ture, Providence and reason: happy are they who can follow such divine guides. Phil. Horatio, good night: I wish you wise in your pleasures. Hor. I wish, Philocles, I could be as wise in my pleasures, as you are pleasantly wise; your wisdom is agreeable; your virtue is amiable; and your philosophy the highest luxury. Adien! thou enchanting reasoner. - DIALOGUE II. Between Philocles and Horatio, concerning Virtue and Pleasure.-From the Pennsylvania Gazette, No. 86, July 9, 1730. Philocles. Dear Horatio, where hast thou been these three or four months? What new adventures have you fallen upon since I met you in these delightful all-inspiring fields, and wondered how such a pleasure-hunter as you could bear being alone? Horatio. O Philocles! thou best of friends, because a friend to reason and virtue! I am very glad to see you: do not you remember, I told you then, that some misfortunes in my pleasures had sent me to philosophy for relief; but now I do assure you, I can, without a sigh, leave other pleasures for those of philosophy: I can hear the word reason mentioned, and virtue praised, without laughing. Do not I bid fair for conversion, think you? Phil. Very fair, Horatio; for I remember the time when reason, virtue, and pleasure were the same thing with you when you counted nothing good but what pleased; nor any thing reasonable but what you gained by when you made a jest of a mind, and the pleasures of reflection; and elegantly placed your sole happiness, like the rest of the animal creation, in the gratification of sense. Hor. I did so; but in our last conversation, when walking upon the brow of this hill, and looking down on that broad rapid river, and yon widely extended, beautifully varied plain, you taught me another doctrine: you showed me, that self-denial, which above all things I abhorred, was really the greatest good, and the highest self-gratification, and absolutely necessary to produce even my own darling sole good, pleasure. Phil. True: I told you, that self-denial was never a duty, but when it was a natural means of procuring more pleasure, than we could taste without it: that as we all strongly desire to live, and to live only to enjoy, we should take as much care about our future as our present happiness; and not build one upon the ruins of the other: that we should look to the end, and regard consequences: and if, through want of attention, we had erred, and exceeded the bounds which nature had set us, we were then obliged, for our own sakes, to refrain, or deny ourselves a present momentary pleasure, for a future, constant, and durable good. Hor. You have shown, Philocles, that selfdenial, which weak or interested men have rendered the most forbidding, is really the most delightful and amiable, the most reasonable and pleasant thing in the world. In a word, if I understand you aright, self-denial is, in truth, self-recognizing, self-acknowledg ing, or self-owning. But now, my friend, you are to perform another promise; and, show me the path which leads up to that constant, durable, and invariable good, which I have heard you so beautifully describe, and which you seem so fully to possess. Is not this good of yours a mere chimera? Can any thing be constant in a world which is eternally changing! and which appears to exist by an everlasting revolution of one thing into another, and where every thing without us, and every thing within us, is in perpetual motion. What is this constant durable good, then, of yours? Prithee satisfy my soul, for I am all on fire, and impatient to enjoy her. Produce this eternal blooming goddess, with never fading charms; and see, whether I will not embrace her with as much eagerness and rapture as you. Phil. You seem enthusiastically warm, Horatio; I will wait till you are cool enough to attend to the sober dispassionate voice of rea son. Hor. You mistake me, my dear Philocles, my warmth is not so great as to run away with my reason: it is only just raised enough to open my faculties, and fit them to receive those eternal truths, and that durable good which you so triumphantly boast of. Begin then, I am prepared. Phil. I will, I believe; Horatio, with all your scepticism about you, you will allow that good to be constant which is never absent from you, and that to be durable, which never ends but with your being. Hor. Yes, go on. Phil. That can never be the good of a creature, which when present, the creature may be miserable, and when absent, is certainly so. Hor. I think not; but pray explain what you mean: for I am not much used to this abstract way of reasoning. Phil. I mean, all the pleasures of sense. The good of man cannot consist in the mere pleasures of sense; because, when any one of those objects which you love is absent, or cannot be come at, you are certainly miserable: and if the faculty be impaired, though the object be present, you cannot enjoy it. So that this sensual good depends upon a thousand things without and within you, and all out of your power. Can this then be the good of man? Say, Horatio, what think you, is not this a chequered, fleeting, fantastical good? Can that, in any propriety of speech, be called the good of man, which even, while he is tasting, he may be miserable; and which, consists in acting up to their chief faculty, or when he cannot taste, he is necessarily so that faculty which distinguishes them from all Can that be our good, which costs us a great creatures of a different species. The chief deal of pains to obtain; which cloys in pos- faculty in man is his reason; and consequentsessing; for which we must wait the return ly, his chief good; or, that which may be justly of appetite, before we can enjoy again? Or, called his good consists not merely in action, is that our good which we can come at without but in reasonable action. By reasonable acdifficulty; which is heightened by possession; tions, we understand those actions, which are which never ends in weariness and disappoint-preservative of the human kind, and naturally ment; and which, the more we enjoy, the better qualified we are to enjoy on? Hor. The latter, I think; but why do you torment me thus? Philocles, show me this good immediately. tend to produce real and unmixed happiness; and these actions, by way of distinction, we call actions morally good. Hor. You speak very clearly, Philocles; but, that no difficulty may remain upon your mind, pray tell me, what is the real difference between natural good and evil, and moral good and evil; for I know several people who use the terms without ideas. Phil. That may be: the difference lies only Hor. But may not a man, with a very good intention, do an evil action? Phil. I have showed you what it is not; it is not sensual, but it is rational and moral good. It is doing all the good we can to others, by acts of humanity, friendship, generosity, and benevolence: this is that constant and durable good, which will, afford content-in this, that natural good and evil, are pleasure ment and satisfaction always alike, without and pain: moral good and evil, are pleasure variation or diminution. I speak to your ex- or pain produced with intention and design. perience now, Horatio. Did you ever find For, it is the intention only that makes the yourself weary of relieving the miserable? agent morally good or bad. Or of raising the distressed into life or happiness? Or rather, do not you find the pleasure grow upon you by repetition; and that it is greater in reflection that in the act itself? Is there a pleasure upon earth to be compared with that which arises from the sense of making others happy? Can this pleasure ever be absent, or ever end but with your being? Does it not always accompany you? Doth not it lie down and rise with you, live as long as you live, give you consolation in the article of death, and remain with you in that gloomy hour, when all other things are going to forsake you, or you them? Hor. How glowingly you paint, Philocles; methinks Horatio is amongst the enthusiasts. I feel the passion: I am enchantingly convinced; but I do not know why: overborn by something stronger than reason. Sure, some divinity speaks within me; but prithee, Philocles, give me coolly the cause, why this rational and moral good so infinitely excels the mere natural or sensual. Phil. I think, Horatio, that I have clearly shown you the difference between merely natural or sensual good, and rational or moral good. Natural or sensual pleasure continues no longer than the action itself; but this divine or moral pleasure continues when the action is over, and swells and grows upon your hand by reflection: the one is inconstant, unsatisfying, of short duration, and attended with numberless ills; the other is constant, yields full satisfaction, is durable, and no evils preceding, accompanying, or following it. But if you inquire farther into the cause of this difference, and would know why the moral pleasures are greater than the sensual; perhaps the reason is the same, as in all other creatures, that their happiness or chief good Phil. Yes; but then he errs in his judgment, though his design be good: if his error is invincible, or such as, all things considered, he could not help, he is inculpable; but, if it arose through want of diligence in forming his judgment about the nature of human actions, he is immoral and culpable. Hor. I find, then, that in order to please ourselves rightly, or to do good to others morally, we should take great care of our opinions. Phil. Nothing concerns you more; for, as the happiness or real good of men consists in right action; and right action cannot be produced without right opinion; it behoves us, above all things in this world, to take care that our own opinions of things be according to the nature of things. The foundation of all virtue and happiness is thinking rightly. He who sees an action is right, that is, naturally tending to good, and does it because of that tendency, he only is a moral man; and he alone is capable of that constant, durable, and invariable good, which has been the subject of this conversation. Hor. How, my dear philosophical guide, shall be able to know, and determine certainly, what is right and wrong in life? Phil. As easily as you distinguish a circle from a square, or light from darkness. Look, Horatio, into the sacred book of nature; read your own nature, and view the relation which other men stand in to you, and you to them, and you will immediately see what constitutes human happiness, and consequently, what is right. Hor. We are just coming into town, and can say no more at present. You are my good genius, Philocles, you have showed me what by bringing on diseases, absolutely shortens is good; you have redeemed me from the life. "Sloth, like rust, consumes faster than slavery and misery of folly and vice; and made me a free and happy being. Phil. Then am I the happiest man in the world; be you steady, Horatio, never depart from reason and virtue. Hor. Sooner will I lose my existence. Good night, Philocles. Phil. Adieu, dear Horatio. POOR RICHARD'S ALMANAC. The Way to Wealth, as clearly shown in the Preface of an old Pennsylvania Almanac, intitled, Poor Richard Improved.* COURTEOUS READER, I have heard, that nothing gives an author so great pleasure, as to find his works respectfully quoted by others. Judge, then, how much I must have been gratified by an incident I am going to relate to you. I stopped my horse lately, where a great number of people were collected, at an auction of merchant's goods. The hour of the sale not being come, they were conversing on the badness of the times; and one of the company called to a plain clean old man, with white locks, "Pray, Father Abraham, what think you of the times? Will not these heavy taxes quite ruin the country? How shall we ever be able to pay them? What would you advise us to do?"-Father Abraham stood up, and replied, 'If you would have my advice, I will give it to you in short, for a word to the wise is enough," as Poor Richard says.' They joined in desiring him to speak his mind, and gathering round him, he proceeded as follows: Friends,' says he, the taxes are, indeed, very heavy, and, if those laid on by the government were the only ones we had to pay, we might more easily discharge them; but we have many others, and much more grievous to some of us. We are taxed twice as much by our idleness, three times as much by our pride, and four times as much by our folly; and from these taxes the commissioners cannot ease or deliver us, by allowing an abatement. However, let us hearken to good advice, and something may be done for us; "God helps them that help themselves,” as poor Richard says. 1. It would be thought a hard government that should tax its people one tenth part of their time, to be employed in its service: but idleness taxes many of us much more; sloth, *Dr. Franklin for many years published the Pennsylvania Almanac, called Poor Richard Saunders,] and furnished it with various sentences and proverbs, which had principle relation to the topics of industry, attention to one's own business, and frugality." These sentences and proverbs he collected and digested in the above preface, which were read with much avidity, and perhaps tended more to the formation of national character in America, than any other cause. labour wears, while the used key is always bright," as poor Richard says. "But dost thou love life, then do not squander time, for that is the stuff life is made of," as poor Richard says. How much more than is necessary do we spend in sleep! forgetting, that "the sleeping fox catches no poultry, and that there will be sleeping enough in the grave," as poor Richard says. "If time be of all things the most precious, wasting time must be," as poor Richard says, "the greatest prodigality;" since, as he elsewhere tells us, "lost time is never found again; and what we call time enough always proves little enough" let us then up and be doing, and doing to the purpose; so by diligence shall we do more with less perplexity. "Sloth makes all things difficult, but industry all easy; and he that riseth late, must trot all day, and shall scarce overtake his business at night; while laziness travels so slowly, that poverty soon overtakes him. Drive thy business, let not that drive thee; and early to bed, and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise," as poor Richard says. I a 66 'He, that So what signifies, wishing and hoping for better times! We may make these times better, if we bestir ourselves. Industry need not wish, and he that lives upon hope will die then help hands, for I have no lands," or, if fasting. There are no gains without pains; have, they are smartly taxed. hath a trade, hath an estate; and, he that hath calling, hath an office of profit and honour," as poor Richard says; but then the trade must be worked at, and the calling well followed, or neither the estate nor the office will enable us to pay our taxes. If we are industrious, we shall never starve; for, "at the working man's house, hunger looks in, but dares not enter." Nor will the bailiff or the constable enter, for "industry pays debts, while despair increaseth them."What though you have found no treasure, nor has any rich relation left you a legacy, "diligence is the mother of good luck, and God gives all things to industry. Then plow deep, while sluggards sleep, and you shall have corn to sell and to keep." Work while it is called to-day, for you know not how much you "One to-day is may be hindered to-morrow. worth two to-morrows," as poor Richard says; and farther, "never leave that till to-morrow, which you can do to-day." If you were a servant, would you not be ashamed that a good master should catch you idle? Are you then your own master? Be ashamed to catch yourself idle, when there is so much to be done for yourself, your family, your country. and your king. Handle your tools without mittens; remember, that, "the cat in gloves catches no mice," as poor Richard says. It is true, there is much to be done, and perhaps you are weak-handed; but stick to it steadily, and you will see great effects, for "constant dropping wears away stones; and by diligence and patience the mouse ate in two the cable; and little strokes fell great oaks." 'Methinks I hear some of you say, "must a man afford himself no leisure?" I will tell thee, my friend, what poor Richard says; "employ thy time well, if thou meanest to gain leisure; and since thou art not sure of a minute, throw not away an hour." Leisure is time for doing something useful; this leisure the diligent man will obtain, but the lazy man never; for "a life of leisure and a life of laziness are two things. Many, without labour, would live by their wits only, but they break for want of stock;" whereas industry gives comfort, and plenty, and respect. pleasures, and they will follow you. The diligent spinner has a large shift; and now I have a sheep and a cow, every one bids me good-morrow." 66 "Many estates are spent in the getting, Since women for tea forsook spinning and knitting, And men for punch forsook hewing and splitting." "If you would be wealthy, think of saving, as well as of getting. The Indies have not made Spain rich, because her outgoes are greater than her incomes." Away then, with your expensive follies, and you will not then have so much cause to complain of hard times, heavy taxes, and chargeable families; for "Women and wine, game and deceit, Make the wealth small, and the want great." And farther, "what maintains one vice, would bring up two children." You may think, perhaps, that a little tea, or a little punch now and then, diet a little more costly, clothes a little finer, and a little entertainment now and then, can be no great matter; but remember, Fly"many a little makes a mickle." Beware of little expences; "a small leak will sink a great ship," as poor Richard says; and again, "who dainties love, shall beggars prove;" and moreover, "fools make feasts, and wise men eat them." II. But with our industry we must likewise be steady, settled. and careful, and oversee our own affairs with our own eyes, and not trust too much to others; for, as poor Richard says, "I never saw an oft-removed tree, That throve so well as those that settled be." And again, "three removes is as bad as a fire;" and again "keep thy shop, and thy shop will keep thee;" and again, "if you would have your business done, go, if not, send." And again, "He that by the plough would thrive, And again, "the eye of a master will do more work than both his hands;" and again, "want of care does us more damage than want of knowledge;" and again, "not to oversee workmen, is to leave them your purse open." Trusting too much to other's care is the ruin of many; for, "in the affairs of this world, men are saved, not by faith, but by the want of it;" but a man's own care is profitable; for, "if you would have a faithful servant, and one that you like, serve yourself. A little neglect may breed great mischief; for want of a nail the shoe was lost, and for want of a shoe the horse was lost, and for want of a horse the rider was lost," being overtaken and slain by the enemy; all for want of a little care about a horse-shoe nail. III. So much for industry, my friends, and attention to one's own business; but to these we must add frugality, if we would make our industry more certainly successful. A man may, if he knows not how to save as he gets, "keep his nose all his life to the grindstone, and die not worth a groat at last. A fat kitchen makes a lean will;" and "Here you are all got together to this sale of fineries and nick-nacks. You call them goods, but if you do not take care, they will prove evils to some of you. You expect they will be sold cheap, and perhaps they may, for less than they cost; but, if you have no occasion for them, they must be dear to you. Remember what poor Richard says, "buy what thou hast no need of, and ere long thou shalt sell thy necessaries." And again, "at a great pennyworth pause a while." He means that perhaps the cheapness is apparent only, and not real; or the bargain, by straitening thee in thy business, may do thee more harm than good. For in another place he says, "many have been ruined by buying good penny worths." Again, "it is foolish to lay out money in a purchase of repentance;" and yet this folly is practised every day at auctions, for want of minding the almanac. Many a one, for the sake of finery on the back, have gone with a hungry belly, and half starved their families; "silks and satins, scarlet and velvets, put out the kitchen fire," as poor Richard says. These are not the necessaries of life, they can scarcely be called the conveniencies; and yet, only because they look pretty, how many want to have them? By these and other extravagancies, the genteel are reduced to poverty, and forced to borrow of those whom they formerly despised, but who, through industry and frugality, have maintained their standing; in which case it appears plainly, that "a ploughman on his legs is higher than a gentleman on his knees,” as poor Richard says. Perhaps they have had a small estate left them, which they knew not the getting of; they think "it is day, and it will never be night;" that a little to be spent out of so much is not worth minding; but "always taking out of the meal-tub, and never putting in soon comes to the bottom," as poor Richard says; and then, "when the well is dry, they know the worth of water." But this they might have known before, if they had taken his advice: "if you would know the value of money go and try to borrow some; for he that goes a borrowing goes a sorrowing," as poor Richard says; and indeed so does he that lends to such people, when he goes to get it again. Poor Dick farther advises, and says, Fond pride of dress is sure a curse, Ere fancy you consult, consult your purse." And again, 66 pride is as loud a beggar as want, and a great deal more saucy." When you have bought one fine thing, you must buy ten more, that your appearance may be all of a piece; but poor Dick says, "it is easier to suppress the first desire than to satisfy all that follow it:" and it is as truly folly for the poor to ape the rich, as for the frog to swell in order to equal the ox. "Vessels large may venture more, But little boats should keep near shore." It is, however, a folly soon punished; for, as poor Richard says, "pride that dines on vanity, sups on contempt; pride breakfasted with plenty, dined with poverty, and supped with infamy." And, after all, of what use is this pride of appearance, for which so much is risked, so much is suffered? It cannot promote health, nor ease pain; it makes no increase of merit in the person; it creates envy, it hastens misfortune. that such an edict would be a breach of your privileges, and such a government tyrannical? And yet you are about to put yourself under that tyranny, when you run in debt for such dress! your creditor has authority, at his pleasure, to deprive you of your liberty, by confining you in gaol for life, or by selling you for a servant, if you should not be able to pay him. When you have got your bargain, you may, perhaps, think little of payment; but, as poor Richard says, "creditors have better memories than debtors; creditors are a superstitious sect, great observers of set-days and times." The day comes round before you are aware, and the demand is made before you are prepared to satisfy it; or, if you bear your debt in mind, the term, which at first seemed so long, will as it lessens, appear extremely short; time will seem to have added wings to his heels as well as his shoulders. "Those have a short lent, who owe money to be paid at Easter." At present, perhaps, you may think yourselves in thriving circumstances, and that you can bear a little extravagance without injury; but For age and want save while you may, No morning sun lasts a whole day." Gain may be temporary and uncertain, but ever, while you live, expense is constant and certain; and, "it is easier to build two chimneys than to keep one in fuel," as poor Richard says: so, "rather go to bed supperless ihan rise in debt." "Get what you can, and what you get hold, "Tis the stone that will turn all your lead into gold." And when you have got the philosopher's stone, sure you will no longer complain of bad times, or the difficulty of paying taxes. IV. This doctrine, my friends, is reason and wisdom: but, after all, do not depend too much upon your own industry, and frugality, and prudence, though excellent things; for they inay all be blasted, without the blessing of Heaven; and therefore ask that blessing humbly, and be not uncharitable to those that at present seem to want it, but comfort and help them. Remember Job suffered, and was afterwards prosperous. But what madness must it be to run in debt for these superfluities! We are offered by the terms of this sale six months credit; and that perhaps has induced some of us to attend it, because we cannot spare the ready money, and hope now to be fine without it. But ah! think what you do when you run in debt; you give to another power over your liberty. If you cannot pay at the time, you will be ashamed to see your creditor, you will be in fear when you speak to him, when you will make poor, pitiful, sneaking excuses, and by degrees come to loose your veracity, And now, to conclude, "experience keeps and sink into base, downright lying; for, a dear school, but fools will learn in no other," "the second vice is lying; the first is run- as poor Richard says, and scarce in that; for, ning debt," as poor Richard says; and again it is true, "we may give advice, but we canto the same purpose, "lying rides upon debt's not give conduct:" however, remember this, back;" whereas a free-born Englishman" they that will not be counselled cannot be ought not to be ashamed nor afraid to see or helped ;" and farther, that "if you will not hear speak to any man living. But poverty often reason she will surely rap your knuckles," as deprives a man of all spirit and virtue. "It poor Richard says.' is hard for an empty bag to stand upright. What would you think of that prince, or of that government, who should issue an edict forbidding you to dress like a gentleman or gentlewoman, on pain of imprisonment or servitude? Would you not say, that you were free, have a right to dress as you please, and Thus the old gentleman ended his harangue. The people heard it, and approved the doctrine; and immediately practised the contrary, just as if it had been a common sermon, for the auction opened, and they began to buy extravagantly.-I found the good man had thoroughly studied my almanacs, and digested |