of the former diet; but owned, that in this, as in many other things, the wrong way was the plea santest. This rage of experiment, as well as of inquiry, may lead to very serious consequences, if indulged as far as he sometimes gives us reason to think him inclined to do. He told us t'other morning, he was not at all surprised at the ancient philosopher who leaped into Etna, to be satisfied about the causes of its burning; and we have received intelligence, that he has actually been in treaty for a seat in a balloon, to resolve some doubts he has entertained on the subject of that singular invention. Now, Mr. Lounger, as, however troublesome his doubts are to his family, we by no means wish to have them cleared up quite so soon: it would be conferring a great favour on us all, if you, who are a philosopher like himself, would try to persuade Mr. Category to be contented. to take things a little more on credit than he is at present disposed to do; particularly, that he would neither think of burning himself alive, or breaking his neck, for the sake of coming at the truth all of a hurry, but submit, for the sake of his wife and children, to grope about a while longer in this world of I am, &c. errors. MARY PLAIN. `P. S. Pray don't forget to put him in mind, that there will be no disputing in heaven. VOL. XXXIX. N'59. SATURDAY, MARCH 18, 1786. ONE of the pleasures of which the idle are deprived, is that of relaxation from business. Those whom intricate and weighty affairs embarrass and fatigue, talk with envy of the leisure of the unemployed, of the bliss of retirement. But in their hours of occasional amusement, they know not the grievance of listless days, and months, and years of idleness; nor, when they pant for rest from their labours, are they aware, that it is from labour alone that rest acquires its name, and derives its enjoyment. When, in the course of my usual walk, I passed the other morning through the place where but a few days before I had met so many busy faces, and been jostled by so many hurried steps; when I saw the court-doors shut, and heard no hum within; I confess it struck me with a melancholy sort of feeling. But the first lawyer whom I encountered had a smile of satisfaction on his countenance, and congratulated himself on the suspension of those labours which last week he said had lain so heavy on him. You are free from that plague,' said he, you have no session or term-time' But you forget, my friend, that I have no vacation, 6 I contrive, however, to get through the no-business of my life with tolerable satisfaction, and if at any time an hour hangs heavy on me, I do not carry my misfortune into the streets, but like decent beggars keep my distresses at home, and am relieved by the private contributions of the humane and the charitable. It is not so with every one wire ann afflicting hand of time. Whe further on my accustomed wa, A WE shower, and took shelter in 18 quaintance in Prince's-street fee-house and confectioner's sung compassion at the sight of t lancholy faces which appea dows. It was but a tear 2 quently the gentiemes to anst had a great white 10 they could with proper p the purpose I that meal wit N° 59. SATURDAY, MARCH 18, 1786. ONE of the pleasures of which the idle are deprived, is that of relaxation from business. Those whom intricate and weighty affairs embarrass and fatigue, talk with envy of the leisure of the unemployed, of the bliss of retirement. But in their hours of occasional amusement, they know not the grievance of listless days, and months, and years of idleness; nor, when they pant for rest from their labours, are they aware, that it is from labour alone that rest acquires its name, and derives its enjoyment. When, in the course of my usual walk, I passed the other morning through the place where but a few days before I had met so many busy faces, and been jostled by so many hurried steps; when I saw the court-doors shut, and heard no hum within; I confess it struck me with a melancholy sort of feeling. But the first lawyer whom I encountered had a smile of satisfaction on his countenance, and congratulated himself on the suspension of those labours which last week he said had lain so heavy on him. You are free from that plague,' said he, you have no session or term-time' But you forget, my friend, that I have no vacation, I contrive, however, to get through the no-business of my life with tolerable satisfaction, and if at any time an hour hangs heavy on me, I do not carry my misfortune into the streets, but like decent beggars keep my distresses at home, and am relieved by the private contributions of the humane and the charitable. It is not so with every one who labours under the afflicting hand of time. When I had got a little further on my accustomed walk, I was catched in a shower, and took shelter in the house of an acquaintance in Prince's-street. As I passed the coffee-house and confectioner's shop, I was struck with compassion at the sight of the many vacant and melancholy faces which appeared at the doors and windows. It was but a little after mid-day, and consequently the gentlemen to whom these faces belonged had a great while to look forward to the hour when they could with propriety pull off their boots, and dress for the business of the table. The weather did not permit of their getting rid of this interval by a gallop, which is one of the happiest expedients for the purpose in the world, as it removes the head-ach of yesterday's dinner, gets through the time till the dinner of to-day, and gives an appetite for enjoying that meal when it comes. But my poor friends in Prince's-street had no hope of getting through the tedious interval in the society of their horses; they had before them the dismal prospect of spending three long hours in their own company, or in the company of their fellow-sufferers; and, after all, of sitting down to dinner with muddy heads and squea mish stomachs. • Mentem mortalia tangunt,' says the Poet. The distresses incident to humanity are the great nourishers of moral speculation. The mortals of Prince'sstreet touched my mind, and I could not think, without a great degree of commiseration, of the difficulty they would find in passing the time till the arrival of that important æra in the history of the day-the hour of dinner. The more I reflected, the more I was distressed on their account: for I suspect that it is not only when the morning is rainy that our gentlemen of fashion find their time heavy. The languor and restlessness |