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that I am always as light, active, and chearful after meals as before.
O Thou vile wicked intemperance, my sworn enemy, who art good for nothing but to murder those who follow thee; how many of my dearest friends hast thou robbed me of, in consequence of their not believing me! But thou hast not been able to destroy me according to thy wicked intent and purpose. I am still alive in spite of thee, and have attained to such an age, as to fee around me eleven dear grand-children, all of fine understandings, and amiable dispositions, all given to learning and virtue; all beautiful in their persons and lovely in their manners, whom, had I not abandoned thee thou infamous source of corruption, I would never have had the pleasure to behold. Nor would I enjoy those beautiful and convenient apartments which I have built from the ground, with such highly improved gardens,
dens, as required no small time to attain their present perfection. No, thou accursed hag, thy nature is to impoverish and destroy those who follow thee. How many wretched orphans have I seen embracing dunghills; how many miserable mothers, with their helpless infants, crying for bread, while their deluded fathers, slaves to thy devouring lusts, were wasting their substance in rioting and drunkenness!
But thou' art not content with consuming the substance, thou wouldest destroy the very families of those who are so mad as to obey thee. The temperate poor man who labours hard all day, can boast a numerous family of rosy cheeked children, while thy pampered slaves, funk in ease and luxury, often languish without an heir to their ample fortunes. But since thou art so pestilential a vice, as to poison and destroy the greatest part of mankind, I F am am determined to use my utmost endeavours to extirpate thee, at least in part. And I promise myself, that my dear grandchildren will declare eternal war against thee, and following my example, will let the world see the blessedness of a temperate life, and so expose thee, O cruel intemperance! for what thou really art, a most wicked, desperate, and mortal enemy of the children of men.
It is really a very surprising and fad thing to see persons grown to men's estate, and of fine wit, yet unable to govern their appetites, but tamely submitting to be dragged by them into such excesses of eating and drinking, as not only to ruin the best constitutions, and shorten their lives, but eclipse the lustre of the brightest parts, and bury themselves in utter contempt and uselessness. O what promiffing hopes have been shipwrecked, what immortal honours have been sacrificed at the shrine of low sensuality; suality; Happy, thrice happy, those who have early been inured to habits of self-denial, and taught to consider the gratification of their appetites as the unfailing source of diseases and death. Ye generous parents who long to fee your children adorned with virtue, and beloved as the benefactors of their kind; O teach them the unspeakable worth of self government. Unsupported by this, every advantage of education and opportunity will avail them but little: though the history of ancient worthies, and the recital of their illustrious deeds, may at times kindle up in their bosoms a flame of glorious emulation, yet alas! this glow of coveted virtue, this flush of promised honor, is transient as a gleam of winter sunshine; soon overspread and obscured by the dark clouds of sensuality.
A LETTER FROM SIGNIOR LEWIS CORNARO TO THE RIGHT REVEREND BARBARO, PATRIARCH OF AQUI* LEIA.
WHAT thanks do we not owe to the divine goodness, for this wonderful invention of writing, whereby we can easily communicate to our absent friends, whatever may afford them pleasure or improvement! By means of this most welcome contrivance, I shall now endeavour to entertain you with matters of the greatest moment. It is true indeed, that what I have to tell you is no news,—but I never told it you at the age of ninety-one. Is it not a charming thing, that I am able to tell you, that my health and strength are in so excellent a