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which it was impossible to get out of his hands so long as the company stayed together. The third day was engrossed after the same manner by a story of the same length, They at last began to reflect upon this barbarous way of treating one another, and by this means awakened out of that lethargy with which each of them had been seized for several years.

As you have somewhere declared, that extraordinary and uncommon characters of makind are the game which you delight in, and as I look upon you to be the greatest sportsman, or, if you please, the Nimrod among this species of writers, I thought this discovery would not be unacceptable to you. I. "I am, sir, &c."

No. 372.] WEDNESDAY, MAY 7, 1712.
-Pudet hæc opprobria nobis
Et dici potuisse, et non potuisse refelli.
OVID, Met. i. 759

To hear an open slander is a curse;
But not to find an answer is a worse.DRYDEN.

May 6, 1712.

adorned with Highland dances, are to make up the entertainment of all who are so well disposed as not to forbear a light entertainment, for no other reason but that it is to do a good action.

"I am, sir, your most humble Servant, "RALPH BEllery. "I am credibly informed, that all the insinuations which a certain writer made against Mr. Powell at the Bath, are false and groundless."

“Mr. Spectator,

a knot of parish clerks, who have taken a fancy to
one another, and perhaps settle the bills of mortality
over their half-pints. I have so great a value and
veneration for any who have but even an assenting
Amen in the service of religion, that I am afraid
lest these persons should incur some scandal by this
practice; and would therefore have them, without
raillery, advised to send the Florence and pullets
home to their own houses, and not pretend to live
as well as the overseers of the poor.

"I am, sir, your most humble Servant,
"HUMPHRY TRANSFER."

"MR. SPECTATOR,

"My employment, which is that of a broker, leading me often into taverns about the Exchange, has given me occasion to observe a certain enor mity, which I shall here submit to your animadver sion. In three or four of these taverns, I have, at different times, taken notice of a precise set of people, with grave countenances, short wigs, black clothes, or dark camlet trimmed with black, and mourning gloves and hat-bands, who meet on certain days at each tavern successively, and keep a sort of moving club. Having often met with their faces, and observed a certain slinking way in their "MR. SPECTATOR, dropping in one after another, I had the curiosity to "I AM sexton of the parish of Covent-garden, and to it by their agreeing in the singularity of their inquire into their characters, being the rather moved complained to you some time ago, that as I was toll-dress; and I find, upon due examination, they are ing into prayers at eleven in the morning, crowds of people of quality hastened to assemble at a puppet-show on the other side of the garden. I had at the same time a very great disesteem for Mr. Powell and his little thoughtless commonwealth, as if they had enticed the gentry into those wanderings: but let that be as it will, I now am convinced of the honest intentions of the said Mr. Powell and company, and send this to acquaint you, that he has given all the profits which shall arise to-morrow night by his play to the use of the poor charitychildren of this parish. I have been informed, sir, that in Holland all persons who set up any show, or act any stage-play, be the actors either of wood and May 6th. wire, or flesh and blood, are obliged to pay out of "I was last Wednesday night at a tavern in the their gains such a proportion to the honest and in-city, among a set of men who call themselves the dustrious poor in the neighbourhood: by this means lawyers' club.' You must know, sir, this club conthey make diversion and pleasure pay a tax to lasists only of attorneys; and at this meeting every bour and industry. I have been told also, that all the time of Lent, in Roman Catholic countries, the persons of condition administer to the necessities of the poor, and attend the beds of lazars and diseased persons. Our protestant ladies and gentlemen are so much to seek for proper ways of passing time, that they are obliged to punchinello for knowing what to do with themselves. Since the case is so, I desire only you would entreat our people of quality, who are not to be interrupted in their pleasure, to think of the practice of any moral duty, that they would at least fine for their sins, and give something to these poor children: a little out of their luxury and superfluity would atone, in some measure, for the wanton use of the rest of their fortunes. It would not, methinks, be amiss, if the ladies who haunt the cloisters and passages of the playhouses were, upon every offence, obliged to pay to this excellent institution of schools of charity. This method would make offenders themselves do service to the public. But in the meantime I desire you would publish this voluntary reparation which Mr. Powell does our parish, for the noise he has made in it by the constant rattling of coaches, drums, trumpets, triumphs, and battles. The destruction of Troy,

* In the original publication in folio, the motto is wanting.

one proposes the cause he has then in hand to the board, upon which each member gives his judgment according to the experience he has met with. If it happens that any one puts a case of which they have had no precedent, it is noted down by their clerk, Will Goosequill (who registers all their proceedings), that one of them may go the next day with it to a counsel. This indeed is commendable, and ought to be the principal end of their meeting; but had you been there, to have heard them relate their methods of managing a cause, their manner of drawing out their bills, and, in short, their arguments upon the several ways of abusing their clients, with the applause that is given to him who has done it most artfully, you would before now have given your remarks on them. They are so conscious that their discourses ought to be kept a secret, that they are very cautious of admitting any person who is not of their profession. When any who are not of the law are let in, the person who introduces him says he is a very honest gentleman, and he is taken in, as their cant is, to pay costs. I am admitted, upon the recommendation of one of their principals, as a very honest, good-natured fellow, that will never be in a plot, and only desires to drink his bottle and smoke his pipe. You have formerly remarked upon several sorts of clubs; and as the tendency of this

is only to increase fraud and deceit, I hope you will word. The story tells us, that the fathers were please to take notice of it.

T.

"I am, with respect, your humble Servant,

"H. No. 373.] THURSDAY, MAY 8, 1712. Fallit enim vitium specie virtutis et umbra.

more moved at this instance of modesty and ingenuity than they could have been by the most paR."thetic oration, and, in short, pardoned the guilty father for this early promise of virtue in the son.

Juv. Sat. xiv. 109. Vice oft is hid in Virtue's fair disguise, And in her borrow'd form escapes inquiring eyes. MR. LOCKE, in his treatise of the Human Understanding, has spent two chapters upon the abuse of words. The first and palpable abuse of words, he says, is when they are used without clear and distinct ideas; the second, when we are so inconstant and unsteady in the application of them, that we sometimes use them to signify one idea, sometimes another. He adds, that the result of our contemplations and reasonings, while we have no precise ideas fixed to our words, must needs be very confused and absurd. To avoid this inconvenience, more especially in moral discourses, where the same word should be constantly used in the same sense, he earnestly recommends the use of definitions. "A definition," says he, "is the only way whereby the precise meaning of moral words can be known." He therefore accuses those of great negligence who discourse of moral things with the least obscurity in the terms they make use of; since, upon the forementioned ground, he does not scruple to say that he thinks" morality is capable of demonstration, as well as the mathematics."

I know no two words that have been more abused by the different and wrong interpretations which are put upon them, than these two, modesty and assurance. To say such a one is a modest man, sometimes indeed passes for a good character; but at present is very often used to signify a sheepish, awkward fellow, who has neither good breeding, politeness, nor any knowledge of the world.

Again, a man of assurance, though at first it only denoted a person of a free and open carriage, is now sery usually applied to a profligate wretch, who can break through all the rules of decency and morality without a blush.

I shall endeavour therefore in this essay to restore these words to their true meaning, to prevent the idea of modesty from being confounded with that of sheepishness, and to binder impudence from passing for assurance.

If I was put to define modesty, I would call it "the reflection of an ingenious* mind, either when a man has committed an action for which he censures himself, or fancies that he is exposed to the censure of others."

For this reason a man truly modest is as much so when he is alone as in company, and as subject to a blush in his closet as when the eyes of multitudes are upon him.

I do not remember to have met with any instance of modesty with which I am so well pleased as that celebrated one of the young prince, whose father being a tributary king to the Romans, had several complaints laid against him before the senate, as a tyrant and oppressor of his subjects. The prince went to Rome to defend his father; but coming into the senate, and hearing a multitude of crimes proved upon him, was so oppressed when it came to his turn to speak, that he was unable to utter a

• Ingenious” seems to be here used for *** ingenuous.**

I take "assurance to be the faculty of possessing a man's self, or of saying and doing indifferent things without any uneasiness or emotion in the mind." That which generally gives a man assurance is a moderate knowledge of the world, but, above all, a mind fixed and determined in itself to do nothing against the rules of honour and decency. An open and assured behaviour is the natural consequence of such a resolution. A man thus armed, if his words or actions are at any time misrepre sented, retires within himself, and from a consciousness of his own integrity, assumes force enough to despise the little censures of ignorance and malice. Every one ought to cherish and encourage in himself the modesty and assurance I have here mentioned.

A man without assurance is liable to be made uneasy by the folly or ill-nature of every one he converses with. A man without modesty is lost to all sense of honour and virtue.

It is more than probable that the prince above I mentioned possessed both these qualifications in a very eminent degree. Without assurance, he would never have undertaken to speak before the most august assembly in the world: without modesty, he would have pleaded the cause he had taken upon him, though it had appeared ever so scandalous.

From what has been said, it is plain that modesty and assurance are both amiable, and may very well meet in the same person. When they are thus mixed and blended together, they compose what we endeavour to express when we say a modest assurance;" by which we understand the just mean between bashfulness and impudence.

I shall conclude with observing, that as the same man may be modest and assured, so it is also possible for the same to be both impudent and bashful.

We have frequent instances of this odd kind of mixture in people of depraved minds and mean education, who, though they are not able to meet a man's eyes, or pronounce a sentence without con fusion, can voluntarily commit the greatest villanies or most indecent actions.

Such a person seems to have made a resolution to do ill even in spite of himself, and in defiance of all those checks and restraints his temper and complexion seem to have laid in his way.

Upon the whole, I would endeavour to establish this maxim, that the practice of virtue is the most proper method to give a man a becoming assurance in his words and actions. Guilt always seeks to shelter itself in one of the extremes, and is sometimes attended with both.-X.

No. 374.1 FRIDAY, MAY 9, 1712.
Nil actum reputans si quid superesset agendum.
LUCAN, i. 57.

He reckon'd not the past, while aught remain'd Great to be done, or mighty to be gain'd.--Rowaz. THERE is a fault, which, though common, wants a name. It is the very contrary to procrastination. As we lose the present hour by delaying from day to day to execute what we ought to do immediately,

Ingenuity" seems here to be used in the sense of "

genuousness.”

otherwise my loss will be greater than that of Pom pey. Our personal reputation will rise or fall as we bear our respective fortunes. All my private enemies among the prisoners shall be spared. I will forget this, in order to obtain such another day. Trebutius is ashamed to see me; I will go to his tent, and be reconciled in private. Give all the men of honour, who take part with me, the terms I offered before the battle. Let them owe this to their friends who have been long in my interests. Power moderation. Galbinius is proud, and will be servile in his present fortune: let him wait. Send for Stertinius: he is modest, and his virtue is worth gaining. I have cooled my heart with reflection, and am fit to rejoice with the army to-morrow. He is a popular general, who can expose himself like a private man during a battle; but he is more popular who can rejoice but like a private wan after a victory."

What is particularly proper for the example of all who pretend to industry in the pursuit of honour and virtue, is, that this hero was more than ordinarily solicitous about his reputation, when a common mind would have thought itself in security, and given itself a loose to joy and triumph. But though this is a very great instance of his temper, I must confess I am more taken with his reflections when he retired to his closet in some disturbance upon the repeated ill omens of Calphurnia's dream, the night before his death. The literal translation of that fragment shall conclude this paper.

so most of us take occasion to sit still and throw away the time in our possession by retrospect on what is past, imagining we have already acquitted ourselves, and established our characters in the sight of mankind. But when we thus put a value upon ourselves for what we have already done, any further than to explain ourselves in order to assist our future conduct, that will give us an over-weening opinion of our merit, to the prejudice of our present industry. The great rule, methinks, should be, to manage the instant in which we stand, with forti-is weakened by the full use of it, but extended by tude, equanimity, and moderation, according to men's respective circumstances. If our past actions reproach us, they cannot be atoned for by our own severe reflections so effectually as by a contrary behaviour. If they are praiseworthy, the memory of them is of no use but to act suitably to them. Thus a good present behaviour is an implicit repentance for any miscarriage in what is past; but present slackness will not make up for past activity. Time has swallowed up all that we contemporaries did yesterday as irrevocably as it has the actions of the antediluvians. But we are again awake, and what shall we do to-day-to-day, which passes while we are yet speaking? Shall we remember the folly of last night, or resolve upon the exercise of virtue tomorrow? Last night is certainly gone, and tomorrow may never arrive. This instant make use of. Can you oblige any man of honour and virtue? Do it immediately. Can you visit a sick friend? Will it revive him to see you enter, and suspend your own ease and pleasure to comfort his weakness, and hear the impertinencies of a wretch in pain? "Be it so then. If I am to die to-morrow, that Do not stay to take coach, but be gone. Your mis- is what I am to do to-morrow. It will not be then, tress will bring sorrow, and your bottle madness. because I am willing it should be then; nor shall Go to neither- -Such virtues and diversions as I escape it, because I am unwilling. It is in the these are mentioned because they occur to all men.gods when, but in myself how, I shall die. If CalBut every man is sufficiently convinced, that to sus- phurnia's dreams are fumes of indigestion, how pend the use of the present moment, and resolve shall I behold the day after tomorrow! If they better for the future only, is an unpardonable folly. are from the gods, their admonition is not to prepare What I attempted to consider, was the mischief of me to escape from their decree, but to meet it. I setting such a value upon what is past, as to think have lived a fulness of days and of glory: what is we have done enough. Let a man have filled all there that Cæsar has not done with as much honour the offices of life with the highest dignity till yes- as ancient heroes ?-Cæsar has not yet died! Cæsar terday, and begin to live only to himself to-day, he is prepared to die." must expect he will, in the effects upon his reputation, be considered as the man who died yesterday. The man who distinguishes himself from the rest, stands in a press of people: those before him intercept his progress; and those behind him, if he does not urge on, will tread him down. Cæsar, of whom it was said that he thought nothing done while there was left any thing for him to do, went on in performing the greatest exploits, without assuming to himself a privilege of taking rest upon the foundation of the merit of his former actions. It was the manner of that glorious captain to write down what scenes he had passed through; but it was rather to keep his affairs in method, and capable of a clear review in case they should be examined by others, than that he built a renown upon any thing that was past. I shall produce two fragments of his, to demonstrate that it was his rule of life to support himself rather by what he should perform, than what he had done already. In the tablet which he wore about him the same year in which he obtained the battle of Pharsalia, there were found these loose notes of his own conduct. It is supposed, by the circumstances they alluded to, that they might be set down the evening of the same night.

"My part is now but begun, and my glory rust be sustained by the use I make of this victorv;

T.

No. 375.] SATURDAY, MAY 10, 1712.
Non possidentem multa vocaveris
Recte beatum: rectius occupat
Nomen beati, qui deorum
Muneribus sapienter uti,
Duramque callet pauperiem pati,

Pejusque letho flagitium timet.-HoR. 4 Od. ix. 45.

We barbarously call them blest
Who are of largest tenements possest.
While swelling coffers break their owner's resi
More truly happy those who can
Govern that little empire, man;
Who spend their treasure freely, as 'twas giv'n
By the large bounty of indulgent Heav'n;
Who, in a fix'd unalterable state,

Smile at the doubtful tide of Fate,
And scorn alike her friendship and her hate:
Who poison less than falsehood fear,
Loath to purchase life so dear.-SIEPNEY.

I HAVE more than once had occasion to mention a noble saying of Seneca the philosopher, that a virtuous person struggling with misfortunes, and rising above them, is an object on which the gods themselves may look down with delight. 1 shall therefore set before my reader a scene of this kind of distress in private life, for the speculation of this day.

An eminent citizen, who had lived in good fashion

"DEAREST CHILD,

cruel artifice to make this proposal at a time when he thinks our necessities must compel us to any thing; but we will not eat the bread of shame; and therefore we charge thee not to think of us, but to avoid the snare which is laid for thy virtue. Beware of pitying us: it is not so bad as you perhaps have been told. All things will yet be well, and I shall write my child better news.

aad credit, was, by a train of accidents, and by an unavoidable perplexity in his affairs, reduced to a "Your father and I have just received a letter low condition. There is a modesty usually attend- from a gentleman who pretends love to you, with a ing faultless poverty, which made him rather choose proposal that insults our misfortunes, and would to reduce his manner of living to his present cir-throw us to a lower degree of misery than any thing cumstances, than solicit his friends in order to sup- which is come upon us. How could this barbarous port the show of an estate when the substance was man think that the tenderest of parents would be gone. His wife, who was a woman of sense and tempted to supply their wants by giving up the best virtue, behaved herself on this occasion with un-of children to infamy and ruin? It is a mean and common decency, and never appeared so amiable to his eyes as now. Instead of upbraiding him with the ample fortune she had brought, or the many great offers she had refused for his sake, she redoubled all the instances of her affection, while her husband was continually pouring out his heart to her in complaints that he had ruined the best woman in the world. He sometimes came home at a time when she did not expect him, and surprised her in "I have been interrupted; I know not how I tears, which she endeavoured to conceal, and always was moved to say things would mend. As I was put on an air of cheerfulness to receive him. To going on, I was startled by the noise of one that lessen their expense, their eldest daughter (whom I knocked at the door, aud hath brought us an unexshali call Amanda) was sent into the country, to pected supply of a debt which has long been owing. the house of an honest farmer, who had married a Oh! I will now tell thee all. It is some days i servant of the family. This young woman was ap- have lived almost without support, having conveyed prehensive of the ruin which was approaching, and what little money I could raise to your poor father. had privately engaged a friend in the neighbourhood Thou wilt weep to think where he is, yet be assured to give her an account of what passed from time to he will be soon at liberty. That cruel letter would time in her father's affairs. Amanda was in the have broke his heart, but I have concealed it from bloom of her youth and beauty; when the lord of him. I have no companion at present besides little the manor, who often called in at the farmer's house Fanny, who stands watching my looks as I write, as he followed his country sports, fell passionately and is crying for her sister. She says she is sure in love with her. He was a man of great genero-you are not well, having discovered that my present sity, but, from a loose education, had contracted a trouble is about you. But do not think I would hearty aversion to marriage. He therefore enter- thus repeat my sorrows to grieve thee. No; it is tained a design upon Amanda's virtue, which at to entreat thee not to make them insupportable, by present he thought fit to keep private. The inno-adding what would be worse than all. Let us bear cent creature, who never suspected his intentions, cheerfully an affliction which we have not brought was pleased with his person; and, having observed on ourselves, and remember there is a Power who his growing passion for her, hoped by so advan- can better deliver us out of it than by the loss of tageous a match she might quickly be in a capacity thy innocence. Heaven preserve my dear child! of supporting her impoverished relations. One day, Thy affectionate Mother, as he called to see her, he found her in tears, over a letter she had just received from her friend, which gave an account that her father had lately been stripped of every thing by an execution. The lover, who with some difficulty found out the cause of her grief, took this occasion to make her a proposal. It is impossible to express Amanda's confusion when she found his pretensions were not honourable. She was now deserted of all her hopes, and had no power to speak, but, rushing from him in the utmost disturbance, locked herself up in her chamber. He immediately dispatched a messenger to her father with the following letter:

"SIR, "I have heard of your misfortunes, and have offered your daughter, if she will live with me, to settle on her four hundred pounds a-year, and to lay down the sum for which you are now distressed. I will be so ingenuous as to tell you that I do not intend marriage; but if you are wise, you will use your authority with her not to be too nice, when she has an opportunity of saving you and your family, and of making herself happy.

"I am," &c.

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66

deliver this letter to Amanda, carried it first to bis The messenger, notwithstanding he promised to master, who he imagined would be glad to have an His master was impatient to know the success of opportunity of giving it into her hands himself. his proposal, and therefore broke open the letter moved at so true a picture of virtue in distress; but privately to see the contents. He was not a little at the same time was infinitely surprised to find his offers rejected. However, he resolved not to suppress the letter, but carefully sealed it up again, and carried it to Amanda. All his endeavours to see her were in vain till she was assured he brought a letter from her mother. He would not part with it but upon condition that she would read it without leaving the room. Whilst she was perusing it, he fixed his eyes on her face with the deepest attention. Her concern gave a new softness to her beauty, and, when she burst into tears, he could no longer refrain from bearing a part in her sorrow, and telling her, that he too had read the letter, and was resolved to make reparation for having been the occasion of it. My reader will not be displeased to see the second epistle which, he now wrote to Amanda's mother.

"MADAM,

"I am full of shame, and will never forgive myself if I have not your pardon for what I lately, wrote. It was far from my intention to add troubla

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"MR. SPECTATOR,

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from time to time. The watchman was so affected
with it, that he bought her, and has taken her in
partner, only altering their hours of duty from night
to day. The town has come into it, and they live
very comfortably. This is the matter of fact. Now
I desire you, who are a profound philosopher, to
consider this alliance of instinct and reason. Your
speculation may turn very naturally upon the force
the superior part of mankind may have upon the
spirits of such as, like this watchman, may be very
near the standard of geese. And you may add to
this practical observation, how, in all ages and
times, the world has been carried away by odd un-
accountable things, which one would think would
pass upon no creature which had reason; and under
the symbol of this goose, you may enter into the
manner and method of leading creatures with their
eyes open through thick and thin, for they know not
what, they know not why.

"All which is humbly submitted to your specta
torial wisdom, by,
Sir,

66

"Your most humble Servant,
"MICHAEL GANDER."

"MR. SPECTATOR,

"I have for several years had under my care the “I HAVE observed that the officer you some time government and education of young ladies, which ago appointed as inspector of signs, has not done trust I have endeavoured to discharge with due re his duty so well as to give you an account of very gard to their several capacities and fortunes. I have many strange occurrences in the public streets, left nothing undone to imprint in every one of them which are worthy of, but have escaped, your notice. a humble courteous mind, accompanied with a Among all the oddnesses which I have ever met graceful becoming mien, and have made them pretty with, that which I am now telling you gave me most much acquainted with the household part of family delight. You must have observed that all the cries affairs; but still I find there is something very much in the street attract the attention of the passengers, wanting in the air of my ladies, different from what and of the inhabitants in the several parts, by some- I have observed in those who are esteemed your thing very particular in their tone itself, in the fine-bred women. Now, Sir, I must own to you, I dwelling upon a note, or else making themselves never suffered my girls to learn to dance; but since wholly unintelligible by a scream. The person II have read your discourse of dancing, where you am so delighted with has nothing to sell, but very gravely receives the bounty of the people, for no other merit but the homage they pay to his manner of signifying to them that he wants a subsidy. You must sure have heard speak of an old man who walks about the city, and that part of the suburbs which lies beyond the Tower, performing the office of a day-watchman, followed by a goose, which bears the bob of his ditty, and confirms what he says with a Quack, quack." I gave little heed to the mention of this known circumstance till, being the other day in those quarters, I passed by a decrepit old fellow, with a pole in his hand, who just then was bawling out, Half an hour after one o'clock and immediately a dirty goose behind made her response, Quack, quack, I could not forbear attending this grave procession for the length of half a street, with no small amazement to find the whole place so familiarly acquainted with a melancholy midnight voice at noon-day, giving them the hour, and exhorting them of the departure of time, with a bounce at their doors. While I was full of this novelty, I went into a friend's house, and told him how I was diverted with their whimsical monitor and his equipage. My friend gave me the history; and interrupted my commendation of the man, by telling me the livelihood of these two animals is purchased rather by the good parts of the goose than of the leader; for it seems the peripatetic who walked before her was a watchman in that neighbourhood; and the goose of herself, by frequent hearing this tone, out of her natural vigilance, not only observed, but answered it very regularly

have described the beauty and spirit there is in regular motion, I own myself your convert, and resolve for the future to give my young ladies that accomplishment. But upon imparting my design to their parents, I have been made very uneasy for some time, because several of them have declared, that if I did not make use of the master they recommended, they would take away their children. There was Colonel Jumper's lady, a colonel of the train-bands, that has a great interest in her parish; she recommends Mr. Trot for the prettiest master in town; that no man teaches a jig like him; that she has seen him rise six or seven capers together with the greatest ease imaginable; and that his scholars twist themselves more ways than the scholars of any master in town; besides, there is Madam Prim, an alderman's lady, recommends a master of their own name, but she declares he is not of their family, yet a very extraordinary man in his way; for, besides a very soft air he has in dancing, be gives them a particular behaviour at a tea-table, and in presenting their snuff-box; teaches to twirl, slip, or flirt a fan, and how to place patches to the best advantage, either for fat or lean, long or oval faces; for my lady says there is more in these things than the world imagines. But I must confess, the major part of those I am concerned with leave it to me. I desire, therefore, according to the enclosed direction, you would send your correspondent who bas writ to you on that subject to my house. If proper application this way can give innocence new charms, and make virtue legible in the countenance, I shall spare no charge to make my scholars, in their verg

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