe of life, and his ſervices, therefore, ſhould never be contemned.

This Proverb may alſo be a leſſon to us, not to waſte the good things of this life, which Heaven has been pleaſed to bleſs us with, under an idea that we may never want them. If we have more than we want, we ſhould beſtow it on thoſe who have leſs. Here we may lay it up in ſtore; for "what we give to the poor, we lend to the Lord," and ſhall afterwards find in our own cheſt. We are not, however, to be laviſh in our charity, but act with wiſdom and diſcretion; laying ſomething by againſt an evil day. Many are the turns and ebbs in a man's fortune; and, though he is rich to-day, he may be poor to-morrow. And as he that waſtes will want, let us be careful not to bring ourſelves into ſuch a ſituation; for, though the rich have many friends, the poor have ſeldom any: but theſe friends of the rich are little elſe than butter-flies, that flutter round a man's good fortune, as a moth round the flame of a candle, but who will de⯑ſert him when diſtreſs comes upon him, and fall from him like withered leaves at the approach of winter.

[8]We are here taught likewiſe, in another ſenſe, to huſband our time, and never put off that till to⯑morrow which can be done to-day. For that to⯑morrow may never come; we may be taken out of the world when we leaſt expect it; and, what we propoſe to do, may thus never be accompliſhed. If we are, then, to make proviſion for our fami⯑lies, let us do it, whilſt we have it in our power; and, if we are to make proviſion for ourſelves, let us not defer it till it is too late. By proviſion for ourſelves, I mean making our peace with Hea⯑ven, and laying up riches, "where neither moth nor ruſt doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through and ſteal." There is no man ſo virtuous, but ſtands in need of repentance; and, if he is wiſe, he will repent of his ſins whilſt he is enabled to do it; and not waſte thoſe precious hours in a life of pleaſure and diſſipation, which he can employ to more nobler purpoſes. The time he now thinks ſo little of, he may one day want, and then what would he give to live it over again? be wiſe then, and circumſpect; make the moſt of your preſent hours; be thankful for every thing you have; place your reliance on God, whoſe ſprings are never dry; turn every thing within your reach to the beſt advantage; don't conſider even the ſmalleſt thing as below your notice; for be aſſured its Worth is beſt known by its Want.

Experience is the Miſtreſs of Fools.

THERE are many perſons in the world who deſpiſe admonition, and cannot be brought to believe things wrong, till they have found them ſo by experience; and often buy this experience at a dear rate. This makes even fools wiſe; and hence the Proverb Experience is the Miſtreſs of Fools.

[10]In vain did the inventor of gun-powder perceive its ſtrength in blowing up large pieces of rock. He doubted it's power, until he had placed him⯑ſelf upon a large ſtone over ſome: but his experi⯑ence was fatal to him, having loſt his life upon the occaſion. Poſterity, however, have been benefited by this raſh act; and fools have, by that experi⯑ment been made wiſe. It would be well for us all, if, as Lillo ſays, "we learnt to be wiſe by others harm!"

There is ſcarce any ſituation, any circumſtance in life, but, if we look round upon it, we may profit by the experience of others. 'Tis this which the Proverb alludes to; not to wait for con⯑viction, till we are taught it by experience; fools can do no more, and ſuch a leſſon may be attended with bad conſequences. This was the caſe with the inventor of gun-powder we have mentioned. Sad experience, indeed, dwells the longeſt with us: and it is in this ſenſe that Wit bought is better than wit taught, becauſe ſelf-preſervation teaches us that the knowledge we acquire with pain, we are apt to remember longeſt, as A burnt child dreads the fire.

In illuſtration of this truth, ſee the picture be⯑fore us. The little rogue has incautiouſly pur⯑loined [11]the honey, and the bees have ſhewn their reſentment.—They have done him all the ill they could.—They have ſtung him.

In vain did his parents adviſe him to deſiſt; in vain did they point out the danger of engaging raſhly with a hive of bees: experience has now made him wiſe; and the ſmart he feels, will tell him the next time he approaches a bee-hive, to be more upon his guard. The hive is a ſignificant emblem of induſtry, it being the ſtore-houſe, where the bees lay up their proviſion for the winter; and the props, under the hive, are meant to ſhew that induſtry will never want ſupport: nor is even the ſtick without it's moral; pointing ſtraight to the boy that is running off, it tells us, that Induſtry is the ſtraight line to retirement, for the di⯑ligent man maketh rich.—Prudent lad, he has benefited by the experience of his compa⯑nion, and has eſcaped the harm: knowing now that he cannot gather roſes without thorns, or honey without the riſk of being ſtung—"I will pro⯑vide myſelf," cries he, "as well as I can, againſt the danger, and then I'll try."

[12]Next to purchaſing experience at the expence of pain to ourſelves, is that wiſdom of profiting by the misfortunes of others. Indeed, all knowledge is acquired by obſervation; and he is the wiſeſt man who learns it ſooneſt; having the advantage of his fellow-creatures, he may ſmile at the ig⯑norance of fools; but, if he needs a ſecond cau⯑tion, he deſerves to pay dear for his knowledge; to be laughed at by the world, and to feel the un⯑pleaſant truth, that Experience is the Miſtreſs of Feels.

What's got over the Devil's Back, is ſpent under his Belly.

THE Devil is the Enemy of mankind, and the Parent of Vice; and whatever is done by his inſtigation, cannot thrive; for God proſpers not the evil doer. Money, honeſtly earned, and procured with honour, will do a man credit, and be the means of his getting more; but ill-gotten wealth never does the poſſeſſor any good. When [14]men know the difficulty of getting money, they are naturally careful of it, and are ſeldom ſeen to laviſh it away; but thoſe who get it by fraud, by oppreſſion, or extortion, ſeldom put any value on it, and waſte it in the ſame vicious way in which they got it,—Light come, light go.—The puniſhment inflicted by Heaven on ill-gotten wealth, is that natural waſte of it which gave riſe to this Proverb; and perſons have lived to ſee, that fortunes, amaſſed by unfair dealing, by cards, by gambling, by op⯑preſſion, and extortion, when left to the next heir, have been diſſipated in riot and debauchery: where⯑as thoſe which are honeſtly and honourably acquired, have eſtabliſhed a family for many generations. God has been pleaſed to proſper the undertakings of ſuch a houſe, and they have been the pride of their relations, and the country round them.

Riches are, undoubtedly, enviable; but they cannot be enjoyed with comfort, and certainly loſe that zeſt, that naturally attends them, when they are acquired with credit.—Sweet is the bread we earn.—And why?—Becauſe we eat it in a ſpirit of independence; conſcious that we have honeſtly ob⯑tained it, are beholden only to our own induſtry for it; and that we have not procured it by oppreſſing the unfortunate, or extorting it from the igno⯑rant; by grinding the face of the poor; or ac⯑quiring [15]it at the expence of a family's happineſs.— A man had better be poor, than rich by unfair means.—Poverty is no way diſhonourable, if the poor man is at the ſame time virtuous; for virtu⯑ous poverty is, in the eſtimation of all wiſe and good men, far more reſpectable than the poſſeſſion of ill-gotten wealth. As a competency, or ſuf⯑ficiency of money to procure the neceſſaries and comforts of life is, however, what all men are juſ⯑tifiable in looking for, let us do it by our own in⯑duſtry, and rendering ourſelves ſerviceable to man⯑kind; for, "the Diligent hand God maketh rich." Let that induſtry be honeſt and praiſe-worthy, ſuch as will bear an enquiry into; and, depend on it, wealth ſo acquired, will always be found the moſt laſting: for the Pſalmiſt ſays, "I have been young, and now am old, yet ſaw I never the righteous for⯑ſaken, or his ſeed begging their bread." What ſatisfaction can a man have in ſuch property as he knows he has cheated his neighbour of?—His con⯑ſcience will be ever flinging his iniquity in his face; be the worſt of upbraiders, and deprive him of that real comfort and enjoyment, which the ho⯑nourable acquiſition of wealth brings with it.

Look at the ſcene before us—a young gentle⯑man diſſipating his fortune in company with bad women and gamblers; where he is plundered, as the painter ſuppoſes, of that fortune his anceſtor [16]acquired by fraud. As the Devil was the inſtiga⯑tion of ſuch an acquiſition, he is here ſhewn to be the cauſe of its diſſipation; for nothing but the De⯑vil, the parent of wickedneſs, could induce a wo⯑man, the lovelieſt of the human race, ſo far to diſ⯑honour herſelf, as to aſſociate with the abandoned, and become their partners in vice.

Rogues, they ſay, are generally true to each other; but it does not appear to be the caſe here, for ſhe is picking the pocket of one of her aſſo⯑ciates. It is folly indeed to expect any degree of honeſty in thoſe who have not the principle; for nature will ſhew itſelf; and thoſe who are bred up in vice, ſeldom depart from it.

The further effects of Gambling are here depict⯑ed. From the countenance of him with the empty purſe, we learn the diſtraction of his mind.—Eager to win, and happening to loſe, he loſes his temper and his patience, and with theſe his happineſs.— For, when a man loſes more money than he can afford, it is ſure to make him wretched.—The win⯑ner may ſmile, but the loſer is miſerable.—Why then purſue ſuch means, as ſtand a chance to diſtreſs os?—It muſt be infatuation. Indeed vice of every kind is little elſe than infatuation; having no ſound argument to ſupport it. From Evil, Evil muſt a⯑riſe; for, What is got over the Devil's Back, in ſpent under his Belly.

Call me Couſin, but Cozen me not.

OF all kinds of vice, I don't know any thing that deſerves greater reprobation than Hypo⯑criſy; and yet nothing is more general in the world. The hypocrite, who carries two faces, be⯑trays you under the maſk of friendſhip, and is leſs to be forgiven than a highway robber. The latter boldly attacks you, and puts you on your defence; but the hypocrite takes advantage of our good-na⯑ture, [18]impoſes on our credulity, and injures us at the moment he gives us reaſon to expect a ſer⯑vice. He is, as the painter has here repreſented to us, a wolf in ſheep's cloathing; and as one, who, whilſt he ſhakes us by the hand, takes an opportu⯑nity to pick our pocket.

The world is, in general, ſo deceitful, and ſo fuli of diſſimulation, that the incautious are eaſily taken in, and naturally ſuppoſe them to be their friends, who, in reality, are their enemies. The Flatterer is of this ſtamp, though not of ſo groſs a complexion; and it behoves us to be as much upon our guard againſt a man of this deſcription, as a lurking enemy. The misfortune is, that ſelf-love leads a perſon to court praiſe, and be fond of flat⯑terers; and ſuch as are expert in this art, will do it in ſo ſly and inſinuating a manner, as to make us believe, that what they ſay is the real ſentiments of their hearts. The cuſtomary compliments in life are pleaſing, ingratiating, and denote good-breed⯑ing; but when they degenerate into flattery, to a ſenſible man, they are fulſome and diſguſting.

When a man, on a firſt acquaintance, makes great profeſſions of kindneſs, always ſuſpect him: depend upon it he has ſome ſiniſter view upon your property; and, if you are not upon your guard, you [19]will probably find yourſelf hurt, when you leaſt expect it.

Great familiarity and intimacy is highly impro⯑per on ſlight acquaintance; it is ſcarcely prudent even between thoſe who have long known each other; for he who unboſoms himſelf to every one he meets, ſtands a chance of having a dagger plunged in his breaſt.

Indeed, the integrity of mankind is ſo little to be relied on, that a wiſe man will be cautious in all his words, and never ſay that to his moſt intimate friend, that he would not ſay to his bittereſt enemy; for a future diſagreement may alienate the friend⯑ſhip of ſuch a man, and you may be ſorry for hav⯑ing placed a confidence in him. Every man ſhould act ſo as not to put it in the power of any one to betray him, and then he need not dread an enemy; for whilſt his ſecret is in his own breaſt, it is his own fault if it be divulged.

Sincere and true-hearted friends are leaſt given to compliment and ceremony: if a man makes more of you than you either deſire or expect, be aſſured he hath cozened you already, or means to it. It is not that a man is obliged to ſpeak unpala⯑table truths, or ſay that to his friend he knows will offend him; if he cannot ſay agreeable things, let [20]him be ſilent; but not a fawner, or make great profeſſions that are not ſincere: for, He that is full of Courteſy, is full of Craft.—I would ſtop ſuch a man ſhort, and give him to underſtand that I ſaw thro' him, by—"A truce with your kindneſs, my good Sir,"—Call me Couſin, but Cozen me not.

☞ See Great Cry and Little Wool.

Pride will have a Fall.

THIS Proverb requires no interpretation, conveying its moral literally:—but pride, however here alluded to, by no means implies that commendable pride, which dignifies, and is eſſential to the character of a good man; but that lordly oſtentation, that haughty demeanor in af⯑fluence, which ſpurns at, and contemns an inferior in birth, fortune or ſituation; and engroſſes our [22]thoughts to the idle gratification of extravagant pleaſure.—This is the Pride that will have a Fall; and herein will the ſcriptures be verified. "Pride cometh before deſtruction, and he that exalteth himſelf ſhall be abaſed."—He, that, forgetting his own nature, with-holds from his diſtreſſed fellow-creature that relief he is able to afford, and looks down on his humble lot with diſdain—this pride will, in all likelihood, have a fall; and he may one day experience the contemptuous treatment he has ſhewn to others, and that without a friend to pity him.

The upſtart, in our print, nurſed in the lap of eaſe, whoſe father's death put him in poſſeſſion of a fortune, having launched into all the faſhionable follies of the age, embarked in a life of vice and voluptuous pleaſure, has here ſuffered an inconſide⯑rate pride to lead him to the brink of a dreadful precipice. See his reception of the wretched pau⯑per his father's bounty had often fed—he caſts on him a ſcornful look—the ſneer of contempt—and that too at a moment when one ſtep more muſt ſo fatally ſhew him his paſt errors. In vain does this poor creature implore relief—in vain does the aged mendicant, whoſe locks are ſilvered o'er by time—in vain does he tell the ſon his ſire's invariable goodneſs—his conſtant charity.—In vain he begs [23]that the ſame cauſe (affluence) may produce the ſame effect—(benevolence),—No;—deaf to every thing but the impulſes of his own vain mind, he gives not a ſingle mite to the famiſhed wretch, who regrets, that with the means, we do not always inherit an inclination, to do good. Age, however, which has furrowed his brow with wrinkles, leaves him the pleaſing comfort of a peaceful conſcience; and though in the midſt of poverty, he enjoys a placid ſerenity, being under the immediate eye of Providence, who turneth all things to our good: whilſt the other, wrapt up in fancied greatneſs, looks not a ſtep before him, but falls down the precipice his pride had led him to. What are then the conſequences? By this precipice we are to underſtand the downfal of Pride, when Diſſipation ſhall have ſtripped him of all the gay feathers with which he plumed himſelf; when his wealth has taken wing to a new poſſeſſor; when his mind ſhall be filled with remorſe and horror, and he be left naked and deſtitute. This is often the fate of the haughty, and the end of the proud man. Then, like the Prodigal Son, he ſhall be feeding with ſwine, and covet the ſituation of the hireling and the ſlave: but, even in this hopeleſs ſtate, there is a chance of redemption. Misfortunes, if we conſtrue them right, are meſſengers, never ſent without an errand. [24]They either come to remind us of paſt ſollies; to correct the preſent, or prevent the future. Altho' then it is truly commendable to act with becoming ſpirit; with ſuch a pride, as is conſiſtent with our ſituations in life; yet to exceed this, is but to in⯑dulge a diſpoſition of malevolence, which can com⯑municate no real ſatisfaction. If it pleaſes Provi⯑dence to bleſs us, and raiſe us above the common level of mankind, we ſhould not preſume on this, but act our part accordingly. We ſhould conſider the gifts of fortune as put into our hands for nobler purpoſes than merely to gratify a ſenſual inclina⯑tion. We are to uſe them as a truſt committed to our care, and diſpenſe them ſo as to do all the good we can. If we are inſolent in the poſſeſſion of them, ſelfiſh in their diſpoſal, and laviſh them on ourſelves alone, let us fear the conſe⯑quences, and dread the time when we may ſee an end of them; for, ſooner or later, Pride will have a Fall.

Tread on a Worm, and it will Turn.

THIS Proverb is generally, though errone⯑ouſly, uſed as a plea by thoſe who ſtudy to gratify revenge for any trivial injury they may conceive they have ſuſtained; but this is by no means the moral we ſhould draw from it; or that concluſion which calm reflection will juſtify.—When, to indulge a vicious inclination, we wound the eaſe of a neighbour, either by defaming his [26]character, invading his property, or diſturbing the peace of his family, it is but a ſorry excuſe to ſay, "he has injured me—Tread on a worm and it will Turn."

There is a very material difference between juſt reſentment and unlawful revenge. It is certainly the part of an honeſt and upright mind, to ſhew a proper contempt, a conſiſtent reſentment at what⯑ever arraigns the honor or integrity of our principles, and to turn (tho' in adverſity) when thus trod upon, by even the ſplendid ſons of affluence: to endea⯑vour, as far as our ſituation and circumſtances will admit, to avoid a renewal, or continuance of ſuch injuries, as may convert a proper reſentment into inconſiderate revenge.—"Love your enemies; do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that deſpitefully uſe you and perſecute you," was an injunction of our bleſſed Saviour; and, however dif⯑ficult its practice may ſeem, it certainly is within every one's power, if not to do good, at leaſt to do no harm to his enemy. Having ſaid thus much on the miſapplication of this Proverb, and the per⯑verſion of the ſentiment it contains, let us examine its real tendency, and what it is meant to inculcate. It is meant then to teach us, that how trifling, how abject, how inſignificant ſoever perſons may appear to us, at the moment we tread upon them, a change [27]of fortune, and a poignant recollection of injuries, may render their turning on us ſerious indeed!— Let us look round us, and we ſhall find many who have, either by the long purſuits of honeſt induſ⯑try, the death of others, ſuperior abilities, or un⯑expected cauſes, riſen from the vale of indigence to the height of competence, if not to the pinnacle of affluence.—Then it is they will turn—then will they with-hold thoſe offices of friendſhip they would otherwiſe have done us, and of which we may ſtand in need; then it is they will recollect, that we had not done by them, when in our power, as we would then be done by.

The hoary veteran, in our print, conſtrained by penury and want, implores charity, under the walls of that very citadel, his earlier days ſaw him bravely defending.—A golden chain, or a wooden leg, were the extremes of his hope and fear.— Poor fellow!—he has got the latter.—An imperi⯑ous Turk, enjoying the bleſſings of a peace, which the other's toils and ſervices have aſſiſted to ſecure, ſwings; fearleſs and undiſturbed, in all the pomp of eaſtern magnificence, and indulges every wiſh a ſplendid affluence can create. He paſſes the ſup⯑plicating ſoldier without attention, without beſtow⯑ing the ſlighteſt token of commiſeration; and with⯑out thinking, that tho' he does no good, he may do [28]harm: he treads upon the dog, the faithful com⯑panion of his maſter's fortune.—The arm, which once bore the firelock to defend a juſt act, now ſhoulders the crutch to reſent a haughty one, and tacitly ſays—Love me, love my dog—but, hurt my dog, hurt me.

Even the ſlave, who follows him, is infected with his maſter's pride; and, by the ſneer upon his countenance, illuſtrates the Proverb, Trim Tram— Like Maſter, like Man.— Aeſop tells us of the ſucceſsful efforts made by the grateful mouſe to reſ⯑cue the embarraſſed lion; of the bee's effecting the dove's eſcape from the fowler—both from the re⯑collection of former ſervices. Though he meant by this to inculcate the principles of gratitude, yet is ſhews us the advantages we may one day derive from objects, which, comparatively with ourſelves, appear trifling and inſignificant. By no means, then, deſpiſe the poor; we may, in them, here⯑after find a friend on ſome occaſion of our lives: but this we cannot expect, if we have given cauſe to the contrary, for—Tread on a Worm, and it will Turn.

Charity begins at Home.

THIS Proverb has been generally miſunder⯑ſtood and miſapplied. It has been con⯑ceived to allude to the folly of giving to others what we want ourſelves; and covetous men have uſed it in juſtification of their own ſelfiſhneſs. We here ſee an inſtance of it. A hungry pauper has juſt received a meſs of pottage from the hands of bene⯑volence; and two or three poor wretches, as hun⯑gry [30]as himſelf, are craving part of it; but he is deaf to their ſolicitations, and ſteels his heart againſt their wants. It is not that a man is expected to give away what he is going to eat, to any vagrant that may aſk him; but there is a method of re⯑fuſing an alms, that reflects no diſcredit on the re⯑fuſer. Self-preſervation is the firſt law of nature; and we are juſtifiable in providing food for our⯑ſelves and families; but that being done, a good chriſtian, and one who can feel for the diſtreſſes of another, will naturally beſtow a little of what he can ſpare, to thoſe to whom Fortune has not been ſo bountiful as to himſelf. He who is pooreſt has al⯑ways ſomething to ſpare; and a cup of cold water, given in the ſpirit of charity, will mark the diſpo⯑ſition of the giver. To take care of ourſelves and families, and provide againſt an evil day, is cer⯑tainly the duty of every man. In this ſenſe cha⯑rity may be ſaid to begin at home. As a man ſhould be juſt before he is generous, ſo ſhould he be prudent before he is charitable: that is to ſay, there is no more room for a perſon in debt to be generous, than there is for him to be charitable, whilſt his family is unprovided for. But, if charity, in this ſenſe, ſhould begin at home, it is not neceſſary it ſhould end there alſo. The proviſion we are to [31]make for ourſelves is not to be boundleſs. When we enjoy fully the neceſſaries of life, and ſome of its comforts, we ſhould be willing to contribute to the neceſſities of others; impart thoſe comforts where we can, and not ſuffer our unlimited wants to be an excuſe for uncharitableneſs.

God is bountiful to us, and we ſhould be ſo to our fellow-creatures. Was a man to live for himſelf alone, he would be the moſt ſelfiſh of all animals. Charity is the characteriſtic or diſtinctive mark of a chriſtian. St. Paul ſays, that void of Charity, we are nothing but "as ſounding braſs and a tinkling cymbal;" alluding to thoſe who are all words, make great profeſſions of kindneſs, and perform not a ſingle act of benevolence. Charity is, in fact, ſo godlike a virtue, that our religion teaches us "it ſhall cover a multitude of ſins." But charity, in this ſenſe, is not limited to giving away part of our ſubſtance, but to that love of our fellow-creature as would lead us to ſtudy his intereſt. "Charity," ſays St. Paul, "ſuffereth long, and is kind; is not given to revenge. Charity envieth not; covets no man's property. Charity vaunteth not itſelf; is not puffed up;" that is, boaſts not of its merits, but is humble and meek, and "behaveth not itſelf unſeemly." In ſhort, it is tender-hearted; feels [32]for the calamities of the unfortunate; and relieves them where it can; does it from a conviction of the natural weakneſs of mankind; acts from what it feels itſelf; reaſons from its own wants, and, in the true ſenſe of the Proverb, originates in its own nature, and begins at Home.

It's an Ill Wind Indeed, that blows Nobody Good.

THIS is addreſſed to thoſe who deſpond, in or⯑der to teach them philoſophy, and ſhew them that whatever is, is beſt: there is no event in life, but what tends to ſome good purpoſe; and that even misfortunes are not without their uſes. There is a ſuperintending Providence, who overlooks our actions, whoſe ways are higher than our ways, and [34] his thoughts than our thoughts; and who frequently ſuffers evil to happen, that good may ariſe. Often are the righteous afflicted, that their patience may be tried, as was the caſe with Job; and often are calamities ſent into the world to alarm mankind, and bring them back from the paths of ſin and folly into thoſe of virtue.

This Proverb then teaches men patience and re⯑ſignation under the worſt of circumſtances, and enables them to ſtem that tide of ſorrow, that would otherwiſe too often overpower them.

In common events all tend to ſome good. If too much rain floods the low lands, it enriches the high ones; and if too much drowth burns up the high grounds, it drys, and does a great deal of good to the low ones. A flood that ſhall be be⯑neficial to the farmer, ſhall be injurious to the [35]miller; ſo that if any thing ſhall occur that may be detrimental in one caſe, we are not to repine, if it proves beneficial in another; but we are bound to wait theſe events without murmuring at the diſ⯑penſations of Providence, who does good to all men, in turn; but reconcile ourſelves to any ſeem⯑ing misfortune; and, from an opinion that it is an act of Heaven, who has ſomething in view above our capacities to diſcern, kiſs the rod that chaſtiſes us, and praiſe the hand that holds it.

The painter has rather taken an unfavourable view of this truth; he has exhibited here a ſcene of diſtreſs, and a number of wretches profiting by it. A high wind has thrown a ſhip upon a rock, and it becomes a wreck. Part of the cargo has floated aſhore, and the inhuman inhabitants are eager to enjoy the plunder. Whilſt ſome are carry⯑ing off part, others are running to take away more. Cruel as ſuch conduct is, it is too common on the ſea-coaſt; and he has deſcribed the unfeeling diſ⯑poſition of the plunderers, by the joy he has paint⯑ed in their countenances. If there is any degree of cruelty greater than another, it is this, of rob⯑bing the diſtreſſed, and taking pleaſure in the ca⯑lamity of others. I will cloſe this ſubject with an epigram ſuitable to the occaſion.

☞ See Every Croſs has its Inſcription.

What's Bred in the Bone, will never Out of the Fleſh.

THIS ſtrongly ſhews the force of all example, and the evil tendency of bad ones. If we take a glance round us, we ſhall in general find, that though, as Gay ſays, ‘Learning was ne'er entailed from ſon to ſon;’ yet Vice is, in ſome meaſure, hereditary. We ſhall ſee the children of the moſt abandoned treading, [38]through prevalence of example, and for want of good advice, in the footſteps of their parents, and becoming, literally, Chips of the old Block. Let us not, however, witneſs this ſad truth, without being ourſelves imitative—not of the bad, but of the good qualities of our relatives and aſſociates. It is in our younger years that we attract thoſe habits, that either ſweeten or embitter our future lives. Our minds, when young, are like tinder— they will catch any ſpark, whether emitted by Virtue or by Vice; and it is to be lamented, that the latter emits them more than the former.

The worthy youth, who carefully ſhuns the com⯑pany of the wicked and the irreligious; who con⯑templates, with ſerious attention, the many bleſ⯑ſings his friends enjoy from the practices of vir⯑tue, will not be contaminated. Example will not, to ſuch a mind, render vice familiar; but, if he avoids the ſociety of thoſe who will in⯑culcate in him virtuous principles, and aſſoci⯑ates with thoſe who will engraft ignoble ones, he will inſenſibly contract a habit, that he may afterwards wiſh to abandon, but in vain; and find, [39]when too late, that—What's bred in the bone, will never out of the fleſh.

Our painter has illuſtrated this truth forcibly.— The man in the ſtocks at once ſhews the cauſe, and its effects. Cards and dice, the forerunners of greater vices, have brought him there.—Loſs pro⯑duced quarrels, quarrels puniſhment, and the ne⯑ceſſity of ſecuring him. Happy would it be, ſhould this be the worſt conſequence of a deſtructive at⯑tachment!—No; his cards, box and dice, beſide him, tell us, that his preſent ignominy will not in⯑duce him to abandon them. His father was a gambler too; and, to ſupply his loſſes, invaded the property of others, for which he forfeited his life to the laws of his country. See him hanging on a gibbet on the hill behind. This ſon was then an infant. His mother, poor creature, the partner of his father's ſorrows, though not of his guilt, the law being ſatisfied, and ſhe a widow,

Grief overcame her—ſhe died, leaving her orphan to the protection of an uncle, who inherited his bro⯑ther's vices. See him juſt quitting the public-houſe, [40]not from inclination, but neceſſity, to diſgorge the quantity of liquor he had there ſwallowed, and to return "as a dog to his vomit." Nor will he probably leave it, till, fluſhed with liquor, he ſhall ſally forth to commit ſome deſperate deed. Can we notice his ſhocking ſuſpenſions of reaſon, and not believe it poſſible that this man's end will be like his bro⯑ther's; not credit the aſſertion, that the ſon will, in time, follow both the uncle and the father?

Our painter has further illuſtrated the Proverb, by the brood of ducks, which have been hatched by a hen, and who, forſaking her wing, and fol⯑lowing the bent of nature, have taken to the water, amid all the fright and anxiety of the mother for their ſafety. The fighting cocks aſſixed as a ſign under the grapes, whiſper alſo, that immoderate drinking often ſets the beſt friends and relations at variance, for When the Wine's in, the Wit's out.— It behoves us therefore to avoid it, and, by aſſo⯑ciating with none but good and virtuous men, con⯑tract no unworthy habit: but ſeeing the progreſſion from drunkenneſs to ignominious death, and the dreadful effects of bad examples, endeavour to avoid them; for the Proverb ſays, and the young ducks and game-combatants declare the ſame, that What's bred in the bone will never out of the fleſh.

Set a Beggar on Horſeback, and he will ride to the Devil.

THIS Proverb has an affinity with the laſt, ſhewing its meaning in another ſenſe; but has rather a worldly, than a moral tendency. It implies, that put a man out of his natural ſphere, and he will act like a fool. We ſeldom, if ever, ſee a proper conſiſtency preſerved by men that have been ſuddenly and greatly raiſed in life. Their [42]actions correſpond with their ideas, which ſeldom, if ever alter. Let a man be low-bred, and his ideas will be groveling. Take a woman from her kitchen, marry her to a Duke, and ſhe will ever ſavour of the greaſe-pot. In ſhort—What's bred in the bone, will never out of the fleſh—It is impoſ⯑ſible to make a ſilk purſe of a ſow's ear.—For, as So⯑lomon ſays of a ſinner—A vulgar fellow will "return like a dog to his vomit, or a ſow to her wallowing in the mire."

The painter, in the ſcene he has repreſented, ſeems to allude to the moral ſenſe of this Proverb; that a man, bred up in vice, will gradually make greater ſtrides till he brings deſtruction on his head. Beggars have no idea of riding, but that of gallop⯑ing as faſt they can go. He is ſuppoſed to have the care of a gentleman's horſe for a few minutes, with orders, as he was warm, to walk him up and down, that he might not take cold. Inſtead of this, he mounts him, flogs the poor animal into full ſpeed, and, regardleſs of the conſequences, if he is not going to the Devil himſelf, is in a fair way of ſending a poor old woman there, with all her ſins upon her head, having rode over her.

Under this ſenſe of the Proverb, we are taught never to employ immoral, or improper perſons, in any of our affairs; the former will be likely to in⯑jure [43]us, and the latter to diſgrace us: for, in⯑dependent of any injury we may ſuſtain, whatever wrong they do, the blame will be ſure to fall upon us. It is under this reaſoning that the law makes the maſter reſponſible for the conduct of his ſer⯑vant, when that ſervant acts by his maſter's orders.

It is the height of folly for a man to undertake an office he is not capable of; but, if he is preſum⯑ing enough to do it, the fault is in his employer, who ought to make himſelf acquainted with the in⯑tegrity and abilities of thoſe he employs.

Fortune, in her wanton moments, has been often favourable to low-bred men, and raiſed them from a ſtate of poverty to a degree of affluence, that has anſwered no other purpoſe than to turn their brain. Far from carrying their ſucceſs in life with diffidence and modeſty, they become arrogant and aſſuming; and, inſtead of gaining friends, create a number of enemies, who not only deſpiſe them, but laugh at them.

How often have we ſeen the children of poor parents, whom Fortune has ſmiled on, when they have grown rich, deſpiſe thoſe parents becauſe they were poor; and, inſtead of aſſiſting them in their advanced years, and letting them ſhare the bleſſings they enjoy themſelves, have deſerted them, and [44]looked down on their humble ſtate with contempt? What do ſuch children deſerve?—Not only the deteſtation of all good men, but the vengeance of the Almighty: and be aſſured, ſooner or later, vengeance will overtake them; for, Set a Beggar on Horſeback, and he will ride to the Devil.

A Friend in Need, is a Friend Indeed!

BY the laws, both of God and man, we are bound to aſſiſt our fellow-creatures to the ut⯑moſt of our power, particularly when they need our aſſiſtance: and if we are not enabled by for⯑tune to do them all the good we wiſh, there are times, when a little aid will do a man a great deal of good; and theſe are the times we ſhould ſtudy to render ourſelves of ſervice. Humanity is a god⯑like [46]principle. Our Creator is always planning the good of mankind, and we ſhould imitate him, as far as our abilities enable us. Indeed, if we ex⯑pect his favour, we muſt be friendly to thoſe about us. If the uncharitable man did but once expe⯑rience the heart-felt pleaſure which the humane man feels within himſelf, when he has relieved the diſtreſſed, and ſoothed the deſponding mind, he would never miſs an opportunity of doing a good action, where ſuch an action was in his reach to perform. To receive the grateful thanks and bleſſings of thoſe we relieve, is, to a ſenſible mind, a ſufficient compenſation for any trouble we may take, or any money we may expend in doing them a kind office. What is the uſe of money, if it be not to gratify and pleaſe ourſelves?—and ſurely there is no pleaſure equal to that of being a friend to the unfortunate. There are few perſons but what ſpend ſome idle money; and that which they throw away, would gladden many a poor man's heart. If we time our charity, a ſmall ſum, given on certain occaſions, will do far greater ſervice, than double the ſum at others.

We have here an inſtance of a humane man viſit⯑ing the houſe of Poverty. An old man, in the decline of life, lying on a ſick bed, ſupported by [47]the labour of a widowed daughter; and who, hav⯑ing children of her own, the little ſhe earns, di⯑vided among them, is ſcarce ſufficient to keep life together. The ſcanty meal her induſtry is capable to procure, ſhared among the whole, is not ſuffi⯑cient to ſatisfy the hunger even of a ſick man. Her love for a blind and aged father, and an infant-family, makes her inability to afford them neceſſa⯑ries, a heart-breaking affliction. In the midſt of this diſtreſs, God ſends a benevolent young gentle⯑man to their ragged cottage. The natural huma⯑nity and fellow-feeling of this ſtranger, whom chance brought to their door, led him to enquire the ſtate of this poor family; and we ſee him at that moment when her father and children were crying for food, without being able to procure it, giving them money, and relieving them in this hour of neceſſity. The gratitude of this poor fa⯑mily is evident in their countenances, it affects the heart of their benefactor, draws tears from his eyes, and is a proof of the Proverb, that A Friend in Need, is a Friend indeed!

Imitate, then, this young gentleman—do all the good offices you can—ſtudy for opportunities to do good.—Remember that he who is pooreſt has always ſomething to ſpare▪ and ſomething that [48]another wants; and if you beſtow that ſomething with a willing heart, you will not only have a re⯑ward in Heaven, but the good word of all your ac⯑quaintance, and the bleſſings of thoſe you relieve.

I will cloſe this ſubject with the following bon⯑mot.—A man told an acquaintance he had been to viſit a poor friend in priſon.—"Then he muſt be a valuable one," replied the latter, for a Friend in Need, is a Friend indeed.

Every Croſs has it's Inſcription.

THAT is—Every Calamity has an End in view.—Providence never afflicts us in vain. Misfortunes are miniſters ſent to warn us; they rouſe reflection on our paſt conduct; and awaken the heart to a juſt ſenſe of its ſituation. Divines ſay, "We may often read the ſin in its puniſh⯑ment."—There is no calamity that does not point to ſome of our actions, and ſhew us the ſin by re⯑flection; [50]but, in the viciſſitudes and croſſes of life, inſtead of interpreting their cauſes properly, and conſidering why they are inflicted, we are too apt to attribute them to the wickedneſs of men, or the natural courſe of things, and employ our thoughts wholly on the means of extrication. We are cer⯑tainly juſtifiable in ſtudying to avoid misfortunes, and to extricate ourſelves from thoſe we may chance to be involved in; but a religious man will, at the ſame time, turn his thoughts within his own breaſt; conſider how far he has deſerved the correction, kiſs the rod that chaſtiſes him, be grateful to Provi⯑dence that he has left a way to eſcape, and, act like the philoſopher, who, having broke his leg, thank⯑ed God it was not his neck.

Whenever, therefore, we meet misfortunes, let us ſtudy to improve by them, and correct our lives.—Rely upon it, Providence, in the infliction, has ſome view to our good. They are never ſent but to anſwer ſome wiſe purpoſe; and that too a purpoſe by which we might profit, if we calmly and delibe⯑rately conſider them.

The diſtreſſed object in our print, floating on the raft from the ſhip we ſee going to pieces on the rock, appears in all the energy of devout prayer.—He ſeems to call to remembrance his paſt of⯑fences, and, with pious reſolution, to promiſe his [51]God a reformation. Though the deep waters are around him—tho' the ſurging waves break in upon him—yet the eye of Providence is over him; and, as his repentance is ſincere, his preſervation ſhall be ſecure. He may think his ſituation peculiarly hard—another ſhip in ſight, with a fair wind, and he the only one waſhed overboard from his own ſhip.—But, let us not arraign the unerring judg⯑ment of our Maker; he is omniſcient, and know⯑eth all things, paſt, preſent, and to come. The ſhip in ſight, though tight, and right before the wind, will never reach her deſtined port; ſhe will founder, and every ſoul on board will be launched, unprepared, into the dreadful gulph of Eternity.—A few moments, and the wreck of the ſhip, from which he has eſcaped, will be beaten to pieces, and all the crew ſhall periſh, whilſt a fiſhing-boat ſhall convey this repentant mortal ſafe on ſhore, and teach him, from the experience of his preſent diſtreſs, to amend his future life, bleſs Providence for his miraculous eſcape, the ſingular protection afforded him, and acknowledge, that—Every Croſs has its. Inſcription.

The civet-cat had once loſt by accident that part for which it is hunted by men. He repined at his hard fate; arraigned the judgment which decreed it, and could not ſee any advantage he derived from [52]ſuch a loſs. Poor, ſhort-ſighted animal! Whilſt he is thus lamenting his fate, and complaining to a fellow-creature, he had juſt met, of the hardneſs of his lot, the hounds were heard, and the one fell a ſacrifice to their purſuits, for the poſſeſſion of that, which the loſs of had fortunately preſerved the other. In ſhort, let us be patient under our afflic⯑tions, and God will give us a happy iſſue from them; for, be aſſured, troubles are never ſent in vain; and, though our ſhort-ſighted reaſoning may not ſhew us immediately the wiſe end of our ſufferings, yet all things happen for the beſt; and in a little time will misfortune's bud bloſſom, and bring forth that fruit, which a wiſe and prudent man will not only gather, but profit by.—"My thoughts," ſays God to man, ‘and not your thoughts, nor your ways my ways; for as the heavens are higher than the earth, ſo are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts:’ and ſo certain is it, ſaith the Proverb, that Every Croſs hath its Inſcription.

Great Cry, and Little Wool,

SAYS the Proverb, when, the Devil is ſhearing of hogs, they making a great noiſe, and af⯑fording no wool; alluding to thoſe who make great profeſſions of kindneſs, without the leaſt inclination of doing what they ſay. This is too viſible in the great world, I mean among perſons of rank; ſo that it is a common ſaying, "There is little de⯑pendance [54]on a Courtier's promiſe."—Full of Cour⯑teſy, full of Craft.

The painter has here given us a good idea of noiſe without profit; the ſhrieking of the Devils, the ſqueaking of the hogs, the ruſtling and whiſt⯑ling of the ſtorm, and the clattering of the magpie.

It is related of the late Duke of Newcaſtle, who was prime minſter, that no man was freer of his promiſes, and leſs diſpoſed to perform them. A Major, whom the Duke thought proper to receive, returned, in the time of war, from his regiment, with the loſs of his leg; on his waiting on the Duke, the Duke flew to embrace him, with—"My dear Major, I hope I ſee you well."—"Indeed, my Lord," replied he, "you don't, for I am out of ſpirits—I have loſt my—" "Say no more, my dear Major," ſaid the Duke, ſtopping his mouth with his hand, and conceiving it to be ſome promo⯑tion he had miſſed, "Say no more, I will give you a better."—"That's impoſſible, my Lord," returns the Major, "for I have loſt my leg."

A man who values his word, and wiſhes for the confidence of his friends, is very cautious in his pro⯑miſes; but, when he does promiſe, endeavours all he can to fulfil them. It is this integrity that makes men reſpectable, and gives them weight and conſe⯑quence with thoſe who know them; but thoſe who [55]are profuſe in profeſſions of ſervices, be aſſured never mean to perform them.

So again, many a man will tell you, with a ſqueeze of the hand, he has only to lament that it is not in his power to ſerve you: when, if he had it in his power, he would be the laſt that would do it.

This Proverb alludes alſo to thoſe vain boaſters, who arrogate to themſelves a merit they are no ways entitled to. Such men, conſcious of their defects, and aſhamed that the world ſhould ſee them, endea⯑vour to conceal thoſe defects, by boaſting of an oppoſite virtue. A liar will tell you, that he could not form his tongue to a lie, though it was to ſave his life; when at the ſame time he is telling a number.—So an uncharitable man will often boaſt of doing ſome trifling act of good, and preface it with—"I believe I was made with different feel⯑ings from other men, for I can't paſs by an object of compaſſion without relieving him; not if it was the laſt penny I had."

All this is ridiculous.—Truth and ſincerity are the beſt ſtamps of a good character; and a little knowledge of the world is ſufficient to diſcern the true from the counterfeit.

Never then boaſt of a virtue—let your good ac⯑tions ſpeak for themſelves. As a tree is known by its fruit, ſo is a good man by the good deeds he [56]performs.—"It is not every one," ſaith our bleſſed Saviour, "that ſaith unto me, Lord! Lord! that ſhall enter into the kingdom of heaven, but he that doth the will of my Father that is in heaven." The contrite penitent, that, bowed down with a re⯑collection of his ſin and his own unworthineſs, ſtruck upon his breaſt, and cried, "Lord be merciful unto me a ſinner!" was, in the eyes of God, a much more reſpectable man than the boaſting Phariſee, who, proud of a few good actions, looked upon him⯑ſelf as ſuperior to his fellow-creatures, and claimed the favour of Heaven on account of his own merits. Sound not then your own merits, for,—He muſt live far from neighbours, who is fain to praiſe himſelf.—Do all the good you can, but let the ſatisfaction of having done that good, be your deſired reward; that is, when you give alms, "let not even your right-hand know what your left hand doth:" do it not through oſtentation, or love of being noticed, but thro' a ſpirit of philanthrophy and fellow-feel⯑ing; and, in all your intercourſe in life, promiſe cautiouſly, but keep that promiſe inviolably; for he that promiſes, and does not perform, yields a Great Cry, but little Wool.

☞ See Call me Couſin, but cozen me not.

Take away my Good Name, and take away my Life.

THE character of a man is of ſuch importance to his well-being in the world, that to rob him of it, is, perhaps, more cruel than to take away his life. By murdering a man, we deprive him, indeed, of exiſtence, but our malevolence there finds an end: he is then beyond the reach of ma⯑lice, and, perhaps, becomes poſſeſſed of a ſtate of [58]bliſs; but, by taking from him his good name, whilſt living, we deprive him of his beſt friend, a friend that would never forſake him, but pro⯑tect him through a ſtormy and adverſe life. To rob a man of his character, therefore, is turning him, unarmed, amidſt a number of enemies, an act more cruel than murder; and its wantonneſs is equal to its barbarity: for whilſt the ſlanderer is mangling the reputation of another, he is doing himſelf diſſervice. The ſenſible part of mankind ſoon diſcern his deſign, and, though they may cenſure the perſon defamed, they will condemn the defamer.

Impreſſed with this idea, the painter has repre⯑ſented a ſcene, wherein an honeſt, old man is accuſed [59]before a magiſtrate of crimes of which he never was guilty, and a villain, behind the pillar, is enjoying the accuſation. That the countenance is an index of the mind, he has here fully ſhewn; honeſty being pictured in the countenance of the accuſed, and villainy in that of his accuſers. The priſoner appeals only to the integrity of his heart.—"God, ſays he, "is witneſs to my innocence; I have no upbraiding conſcience; on my character do I depend for ſup⯑port, it is my only reſource—Take away my Good Name, and take away my Life! His guiltleſs heart is his beſt defence; he needs no evidence in his fa⯑vour; the prevaricating accuſation deſtroys itſelf; and the judge, ſeeing through the conſpiracy, ac⯑quits the accuſed, and condemns his accuſers.

Be cautious, then, how you ſpeak of any one, at leaſt be doubly careful not to ſpeak worſe of another than he deſerves. Charity will often induce us to lean to the ſide of mercy, and urge us, when a man's character is demanded of us, to repreſent it rather better than worſe; eſpecially if his liveli⯑hood [60]depends upon the character we give him.—This is frequently the caſe with ſervants; and here⯑in we cannot be too delicate. Juſtice enjoins us to ſpeak truth, but that truth ſhould be tempered with candour, and ſoftened by humanity. We are bound, in honour, to give ſuch perſons the cha⯑racter they merit; but we ſhould not ſuffer either anger or reſentment to aggravate their offences, and ſwell their faults into crimes, their frailties into vices.

In the other ſenſe of the Proverb, that which our painter more particularly alludes to, the act of miſ⯑repreſenting a character, or giving an unjuſt one; is truly unpardonable; it betrays a littleneſs of mind and baſeneſs of ſoul. Philanthrophy, or to love one another, is a noble principle, and what our religion teaches. What then are we to think of thoſe, who, ſo far from trying to ſweeten the ways of life, will take pains to embitter them; and, in⯑ſtead of helping a man, will deprive him of thoſe means that will protect and defend him? For, what is life without a character?—Take away my Good Name, and take away my Life.

Much Coin, Much Care.

TO ſpeak in diſparagement of coin, or money, would look only like envying the good for⯑tune of others; for as the rich can command ſome enjoyments out of the reach of the poor, money has always been conſidered as a bleſſing; and to ac⯑quire money has been the conſtant ſtudy of mankind. But, when we call money a bleſſing, it is neceſſary to draw the line; for though riches bring com⯑forts, [62]they likewiſe bring cares; and there is no real enjoyment in any wealth, that is not properly made uſe of. We are taught by our religion, that the goods of this life are entruſted to us by our Creator, for the purpoſe of doing good. Was all mankind equally rich, it would interrupt the order of ſociety, and prevent men from being uſeful and ſerviceable to each other. God, therefore, has eſtabliſhed the poor to be of uſe to ſociety; but, having done this, he has made ſome men rich, in order to return thoſe ſervices by protection and good offices; and if a man uſes his wealth to any other purpoſe, he be⯑trays the truſt that Providence has repoſed in him, and counteracts the will of Heaven.

"Learn to be content," ſays St. Paul, "in that ſtate of life in which it has pleaſed God to place you;" and be aſſured, that whether you are poor or rich, you are equally reſpectable in God's eyes, provided you act uprightly in the ſtation of life you are in. Competence is the only wealth a man ſhould covet; that is, a ſufficient income to ſupport him in the rank of life in which he ſtands, and afford him the neceſſaries and comforts attendant on that rank. All beyond this, is trouble and anxiety; and if his heart is ſet upon further wiſhes, they are only a torment to him. The painter has ſet this forth in the ſcene before us. We ſee here pictured a man [63]ſhut up in his cloſet, counting his money, conceived, by the ſhip above him, to be acquired by mer⯑chandize. We will ſuppoſe it honeſtly gained; but, as his heart ſeems centered in his gold, it robs him of his enjoyment. It is not a lock, or ſtrong box that can ſet his mind at eaſe.—He dreads not only ſhipwrecks and thieves, but is alarmed at every ſtep he hears. Even the entrance of his old, truſty valet, with a letter, alarms him, and all his fear is painted on his countenance. This man has not a peaceful moment; independent of the anxiety ariſing from loſs in buſineſs, ſhipwrecks, and the like, he is in conſtant dread of loſing part of what he has; and this dread is a continual tor⯑ment, and likely to end only with his life. But Death, which frees a man from all cares, is here ſeen at the window, lifting up the ſaſh, and taking from him the whole. In ſuch a caſe, how much happier would this man have been, had he cultivated in his breaſt a ſpirit of benevolence, and could have brought himſelf to diſtribute that ſuperfluous trea⯑ſure he is here ſuppoſed to have hoarded, among ſuch diſtreſſed objects, as muſt have fallen within his knowledge! By relieving theſe, he would have ſtood in no want either of bolts or boxes, but would have "laid up a treaſure in heaven, where thieves do not break through nor ſteal."

[64]We are here taught alſo not to repine at a circum⯑ſcribed fortune, but make the beſt of our ſituation; and, if we have not an income equal to our expences, to proportion our expences to our income, and Cut our Coat according to our Cloth. If a man can⯑not afford a joint of meat at his table every day, let him be ſatisfied with it every other day, and know, that A contented Mind is a continual Feaſt.—Let him take a view of his own neighbourhood, and he will ſee, that if there are ſome men richer than himſelf, there are ſome alſo poorer, and that his own ſitua⯑tion is not the moſt wretched. Every man is the centre of a circle, ſome of a ſmaller, ſome of a greater; and if in that circle of life he does his duty as a good man ought; he is equally reſpecta⯑ble with him who acts like himſelf in a larger circle. If he has fewer indulgencies, he has fewer cares: though money may bring luxuries, it brings alſo anxiety—for, Much Coin, Much Care.

Hedges have Eyes, and Walls have Ears.

THIS is a Proverb to teach worldly policy, and put the incautious upon their guard, with reſpect not only to their words, but their ac⯑tions. Hedges are no greater ſecurity againſt a prying eye, than is a wall againſt a liſtening ear. As it is eaſy to ſee through a hedge, and diſcover what is doing on the other ſide, ſo is it as eaſy to hear on one ſide of a wall, what is ſaying on the [66]other. The young gentleman, who is here in the garden, planning an elopement with the maid of his heart, little ſuſpects that he is over-heard by her father.

If a man wiſhes to keep any thing ſecret, he ſhould not only be upon his guard againſt hedges and walls, but be cautious before whom he ſpeaks, whether they are perſons that can foreſtall or fruſ⯑trate his intentions, or children and ſervants, that can carry the tale; for—Little Pitchers have great Ears; that is, children are often more attentive to what we ſay, than we naturally ſuppoſe they are.

This Proverb has a reference alſo to our actions; teaching us circumſpection in what we do; and reminding us, t we are open to the eyes of a diſcerning and ill-natured world, who perhaps will not put the moſt favourable conſtructions on them. It is a difficult thing, I allow, always to ſpeak and act, ſo as to avoid cenſure; but it is abſolutely ne⯑ceſſary not to indulge ourſelves in ſuch acts as will not bear the teſt of day-light, under an idea that we are in the dark, and no eye can ſee us. Many a man has done that under favour of a diſguiſe, or from an opinion that he is not known; that he would not have done, but under ſuch circum⯑ſtances.

[67]Though he may think proper to run this riſk, and eſcape the cenſure of the world, yet I preſume he need not be told, that there is above, an Eye that ſeeth, and to whom all hearts are diſcloſed; an Eye, that, let a man's actions be as ſpecious and equivocal as they may, will penetrate into the receſſes of the heart, and read not only a his ac⯑tions, through every degree of diſſimulation, but his very intentions. And, as his future happineſs depends on the integrity of his heart, if he has any regard for himſelf, he will conduct himſelf ſo as to ſtand juſtified in the eye of Heaven; and ſo doing, if he makes his heart and his tongue ſpeak the ſame language, he will go the ſureſt way to avoid the ill-natured remarks of a cenſorious world.

Act, in ſhort, and ſpeak, as if the eyes and ears of your greateſt enemy were open to what you ſay and do; and be aſſured you will not act or ſpeak improperly, and there will be little fear of either your words or your actions being miſconſtrued. A philoſopher, being told that certain perſons ſpoke ill of him, replied, "I will then act in ſuch a man⯑ner, that no one ſhall believe them."—That is, he would give the lie to all their aſſertions.

[68]In ſhort, a wiſe man will conſider himſelf as ſet upon a hill, open to the view of all about him, or being in garden, where Hedges have Eyes, and Walls have Ears.

Cruelty's a Tyrant, always attended with Fear.

CRUELTY is ſo repugnant to our nature, that every human being revolts at it; and Con⯑ſcience, which always tells us when we do either right or wrong, upbraids the cruel man ſo ſtrong⯑ly, that his ſin is more than he is able to bear: he not only fears the reſentment of the world, but dreads his own thoughts.—The Cruelty I allude [70]to, is inhumanity to our fellow-creatures.—Nature has implanted in our breaſts a fellow-feeling for mankind, and nothing but a ſavage diſpoſition, brought on by habit, and actuated by revenge and ſelf-intereſt, will lead a man to acts of cruelty.

A barbarity of diſpoſition, a ferocity of temper is too often inculcated by practices; which, though in our childhood, may be conſidered as of little moment, produce, in our riper years, very ſeri⯑ous conſequences. This paſſion, like a ſnow-ball, will gather as it rolls, and gain ſtrength by age. It is the duty, therefore, of parents, and all who have the bringing up of children, to check a cruel diſpoſition in its ſpring, and to fix the dam; remembering, that, although water

Nero, the Roman Emperor, we are told, pleaſed himſelf, when a child, with tormenting flies, and other inſects; committing greater cruelties as his years increaſed: — from torturing of inſects, he proceeded to birds; from birds to brutes, from brutes to mankind. Then he revelled in barba⯑rity—and we find his inſatiable cruelty led him to rip open his mother, in order to ſee the place of his conception. When we read of ſuch dreadful exam⯑ples of encouraging a childiſh propenſity to acts of [71]wanton cruelty; muſt we not wiſh that youth "would learn to be wiſe from others arm," and ſmother the diabolical paſſion as it riſes. Let us reflect, that Providence has given to every living creature a ſenſe of feeling; that, if we tread upon a worm; it feels a pang as great as when a giant dies:—and let us remember the frogs' obſervation in the fable, to the boys that were pelting them—"Though it may be ſport to you, it is death to us."

It was the dignity of Nero's ſtation, his ty⯑ranny, and the puſallinimity of the Romans, at that time, which prevented their reſentment of his cruelties:—but there was no barrier againſt the terrors of an evil conſcience—he was not without his puniſhment, even in this world.—Remorſe ſtung him to the quick—he lived the remainder of his life wretchedly, and died miſerably.

Vain are a man's titles—vain his wealth—vain his purſuits of pleaſure—the guilty mind has no enjoyment—neither rank nor riches can ſteel the breaſt againſt the ſtings of conſcience—"The wicked fleeth when no man purſueth."—He flies, like a hunted deer, from the terrors of his own mind, and the dread of future puniſhment drives him to deſpair.

But, we will contemplate the ſcene in view.—Not more remorſe filled Barnwell's mind, when he had murdered his uncle, than does the fratricide [72]before us.—Juſt Heaven!—What could induce him to kill his own brother?—An ill-founded jealouſy.—Jealous of the imagined partiality of his father, who, poor man! loved them both with equal fondneſs, though he had not equal cauſe.—Such acts, the painter tells us, ariſe from the inſti⯑gation of the Evil Spirit, whom he has pictured here enjoying the ſucceſs of his temptation, and grinning, like Milton's Satan, a horrid ſmile.—But, no ſooner is the raſh deed committed, than re⯑flection comes, and conſcience ſmites.—Struck with the horror of his crime, he ſtands aghaſt—ſhudders at what he has done, and all his ter⯑rors betray themſelves.—Reflection comes,—but comes too late.—Fear now aſſails him—he dreads the vengeance of Heaven, and a thouſand ſelf-upbraidings complete his miſery.—Haſty men ſeldom want woe.—A raſh act is generally its own avenger, and What we do in Haſte, we repent at Leiſure.—If we would avoid, then, the ſtings and arrows of an avenging conſcience, let us "do to others, as we would have them do to us;" cheriſh within our boſoms a ſpirit of philanthropy; love our fellow-creatures, commiſerate their misfortunes, and never treat them with any degree of cruelty; for Cruelty's a Tyrant, always attended with Fear.

What can't be Cured, muſt be Endured.

OF all the virtues, Patience is undoubtedly the greateſt as it ſtrives againſt, and combats all our natural inclinations. Every man covets his own happineſs, and where that happineſs is want⯑ing, he who can ſit down patiently under it, and reconcile himſelf to his lot, is truly a brave man, [74]and a chriſtian; for our religion teaches us to be meek and patient under afflictions, and to con⯑ſider them as chaſtiſements ſent from Heaven to correct, and make us better.

If, by repining and grieving at misfortunes, we could in any wiſe remove or leſſen them, it might be right ſo to do; but, after having tried every lawful means to extricate ourſelves from them, ſhould we find thoſe means ineffectual, it is our duty to ſubmit, and wait patiently for a change.

It is in the power of men, ſometimes, to relieve the diſtreſſes of the unfortunate, and aſſwage their pains; and when this can be done, we are bound to do it. And feeling heart will never need ſolicit⯑ing, it will do it as a thing of courſe, and be happy in the opportunity.

There cannot, ſurely, be a greater calamity than blindneſs, which brings on an inability to work for ourſelves, and robs us of independence; and, ſhould this calamity be attended with poverty, it is the very ſummit of all human affliction:—We can then only throw ourſelves upon the mercy of our fellow-creatures, and wait their charity with reſignation. Even ſuch a miſfortune, if incurable, muſt be indured. We have here this completion of wretchedneſs before us—a blind, old pauper, [75]wearing out a life in craving the alms of the bene⯑volent.—Patient, and reſigned under this rod of affliction, like a true chriſtian, he waits with temper, till it ſhall pleaſe God to take him out of the world, and thus eaſe him of his miſeries, for he can have no poſſible enjoyment here.

To a good diſpoſition, what can give the mind more ſatisfaction, than by endeavouring to alle⯑viate this poor man's ſorrows, by a little of that ſpare money we ſo often ſquander away. Perſons, who have received a religious education, feel themſelves obligated to relieve ſuch objects, when they fall in their way; and we may ſee, by the countenances of theſe children, the effects of a reli⯑gious education: it has taught them to relieve the afflictions of others, at the expence of what is moſt dear to themſelves. A little pocket-money every child covets to have, in order to gratify its little wants; yet we ſee here, that no ſooner an object of real charity appears, but their hearts take part in the diſtreſs, and they voluntarily re⯑lieve him.—"Go and do thou likewiſe."

This Proverb teaches us alſo to make a virtue of neceſſity; not to feel hurt at the little rubs we meet with in the world, but to keep up our ſpi⯑rits, puſh on through life as well as we can, and [76]make the beſt of what we meet with. We may endeavour to remove a ſtumbling-block that lies in our way; but if it is out of our power to re⯑move it, let us leave it where it is, and only take care in paſſing it, not to tumble over it; for—What can't the Cured, muſt be Endured.

Kick not againſt the Pricks.

IT does not require any great depth of know⯑ledge to determine what would be the conſe⯑quence of a man's kicking againſt a number of ſharp points. Conſidering the Proverb, then, in a literal ſenſe, it ſeems to convey only a ſelf-evident truth, nothing but what nature herſelf ſuggeſts.—But look further into it, and it is replete with mo⯑ral and political inſtruction. By Kick not againſt [78]the Picks, then, is underſtood—Enter into no conteſt with any one, whoſe power of reſiſtance is more than you can overcome. "You but break your own teeth," ſaid the File, in the fable, to the Serpent, when it was endeavouring to revenge it⯑ſelf. What are the uſual conſequences, when a man of ſmall pittance engages in an expenſive ſuit at law with one of three times his income? Why—that the Weakeſt goes to the Wall—The law is ſo expenſive, and its ſubterfuges ſo many, that thoſe who have not ſufficient money to ſupport, perhaps a juſt cauſe, muſt give it up to another, whoſe for⯑tune will enable him even to uphold a bad one; for Might too often overcomes Right. To engage, therefore, in litigation under ſuch circumſtances, is only Kicking againſt the Pricks, and injuring our⯑ſelves. Such, likewiſe, is every unequal contro⯑verſy in life, which is no other than contending with thoſe who are better armed than ourſelves.

The bruiſer before us, a pupil of the Humphreys and Mendozas ^* of the age, elate with that ſucceſs, his acquired knowledge in boxing, added to his athletic make, has ſecured to him, ſtrips to reſent the ſlighteſt affront. It was in one of theſe raſh quarrels, which ſuch vanity frequently ſubject⯑ed him to, that his antagoniſt retreated to a guard⯑houſe [79]within the walls of the citadel, where the diſpute had taken place. Pride and rage as pic⯑tured in the bruiſer's countenance, at once aſſailed him, cloſed his eyes againſt his danger, deafened him to the remonſtrances of the centinel, and led him, heedleſs of the levelled bayonet,, to advance on his enemy, and run againſt its point. The wound proves mortal, and he benefits the world for the laſt time in his life, namely, in leaving be⯑hind him an example of the dangerous conſe⯑quences of a raſh oppoſition.

Though in the conteſt we engage in, we may expect to come off victorious, from the juſtneſs of our cauſe, from our ſtrength, our abilities, or other rational conſiderations; yet the influence of money, the weapons with which our antagoniſt is armed, his ſubtlety, or other unexpected cauſes, may ſhew us that we have only kicked againſt the pricks. It concerns us, therefore, to be exceedingly circum⯑ſpect how we enter into diſputes; that we maturely weigh every advantage of our opponent againſt our own, and if we find him ſuperior in influence, tho' not in equity, rather "bear the ills we know, than fly to thoſe we know not of." A wiſe man will rather loſe a ſmall ſum, than endeavour to recover it by law, as by ſo doing, he will be only follow⯑ing the vulgar phraſe, "Throwing good money after bad."

[80] This Proverb teaches us alſo, in another ſenſe, never to attempt a thing we are not maſters of—Strive not againſt the Stream—unleſs you are ſatis⯑fied to have your labour for your pains. It is only waſte of time, anxiety, diſgrace, and loſs of trouble.

In every action, then, of our lives, let prudence dictate. Suffer not a trifling injury to become a a ſerious wrong, through a feeble attempt to re⯑dreſs it. Loſe not the ſubſtance, like Aeſop's dog, in purſuit of the ſhadow^*. Avoid conten⯑tion with thoſe who are more powerful than your⯑ſelf. If a man affronts you, and you cannot knock him down, as Lord Cheſterfield ſays, never ſee the affront; and always remember, that it is not only dangerous, but the very height of folly, to Kick againſt the Pricks.

Cuſtom is Second Nature.

THIS Proverb is deſigned to ſhew the preva⯑lence of Habit, whether in good actions or bad. Children, ſays a philoſopher, are like blank paper, we may write on them what we pleaſe; and, according to what we write, that is, accord⯑ing to the education or inſtruction we give them, ſo ſhall we form their diſpoſitions.—"Train up a child," ſays Solomon. "in the way wherein he [82]ſhould go, and when he is old-he will not depart from it."—What we are accuſtomed to in youth, becomes familiar to us in more advanced life, and will then be, as it were, natural to us.

The painter has drawn his illuſtration of this truth from a winter-ſcene in the country, that of ſcating on the ice; and has ſhewn us, that whilſt thoſe in years, who have been uſed to ſhelter themſelves from the inclemency of the weather, ſhall ſhake with cold in the open air, tho' wrapt up in furs; and whilſt one young man ſhall be blowing his fingers and ſhrinking from the cold, another, who has accuſtomed himſelf to the forſt, ſhall be chearfully ſcating, regardleſs of the pinching ſeaſon. He teaches us alſo by the contraſted appearance of the beggar-boy ſliding even with fear, whilſt the young gentleman, next him, is ſcating away with courage, that this exerciſe does not depend only on being able to endure the cold, for one is as able to do that as the other, but that the art of ſcating, difficult as it may be, is to be acquired only by practice and habit. One ſtands firm, and makes his way on an edge, leſs than half an inch in thickneſs, whilſt the other can ſcarce keep his footing on a much broader baſis. This is the effect alſo of Cuſtom; having practiſed it long, it is become natural to the former, and he bears the [83]cold, and travels on the ice with as much, or more ſecurity than the latter can, even on the ground.—So is it in life; whatever we are accuſtomed to, becomes, as it were our nature, and we can do it with the greateſt facility. One man ſhall ſwim as well as a duck, to whom water is a natural ele⯑ment, whilſt another cannot keep himſelf from drowning: ſo will a bricklayer, whoſe profeſſion it is to roof houſes, run ſafe and unconcerned along the ridge of a roof, whilſt another, unaccuſtomed to ſuch practices, ſhall not be able to keep his feet.

If ſuch be the force of Cuſtom, we ſee how neceſ⯑ſſary it is to train up youth properly, before improper habits have taken hold of them; for ſuch is the misfortune, that Habit is ſecond Nature; and when once we have acquired a bad one, it is not readily got the better of. Every little, ungain, aukward trick a man ſhall acquire in his youth, he will carry to the grave with him.—Conſidering this Pro⯑verb, then, in a moral ſenſe, it is, above all things, requiſite, that good principles ſhould be early in⯑ſtilled, leſt the natural proneneſs of mankind to evil ſhould take root in him, and, in the courſe of years, be ſo blended with his nature, as not to be conquered.—What's bred in the Bone will never out of the Fleſh, is a maxim ſimilar in alluſion to the one before us, and confirms the doctrine we have [84]laid down, that Cuſtoms, rooted in us by Habit, will continue with us through life.

Whatever we do, therefore, let us be careful not to acquire bad habits, under an idea of drop⯑ping them when we pleaſe. They are not ſo rea⯑dily dropped as we imagine; for the human frame is a machine that will often act involuntarily, and purſue a bias to which it has been accuſtomed, be that bias as injurious to its nature as it may.

Upon the ſtrength of this leſſon alſo, let us take courage, and never be diſmayed at the diffi⯑culties we meet with. Such things, as at firſt ap⯑pear inſurmountable, by practice, are often over⯑come, and rendered eaſy, for Patience and Perſe⯑verance overcometh all things.—"Eſchew evil, then, and do good;" and remember the words of Scripture, that, "He who holdeth out to the laſt, ſhall be ſaved."—That is to ſay, Shun every evil way, purſue the good, and, my life for it, in the end, you will have occaſion to rejoice. The good habits you acquire, will inſure you a reſpectable character through life, and a peaceful conſcience in your laſt moments; and be aſſured, every evil is to be ſubdued by a perſeverance in well-doing, for Cuſtom is ſecond Nature.

Creditors have better Memories than Debtors.

THERE is a great deal of knowledge couch⯑ed under theſe words, and the Proverb may be taken in more ſenſes than one. In the literal ſenſe it implies, that Creditors are the more im⯑portunate, as they find thoſe who are in their debt unwilling to pay what they owe. Indeed, ſuch is the misfortune of trade, that, unleſs a man will give credit, he will have few cuſtomers: and ſuch [86]the diſpoſition of the world, that as things are eſtimated by appearances, and men are re⯑ſpected, in proportion to the figure they make in life, they are naturally covetous of reſpect, make the beſt appearance they can, live to the very out⯑ſide of their fortunes, and willing as they may be, to pay what they owe, they often find themſelves unable. This diſtreſſes the tradeſman who gives them credit, makes him importunate in his appli⯑cations; and the debtor, rather than acknowledge himſelf poor, affects not to remember the debt he owes. Of courſe, it being the intereſt of the one to remind, and that of the other to forget, Credi⯑tors, in purſuing their intereſt, are ſaid to have better memories than Debtors, who wiſh to forget the obligation. This is bad policy, but ſuch is the fact. It would be far better, and more ho⯑nourable for a debtor to aknowledge what he owes, and throw himſelf on the lenity of his creditor, than to trifle with his character, anger his appli⯑cant, and induce him to take hoſtile meaſures againſt him,

The engraver, in the print before us, has taken up the Proverb in this ſenſe. A man whoſe cre⯑dulous mind and eaſy temper has led him to give long credit, to the impoveriſhment of himſelf: and whilſt he has been adminiſtering to the comfort [87]of others, his own circumſtances have grown out at elbows, and he is reduced to the neceſſity of wearing a threadbare coat. In this ſtate we ſee him humbly applying for payment, to one who is in his debt; and this man, unthinking and merci⯑leſs, forgets, or affects to forget, that he owes him any thing; and to carry on the farce, and ap⯑pear abſorbed in thought, ſuffers the dog to water againſt his leg, as it were, unnoticed. He is here pictured as apart from his company, conſcious that an application of this kind would diſgrace him, and let him down in the eyes of his acquaintance, with whom he has paſſed himſelf as a man of for⯑tune.

In a figurative ſenſe, the Proverb teaches that none are ſo deaf as thoſe that won't hear. Intereſt is the greateſt perſwaſive to all worldly act, and where intereſt leads the man to forget, be aſſured he will not remember. But when a man is thus artfully deaf, and forgetful to all that is juſt and honourable, let him remember that there are loud calls which he will be obliged to hear, the calls of Law and the calls of Heaven, and he will be ſorry at having ſhut his ears to the whiſpers of reaſon and diſcretion.

We are alſo ſhewn, in another ſenſe, the eager⯑neſs of men to ſhut their ears to the applications [88]of their fellow-creatures, to the plaintive woes of the poor, the cravings of neceſſity, and the cries of the wretched: and ſurely, he that can turn a deaf ear to ſuch complainants muſt have a mer⯑cileſs diſpoſition and an unfeeling heart. The poor are ordained by Providence to be the credi⯑tors of the rich, they have a natural demand on their liberality and charity; and they who are deaf to ſuch demands, or affect not to remember the obligation, are a diſgrace humanity, and undeſerving of the name of man.

In a further ſenſe, the Proverb teaches us the neceſſity of attending to the calls of conſcience, that great Creditor, who, if its demands are not ſatisfied in this life, will bring a long account againſt us in the next; an account which we ſhall then be unable to diſcharge; for then it will be too late. The debts of life are to be paid whilſt we live. If we do this conſcientiouſly, we ſhall quit the world unſhackled, and having paid the great debt of nature, may hope to live in future bliſs, free and unincumbered as the heavenly hoſt. Purſuing this conduct, we ſhall have nothing to fear, though Creditors have better memories than Debtors.

The Maſter's Eye makes the Horſe fat.

GAY's fable of the Packhorſe and the Carrier, from which the above quotation is taken, greatly ſupports [...] [90]whence we ſhould alſo learn an obſervance of the old adage, Never to do that by proxy, which we can do ourſelves. Thoſe who are moſt benefited by and ſtep, are certainly moſt likely to attend to the proper execution of it; for ſelf-intereſt is the pre⯑vailing feature of mankind. Let a perſon have no intereſt in the buſineſs with which he is en⯑truſted, and you will find him far leſs attentive than one who derives an advantage from it. When the Cat's away the Mice will play; that is, when the cauſes which excite our attention are removed, the effects ceaſe.—Had Gay's carrier truſted to the hoſtler, it is to be queſtioned whether the horſes, under his care, would have had their due, as it would have "ſunk the hoſtler's vails;" and that mercenary conſideration induces too many ſervants to proſtitute their maſter's intereſt to a trifling and a paltry gain; thence the prudence of being our⯑ſeves preſent when our buſineſs is doing. For, the Maſter's eye makes the Horſe fat. Not imper⯑tinent to this purpoſe is that ſtory related by Gel⯑lius, A fat man riding on a lean horſe, was aſked how it came to paſs, that he was ſo fat and his horſe ſo lean? Becauſe, replied he, I feed myſelf, but my ſservant feeds my horſe.

It is by overlooking thoſe whom we employ; that we ſecure ourſelves from the impoſitions to [91]which confidence in unworthy ſervants, and an abſence when our buſineſs is tranſacting, too fre⯑quently ſubjects us. But this prudent caution, this neceſſary inſpection, differs eſſentially from that diſtruſtful diſpoſition which betrays, upon all oc⯑caſions, an aukward ſuſpicion of an honeſt ſer⯑vant; thus giving him cauſe to think his probity is doubted, when, in fact, we are acting only with diſcretion. We ſhould conſider our ſervants as our humble friends, and though prudence directs: us to prevent, as much as we can, the poſſibility of their doing us an injury; benevolence teaches us to preſerve a juſt medium, ſo as not to wound a feeling heart by mean ſuſpicions, upon every ſlight appearance of probability. Be politic—be as cautions as you will—but let them know, as little as you can, that you are ſo. This will at⯑tach them to you; this will make a ſervant (unleſs. he is very abandoned indeed) ſhudder at the idea of abuſing a generous confidence that he believes is placed in him.

The farmer in our print, has viſited his fields—he has made it his conſtant cuſtom; hence it be⯑trays no ſuſpicion of his reapers induſtry, though, in fact, this was the ſole motive of his preſence. His open, honeſt deportment rather chears their labour than diſcourages it; he meets them with [92]good words, commends their diligence, and has the ſatisfaction of ſeeing his work go well on.

Whatever our ſituation in life is, let us act our part well. If maſters, let us excite in our depen⯑dants reſpect and love, by betraying no ground⯑leſs ſuſpicions; and yet, in doing this, let us not loſe ſight of prudent care, nor forget the practice of Chaucer's theory. ‘If they are good, why, e'en praiſe them; if bad, then find fault.’ If ſervants, let us ſo demean ourſelves that we may never ſear a maſter's eye; yet let us not preſume ſo much upon ourſelves, as to be offended at that; inſpection which his prudent cares may dictate, for his excuſe and our conſolation, remembering, in either ſtation, that "the Maſter's eye makes the Horſe fat."

Neceſſity has no Law.

LAWS are made to keep unruly men in order, and prevent their doing wrong; and puniſh⯑ment is ſure to follow when theſe laws are tranſ⯑greſſed or broken through; but neceſſity has al⯑ways been a powerful pleader in extenuation of guilt. Not only in the eye of the law, but in the eye of reaſon, the will is ever taken for the deed, [94]and they who cannot as they will, muſt will as they may; that is, muſt do as they can. It is under this conſideratio that the law will allow one man to kill another, if he cannot otherwiſe eſcape with his own life; but that the killer may never uſe this neceſſity as a pretence, it is expected that the perſon, ſo urged, ſhall flee from his enemy as far as he can; but when he can fly no further, and is preſſed by a ſword, or other deadly weapon, againſt a wall, he may then, to ſave his own life, kill his purſuer if he can, and the act will not be called murder.

By the ſame mode of reaſoning, there are few things which a man is compelled to, that the laws, either human or divine, will puniſh him for doing; but he is to be careful, and not attribute to ne⯑ceſſity, what might have been avoided.

Our painter has ſuppoſed a caſe, in which the feelings of mankind are called ſorth to decide. A poor, diſtreſſed widow, with two infant-babes cry⯑ing for food and none to give them; and preſſed alſo with hunger herſelf, without a penny to purchaſe bread, is led to purloin a loaf from a baker's ſhop. Inſtead of commiſerating her unhappy ſituation, the heard-hearted monſter ſeizes her for the theft, and we ſee her here pleading a pardon on her [95]knees, and urging her extreme poverty and hun⯑ger, and the hunger of her children, as dear to her as life, in excuſe for her crime. For, what⯑ever allowances the feeling heart of men may make for ſuch an offence, it ſurely is an act of diſhoneſ⯑ty. No want, no love for herſelf or for her off⯑ſpring ſhould have led her to ſuch an act. Hunger, they ſay, will break through ſtone-walls, that is, a man driven to exceſs of hunger will regard nei⯑ther bards nor bolts. self-preſervation being the firſt law of nature, it is in vain to talk of reaſon or of law to a craving appetite.—But, if neceſſity has no law how was this poor woman criminal?—Before ſhe was in this very forlorn ſtate, ſhe ſhould have applied for relief. The ſame laws that puniſh ſuch an act as this, would have given bread both to her and to her children. In this country, no one is ſuffered to periſh for hun⯑ger, and had ſhe applied to a magiſtrate, he would have procured her proviſion. Conſcious of her guilt, ſhe ſues to the baker for forgiveneſs, and pleads her uncommon diſtreſs, in excuſe for what ſhe did. Humanity, therefore, takes up her cauſe, and we ſee a beneficent perſon behind her going to pay for the loaf ſhe took.

[96]Whatever were this woman's intentions; how⯑ever ſtrongly nature might plead in behalf of her infant children, ſhe was without excuſe, ‘We are not to do evil, that good may come.’ Cer⯑tainly, of two evils we are to chooſe the leaſt, but we are to avoid both, if both can be avoided; where this is not the caſe, we ſhall ſtand excuſed for committing of one, for Neceſſity has no Law.

Scald not your Lips in Another man's Pottage.

ALL men have naturally too much trouble, to wiſh for more, and too many vexations at⯑tendant on their own affairs, to enter into thoſe of others. If a man's humanity leads him to take part in the diſtreſſes of a fellow-creature, there is an excuſe for ſo doing; and to ſuch men, this [98]Proverb, by no means, alludes; but there are a number of perſons ſo induſtriouſly officious, as to interfere in the concerns of others, without being requeſted, and without doing any good, or reap⯑ing any reward but trouble and vexation to them⯑ſelves; and it is to the folly of ſuch perſons, this Proverb directly points.

Such is the caſe before us. A man and his wife had been quarrelling, and their words had ended in blows. Humanity will naturally ſtand forth in defence of the weaker ſex, where a wo⯑man ſeems to be oppreſſed; but, in diſputes be⯑tween man and wife, it is dangerous meddling. The law of this country have given a huſband authority over his wife; and though it is the duty of the latter to ſubmit to the former, in all things that are legal and honeſt, yet we often find, in the lower claſs of people, ſuch a ſpirit of oppoſi⯑tion, that when the ladies cannot ſupport their arguments ſufficiently by words, that is, ſcolding their huſbands into a compliance, they will boldly fight it out, and endeavour to carry their point by their fiſts.—And yet they love their huſbands too, and will, at any time, defend his cauſe, tho' at the expence of their own. Such was the ſitua⯑tion of things when our painter took up his pen⯑cil. [99]A good-natured man paſſing by, interfered in her behalf, and whilſt the man was beating his wife, he beat the man to make him deſiſt. And what was the conſequence? The woman's reſent⯑ment againſt her huſband immediately dropped, ſhe took up the cudgels in his defence, and flew at the ſtranger, with a ‘Has not a man, you raſcal, a liberty to beat his own wife if he pleaſes?’ And the only thanks he got, was a broken head for his pains.

It is the ſame in other caſes as in this; officious meddlers in affairs of others, ſeldom, if ever, get the thanks of the perſon they thus labour to ſerve; they frequently bring trouble on themſelves by ſuch interference, and are always conſidered as impertinent. Where a man ſees miſchief likely to enſue, it is his duty to put a ſtop to it, where he can; but, if the buſineſs in which he ſteps forth, will not be attended with bad conſequences, either to himſelf or ſociety, it is good policy to paſs it by. ‘He that paſſeth by (ſays Solomon), and med⯑dleth with that belonging not to him, is like one that taketh a dog by the ears.’ He ſtands a chance of being bit. So ſays another Proverb, He that prieth into every Cloud, may be ſtricken with a thunder-bolt. Beſides, ſuch officious med⯑dling [100]is not only bad policy, but ill-manners. It is a mark of low-breeding, and if perſiſted in, will be ſure to give offence.

Learn then, from this Proverb, never to inter fore in things that don't concern you; give not your advice unaſked, and ſcald not your lips in Another man's pottage.

To Forget a Wrong, is the beſt Revenge.

AND why? Becauſe it heaps coals of fire on our enemy's head. This is the worldly meaning of the Proverb, the religious one I ſhall mention hereafter. Revenge only irritates a-freſh; but "a ſoft anſwer" (ſays Solomon) ‘turneth away wrath:’ it diſarms the angry man, and tickles him into temper. It is, according to the [102]vulgar adage, cutting his throat with a feather, and wounding him in a part where he is moſt ſuſ⯑ceptible, I mean his mind. To return ‘evil for evil, and raiſing for raiſing,’ is only making the breach wider, and ſtopping up every avenue to a reconciliation; whereas, to return ‘good for evil,’ is not only chriſtian-like, but re⯑flects the javelin that was thrown at us, and plunges it in the heart of him that threw it. It fills him with ſhame, to think his enemy ſhould be ſo much his ſuperior, and in cenſuring his anta⯑goniſt, he condemns himſelf; a wiſe man, then, will endeavour to forget a wrong, juſtly conclud⯑ing that,

Convinced of the propriety of this doctrine, the painter has repreſented an old warrior, whoſe pro⯑feſſion is hoſtile, entering a citadel with a re⯑vengeful diſpoſition, preceded by a hiſſing ſnake, the harbinger of venom: his ſword is in his hand, and implacability in his countenance. Whatever may have been the offence given, he ſeems here determined to revenge it; and perhaps, fire and ſlaughter would be the reſult of ſuch a raſh deter⯑mination; [103]but meek-eyed peace arreſts him in his progreſs, and with gentle accents, ſooths his rage. A conteſt enſues between his anger and his pity.—He grows warm at the offence, but he makes allowance for the offender,—rankles at the affront, but pities the affronter,—reſents the in⯑dignity, but labours to ſtifle it: and, though me⯑ditating revenge, he wiſhes to forgive it, and Peace whiſpering in his ear, To forget a wrong is the beſt revenge;—he concedes to the heavenly truth, drops his enmity, and ſeems truly great, not only in his own eyes, but in the eyes of the world. The city, that a moment before was threatened with deſtruction, is now ſecure from hoſtilities. A dove, the emblem of peace and innocence, is bearing an olive-branch; and this man has the honour, not only of riſing ſuperior to an enemy, but of tri⯑umphing over himſelf.

Indeed, the revengeful mind is never at eaſe: it is not only unhappy, whilſt premeditating injury to thoſe who have wronged us; but when we have completed our wiſhes, and gratified our revenge, it muſt embitter our life, to reflect, that an inhu⯑man principle has ſo far led us aſtray, as to deſtroy the happineſs, the enjoyments, or perhaps, the life, of a fellow-creature. In mercy, therefore, to our⯑ſelves, to Forget a wrong is the beſt revenge.

[104]It is far more ſo, in a religious view. "Ven⯑geance is mine, ſaith the Lord, I will repay it." One of the ſeven ſupplications to Heaven, in our daily prayer, enforces the neceſſity of conforming to this admonition, "Forgive us our treſpaſſes, as we forgive thoſe that treſpaſs againſt us." If the degree, then, of forgiveneſs extended to us, be in proportion to that we extend to others, deſpe⯑rate indeed muſt be the caſe of the malicious and revengeful man! When this, therefore, is conſi⯑dered, and more particularly that the Lord will avenge the cauſe of the righteous; to forgive and Forget a wrong, ſurely muſt be the beſt revenge.

Handſome is, that Handſome does.

IF to Forget a wrong, is the beſt revenge, as we have ſeen in the laſt Proverb, good offices to an enemy muſt be a ſuperior, effect of hu⯑manity. What think we then of the good Sama⯑ritan, aſſiſting the diſtreſſed Jew, who, in his journey from Jeruſalem to Jericho, had fallen among thieves, who had ſtripped him, robbed [106]him, and cruelly treated him? Obſerve here the prieſt and the Levite. The former, who had ſeen the deplorable object lie almoſt breathleſs, welter⯑ing in his congealed blood, to avoid even an en⯑quiry, paſſes by on the other ſide. The Levite too, an attendant alſo on the temple, views this poor wretch, and though every gaſh in his man⯑gled fleſh cried and pleaded for compaſſion, this hard-hearted monſter, ſpoke neither a word of comfort, nor moved a hand to help — he paſſes alſo on the other ſide; but the good Samaritan, when he beheld the Jew, between whoſe ſect and his own, there was an implacable malignity,—when he beheld him, he ſprung inſtantly from his mule, and adminiſtered every aid he could afford. He dreſſed his wounds, placed him on his own mule's back, and walked beſide him, through ſummer's heat and ſultry ſands, 'till he conducted him to a houſe, where he ordered him to be taken care of; thus ſinking his enmity to an imbittered foe, into compaſſion for a fellow-creature. And in doing this, he not only gratified his own pride, by triumphing over his enemy, but his own feel⯑ings in this act of humanity; for, let a man be in the greateſt ſtate of affluence, in the higheſt of all worldly enjoyments; nay let his utmoſt wiſh be [107]indulged, and he will not have half that pleaſure which ariſes from one good and virtuous action. Let us make our conduct then the ſtandard of our beauty.—Let Nature paint the check, and Virtue paint the mind; for handſome is that Handſome does.

It is the action, and not the fortune, or ſitua⯑tion in life, by which the ſenſible and diſcerning characteriſe mankind. It is not the beautiful face,—the graceful form,—the lovely look;—It is not theſe that conſtitute beauty, when the mind is de⯑formed;

It is our conduct, our actions in life, that muſt give us claim to a good name.

The garter'd knight—the titled peer—the lau⯑relled chief—are diſtinctions their poſſeſſors no lon⯑ger merit, than as they preſerve the cauſe that cre⯑ated them. "A few fleeting years," and honour—as Falſtaff ſays, pointing to the grave—"lies there." In a word, it is actions only that conſti⯑tute nobility.

[108] And I muſt obſerve, that even in conferring kind⯑neſs, there is a handſome way of doing it. One man ſhall ſhew a civility with more grace; and in ſo doing, ſhall confer a greater honour than ano⯑ther, in performing an act of the higheſt huma⯑nity. Manner is every thing, and a liberal mind is viſible in all it does. Every man ſhould ſtudy this art, it is eaſy to be learnt, and when acquired, gives a man infinite credit in the world.

Let us, for a moment, turn our thoughts to⯑wards the middling claſs of men, and we ſhall find honour, truth, and gratitude, even with a plain education, ſufficiently informed to reverence their God, and do honour to human nature. He that does as he would be done unto, acts a good part to his fellow creature—is an ornament to his race—and a noble citizen of the world. We ſhould deſpiſe no man for his appearance, for his condi⯑tion in life, nor think thoſe only great and honeſt who boaſt of wealth and titles. The external ac⯑tions of a man are nothing weighed againſt his virtues. It is no matter, in the eyes of the ſen⯑ſible world, whether he be ennobled, if he acts nobly; or whether he be handſome, if he does handſomely, for handſome is that Handſome does.

Out of the Frying-Pan into the Fire.

FROM the deſperate ſituation of a poor fiſh, thrown alive into the water, to be boiled, and jumping in that water for life, and its having no alternative in eſcaping, but falling in⯑to the fire, this Proverb would teach us, not to give up one ſituation for another, let the firſt be ever ſo diſagreeable, if the ſecond be not a bet⯑ter. We are too apt to think our own ſituation [110]of life worſe than that of others, and of courſe to be diſcontented and diſſatisfied. But this betrays ignorance and want of reaſoning. Be aſſured, there is no ſtate of life without its troubles and in⯑conveniences; and were we to change it for ano⯑ther, that other would be not leſs burthenſome, though in a different reſpect. From habit and cuſtom, we are better acquainted with, and feel the troubles attendant on our ſituation, more than others can do, who are not ſo well acquainted with them; and the ſame reaſoning will tell us, that the burdens and troubles which others feel, we have no idea of; of courſe, a wiſh to change one ſtate for another, unleſs we are ſure to profit by the change, is only getting out of the frying-pan into the fire. "Learn then" (ſays St. Paul) ‘in whatſoever ſtate you are, therewith to be content.’

We are alſo taught here, of two evils to chooſe the leaſt; to do all the good we can, and to do as little wrong as poſſible. No man is perfect; we are as naturally prone to ſin, as the ſparks fly up⯑ward; but reaſon is given us to ſubdue theſe na⯑tural inclinations, and curb the impetuoſity of our tempers. If we muſt commit a ſin, let it be as little as can be helped. In a worldly ſenſe, by chooſing the leaſt of two evils, is underſtood, con⯑ſidering [111]well before we determine, and of two ſituations in life, to make choice of the better, and of two evils, venture on the leaſt. If one man is to put confidence in another, it is better to confide in an honeſt man than a rogue; and if a man is to croſs a river, it is ſafer to paſs it on a bridge, than in a boat. But the fear of danger will naturally point out conduct in ſuch kind of evils. Man requires only caution in thoſe that are more concealed; and the beſt advice he can have, is to act, on all occa⯑ſions, with circumſpection.

Indeed, there are ſituations in life, where duty obliges a man to counter-act his own inclinations; caſes wherein neceſſity having no law, he is com⯑pelled to take meaſures which his heart diſap⯑proves. Such is the ſituation of a parent who is frequently obliged to correct the object of his love; and that of a magiſtrate who, often, for the good of the public, is obliged to take away the life of a fellow-creature. This, indeed, is the particular ſenſe of the Proverb, to which the painter alludes, Needs muſt when the devil drives.

This Proverb will alſo bear another interpreta⯑tion, namely, that our vicious inclinations, when they get a-head, are a kind of temptation that leads us into ſin, which requires more than common re⯑ſolution to withſtand; and like the devil, the pa⯑rent [112]of vice, goads us on to do that which our na⯑ture would otherwiſe recoil at. But, it is incumbent on chriſtians to reſiſt the devil, and fly from him, and pray to God for thoſe ſpiritual aids, that will enable us to oppoſe this tempter and ſet him at de⯑fiance: it is what God expects of us, and what, as good men, we are bound to do, that in flying from one ſin, we ſhould be careful not to plunge into another. In ſhunning prodigality, we ſhould not become covetous; and in avoiding covetouſneſs, we ſhould beware of prodigality. So again, in ſtriving to be humble, we ſhould not be mean; and in ſtudying to preſerve a proper dignity, we ſhould not be proud. For he who, in avoiding one vice, runs into the oppoſite, does little elſe than jump out of the Frying-pan into the Fire.

See Look before you Leap.

Look before you Leap.

THE object of this maxim is to teach circum⯑ſpection, and to do nothing raſhly. Indeed, as few things, when done, can be undone, it is neceſſary to conſider well before we do them, as afterwards it may be too late to remedy them. This holds good in every ſtep in life, but the [114]painter has thought proper to point it out more particularly in that moſt important of all ſteps, matrimony. Without circumſpection here, the remainder of our lives muſt be embittered, and we ſhall have reaſon to repent our raſhneſs, as long as we live.

There are a number of requiſites neceſſary to conſtitute the happineſs of a married ſtate, and ſo much is it the intereſt of either man or woman, to conceal, from the objects of their choice, their tempers and ſituation in life, if they will not bear examination, that it is wonderful there are not more unhappy marriages than there are. It is truly a leap in the dark, and a mere matter of chance, whether they leap ſafely or not. The paſſions of youth are too ungovernable to give way to en⯑quiry; and attachments once formed, are often too ſtrong to be broke through. It would be wiſe therefore, if young folks, (ſhould their inclina⯑tions lead them to ſeek a partner for life) would adviſe with their parents, or neareſt relations, in a concern ſo eſſential to their happineſs. Love is an idle term; it is merely the fever of the mind, and, if encouraged, is apt to rage; but, if diſcouraged, may be overcome: diſtreſs will ſoon cool it, for, when Poverty comes in at the door, Love will fly [115]out at the window. In ſhort, as there can be no true happineſs without a competence, this is the firſt conſideration; and, as an enquiry of this kind, is generally beyond the reach of young minds, who ſo proper to conſult as our parents, or beſt friends, who can have no view in the advice they give, but the welfare of thoſe they adviſe? Per⯑ſons converſant in life, and acquainted with the world, are certainly beſt able to judge in matters of this kind; and if we are wiſe, we ſhall abide by their determinations. If the character, tem⯑per, and ſituation of the object is found, upon a ſtrict enquiry, to be ſuch as to make an alliance with for life, prudent, purſue your inclination; but if they turn out the reverſe, ſhun the con⯑nexion as you would a peſtilence, and, not like a ſilly moth, flutter round the flame of a candle, till you burn your wings. In ſhort, Look before you Leap, for ſnakes among ſweet flowers do creep.

Let us, however, not only be circumſpect in this, but in every undertaking in which we em⯑bark. The man who thinks before he acts, is moſt likely to act with diſcretion, and have no future cauſe to repent of his conduct; but he who acts blindly, without any foreſight, will probably [116]ſuffer for his raſhneſs. If the blind lead the blind, they will both fall into the ditch. "Be watchful, then, and vigilant;" walk with your eyes open, and Look before you Leap.

See Out of the Frying-pan into the Fire,

An old Dog will learn no Tricks.

FROM the natural ſagacity of a dog, who, when young, may be taught a number of en⯑tertaining tricks, we here underſtand the uſeful⯑neſs of an early education. Children are like blank paper, we may write on them what we pleaſe, and if we omit to give them that educa⯑tion that will render them ſerviceable to them⯑ſelves, and uſeful to ſociety; if we neglect to [118] ‘train them up in the way wherein they ſhould go,’ we ſhall not only entail their curſes upon our heads, but the cenſure of all who know us. Parents, who have at heart the happineſs of their children, will feel themſelves intereſted in this matter. If they wiſh to make them the comforts of their old age, and render the latter part of their lives happy, they will inſtruct them early in the principles of virtue, and ſow ſuch ſeeds of good in their hearts, as ſhall bring forth commendable fruits in their riper years. Old age is intractable, moroſe, ſlow and forgetful. The Greeks have a maxim, ‘one may as well phyſic the dead, as in⯑ſtruct old men.’ If young folks have been put in a wrong way at firſt, there is little hopes of amending them, when they grow rigid by years.

That is to ſay, if a colt is badly broke in, he will never be good for any thing.

Young folks, then, ſhould conſider the neceſſi⯑ty of their being taught before they are too old to learn. A tree is beſt to bend, whilſt a twig, and

Juſt as the twig is bent, the tree's inclin'd.

[119]The mind of a young perſon, is open to infor⯑mation; the memory is then ſtrong, he has no pre⯑judices to oppoſe, and, of courſe, is well diſpoſed to learn. Parents and teachers, ſenſible of this, take great pains to inſtruct thoſe they have the care of; and, if children knew their own intereſt, inſtead of thinking ſuch inſtruction a hardſhip, or the correction that makes them tractable and govern⯑able, a puniſhment, they would kiſs the rod that chaſtiſes them, and bleſs the hand that ſcourges them. "Spare the rod" (ſays Solomon) "and ſpoil the child."

The painter, in the deſign before us, has con⯑traſted one of the deplorable conſequences of the want of an early education, with the advantages ariſing to thoſe that have it.

A poor, old ſailor, who had loſt his leg in the ſervice of his country, and, of courſe, unfit to follow his profeſſion, not being able to live on the ſcanty pittance allowed by government, for the ſupport of ſuch unfortunate men, is under the ne⯑ceſſity of ſeeking for ſome employ. Had he, when young, been taught to read and write, he might have found a maintenance by his pen, to which, the loſs of his leg would have been no in⯑teruption. Wanting this early knowledge, and being bred up to no kind of trade, his only re⯑ſource [120]is to turn porter, and hobble from place to place with other people's loads. Here alſo, he is at a loſs; unable to read the directions he re⯑ceives, he is under the neceſſity of requeſting the aſſiſtance of thoſe he meets; and we ſee here, a ſchool-boy, one who is bleſſed with that inſtruction which the old man has his whole life-time lament⯑ed the want of, reading the direction for him, and pointing out the way he is to go.

Happy is the lad ſo informed; and thankful ought he to be, to thoſe perſons who have taken care to inſtruct him!—Let him make the moſt of his time whilſt young, for his early days will ſoon paſs away, and when he becomes a man, he will have other cares to take up his thoughts; cares perhaps, for a family, and cares for his future hap⯑pineſs. "Remember thy Creator in the days of thy youth," ſo ſhall the mind and heart be well-diſpoſed to perform thoſe chriſtian duties that will make a man ſerene in his dying hour, and leave him no dread of a miſerable futurity. Youth is the only time to acquire good habits, for Old dogs will learn no tricks.

Out of Debt, out of Danger.

WEALTH being the idol of a money-loving people, we are too apt to reverence the rich, and worſhip the opulent; of courſe, riches give a man might and influence among his neigh⯑bours. It is on this conſideration, that wealth makes a man reſpectable; for without a com⯑petence [122]he cannot be independent, and it is inde⯑pendence only that makes him great.

The laws that guard the property of individuals, have made impriſonment a puniſhment for debt. If one man is indebted to another, and owes him money, it is in the power of the perſon he is in⯑debted to, to lock him up till he can pay him. Hence the Proverb Out of Debt, out of Danger of impriſonment. The painter, ſenſible of this, has here given us a ſketch of a countryman paying a debt to a lawyer, and his officer of vengeance, a bailiff, in wait behind him. Thus by paying what he owes, he eſcapes the trap of the law.

This ſhould naturally teach our men of faſhion not to live at the expenſive rate they do, but to cut their coat according to their cloth, and bound their expences by their income. He is not the richeſt man who has the greateſt income; but he who lives within that income. If a man has five thouſand pounds a year, and ſpends ſix thouſand, he muſt be often in want of money; whereas, if he has but five hundred, and lives upon four, he has always ſomething to ſpare. Of courſe, he that has feweſt wants is the richeſt man.

If gentlemen were to conſider the ignominy of being at the mercy of a taylor, or a ſhoe-maker, [123]as certainly they are, when in their debt; they would be more cautious how they purchaſed things upon credit. Where can be their pride, when they are liable to be dragged from their coach, as in the next print, by the hands of a bailiff, and locked up in a jail? And where can be their feel⯑ing, when perhaps they owe their finery and their indulgences to the labour of thoſe who are poorer than themſelves; when they are beholden to a taylor and a ſhoe-maker for their dreſs, and to the butcher and baker for their daily food? Surely a man in ſuch a ſituation has little to boaſt of; much leſs to enable him to raiſe his head above thoſe tradeſmen, who perhaps are abundantly richer than himſelf, far more independent, and of courſe, more reſpectable characters.

If a man would confine his wants and wiſhes to the bounds of his income, and never think of pur⯑chaſing a thing till he has the money to pay for it; his money would go much farther, and he might walk abroad and enjoy liberty, without the fear of inſult, or the danger of being taken priſoner.

I will further obſerve upon this ſubject, that to the diſgrace of the profeſſion of the law, there are a number of what are called petty-fogging attornies, or unprincipled profeſſors of it, that, when they [124]get a man into their clutches, will never let him eſcape, till they have fleeced him pretty hand⯑ſomely. Theſe are men, that, like locuſts, fatten on the misfortunes of a country, and live upon the miſeries of others. There is no being ſafe from the claws of theſe harpies, but by paying regularly for what we buy, and then being out of Debt, we ſhall be out of Danger.

All is not Gold that Glitters.

THE painter has continued on his laſt ſcene and given us a ſketch of the conſequences of being in debt. Here now is your gentleman, that man of rank and diſtinction, who exalts himſelf above his fellow-citizens; and, becauſe he can have a little more credit, has more impudence; holds his head up, and looks down on the common [126]claſs of mankind with contempt! He rides in his coach, is dreſſed in velvet, and conſiders him⯑ſelf as an ennobled being, forgetting at the ſame time, that he owes theſe appendages of his greatneſs, perhaps, to the good-nature and credulity of his coach-maker and his taylor. ‘How are the mighty fallen!’ The time of payment comes round, he has it not to pay, the laws of his country are put in force againſt him, a ruffian officer is employed to enforce theſe laws, he is dragged by the collar from his coach to repent his indiſcretion within the walls of a priſon and iron bars, and his poor coachman left to repent his maſter's miſ⯑fortune, the downfal of pride, and the loſs of his place.

Let the diſſipated man of faſhion view this pic⯑ture, and ſay, in what his fancied dignity conſiſts. If there is any human diſgrace, if there is any contemptible ſituation, it is this; and every man who will preſume to run in debt, and has not the money to pay that debt, when called on, is liable to this indignity: his coachman is in a far happier ſituation, and much more reſpectable in life, being in no danger of ſuch an inſult.

But this is only a ſequel of the laſt Proverb, Out of Debt out, of Danger; the proverbial expreſſion before us, All is not Gold that Glitters, has a dif⯑ferent [127]alluſion, and the painter is happy in de⯑ſcribing both in the ſame ſcene. Appearances are deceitful, we cannot truſt to them; many an ach⯑ing heart has been concealed under a laced gar⯑ment, and many a troubled mind has rolled in a gilded chariot. Before we ſurvey the ſituation of thoſe apparently above us, let us conſider the ap⯑pearance well, and ſee whether there is any thing in it truly enviable. I will take upon me to ſay that he who enjoys the neceſſaries of life, with ſome few of its comforts, in a ſtate of independency, is a far happier man than he who poſſeſſes every luxury, at the expence of his peace of mind.

When any man is diſcontented with his ſituation in life, let him compare it with that of others; let him conſider whether thoſe riches, that rank and power which many enjoy, do not carry more tor⯑ments with them, than real happineſs; and let us alſo look into the ſituation of thoſe below us, and ſee, whether we are not in poſſeſſion of many com⯑forts which others want; others, perhaps, who have had better expectations in life, and are more de⯑ſerving than ourſelves. This ſhould ſurely prevent us from repining at our own misfortunes, and make us thankful to Providence for the bleſſings he has been pleaſed to beſtow upon us. True happineſs [128]is ſeated in the mind, and within every one's reach If our fortune is not adequate to our wiſhes, let us confine our wiſhes to our fortune. Let us make the beſt of our ſituation, and not loſe the enjoyments of the preſent moment, in looking forward to the future; that future may never arrive, and if it does, it will bring with it an equal ſhare of bitter⯑neſs. Let us learn then, as St. Paul teaches us, ‘in whatever ſtate we are, therewith to be con⯑tent;’ and let us remember, that however envi⯑able a more exalted ſtate of life may appear, there is no ſtate but what has its attendant caſes, and that All is not Gold that Glitters.

See Call me Couſin, but Cozen me not, to which Proverb this alſo alludes.

Empty Veſſels make the Greateſt Sound.

"A CLOSE mouth," ſays Solomon, "makes a wiſe head" and a fool's bolt is ſoon ſhot," implying, that prating and tattling is the index of a weak mind. A man whoſe tongue is ever running upon trifles, and who is eternally babbling, not only renders himſelf ridiculous to his acquain⯑tance, but lays himſelf open to the deſigning [130]world: he is never ſafe. There is a deſcription of men, ever upon the watch, to take advantage of the weak; and to betray a weakneſs upon all occaſions, is only ſetting ſuch men to work. Keep, therefore, your own counſel, never let the world know what ſhould be concealed in your own breaſt; for, if you communicate your ideas without re⯑ſerve, you will meet with thoſe who will profit by thoſe ideas, and deprive you of the advantages you might reap from them yourſelf.

Look abroad in life, and you will obſerve a ſet of weak, young men, who are always talking of themſelves and their own unimportant affairs. There cannot be a greater rudeneſs to your com⯑pany, than troubling them at all times with your own concerns, independant of impreſſing them with an opinion that you can keep nothing ſecret. Be aſſured, if you cannot keep your own ſecrets, you will never be entruſted with thoſe of others, and a man had better withdraw himſelf from ſociety, than loſe the confidence of his friends.

But the chief end of this Proverb, and which the painter particularly alludes to, is vain boaſting. Under this interpretation of it, we are taught not to make ourſelves a laughing-ſtock, by boaſting of virtues we never practiſe, of courage we never [131]poſſeſs, or of abilities we never ſhew. Brag may be a good dog, but hold-faſt is a better. That is to ſay, it is better to bite and not bark, than bark and not bite. If a man boaſts of virtues, believe him a raſcal; if he vaunts of abilities, be aſſured he had none; and if he brags of courage, my life for it, he is a coward. See the vain boaſter be⯑fore us. This Quixote has cloathed himſelf in armour, in order to perform wonderful atchieve⯑ments; he bluſters and makes a great noiſe, and all to what purpoſe? Merely to wage war with the pigs; and who, like him, will ſqueak before they are hurt. To ſhew us the natural diſpoſition of this ſwaggerer, the deſigner has introduced a drum, the ſymbol of empty noiſe, and has made Folly, on a lamp-poſt, ſtaying his up-lifted ſword, with a pair of taylor's ſheers.^*

Whatever our pretenſions are, if we are mo⯑deſt and ſilent on the matter, we ſhall ſtand in more credit with our acquaintance. The modeſt and diffident, that is, he who withdraws him⯑ſelf from public notice, riſes in eſteem on the [132]aſſuming man, as much as the meek-eyed beauty does on the forward and painted flaunter; the one is attractive, whilſt the other is diſguſting.

In a word, if we wiſh to ſtand well with our friends, to enjoy their confidence, and merit their eſteem, we have only to ſhew our worth by our actions. Theſe will ſpeak for themſelves, and are much better teſts of innate ſuperiority, than the vain boaſt of empty words; for as the ſubſtance is better than the ſhadow, ſo full veſſels are moſt ſought after, though Empty Veſſels make the greateſt Sound.

When the Child is Chriſtened, you may have God-fathers enough.

THE moment a man is independant of the favours of the world, that moment he will find it more ready to beſtow them; when we no longer need a friend, we find enough ready to aſſiſt us: theſe are however friends who flutter round us when in proſperity, and baſk in our ſun⯑ſhine; but who deſert us when overhung by the clouds of adverſity.

[134]If we look abroad into life, we ſhall ſoon learn that adverſity is the touchſtone of friendſhip; and that the only time to know our friends, is, when we ſtand in need of their ſervices. In other ſitua⯑tions, what appears to us friendſhip, is a mere de⯑luſion, the abſolute gratification of ſelfiſh views; as all the proffered ſervices of men end only in intereſted motives, and ſordid expectations, offer⯑ing us a ſmall favour to receive a greater in its ſtead. He only is the true friend who ſerves us on our own account, and ſeeks no other reward than that conſcientious and heartfelt ſatisfaction that re⯑ſults from the performance of humane and charita⯑ble acts. And when this laudable inducement is his only ſpur, baſe muſt be that wretch, who trampling on all laws, both human and divine, returns evil for good, by abuſing the good offices of his benefactor, and ſpurning in the brighter day of fortune, the ſhelter he experienced in its ſtorms! But to the more immediate ſenſe of the Proverb.

Do we not, in almoſt all the occurrences of life, find, that when the Child is Chriſtened we may have God-fathers enough?—For when our neceſſities are relieved—when we no longer require aid—we ſhall have many offers; but, if like Gay's Hare in the fable, we apply to our acquaintance in the [...]our of need, we ſhall find them, like her many [135]friends, full of excuſes, abandoning us to thoſe ca⯑lamities which a ſingle exertion of theirs might have relieved us from. They are ſorry they have it not in their power, or we might command them.—But, let us eſcape from the wreck;—let the ex⯑ceſs of complicated diſtreſs not carry us beyond the reach of fate, by ſending us on that journey. ‘From whoſe bourne no traveller returns.’ In ſhort, let us ſurmount our misfortunes, and we ſhall have aſſiſtance in plenty; that is to ſay, when the Child is Chriſtened, we ſhall have God-fathers enough. Look on the ſcene before us.—See the hum⯑ble ſervility of the crouching ſycophant, tendering his ſervices, when they are no longer wanted. A few days only before, the ſolicitous parent, anxious to beſtow the firſt token of chriſtianity on his darling infant, aſked his falſe friends to become its ſponſors. No; like the perſons, in the parable, invited to the feaſt, they made various excuſes; but no ſooner do they ſee the buſineſs done, and their ſervices not required, than they come forth voluntarily, and tender what they till then refuſed.

There are other little emblems in this picture. By the trees, in full leaf, adjoining the church, the painter would tell us, that the doctrines of religion are wide expanded to afford us ſhelter; that much [136]depends upon ourſelves; and that if we cultivate our underſtandings, and bring them to that full perfection the trees are arrived at, we ſhall have a juſt ſenſe of our moral and religious duties; and they will bring forth that fruit that will ſecure, not only our temporal, but our eternal, happineſs. The infant in the left arm of its mother, and next the miniſter, the delegate of Heaven, emphatically ſpeaks, and ſays that our hearts ſhould ever turn to God; it tells us too, that the child ſhould never turn its face againſt its parent. The honeſt con⯑tempt the father ſhews, for offers unſolicited, for ſervices he does not need, teaches us not to credit the ſincerity of thoſe, who, in the time of our proſperity, ſhall tender kindneſſes they at other times refuſe; or conceive every one to be our friend who ſpeaks to us fairly, or makes us pro⯑miſes. Proffered ſervice, and at ſuch a time, de⯑clares its own ſelfiſh view, that money begets friends, and that when the Child is Chriſtened, we may have God-fathers enough.

Fair and Softly goes Far.

THE deſign of this Proverb is to condemn every kind of hurry; expedition is neceſſary upon all occaſions, for "delays are dangerous," but, haſte or hurry is not the way to be expeditious. The painter, in the deſign before us, ſhews us evidently, that he who goes ſoftly, goes ſure, and [138]alſo far; but he that ſpurs on too faſt, at firſt ſetting out, either falls by the way, or tires before he comes to his journey's end. The old man here trotting to market, is moſt likely to reach it ſooner than he who ſets out on a gallop. As the French ſay, He who walks too haſtily, often ſtumbles in a plain way^*; ſo he who rides as faſt as his horſe can go, is more likely to fall than one who goes gently on: for "a whet is no let," ſay the mowers, in giving a freſh edge to their ſcythes.

But, this Proverb may be otherwiſe conſtrued. By the age of the horſe and its rider, it appears that they have jogged on together through life, in an even, gentle way, and have, of courſe, been free from thoſe accidents that attend the wild and im⯑petuous. Nothing ſhould be done haſtily, ſays another Proverb, but killing of fleas; for if we make the leaſt delay here, they eſcape us.

He who does things in a hurry, never thinks; and without thought, it cannot be well done; for accord⯑ing to the Italians, Haſtily and well never meet^†. A man of ſenſe may be expeditious, but is never in [139]a hurry; convinced that hurry is the ſureſt way to make him do, what he undertakes, ill: he may do it wrong, and have it to begin a-freſh; which a little conſideration might have prevented. To be in a hurry is a proof that the buſineſs we embark in, is too great for us; of courſe, it is the mark of little minds, that are puzzled and perplexed, when they ſhould be ſlow and deliberate; wiſhing to do every thing at once, they are able to do nothing. ‘Tarry a little, that we may make an end the ſooner,’ was a ſaying of Sir Amias Paulet; and Feſtina lente, or On ſlow, is the motto of the Onſlow arms.

Let us be ſteady then in all things we under⯑take; conſider the buſineſs well, before we begin, and remember, that we had better do half of them well, and leave the reſt undone, than do the whole indifferently. Though unneceſſary delays may be dangerous, it is univerſally allowed, that in gene⯑ral, "the more haſte, the worſt ſpeed."

Beſides, as another Proverb ſays, Haſte makes waſte, and waſte makes want, and want makes ſtrife between the good man and his wife. What a a collection of evils then attend this one act of imprudence! Waſte, Want and Strife. Waſte is the father of many evils; Want is the mother of many more; and Strife, their offspring, engen⯑ders [140]others. From Waſte ſprings hard-heartedneſs thankleſsneſs, debauchery, and diſtreſs; from Want, beggary, rapine, extortion and diſhoneſty; and from Strife, animoſity, anger, quarrels, and blood-ſhed: theſe might be branched out into many others, equally dreadful. If then you would guard againſt the effect, remove the cauſe. Remember, that great rivers proceed from ſmall ſprings, and great vices often originate in little errors. Think before you act. Do nothing without deliberation. Walk gently, and you will tread ſafely: and, in the long run you will get on, for Fair and Softly goes Far.

Birds of a Feather, Flock together.

AS this is true among the feathered tribe, ſo is it among mankind. As we ſee wild-geeſe, crows, pidgeons, plover, and other tribes fly in flocks; ſo do we obſerve, in human life, that men of a peculiar way of thinking, generally aſſociate with each other. Likeneſs is the mother of Love. Young men delight in the company of young, old [142]men of old, learned men of learned, and even wicked men of wicked. Thus the gambler aſſoci⯑ates with men of his own ſtamp, and the drunkard is uſually ſeen with thoſe who are fond of ſtrong liquors. Hence aroſe the Proverb, "Tell me what company you keep, and I will tell you who you are."

As men covet the eſteem of each other; it is incumbent on all, to be careful, not to give man⯑kind a bad impreſſion of us; for a good character is ſooner loſt than gained. The world is apt to judge of us from the company we keep; if then we would be thought well off, let us pick that company, and never be ſeen to aſſociate with thoſe who are deſpiſed. I have ſeen religious men ſo ſcrupulous in this point, that they would not be ſeen even ſpeaking to a wicked man, leſt it ſhould be ſuppoſed they approved of his evil actions. In⯑deed, if men were nicer in this reſpect than they are, it would go a great way towards reforming the world; for, if bad men were not admitted into the ſociety of the virtuous, it would be a greater puniſhment than any penalties enacted by law.

The alluſion of this Proverb might be carried ſtill further; as a man who is often ſeen in low company, will find an acceſs to better very diffi⯑cult; ſuch as are ambitious of keeping good com⯑pany, ſhould never mix with any below them: [143]when I ſay never, I do not ay, on no occaſion whatever, this perhaps our connections in life may render almoſt impoſſible, but I mean, that to be well received in the beſt of company, a man muſt not aſſociate with the lower. By low company, I mean low in birth, low in rank, low in parts, and low in manners; that company, who inſignificant and con⯑temptible in themſelves, are proud of being ſeen with you, and who will flatter your very vices, in order to keep in with you.

The vanity of being reckoned the firſt perſon in company, has led many a young gentleman to aſſociate with thoſe perſons who have degraded him, and even prevented his being received into better aſſemblies. Every one ſhould be ambitious of im⯑proving his mind, and getting forward in life; and this is not to be done, by mixing with people be⯑low ourſelves. Depend upon it, a man ſinks or riſes, according to the level of the company he keeps.

What is the ſcene before us but riot, revelry, and drunkenneſs? Such perſons whoſe minds are ill⯑diſpoſed to thought and buſineſs, ſeek relief from themſelves in muſic, cards, and riot; and whilſt they thus think to ſpend their idle hours agreeably, they involve themſelves in penury and wretchedneſs, and bring on ſickneſs and ill health; and once inured to [144]this way of life, they enjoy no other, but return like a dog to his vomit. The painter has given us to underſtand, that ſuch a life is a departure from virtue, and brought about by the Enemy of mankind, by ſhewing us, that though theſe men have ſat up late, burnt out their light, and drank more than they can contain, he is ſpurring them on to a farther exceſs of beaſtlineſs, and putting the bell into the hand of the drunkard, to ring for more liquor; thus filling up the meaſure of their iniquity.

Beware then of bad company; ſhun them as you would a peſtilence; and remember, that if you would avoid evil, aſſociate not with evil doers. A good character is ſooner loſt than gained. Be your principles what they will, they are liable to be infected; and if you would not be thought vicious, keep no vicious company; for the cenſure of the world will be ſure to fall on you if you do, from an opinion that you muſt be of the ſame ſtamp with the company you keep, as Birds of a Feather, Flock together.

Make Hay whilſt the Sun ſhines.

WE are here admoniſhed to avail ourſelves of every opportunity of forwarding our de⯑ſigns, for delays are dangerous, and opportunity neglected brings repentance. Hay can only be made whilſt the ſun ſhines to dry it, and as its continuance is very uncertain, if wet ſhould come, our harveſt [146]will be ſpoiled. We ſhould not then waſte our lives in dull ſupineneſs, like Shakeſpear's Smith, ſwallowing a Taylor's news, whilſt our work cools upon the anvil, but ſtrike the iron whilſt 'tis hot, for when cold, it will not yield to the hammer. Let us not then defer that till to-morrow, which can be done to day, for ſomething on the morrow may hap⯑pen to prevent us: we ſhould recollect that the preſent moment is but ours for the inſtant, and that very chance it produces for our benefit, if not then embraced, will be irrecoverably loſt.

The painter has illuſtrated this Proverb by a priſon-ſcene, putting the admonition here given, into the mouth of the man without the gate, calling to his comrades within, and telling them, Now's the time to eſcape, their centinel being off his guard. Theſe are ſuppoſed to be ſeamen, taken in war, and impriſoned. By his repreſenting the centinel aſleep, he would teach us the conſequence likely to reſult from his drowſineſs;—what ills may ariſe from inattention to thoſe duties with which we are entruſted. By his negligence, the means given to diſcharge his office, are rendered uſeleſs. The key which ſecured the priſoners, is wreſted from him, and lies at his feet, and he ſleeps upon the loaded muſquet and fixed bayonet, [147]weapons put into his hands, to guard againſt thoſe very ſteps his careleſſneſs has ſuffered to be com⯑mitted.

The ill-judged doubts which the inattentive have of this Proverb, is repreſented in the coun⯑tenance of the priſoners, who ſeem to heſitate whether they ſhall make hay, although the ſun ſhines, or eſcape, though the centinel ſleeps; though the birds on flight direct their way, and contraſt the bleſſings of liberty and free air, with ‘durance vile, and ſad contagion,’ and though if they avail not themſelves of the preſent opportunity, another may never offer, and they may repent they miſſed it.

We learn from this Proverb alſo, a piece of worldly policy, to find out the moments of inſinu⯑ation, the mollia t [...]mp [...]ra fandi, the ſoft hours of perſwaſion, when we are beſt likely to ſucceed with thoſe to whom we apply. If we wiſh to ſpeak with efficacy, and make an impreſſion on thoſe we ſpeak to, we ſhould ſelect thoſe moments when they are beſt diſpoſed to liſten to us, and when what we ſay, is moſt likely to be attended to. Our application then will probably not be fruitleſs, and we ſhall profit by the wiſdom. Upon this prin⯑ciple, we ſhould not talk of patience to enraged men, or religion to a drunken man; but wait till [148]favourable opportunities offer, and embrace thoſe opportunities when they do.

In a religious ſenſe, this Proverb teaches not to defer our repentance. Man is naturally a ſinner, prone to ſin, as the ſparks fly upwards; and as ſinners cannot enter into the kingdom of Heaven, without repentance; repentance is neceſſary to our future happineſs. Young perſons, unwilling to mor⯑tify themſelves, and break off from habits they find a pleaſure in, poſtpone their repentance to a future day, and idly think, it will be time enough to re⯑form when they grow old in life. This perhaps might do, if they were certain of living to be old. But what if they are cut off the next year, the next month, or the next day?—What becomes of their repentance then?—They die with all their ſins upon their heads, and ruſh into futurity, to meet the vengeance of an angry God.—How unwiſe this!—Repent then in time. Attend to the voice of Heaven: ‘To day, if you will hear his voice, harden not your hearts.’ A good life is equally pleaſant as a bad one, and is the beſt of comforts when we come to die. Loſe not then the preſent opportunity; avail yourſelf of the hours now in your poſſeſſion. Catch the moments as they fly. Be not regardleſs of the indulgence of Providence, and Make Hay whilſt the Sun ſhines.

Time and Tide will wait for No one.

THIS Proverb is a ſequel of the foregoing, Make Hay whilſt the Sun ſhines. Embrace the firſt opportunity that offers to do what is to be done, for Time and Tide will wait for no one. They continue their progreſſive route, regardleſs of conſequence; and it is as much out of our [150]to ſtay the one as the other. Although Xerxes whipped the ſeas, for diſobeying his injunction, he found the vanity of his conduct, and felt the force of the Proverb, for he

And although Canute laſhed the waves for wetting his feet, not all their power could reverſe the courſe of nature. Theſe mighty kings are now crumbled with the duſt. Time ſtill rolls on, and the waters have ſtill their tides. Happy are they who im⯑prove the preſent moments, and are prepared for the awful ſummons, when Death ſhall call!

"Go about your buſineſs" is inſcribed on the Temple Dial, laconically telling us, that the mo⯑ment we are idly gazing on it, might be better employed. The ruined monaſtery, in the ſcene here painted, pictures to us the evil ravages of Time. The ſetting ſun denotes, that though it has ſhone in its meridian luſtre, it is now ſinking into darkneſs. Not a ſingle leaf blooms here its verdure, and the ſacred Croſs, at whoſe foot the holy Frier once bent the knee of adoration, is tumbling under the hand of Time, and mouldering with the duſt of thoſe ſacred relicks which decora⯑ted [151]once the choir. The glaſs is run; Time has ſtretched his arm to cut away the ſad remains; and will at length,

He is drawn flying to denote that Time is ever on on the wing; is bald behind, ſilently implying, that we cannot pull him back; and with a ſingle tuft before, ſaying, we may catch him by the fore⯑lock, and lay hold of the firſt moments that occur; not deferring our concerns till a future day, but embracing the preſent hours, whilſt in our poſſeſ⯑ſion. So the impetuous tide rolls heedleſsly along, regardleſs of what happens, and carries all before it, for Time and Tide will wait for no one. The one mows down, and the other ſweeps, all before it, leaving ſcarce the remembrance of what is paſt.

Know then, that each revolving ſun brings us hearer to our end; and as on the bed of ſickneſs, and in the laſt extremity of expiring nature, we cannot ſtay the hand of Death, or prolong the time of our exiſtence; and as the hours we loſe are paſt recall, how much does it behove us, e'er our glaſs is run, to employ our hours well; that when Time ſhall cut us down, and the tide roll its waters over [152]us, we may have finiſhed the work of our ſalva⯑tion, and have nothing to do, but receive a joyous welcome in the regions of eternal bliſs.

Upon the whole, whether in a civil or religious ſenſe, you determine upon a thing, if you can do it inſtantly, do it, without delay; no time like the preſent, a thouſand unforeſeen circumſtances may interrupt you at a future time. If the favouaable hour is paſt, 'tis not to be recalled. Do then what you have to do, whilſt you find yourſelf diſpoſed. Never reject a preſent happineſs, in proſpect of a future one, but enjoy your life whiſt you may, for a bird in the hand is worth two in the buſh, and Time and Tide will wait for No one.

Children and Fools have Merry lives.

CHILDREN, becauſe from their tender age they ſtudy nothing but to promote their little pleaſures; and fools, becauſe their ignorance puts them beyond the reach of rational enjoyments, are merry at trifles, and ſtrangers to reflection.

The Proverb means to ſay, that fools, though of full age, are little wiſer than children, who for want [154]of thought and reaſon, never look forward, but enjoy the preſent moment; labouring to baniſh re⯑flection by low mirth, and excite laughter from thoſe as ignorant as themſelves. Children then, thus compared to fools, muſt ſee the folly of their conduct. Though they may burſt into roars of laughter, at ten or twelve years of age, at the low buffooneries of a droll;—though they may lead very merry lives before the ſenſe of care breaks in upon them, yet when they come to years of diſcre⯑tion, and ſee things in a different light, they ſhould act quite otherwiſe. St. Paul ſays, ‘When I was a child, I thought as a child, I ſpake as a child, but when I became a man, I put away childiſh things.’

The concerns and anxieties of life will naturally intrude upon our pleaſures, and checquer our hap⯑pineſs with a degree of pain. And it is wiſe and allowable, to enjoy the moments as they paſs, and not ſuffer the proſpect of a future pleaſure, to rob us of the preſent; for that future proſpect may never be realized.

‘The thing that hath been, it is that which ſhall be; and that which is done, is that which ſhall be done; for there is nothing new under the ſun.’ None but fools then will miſs the enjoyment in their [155]power, under an idea of waiting for that which may never come. As real and ſubſtantial happineſs de⯑pends upon peace of mind, and as there can be no ſuch peace, where there is no pleaſing reflection; children, as their reaſon opens, and as reflection offers itſelf, ſhould lay that foundation of future happineſs in their own breaſts, as will ſecure them comfort and a tranquil old age; that is, they ſhould attend to the inſtructions they receive from their parents and teachers, perſons who know better than themſelves; and not by a fooliſh indifference to every thing ſerious, and an idle attachment to folly and mirth, create temporary joy, at the expence of laſting comfort, and all that is praiſe-worthy. We ſhould conſider that our days roll on, that every additional year brings with it its cares; that we may be thrown on a bed of ſickneſs, even in early life; that our ſpirits will flag at repetitions of in⯑conſiderate and immoderate pleaſures; and of courſe, that we ſhould conduct ourſelves ſo, whilſt we have the power of doing it, that reflection may not wound us, when that power is no more. The graſshopper, in the fable, on the approach of win⯑ter, begged the Ant to lend her a few grains of corn, "What," aſked the provident ant, ‘did you do all the ſummer, that you are without food now?’ "Sung," replied the graſshopper, ‘well [156]then,’ retorts the ant, ‘as you ſung in the ſum⯑mer, you may dance in the winter.’ The ant had no mercy for the thoughtleſs mendicant.

The bag-piper before us, is one of thoſe incon⯑ſiderate fools, who live a merry life, becauſe it ſuits their idle diſpoſition;—a man who from his ſtrength and make, might have followed the plough, wielded the ſword, or levelled the muſket, and thus have rendered himſelf of uſe in ſociety:—No; he meanly condeſcends to drone away his life, as vacant in thought as the yelping animal before him, or the children that are dancing round him. The ſimple grin—the low grimace—the grating diſcord, and the enjoyment he derives from this aſſemblage of unmanlineſs, conſtitute in his mind a merry life,—but—he is a fool;—he thinks but as the children he is playing to. They indeed have merry lives, and their age is an excuſe for their want of thought.

With reſpect to ourſelves, let us abandon thoſe fooliſh propenſities, to which the unthinking are addicted;—let us not expect every thing calm, and unruffled, in the ocean of life:—Storms will natu⯑rally ariſe, but let us meet them with reſignation and fortitude, and be prepared to oppoſe them; for all men have their ſhare of trouble; and every one muſt bear his own burden; it being Children only and Fools that have merry Lives.

Much Meat, much Maladies.

IT is the diſgrace of the inhabitants of this country, that of all others, they are moſt ad⯑dicted to intemperance: I mean not exceſs in drinking, but exceſs in eating; ſo that it is almoſt grown into a Proverb, that Engliſhmen dig their graves with their teeth. I have had occaſion to [158]ſhew the folly and wickedneſs of drunkenneſs, which is intemperance in drinking, and to ſay ſomething of gluttony, which is exceſs in eating; but this Proverb bears another complexion, and points out to us that gluttony not only brings on diſeaſe, but that he who ſtudies his palate, ſhortens his days. Nature is ſoon ſatisfied; and we ſee in ruſtic life, that where men feed upon homely food, and are obliged, from their poverty, to put up with ſcanty fare; they are generally in better health and ſpirits, and, in reality, more happy than thoſe, whoſe wealth enables them to indulge their appetites, at the expence of their conſtitution; for ſurfeiting and diſeaſes often attend full tables.

The painter, ſenſible of this, has given us a view of the conſequence of intemperance. A wealthy citizen blown up with corpulency, choaked for want of breath, and racked with the excruci⯑ating pains of the gout, not only in his feet, but in his ſtomach. The agony he feels is painted in his countenance: he is become unweildy through want of exerciſe; and to gratify a greedy appetite, has loſt the uſe of his limbs; of courſe, confined to the melancholy reflection of having been his own tormentor. We are taught, by the picture above, repreſenting a man eager in weighing his [159]money, that he has been anxious in the accumula⯑tion of that, which he has converted to very bad purpoſes.

I am convinced that exceſs in eating has done as much harm, if not more, in ſociety, than exceſs in drinking. A cheerful glaſs of wine, if not taken to intoxication, that is, if it does not make a man drunk, and deprive him of the command of his reaſon, often exhilerates the ſpirits and comforts the conſtitution; and under this conception, phy⯑ſicians have frequently preſcribed the cheerful uſe of wine, or to drink occaſionally a little more than we have been uſed to; but they never thought of adviſing a ſick man to over-eat himſelf.

If loading the appetite dulls the underſtanding, makes a man heavy, ſleepy, and inactive, and unfits him for the purpoſes of ſociety, it incapacitates him for buſineſs, and indiſpoſes him for exerciſe. Want of exerciſe brings on corpulency, with all the inconveniences of repletion and foulneſs, and the conſequence is a complication of diſeaſes, tor⯑ture of body, and an untimely death. Be aſſured, if a man finds himſelf unwell, that temperance is his beſt phyſician, and exerciſe his beſt nurſe. Let him keep regular hours, never feed but when he is hungry, eat ſparingly, drink moderately, and uſe [160]proper exerciſe, and he may throw phyſic to the dogs. But if he makes uſe of his money to pam⯑per his appetite, he not only puniſhes himſelf in this world, but runs the riſk of being puniſhed in the next; for gluttons and drunkards are included in that liſt of ſinners, who, without repentance, will be ſhut out from Heaven.

Diſorders brought on by ourſelves, are unpitied; a great eater is conſidered as little better than a monſter, and he who ranſacks the creation to gra⯑tify his palate, is not only the deriſion of all who know him, but becomes his own executioner; is a ſelf-murderer in the eye of Heaven, and falls un⯑pitied and unlamented. In a word, if a man un⯑well muſt conſult phyſicians, I beg leave to recom⯑mend Dr. Diet, Dr. Quiet, and Dr. Merryman, Haec tria, mens laeta, requies, moderata diaeta ^*.

Theſe are the three beſt phyſicians in the world; for intemperance only brings on diſcaſe, and much Meat, much Maladies.

Opportunity makes the Thief.

THIS is one of thoſe Proverbs which they who make allowances and undertake to account for the depravity of mankind, uſe in their behalf, attributing the diſhoneſty of men to the truly honeſt man will avail himſelf of no oppor⯑tunity [162]to do an improper act. Convinced he is under the eye of Heaven, he will act, as if the eyes of Mankind were upon him, and be afraid to com⯑mit himſelf, or do by another, what he would be unwilling any one ſhould do by him.

The painter, however, has fallen in with the humour of the world, and has ſhewn us that oppor⯑tunity here has made a thief; for whilſt a gentleman is ſleeping in his garden, a raſcal has turned his pockets inſide out, robbed him of his money, and is carrying off his hat and wig, his ſword and his cane.

If the diſhoneſty of men can ever be attributed to opportunity, it muſt be opportunity accompa⯑nied with neceſſity. We can eaſily make allow⯑ances for the frailty of human nature, when neceſ⯑ſity puſhes hard; and if a poor, famiſhed wretch preſſed with hunger, ſhould ſee a piece of bread lie in his way, and an opportunity offer to take it, unobſerved, where he knew it would not be given him, on aſking for it, I ſay, it would require, in ſuch a caſe, more than human exertion, to with⯑ſtand the temptation, and a feeling man would pardon the infirmity; but it does not follow that ſuch an act is juſtifiable. The laws of this country have pointed out where ſuch a man may ſeek re⯑lief, [163]and, of courſe, will always puniſh the tranſ⯑greſſor.

A prudent man, however, will be careful not to lay temptation in the way of thoſe whoſe ſitua⯑tions in life, might urge them to fall in with them; that is to ſay, maſters, ſuperiors, and houſekeepers ſhould ſecure their money and move⯑able goods under lock and key, that their ſervants may have no temptation to ſteal. Safe Bind, ſafe Find. He who ſecures his property, is in little dan⯑ger of loſing it; but he who leaves it at the mercy of others, muſt not always expect to find it undi⯑miniſhed.

But this Proverb may, in its alluſions, be carried further: we may from hence learn the dangers of opportunity, in other caſes than that of theft. Wherever opportunities hold forth temptation, we ſhould always avoid them: we ſhould ſhun the company of bad men, and bad women, leſt the opportunities this may afford, ſhould induce us to follow their example. Opportunities of drinking and revelling may make a drunkard of a ſober man; and opportunities of debauchery, may make a libertine of a modeſt one.—Our paſſions natu⯑rally incline us to evil; and as few men can tho⯑roughly [164]ſubdue their paſſion and inclinations, it is adviſeable to avoid the temptation.

On this conſideration, it is incumbent on all who have the care of youth, never to ſlip an opportunity to amend their morals: they ſhould never give them an opportunity to corrupt them, but keep them out of harm's way; and young folks ſhould reflect, that when parents and guar⯑dians abridge them of what they call pleaſures, it is done with a view to their welfare, which their infant-underſtandings will not enable them to ſee into. For occaſions of temptation tend as much to corrupt the morals, as Opportunity does to make the Thief.

*⁎* See Neceſſity has no Law.

Wherever a man Dwells, he ſhall be ſure to have a Thorn-buſh near his Door.

NO place, no condition is exempt from trou⯑ble; it is the common lot of humanity; and that which, in reality, conſtitutes our happi⯑neſs. [166]For were we to experience no wretched⯑neſs, we ſhould not be ſenſible of a freedom from it. Relief from racking pain is almoſt an atone⯑ment for the ſufferings we underwent. Man is a diſcontented being, panting for a certain ſome⯑thing, he knows not what: always coveting the ſeeming happineſs of others, and miſſing the en⯑enjoyments within his own reach.

Let him, however, obtain his utmoſt wiſh, let him be in the height of his fancied bliſs; ſome acci⯑dent will intervene at times, to ſour his joy and chequer his happy moments.

Without this thorn in the fleſh, as St. Paul calls it, without this mixture of evil with our good, we ſhould never reflect on our ſituation here, nor caſt a thought upon the world to come. Croſſes, then, and troubles, are afflictions ſent from Heaven to [167]bring us to reflection, and ſhould be conſidered as tending to our good.

The painter has here repreſented a merchant ſitting on his quay, ſurrounded with all the trea⯑ſures a world can afford; the merchandize of the Indies, that acquiſition that wealth only can com⯑mand; enjoying, in a fair day, the arrival of one ſhip, and the delightful proſpect of another com⯑ing into port. Theſe are, ſays he, the conſe⯑quences of induſtry, and the bleſſings of a concur⯑ring Providence! But in the midſt of this boaſted happineſs, and old ſervant brings him a letter an⯑nouncing the failure of his correſpondent abroad, by which he ſuffers in his fortune. A gloom im⯑mediately over-ſpreads his countenance, and all his proſpects are clouded. From the happieſt of men, he thinks himſelf the moſt wretched, arraigns the conduct of Heaven, and, "charges his God fooliſhly," with that which is merely the accident of things.—Why deſpair?—Why diſſatisfied?—Should ſuch a fatality happen, as is common to all, ſhould our fortune ſuffer ſhipwreck, it is much wiſer to ſummon our reſolution, bear up againſt the ſtroke, ſet our wreck again to work, and labour to riſe victorious from its ruins.

[168]Never let us ſuppoſe that our misfortunes are more than thoſe of others; no man is without his troubles; and could we ſee into the heart of him, whom we obſerve rolling in the midſt of pleaſures, we might poſſibly ſee a heart torn with diſappoint⯑ment, and racked with vexation. If we have more misfortunes than the reſt of our acquaintance, let us pride ourſelves in overcoming them. Inſtead of deſpairing and viewing our troubles in a hopeleſs light; it is a duty we owe, not only to ourſelves, but to our friends and relations, to exert ourſelves upon the occaſion, and uſe every honeſt endeavour to extricate ourſelves from the difficulty; for there never yet was a way in, but there was a way out, And I believe no induſtrious man can, upon re⯑flection, ſay, that he was ever ſo much embar⯑raſſed, or ever ſo unfortunately ſituated, but Pro⯑vidence pointed out a way to eſcape: ſo that let his ſituation be what it may, he may conſole him⯑ſelf, that he is not the only one that ſuffers, for, Wherever a man Dwells, he will be ſure to have a Thernbuſh near his Door.

Enough is as good as a Feaſt.

THE deſign of this Proverb, is to teach men moderation, and ſhew the abſurdity of co⯑veting more than they want. When hunger is ſa⯑tisfied, even the ſight of meat is diſguſting. Little difference between a Feaſt and a Belly-full; and when our inclinations are gratified, what more can we need? "Take no thought," ſays our Sa⯑viour, [170]"for to-morrow, what you ſhall eat, or what you ſhall drink, or wherewithal you ſhall be cloathed; for the morrow ſhall take thought for the things of itſelf." This advice of our Lord, ſeems, at firſt ſight, with the Proverb, to contradict that carefull proviſion which every prudent man ſhould make for himſelf and his family, in laying by ſome⯑thing againſt an evil day, ſo as to protect him and his from future want; but his meaning is merely to condemn that carking care which ſome fearful men are continually troubled with, and which pre⯑vents their preſent enjoyments. By the enough of the worldly man is underſtood a little more than he has; but the enough here alluded to, implies that proviſion ſufficient, with honeſt induſtry, to enable a man to ſupport himſelf and his family; not [...]at avaritious ſcraping together that knows no bounds, and that renders us churliſh and unfeeling to the wants of others. Ambition is like a ladder, where, a man having got upon one round, is diſ⯑contented till he reaches the top, and, is then un⯑happy that he can go no higher.

The painter has here given us a picture of a ſhepherd family, who, having ſatisfied their own hunger, are giving the remainder to a pauper at their door, convinced that what they have to diſpoſe [171]of is lent to the Lord, and will be returned them in time of need.

Could the unfeeling wretch, who withholds a good office from a diſtreſſed object, when he has it in his power to perform one; I ſay, could he but be ſenſible of the heart-felt pleaſure, the beneficent man enjoys within himſelf, at having fed the hun⯑gry, cloathed the naked, and made the widow's heart to ſing for joy, he would wonder at his want of nature, repine at his inhumanity, and would truly abhor himſelf. There is certainly a greater pleaſure in giving than receiving; but, indepen⯑dant of this pleaſure, it is the duty of all men to do good where they can, and beſtow a part of their income in charitable acts. Let no one ſuppoſe, that what he gives to the poor is thrown away; for God will bleſs his acts of beneficence, and, for every guinea he thus beſtows, will give him two in return. It is to the bleſſing of Providence that we owe what we have, and he who gave us that can give us more; that is to ſay, he will proſper our labours, diſpoſe the minds of men in our fa⯑vour, and put us in a ſituation to improve our for⯑tune.

But the great doctrine of the Proverb is to teach us, with St. Paul, "to be contented in that ſtate [172]in which Providence has placed us," to enjoy thoſe bleſſings God has been pleaſed to beſtow on us, and not covet thoſe out of our reach; and, like the dog and the ſhadow, loſe a preſent comfort, in ſearching for a future one. How apt are young folks, to promiſe themſelves greater happineſs at a diſtant period! The boy pleaſes himſelf with thinking, that, when he becomes a man, he ſhall be at the ſummit of his wiſhes; but when that period arrives, he looks forward to ſomething more diſtant. It is idle and boyiſh: our life is very ſhort, and paſſes away very imperceptibly; and the only true happineſs, is a quiet mind, and the peaceable enjoyment of the preſent moment. Riches bring with them, trouble and care; and in coveting more than we want, we wiſh for anxieties, that would load and oppreſs us. The chief of our wants are of our own creating,—Nature is ſa⯑tisfied with a very little, and Enough is as good as good as a Feaſt.

☞ See, Graſp all, Loſe all.

A Faint heart never Won fair Lady.

THIS Proverb figuratively implies, that cou⯑rage and perſeverance are abſolutely neceſ⯑ſary to effect any end we may have in view, and is, by no means, confined to the literal ſenſe; for, as a faint heart never won fair lady, ſo cowardice and ſupineneſs, will infallibly produce a failure in the accompliſhment of any other purpoſe we may aim [174]at. Before, however, we determine to perſevere, we ſhould maturely conſider the object of our at⯑tention, and how far it may tend (if ſucceſsful) to our honour, our intereſt, or our happineſs. If it is not likely to produce this good effect, we ſhould give up the attempt; but if, on the contrary, we find it may prove inſtrumental to either of them, let us puſh forward with an honeſt zeal, with a ſpirited reſolution, remembering that, nothing Venture, nothing Have.

The proverb teaches us, alſo, never to deſpair, never to relax in our endeavours to perform a good action,—never to have a faint heart in laudable purſuits;—for, though perſeverance, even in a good cauſe, is not always victorious,—though we can⯑not command ſucceſs, we may do more—we may ſtudy to deſerve it. Virtue has a ſure reward, though it may be a late one. The practice of vir⯑tue will ever afford a ſerene proſpect, a laſting happineſs, far beyond the glittering perſpectives, the momentary tranſports of deluſive vice. It is ſurely natural for an honeſt man to purſue, with an anxious alacrity, thoſe purpoſes that are worthy of him; to preſerve, throughout, a conſiſtent perſe⯑verence; not to be frightened by ideal obſtacles, or, "make mountains of mole-hills."

[175]But to apply the Proverb—Perhaps it will be difficult to find a more ſignificant alluſion, than the one here adopted. To poſſeſs the real object of our affections, is one of the moſt ſolicitous purſuits of mankind. Moſt other deſires have their riſe from the prejudice of education; but this derives its birth from nature. Though the ruling paſſion of mankind is a thirſt for gain, yet this often leads to the perverſion of honour, virtue, and goodneſs; whereas, the one we are ſpeaking of confirms them all.

Let us underſtand, then, that the perſeverance recommended, is only in thoſe purſuits, which, when overtaken, will repay our labour with placid ſatisfaction; and will afford us pleaſure on con⯑templation. A heedleſs inſolicitude betrays an in⯑difference for the object we aim at, whilſt an aſſi⯑duous and important care, ſhews the value of thoſe ſources from whence they ſpring.

The Tar in our print, like the element on which he gains his livelihood, has his calm and boiſterous moments; but in the moſt violent of the latter, he acts with prudence; and in the ſmootheſt even of the former, carefully avoids every thing that is in⯑diſcreet. A wife is the object of his wiſhes—He meets with a woman whom he fancies he ſhould [176]like, attacks her with boldneſs, accoſts her under the conſciouſneſs of acting honourably, and declares his paſſion for her with his natural bluntneſs and ho⯑neſty. She liſtens to his propoſals, and crowns his wiſhes, by accepting his offers. Modeſty, on her part, compels a faint reſiſtance; but his perſeve⯑rance conquers all. She is ſorry at having given him a moment's pain, and wonders why ſhe did ſo.

The church is now before him, here he takes her for his wife, makes her his own, bleſſes him⯑ſelf for his bold enterpriſe, convinced that, if we mean to take our game, we ſhould, if poſſible, never loſe ſight of the chace; and happy in the reflection that he has profited by the Proverb, A Faint heart, never Won fair Lady.

Murder will Out.

SO horrid a crime is murder in the eye of Hea⯑ven, that the wretch who can be guilty of ſuch an act, has as little chance of eſcaping the pu⯑niſhment of the law, as the puniſhment of God. The eye of Providence is ever abroad and watch⯑ful over all its works, and will never ſuffer one who robs a fellow-creature of his life to eſcape [178]with impunity. We have a ſignal inſtance of this in the ſtory to which our print alludes.

A traveller, who ſtrolled into a church-yard, to paſs the time, whilſt his dinner was preparing at the inn, took notice of a human ſkull, which a grave-digger had thrown out with the earth, in digging a grave. Whilſt his eye was upon it, it moved, a toad having crawled under it. This cir⯑cumſtance called his attention farther, and he per⯑ceived the remains of a ruſty nail, ſticking faſt in one of the temples. He took up the ſkull, ex⯑amined it, and was then led to conceive, that this nail had occaſioned the death of the man to whom it once belonged. He aſked the grave-digger, who had long been employed in that office, and grown old in his profeſſion, whether he knew whoſe ſkull that was, or who had been buried in that grave. The old man, whoſe knowledge of the pariſh reached but to all its inhabitants, and who could tell from father to ſon, where this man lay, and that man was buried, informed the tra⯑veller, that he had not opened this grave for ma⯑ny years, and that he believed the ſkull he had now thrown out belonged to a man who, on a journey, about twenty years ago, died at the adjoining Inn. He died ſuddenly, continued the old man; [179]and from a variety of circumſtances, before and after, the ill-natured world charged the landlord with murdering him. Some enquiry was made, but it ended in nothing. God forbid any thing, I may ſay, ſhould hurt his character!—The man may be innocent.—The ſuſpicion is blown over and he is now reſpected.

This ſtory dwelt with our traveller. He was now more convinced than before, that the nail in the ſkull occaſioned the man's death, and that he could be no other than murdered. He flew to the Inn, cloſetted the landlord, told him what he had ſeen and heard, and charged him with the fact. The man, whoſe conſcience became inſtantly his upbraider, and "whoſe crime," like Cain's, "was more than he was able to bear," with trem⯑bling and with faultering tongue, confeſſed the fact, became his own accuſer, and thus ſuffered for the murder he had committed twenty years before. This inn-keeper having found his gueſt poſſeſſed of great property, not only robbed him of that pro⯑perty, but alſo his life, by driving a ſlender nail into his ſkull within the hair, whilſt he was aſleep, hoping, by this, that he never ſhould be diſcover⯑ed: but ſooner or later, Murder will Out.

[180]In a leſs criminal ſenſe, this Proverb teaches us, not to do wrong through the hopes of its never be⯑ing diſcovered. Many a man betrays himſelf in an unguarded moment, and many more are betrayed by means they little expect. Let a man do nothing which he is aſhamed of, nothing which his own mind condemns, and he will have no cauſe to fear a diſcovery—Honeſty is the Beſt policy—If, to hide his guilt, he tells a lie, he will be obliged to tell twenty more to conceal that lie; and the pains he takes, and the anxiety he is under to preſerve his character, is a greater puniſhment than he knows how to bear. He bears it, however, for a while, and a while only—Some unforeſeen accident brings the hidden myſtery to light; and this accumula⯑tion of guilt, not only encreaſes his diſgrace, but adds to his puniſhment. His conſcience becomes his tormentor, and his friends triumph in his ca⯑lamity; for, let a man carry on his intrigues as ſe⯑cret as he will, he is never ſecure from detection, for vice will, in the end, betray itſelf, and knavery come to light, as Murder will Out.

Little ſtrokes fell Great oaks.

WE are here taught, not to be diſcouraged at the greatneſs of any enterpriſe, for, Faint Heart never won fair Lady. Time and Patience overcometh all things; and wonderful things have been effected by perſeverance. A man, with a journey of a hundred miles before him, thinks he [182]never get through it.—Moſt aſſuredly he will not, if he never ſets out;—but let him make the attempt, and every ſtep he advances, he will find himſelf nearer to his journey's end. So is it in all we un⯑dertake.—Every thing is not to be done at once; but, by degrees, we ſhall obtain our object. It is not in the power of any man to cut down a large tree, at one ſtroke of an axe; but let him repeat thoſe ſtrokes, and he will accompliſh his purpoſe. So with the ſtone-cutters before us.

What more hard than ſtone, and what leſs eaſy to be cut? Stone can be ſawn through by degrees, and chizelled into any form we pleaſe. Bridges have been built by laying ſtone upon ſtone; and the moſt ſtupendous piles have been raiſed, and have given way to the arm of man. Flints have been worn by the feet of piſmires; and the paths of ants are eaſily diſcovered. The greateſt number is made up of units; and the wa⯑ters of the ſea, are made up with drops. The hardeſt ſtone has been hollowed out by drops of water continually falling on it.

Plutarch tells a ſtory of Sertorius, to this pur⯑poſe. To perſuade his ſoldiers, that underſtanding was more available than ſtrength, he cauſed two horſes, with long tails, to be brought out; the one [183]poor and lean, the other luſty and ſtrong. To the weak horſe, he ſets a ſtout, ſtrong, young man, and to the ſtrong horſe, a little, weak fellow; each was to pull off his horſe's tail. The young man, catch⯑ing all the tail at once in his hands, began to tug with all his ſtrength, labouring and ſweating to little purpoſe, till at laſt, being tired, he gave it up: whereas, the weak man, with more under⯑ſtanding, pulled his horſe's tail, hair by hair, and thus, by perſeverance, in a little time, got off the whole tail, without much labour; for, according to the Italian proverb, Feather by Feather, the Gooſe is plucked. In ſhort, the meaning of the Proverb is, that aſſiduity overcomes all difficulty.

In another ſenſe, it teaches us, that Light Gains make a Heavy Purſe; that is, thoſe who ſell for ſmall profit, vend more commodities, and make quicker returns of their money, than thoſe who are covetous of gain, and ſell their goods at a dearer rate. Indeed, thoſe who ſell dear, are likely to be loſers in another way; their goods remain long on hand, and frequently ſpoil and grow out of faſhion.

Under this ſenſe of the Proverb, we are taught, likewiſe, to ſave our money, for, as Little and oſten fills the Purſe, he who begins to ſave, will [184]ſoon find himſelf rich. As Rome was not built in a Day, ſo a great eſtate is not acquired in a few hours; but, Every Little makes a Mickle; and great things riſe from ſmall beginnings.

In a religious ſenſe, we learn from the ſcene before us, that perſeverance in well-doing, is the way to be ſaved. No man can lay ſiege to Hea⯑ven and take it by violence: but if he purſues the path that leads to it, and holds out to the end, he will then be within reach, and may lay hold of the crown of life.

In a word, whatever object we may have in view, let us keep our eyes fixed upon it, make uſe of the means that are in our power to obtain it, perſevere in thoſe means, never be diſcouraged, or give the point up, and we ſhall gradually accom⯑pliſh our aim.—Few difficulties are ſo great as not to be overcome; for Little ſtrokes fell Great oaks.

Better Late than Never.

IT is certainly wiſer, both in the religious and civil ſenſe of this Proverb, to begin a thing early than late; but, if we miſs an early appli⯑cation, it is better to take up uſeful matter late, than not to take it up at all; for as, in a civil light, to leave a thing undone, which we had in our power to do, is unwiſe; ſo, in a religious one, to [186]"leave undone thoſe things which we ought to have done," is criminal; for, the ſin of omiſſion is equal to that of commiſſion: that is to ſay, he who omits to perform a duty, enjoined by religion, is equally culpable with him who commits a ſin which religion forbids; of courſe, if we have neg⯑lected to perform any poſitive duty, let us ſet about it, be it ever ſo late, for—better Late than Never.

Our deſigner, in the ſcene before us, has re⯑preſented the refuſe, or lower claſs of people, at⯑tending, at laſt, to the voice of religion. He has ſuppoſed them a long time abandoned to vice, and deaf to the whiſpers of conſcience. He has hu⯑mourouſly pictured without, a wretch riding poſt to the devil, and one of his imps behind him, flogging on the poor jade of a horſe, to increaſe the haſte of this man's overthrow, who, mad as he ſeems in his career, has nothing in proſpect but a gibbet in this life, and eternal puniſhment in the next; yet ſuch is the infatuation of men, that they will purſue their inclinations, though they tend immediately to their deſtruction.

Happy is it for ſuch men, that there is a God above, who often takes compaſſion on their weak⯑neſs, and exerts himſelf to bring them back from the error of their ways! He awakens them from [187]their deadly lethargy, by the calls of Conſcience, that ſecret monitor, that always tells a man when he does right or wrong, and leads him to his temple, there to hear the truths of religion, from the mouth of his prieſts. Impreſſed with theſe divine truths, they become convinced of their er⯑rors, are aſhamed of having lived ſo long in ſin and wickedneſs, acknowledge that it never is too Late to Repent, and become intirely new crea⯑tures.

A regular attendance at divine worſhip, is a duty we owe not only to God, but to ourſelves. The mind is there diſpoſed to hear religious truths; and, when uttered with ſolemnity, becoming their Author, and the ſacredneſs of the place, they make ſuch an impreſſion on the mind, as is likely to continue with us. We owe every thing to God; we muſt be unnatural and ungrateful, not to return him thanks for it: and, as we can command no⯑thing of ourſelves, to whom ſhould we apply, in all our wants, but to him? "Aſk," ſays he, "and you ſhall have." Let us then pray to him, with ſincerity of heart, and there is little fear of our obtaining what we want, or that which is much better; for He is certainly the beſt judge, whe⯑ther what we aſk, will be beneficial for us, or not.

[188]Never deſpair then, or be diſcouraged at hav⯑ing offended your Maker; he is always ready to receive a penitent ſupplicant, to forgive us our ſins, and take that man to his favour, who re⯑turns to him with a contrite heart. The ſooner a man leaves off, and forſakes his evil ways, the ſooner is his pardon ſealed; but, if he has con⯑tinued in ſin ever ſo long, it is never too late to repent; and—

Better Late than Never.

Graſp all, Loſe all.

THE known fable of the Dog and the Sha⯑dow, is a true emblem of covetouſneſs. With a piece of meat in his mouth, he forded a river, and ſeeing his own ſhadow in the water, took it for another dog with a piece of meat, and endeavouring to catch at this other, let that fall which he had hold of, and thus, for the ſhadow, [190]loſt the reality. "Covetouſneſs brings nothing home;" for, in aiming at what is out of our reach, we too often loſe what we have in poſſeſſion.—A contented mind is a continual feaſt.—And, if we have enough, why ſhould we wiſh for more?—He who huſbands a little well, will make it go far⯑ther than he who has a great deal, and takes no care of it. Beſides, covetouſneſs is ſo contrary to the principles of a liberal and humane man, that it is ſure to meet with enemies. Every man ſets his face againſt it; and all that part of the world that are not nicely honeſt, which is by far the greater part of mankind, will take a pleaſure in over-reaching one who is covetous; and many a man, with a competent fortune, has riſked it, in hopes of adding to his wealth, and loſt the whole.

But, take this Proverb in another ſenſe, and it is equally true; he who is diſcontented with his pre⯑ſent ſituation, and looks forwards for a happier, ſome time to come, loſes the enjoyment he might receive at preſent, in the proſpect of what may never come to paſs; for, was a man to live 500 years, he would find no alteration in the diſpoſition of mankind. What has been will be again. "The thing that hath been," ſays Solomon, "it is that [191]which ſhall be; and that which is done, is that which ſhall be done, for there is nothing new under the ſun."—Learn then, in whatſoever ſtate you are, therewith to be content. Enjoy, with pru⯑dence, the comforts and pleaſures which your ſituation affords; and loſe not ſight of preſent happineſs, in hunting after that which is to come.

True happineſs is within every one's reach: it does not conſiſt in wealth and honours, but in a contented mind. If a man has but a competency, he has no reaſon to be diſſatisfied; for there are thouſands in the world who are not ſo bleſſed, and yet may boaſt of equal merit. A great fortune falls not to every man's lot, and yet almoſt every man may be rich; for he who has feweſt wants is richeſt. And man who has a hundred pounds a-year, and ſpends but ninety, has ten pounds to ſpare, and, of courſe, is a rich man; whereas, he who has five thouſand pounds a-year, and ſpends ſix thouſand, muſt be poor, and embarraſſed for money.

Let a man's fortune be ever ſo ſmall, if he acts his part in life well, he will be always reſpectable. Strive, therefore, to be contented with what you [192]have, and envy the wealth of no man. Improve your income, if you can, but do it with honour and liberality; and remember the old adage—All covet all loſe—and the fable of the dog—Graſp all Loſe all.

☞ See Enough is as good as a feaſt.

Every Tub muſt ſtand on its own Bottom.

WE are here taught to pay a proper regard to our own actions, as every one muſt an⯑ſwer for himſelf, and "bear his own burden." the French have a Proberb to this effect, "Every one muſt go to the will his own ſack; that is, carry his own load himſelf.

[194]Whether a man conſiders himſelf as a member of ſociety, or as a Chriſtian, he is reſponſible for his own conduct. Human laws will call him to an account in this life, and divine laws in the next.

Senſible of this truth, the painter has given us a view of the laſt Judgment, when all men will riſe from their graves, and be ſummoned before the Almighty, to give an account of themſelves; when thoſe who have lived a good life on earth, will be rewarded with everlaſting happineſs; and thoſe who have led a wicked life on earth, will be puniſhed with eternal miſery.

There are ſome caſes, where a man will be obliged to anſwer for the conduct of others, but there are none in which he will not be reſponſible for his own. If a man adviſes his neighbour to do wrong; if he aſſiſts him in doing it; if he ſees him going to do it, can prevent in and does not; he is not only equally guilty with him who does the wrong, and liable to be puniſhed in this life, but will moſt aſſuredly be called to an account in the next, not only for his own ſoul, but for that of his neighbour. The receiver, ſay our laws, is as bad as the thief; that is, he who receives ſtolen goods, knowing them to be ſtolen, and does not divulge it, is equally liable to be puniſhed with [195]the thief. If ſuch then be the caſe of things, a man ſhould be very careful how be commits ſin, or gives occaſion to others doing it.

But, though he will thus be obliged to anſwer for the miſconduct of others, let no one ſuppoſe, that if he is urged to do wrong, the perſon urging him will be the only one blamed: it is his duty to avoid the wrong, and not to liſten to ill-adviſers; for, Every Herring muſt hang by his own Gill, and every one will be puniſhed for his own faults.

Future puniſhment is a ſerious piece of buſi⯑neſs; and, was a man aware of the conſequences of a bad life, he would not dare to commit a ſin. A few years on earth is nothing to the endleſs ages of eternity; and he who, to gratify an idle paſſion, or a wicked inclination for a ſhort time, would riſk the chance of being miſerably wretched for a long futurity, can be no other than a mad⯑man. On that day of trial, when all men will be called before God and his holy angels, to give an account of their conduct whilſt on earth, ex⯑cuſes will ſtand them in little ſtead: having been led into ſin, by conſtitution, by unruly paſſions, by ill adviſers, by example, by faſhion, by inte⯑reſt or any wordly motive, will be poor and in⯑effectual pleas. If a man has done well, our Sa⯑viour, [196]the judge of all the earth, will welcome him, with a ‘Come ye bleſſed of my father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the beginning of the world.’ If he has done ill, he will re⯑ceive the dreadful ſentence, ‘Go ye curſed into everlaſting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels;’ for every one will be puniſhed or re⯑warded hereafter, according to his actions here, and Every Tub muſt ſtand upon its own Bottom.