I here put the cafe, even at the worst, by supposing (what seldom happens) that a course of virtue makes us miferable in this life; but if we suppose (as it generally happens) that virtue will make us more happy, even in this life, than a contrary course of vice; how can we sufficiently admire the stupidity or madness of those persons who are capable of making so ab. furd a choice!

Every wife man, therefore, will consider this life only as it may conduce to the happiness of the other, and chearfully sacrifice the pleasures of a few years to those of an eternity. Spectator.

§5. The Advantages of a good Education. I confider an human foul without education like marble in the quarry, which shews none of its inherent beauties, until the skill of the polisher fetches out the colours, makes the surface shine, and discovers every ornamental cloud, spot, and vein, that runs through the body of it. Education, after the fame manner, when it works upon a noble mind, draws out to view every latent virtue and perfection, which, with out such helps, are never able to make their appearance.

If my reader will give me leave to change the allusion so foon upon him, I shall make use of the same instance to illustrate the force of education, which Ariftotle has brought to explain his doctrine of substantial forms, when he tells us that a statue lies hid in a block of marble; and that the art of the statuary only clears away the fuperfluous matter, and removes the rubbish. The figure is in the stone, and the sculptor only finds it. What sculpture is to a block of marble, education is to an human foul. The philosopher, the saint, or the hero, the wife, the good, or the great man, very often lie hid and concealed in a plebeian, which a proper education might have dif-interred, and have brought to light. I am therefore much delighted with reading the accounts of favage nations, and with contemplating those

virtues which are wild and uncultivated; to see courage exerting itself in fierceness, resolution in obftinacy, wisdom in cunning, patience in fullenness and despair.

Men's passions operate variously, and appear in different kinds of actions, according as they are more or less rectified and swayed by reason. When one hears of negroes, who upon the death of their mafters, or upon changing their service, hang themselves upon the next tree, as it frequently happens in our American plantations, who can forbear admiring their fidelity, though it expresses itself in so dreadful a manner? What might not that favage greatness of foul, which appears in these poor wretches on many occafions, be raised to, were it rightly cultivated? And what colour of excufe can there be for the contempt with which we treat this part of our species; that we should not put them upon the common foot of humanity; that we should only set an infignificant fine up. on the man who murders them; nay, that we should, as much as in us lies, cut them off from the prospects of happiness in another world, as well as in this, and deny them that which we look upon as the proper means for attaining it !

It is therefore an unspeakable bleffing to be born in those parts of the world where wisdom and knowledge flourish; though it must be confessed, there are, even in these parts, several poor uninstructed persons, who are but little above the inhabitants of those nations of which I have been here speaking; as those who have had the advantages of a more liberal education, rise above one another by several different degrees of perfection. For, to return to our statue in the block of marble, we fee it sometimes only begun to be chipped, sometimes rough-hewn, and but just sketched into an human figure; fometimes we fee the man appearing distinctly in all his limbs and features; sometimes we find the figure wrought up to great elegancy; but seldom meet with any to which the hand of a Phidias or a Praxiteles could not give several nice touches and finishings. Spectator.

§6. The Disadvantages of a bad Education.

Sir, I was condemned by some disaftrous influence to be an only fon, born to the apparent profpect of a large fortune, and allotted to my parents at that time of life when fatiety of common diversions allows lows the mind to indulge parental affection with greater intenseness. My birth was celebrated by the tenants with feasts, and dances, and bagpipes; congratulations were fent from every family within ten miles round; and my parents discovered, in my first cries, such tokens of future virtue and understanding, that they declared themselves determined to devote the remaining part of life to my happiness and the encrease of their estate.

The abilities of my father and mother were not perceptibly unequal, and education had given neither much advantage over the other. They had both kept good company, rattled in chariots, glittered in playhouses, and danced at court, and were both expert in the games that were in their times called in as auxiliaries against the intrusion of thought.

When there is such a parity between two perfons associated for life, the dejection which the husband, if he be not completely ftupid, must always fuffer for want of fuperiority, finks him to submissiveness. My mamma therefore governed the family without controul; and except that my father still retained some authority in the ftables, and now and then, after a supernumerary bottle, broke a looking-glass or china-dish to prove his fovereignty, the whole course of the year was regulated by her direction, the servants received from her all their orders, and the tenants were continued or dismissed at her difcretion.

She therefore thought herself entitled to the superintendance of her son's education; and when my father, at the instigation of the parson, faintly proposed that I should be sent to school, very positively told him, that she would not fuffer a fine child to be ruined; that she never knew any boys at a grammar-school, that could come into a room without blushing, or fit at the table without some aukward uneasiness ; that they were always putting themselves into danger by boisterous plays, or vitiating their behaviour with mean company; and that, for her part, she would rather follow me to the grave, than see me tear my cloaths, and hang down my head, and freak about with dirty shoes and blotted fingers, my hair unpowdered, and my hat

uncocked.

My father, who had no other end in his proposal than to appear wife and manly, foon acquiefced, fince I was not to live by my learning; for indeed, he had known very few students that had not some stiff

ness in their manner. They therefore agreed, that a domestic tutor should be procured; and hired an honest gentleman of mean conversation and narrow sentiments, but whom having passed the common forms of literary education, they implicitly concluded qualified to teach all that was to be learned from a scholar. He thought himself sufficiently exalted by being placed at the same table with his pupil, and had no other view than to perpetuate his felicity by the utmost flexibility of fubmiffion to all my mother's opinions and caprices. He frequently took away my book, left I should mope with too much application, charged me never to write without turning up my ruffles, and generally brushed my coat before he dismissed me into the parlour.

He had no occafion to complain of too burthensome an employment; for my mother very judiciously confidered, that I was not likely to gro grow politer in his company, and suffered me not to pass any more time in his apartment than my leffon required. When I was summoned to my task, she enjoined me not to get any of my tutor's ways, who was seldom mentioned before me but for practices to be avoided. I was every moment admonished not to lean on my chair, cross my legs, or swing. my hands like my tutor; and once my mother very seriously deliberated upon his total dismission, because I began, she said, to learn his manner of sticking on my hat, and had his bend in my shoulders, and his totter in my gait.

Such, however, was her care, that I escaped all these depravities; and when I was only twelve years old, had rid myself of every appearance of childith diffidence. I was celebrated round the country for the petulance of my remarks, and the quickness of my replies; and many a scholar five years older than myself, have I dashed into confufion by the steadiness of my countenance, filenced by my readiness of repartee, and tortured with envy by the address with which I picked up a fan, presented a snuff-box, or received an empty tea-cup.

At fourteen I was compleatly skilled in all the niceties of dress, and I could not only enumerate all the variety of filks, and diftinguish the product of a French loom, but dart my eye through a numerous company, and observe every deviation from the reigning mode. I was universally skilful in all the changes of expensive

expenfive finery; but as every one, they say, has fomething to which he is particularly born, was eminently knowing in Bruffels lace.

The next year faw me advanced to the trust and power of adjusting the ceremonial of an affembly. All received their partners from my hand, and to me every stranger applied for introduction. My heart now difdained the instructions of a tutor; who was rewarded with a small annuity for life, and left me qualified, in my own opinion, to govern myfelf.

In a short time I came to London, and as my father was well known among the higher classes of life, foon obtained admillion to the most splendid assemblies, and most crowded card-tables. Here I found myself universally caressed and applauded; the ladies praised the fancy of my clothes, the beauty of my form, and the foftness of my voice; endeavoured in every place to force themselves to my notice; and invited, by a thousand oblique folicitations, my attendance to the playhouse, and my falutations in the Park. I was now happy to the utmost extent of my conception; I passed every morning in dress, every afternoon in vifits, and every night in some select assemblies, where neither care nor knowledge were suffered to moleft us,

After a few years, however, these delights became familiar, and I had leifure to look round me with more attention. I then found that my flatterers had very little power to relieve the languor of fatiety, or recreate weariness, by varied amusement; and therefore endeavoured to enlarge the sphere of my pleasures, and to try what fatisfaction might be found in the society of men. I will not deny the mortification with which I perceived that every man whose name I had heard mentioned with respect, received me with a kind of tenderness nearly bordering on compaflion; and that those whose reputation was not well established, thought it necessary to justify their understandings, by treating me with contempt. One of these witlings elevated his crest, by asking me in a full coffeehouse the price of patches; and another whispered, that he wondered Miss Frisk did not keep me that afternoon to watch her squirrel.

When I found myself thus hunted from all mafculine conversation by those who were themselves barely admitted, I returned to the ladies, and refolved to dedicate

my life to their service and their pleasure. But I find that I have now loft my charms. Of those with whom I entered the gay world, fome are married, fome have retired, and fome have fo much changed their opinion, that they scarcely pay any regard to my civilities, if there is any other man in the place. The new flight of beauties, to whom I have made my addresses, fuffer me to pay the treat, and then titter with boys. So that I now find myself welcome only to a few grave ladies, who, unacquainted with all that gives either use or dignity to life, are content to pass their hours between their bed and their cards, without esteem from the old, or reverence from the young.

I cannot but think, Mr. Rambler, that I have reason to complain; for furely the females ought to pay fome regard to the age of him whose youth was pafled in endeavours to please them, They that encourage folly in the boy, have no right to punish it in the man. Yet I find, that though they lavish their first fondness upon pertness and gaiety, they foon transfer their regard to other qualities, and ungratefully abandon their drers to dream out their last years inty and contempt.

am, &c. Florentulus. Rambler.

§7. Omniscience adnipresence of the Deity, together with the Immensity of his Works.

I was yesterday, about fun-fet, walking in the open fields, till the night insensibly fell upon me. I at first amused myself with all the richness and variety of colours which appeared in the western parts of heaven: in proportion as they faded away and went out, several stars and planets appeared one after another, till the whole firmament was in a glow. The blueness of the æther was exceedingly heightened and enlivened by the season of the year, and the rays of all those luminaries that paffed through it. The galaxy appeared in its most beautiful white. To complete the scene, the full moon rose at length in that clouded majesty which Milton takes notice of, and opened to the eye a new picture of nature, which was more finely shaded, and disposed among fofter lights, than that which the fun had before difco vered to us.

As I was surveying the moon walking in her brightness, and taking her progrefs among the constellations, a thought arofe

in me which I believe very often perplexes and disturbs men of ferious and contemplative natures. David himself fell into it in that reflexion, When I consider the 'heavens the work of thy fingers, the moon 'and the flars which thou hast ordained, 'what is man that thou art mindful of thim, and the son of man that thou re'gardest him!' In the same manner, when I confidered that infinite host of itars, or, to speak more philofophically, of funs, which were then thining upon me with those innumerable fets of planets or worlds, which were moving round their respective funs; when I ftill enlarged the idea, and fuppofed another heaven of funs and worlds ring still above this which we discovered, and thefe ftill enlightened by a fuperior firmament of luminaries, which are planted at so great a diflance, that they may appear to the inhabitants of the former as the flars do to us; in short, while I purLed this thought, I could not but reffect on that little infignificant figure which I mylef bore amidit the immensity of God's

Works.

Were the fun, which enlightens this part of the creation, with all the host of planetary worlds that move about him, utterly extinguified and annihilated, they would not be miffed, more than a grain of fand upon the fea-shore. The space they poisess is so exceedingly little in comparifon of the whole, it would scarce make a blank in the creation. The chasm would be imperceptible to an eye, that could take in the whole compass of nature, and pafs from one end of the creation to the cher: as it is poffible there may be such a sente in ourselves hereafter, or in creatures which are at present more exalted than carselves. We see many ftars by the help of glasses, which we do not discover with car naked eyes; and the finer our telescopes are, the more still are our discoveries. Haygenius carries this thought so far, that he does not think it impoflible there may be fars whose light is not yet travelled down to us fince their first creation. There is no question but the universe has certain bounds fet to it; but when we consider that it is the work of infinite power, prompted by infinite goodness, with an infinite space to exert itself in, how can our imagination fet any bounds to it?

To return, therefore, to my first thought, I could not but look upon myself with fecret herrer, as a being that was not worth the smallest regard of one who had so great

work under his care and superinten

dency. I was afraid of being overlooked amidst the immenfity of nature, and loft among that infinite variety of creatures, which in all probability fwarm through all these immeasurable regions of matter.

In order to recover myself from this mortifying thought, I confidered that it took its rife from those narrow conceptions, which we are apt to entertain of the divine nature. We ourselves cannot attend to many different objects at the fame time, If we are careful to inspect some things, we must of course neglect others. This imperfection which we observe in ourselves, is an imperfection that cleaves in some degree to creatures of the highest capacities, as they are creatures, that is, beings of finite and limited natures. The prefence of every created being is confined to a certain measure of space, and confequently his observation is stinted to a certain number of objects. The sphere in which we move, and act, and understand, is of a wider circumference to one creature than another, according as we rise one above another in the icale of existence. But the widest of these our spheres has its circumference. When therefore we reflect on the divine nature, we are so used and accustomed to this imperfection in ourselves, that we cannot forbear in some meafure afcribing it to him in whom there is no shadow of imperfection. Our reason indeed assures us, that his attributes are infinite: but the poorness of our conceptions is such, that it cannot forbear setting bounds to every thing it contemplates, till our reason comes again to our fuccour, and throws down all those little prejudices which rife in us unawares, and are natural to the mind of man.

We shall therefore utterly extinguish this melancholy thought, of our being overlooked by our Maker in the multiplicity of his works, and the infinity of those objects among which he seems to be incefsantly employed, if we confider, in the first place, that he is omnipresent; and in the second, that he is omniscient.

If we confider him in his omniprefence: his being passes through, actuates, and fupports the whole frame of nature. His creation, and every part of it, is full of him. There is nothing he has made, that is either so diftant, so little, or fo inconfiderable, which he does not essentially inhabit. His substance is within the substance of every being, whether material or immaterial, and as intimately present to it, as that being is to itself. It would be an imperfuction

fection in him, were he able to move out of one place into another, or to draw himself from any thing he has created, or from any part of that space which he diffused and spread abroad to infinity. In short, to fpeak of him in the language of the old philosophers, he is a being whose centre is every where, and his circumference no where.

In the second place, he is omniscient as well as omnipresent. His omniscience indeed necessarily and naturally flows from his omniprefence. He cannot but be conscions of every motion that arifes in the whole material world, which he thus effentially pervades; and of every thought that is stirring in the intellectual world, to every part of which he is thus intimately united.

Several moralists have confidered the creation as the temple of God, which he has built with his own hands, and which is filled with his prefence. Others have considered infinite space as the receptacle, or rather the habitation of the Almighty: but the nobleft and most exalted way of confidering this infinite space, is that of Sir Ifaac Newton, who calls it the fenforium of the Godhead. Brutes and men have their fenforiola, or little fenforiums, by which they apprehend the presence and perceive the actions of a few objects, that lie contiguous to them. Their knowledge and observation turn within a very narrow circle. But as God Almighty cannot but perceive and know every thing in which he resides, infinite space gives room to infinite knowledge, and is, as it were, an organ to omnisci

ence.

Were the foul separate from the body, and with one glance of thought should start beyond the bounds of the creation, should it for millions of years continue its progress through infinite space with the same activity, it would still find itself within the embrace of its Creator, and encompassed round with the immensity of the Godhead. While we are in the body he is not less present with us, because he is concealed from us. Oh that I knew where • I might find him! (says Job.) Behold • I go forward, but he is not there; and • backward, but I cannot perceive him: ⚫ on the left hand, where he does werk, • but I cannot behold him: he hideth him• self on the right hand that I cannot see him. In short, reason as well as revelation, assures us, that he cannot be absent from us, notwithstanding he is undiscovered by us.

In this confideration of God Almighty's omnipresence and omniscience, every uncomfortable thought vanishes. He cannot but regard every thing that has being, efpecially such of his creatures who fear they are not regarded by him. He is privy to all their thoughts, and to that anxiety of heart in particular, which is apt to trouble them on this occasion; for, as it is impoffible he should overlook any of his creatures; so we may be confident that he re gards, with an eye of mercy, those who endeavour to recommend themselves to his notice, and in unfeigned humility of heart think themselves unworthy that he should be mindful of them. Spectator.

$8. Motives to Piety and Virtue, drawn from

Omniscience

the Deity.

and

Omnipresence of the

In one of your late papers, you had occasion to consider the ubiquity of the Godhead, and at the fame time to shew, that as he is present to every thing, he cannot but be attentive to every thing, and privy to all the modes and parts of its existence: or, in other words, that his omniscience and omnipresence are co-existent, and run together through the whole infinitude of space. This confideration might furnish us with many incentives to devotion, and motives to morality; but as this subject has been handled by several excellent writers, I shall confider it in a light in which I have not seen it placed by others.

First, How disconsolate is the condition of an intellectual being who is thus present with his Maker, but at the fame time receives no extraordinary benefit or advantage from this his prefence!

Secondly, How deplorable is the condition of an intellectual being, who feels no other effects from this his prefence, but such as proceed from divine wrath and indignation!

Thirdly, How happy is the condition of that intellectual being, who is sensible of his Maker's prefence from the secret effects of his mercy and loving-kindness!

First, How disconsolate is the condition of an intellectual being, who is thus present with his Maker, but at the same time receives no extraordinary benefit or advantage from this his presence! Every par ticle of matter is actuated by this Almighty Being which passes through it. The hea. vens and the earth, the stars and planets, move and gravitate by virtue of this great principle