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ous, and you will be happy. At least, you wil, by such conduct, stand the best chance for such con. sequences. I pray God to bless you both! being ever your affectionate friend,
ON THE DEATH OF HIS BROTHER,
TO MISS HUBBARD. I CONDOLE with you. We have lost a most dear and valuable relation. But it is the will of God and nature, that these mortal bodies be laid aside, when the soul is to enter into real life. This is rather an embryo state, a preparation for living. A mg] is not completely born until he be dead. Why then should we grieve that a new child is born among the immortals, a new member added to their happy society? We ara spirits. That bodies should be lent us, while while they can afford us pleasure, assist us in acquiring knowledge, or doing good to our fellow-creatures, is a kind and benevolent act of God. When they become unfit for these purposes, and afford us pain instead of pleasure, instead of an aid becomes an incumbrance, and answer none of the intentions for which they were given, it is equally kind and benevolent that a way is provided by which we may get rid of them. Death is that way. We ourselves, in some cases, prudently choose a partial death. A mangled painful limb, which cannot be restored, w willingly cut off. He who plucks out a tooth, part, with it freely, since the pain goes with it: and he who quits the whole body, parts at once with all pains, and possibilicies of pains and diseases, it was liable to, or capable of making him suffer.
Our friend and we are invited abroad on a party of pleasure, which is to last for ever. His chair was ready first; and he is gone before us. We could not all conveniently start together; and why should you
and I be grieved at this, since we are soon to follow
TO THE LATE
REV, SIR, I RECEIVED your kind letter, with your excellent advice to the people of the United States, which I read with great pleasure, and hope it will be duly regarded. Such writings, though they may be lightly passed over by many readers, yet if they make a deep inpression on one active mind in a hundred, the effects may be considerable.
Permit me to mention one little instance, which, though it relates to myself, will not be quite uninteresting to you. When I was a boy, I met with a book entitled “Essays to do good," which I think was written by your father. It has been so little regarder by a former possessor, that several leaves of it were torn out; but the remainder gave me such a turn of thinking, as to have an influence on my conJuci through life; for I have always set a greater value on the character of a doer ef good, than any other kind of reputation; and if I lave been, as you seem to think, a useful citizen, the public owes the advantage of it to that book.
You mention your being in your seventy-eighth year. I am in my seventy-ninth. We are grown old together. It is now inore than sixty years since I left Boston; but I remember well both your father and grandfather, having heard them both in the pulpit, and seen them in their houses. The last time I saw your father was the beginning of 1724, when I visited
him after iny first trip to Pennsylvania. He received me in his library; and, on my taking leave, showed ine a shorter way out of the house, through a nar. row passage, which, was crossed by a beam over head. We were still talking as I withdrew, he accompanying me behind, and I turning partly towards him, when he said hastily, “ Swop! stoop !" I did not understand him till I felt my head hit against the beam. He was a man who never missed any occa sion of giving instruction; and upon this he said to mc: “ You are young, and have the world before you: stoop as you go through it, and you will miss many hard thumps.” This advice, thus beat into iny head, has frequently been of use to me; and I often think of ic when I see pride mortified and misfortunes brought upon people by their carrying their heads 100 high.
I long much to sce again my native place; and once hoperi to lay my bones there. I left it in 1723. I visited it in 1733, 1743, 1753, and 1763; and in 1773 I was in England. In 1775 I had a sight of it, but could not enter, it being in possession of the enemy. I did hope to have been there in 1783, but could not obtain my dismission fron this employikent here, and now I fear I shall never have that happiness. My best wishes however attend my dear country, “esto perpetua," It is now blessed with an excellent constitution : may it last for ever!
This powerful monarcny continues its frienciship for the United States. It is a friendship of the utmost importance to our security, and should be carefully cultivated. Britain has not yet well digested the loss of its dominicn over us; and has still at
imes some flattering hopes of recovering it. Acci dents may increase those hopes, and encourage dan gerous attempts. A breach between us and France would i fallibly bring the English again upon ou backs: and yet we have some wild boasts among our country:nen, who are endeavouring to weaken that connexion.
Let us preserve our reputation, by performing oun engagements; our credit, by fulfilling our contracts; and our friends, by gratitude and kindness : for wo
know not how SUOP we may again have occasion for all of them. ' With great and sincere esteeni,
I have the honour to be,
THE WHISTLE A True Story-- Written to his Nephew. WHEN I was a child, at seven years old, my friends, on a holiday, filled my pockets with coppers. I went directly to a shop where they sold toy's for children; and, being charmed with the sound of a whistle, that I met by the way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered him all my money for one. " I then came home, and went whistling all over the house, much pleased with my whistle, but distuling all the family. My brothers, and sisters, and cousins, understanding the bargain I had made, told me I had given four times as much for it as it was worth. This put me in mind what good things I might have bought with the rest of the money; and they laughed at me so much for my folly, that I cried with vexation; and the reflection gave me mcre rhagrin than the whistle gave me pleasure.
This, howevei, was afterwards of use to me, the impression continuing on my mind; so that often, when I was templed to buy some unnecessary thing I said to myself, Don't give too much for the whistle ; and st: I saved my money.
As I grew up, came into the world, and observed the actions of men, I thought I niet with many, very inany, who gave too much for their whistle.
When I saw any one too ambitious of court fæ vours, sacrificing his time in attendance on levees, as requise, his liberty, hus virtue, and perhaps his friends, to attain it, I have said to myself, This man gives too much for his whistle.
When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly employing himself in political bustles, neglecting his own affairs, and ruining them by that neglect; He pays indeed, says I, too much for his whistle.
If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of comfortable living, all the pleasure of doing good 10 others, all the esteem oí his fellow-citizens, and the joys of benevolent frienı.ship, for the sake of accumulating wealtı; Poor nuan, says I, you do indeed pay too much for your whistle.
When I meet a man of pieasure, sacrificing every laudable improvement of the mind, or of his fortune, to mere corporeal sensations; Mistaken man, says I, you are providing pain for yourself instead of plea. sure: you give too much for your whistle.
If I see one fond of fine clothes, fine furniture, fine equipages, all above his fortune, for which he con. tracts dents, and ends his career in prison ; Alas, says 1, he has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle.
When I see a beautiful sweet tempered girl, nar. ried to an ill-natured brute of a husband; IV hat a pity it is, says 1, that she has paid so much for a whistle, · In short, I conceived that great part of the uniseries of mankind were brought upon them by the false estimates they had made of ihe value of things, and by their giving 100 much for their whistles.
Educulion. L ADDRESS myself to all the friends of youth, an connue thers to direct their coinpassionate regaris to my whappy late, in order tu remove the prejudices of which I am the victim. There are twin sisters of us: and the two eyes of man do not more resemble. nor are capable of being upon better terms with each