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of the pulpit. He was fo renowned, as well for the fanc tity of his life as his manner of preaching, that he had often a congregation of twenty thousand people; the men placing themselves on the one fide of his pulpit, and the women on the other, they appeared, to ufe the fi militude of an ingenious writer, like a foreft of cedars with their heads reaching to the clouds. He fo warmed and animated the people against this monftrous or. nament, that it lay under a kind of perfecution; and whenever it appeared in public, was pelted down by the rabble, who flung ftones at the perfons that wore it. But, notwithstanding this prodigy vanished while the preacher was among them, it began to appear again fome months after his departure, or, to tell it in Monfieur Paradin's own words, "The women, that, like fnails in a fright, had drawn in their horns, fhot them

out again as foon as the danger was over." This extravagance of the womens head-dreffes in that age is taken notice of by Monfieur d'Argentré in the hiftory; of Bretagne, and by other hiftorians as well as the per fon I have here quoted..

It is ufually oblerved, that a good reign is the only proper time for the making of laws against the exorbi tance of power; in the fame manner an exceffive headdrefs may be attacked the most effectually when the fashion is against it. I do therefore recommend this pa per to my female readers by way of prevention.

I would defire the fair fex to confider how impoffible it is for them to add any thing that can be ornamental to what is already the mafter-piece of nature. The head has the most beautiful appearance, as well as the highest station, in a human figure. Nature has laid out all her art in beautifying the face; fhe has touched it with vermilion, planted in it a double row of ivory, made it the feat of files and blushes, lighted it up and enlivened it with the brightnefs of the eyes, hung it on each fide with curious organs of fenfe, given it airs and graces that cannot be defcribed, and furrounded it with fuch a flowing fhade of hair, as fets all its beauties in the molt agreeable light: in fhort, the feems to have defign ed the head as the cupola to the most glorious of her works; and, when we load it with fuch a pile of fuper, numerary

numerary ornaments, we deftroy the fymmetry of the human figure, and foolishly contrive to call off the eye from great and real beauties, to childish gewgaws, ribbands, and bone lace.

XII. On the prefent and a future State.

A LEWD young fellow feeing, an aged hermit go by him barefoot," Father," fays he, "you are in a very miferable condition if there is not another world.” "True, fon," faid the hermit; but what is thy condition if there is?-Man is a creature defigned for two different states of being, or rather for two different lives. His firft life is fhort and tranfient; his fecond permanent and lafting. The queftion we are all concerned in is this, In which of these two lives it is our chief inte reft to make ourselves happy? Or, in other words, Whether we should endeavour to fecure to ourfelves the pleafures and gratifications of a life which is uncertain and precarious, and at its utmoft length of a very inconfiderable duration; or to fecure to ourselves the plea fures of a life which is fixed and fettled, and will never end? Every man, upon the first hearing of this queftion, knows very well which fide of it he ought to clofe with. But, however right we are in theory, it is plain that in practice we adhere to the wrong fide of the queftion. We make provifion for this life as though it were never to have an end; and for the other life, as though it were never to have a beginning.

Should a fpirit of fuperiour rank, who is a stranger to human nature, accidentally alight upon the earth, and take a furvey of its inhabitants; what would his notions of us be? Would not he think that we are a fpecies of beings made for quite different ends and purpofes than what we really are Muft not he imagine that we were placed in this world to get riches and honours? Would not he think that it was our duty to toil after wealth, and ftation, and title? Nay, would not he believe we were forbidden poverty by threats of eternal punishment, and enjoined to purfue our pleafures under pain of damnation? He would certainly imagine that we were influenced by a feheme of duties quite op-pofite to thofe which are indeed prefcribed to us. And, truly

truly, according to fuch an imagination, he muft conclude, that we are a fpecies of the most obedient creatures in the universe; that we are constant to our duty; and that we keep a steady eye on the end for which we were fent hither.

But how great would be his aftonishment, when he learnt that we were beings not designed to exist in this world above threefcore and ten years; and that the greatest part of this bufy fpecies fall fhort even of that age? How would he be loft in horrour and admiration, when he should know that this fet of creatures, who lay out all their endeavours for this life, which scarce deferves the name of existence, when, I fay, he thould. know that this fet of creatures are to exift to all eternity in another life, for which they make no preparations? Nothing can be a greater difgrace to reafon, than that men, who are perfuaded of thefe two different ftates of being, fhould be perpetually employed in providing for a life of threefcore and ten years, and neglecting to make provifion for that, which, after many myriads of years, will be ftill new, and ftill beginning; efpecially when we confider that our endeavours for making ourfelves great, or rich, or honourable, or whatever elfe we place our happiness in, may after all prove unfuccefsful; whereas if we conftantly and fincerely endeavour to make ourfelves happy in the other life, we are fure that our endeavours will fucceed, and that we fhall not be disappointed of our hope.

The following queftion is ftarted by one of the fchoolmen. Suppofing the whole body of the earth were a great ball or mafs of the fineft fand, and that a fingle grain or particle of this fand fhould be annihilated every thousand years? Suppofing then that you had it in your choice to be happy all the while this prodigious mass of fand was confuming by this flow method until there was not a grain of it left, on condition you were to be miferable for ever after? or; fuppofing that you might be happy for ever after, on condition you would 'be miferable until the whole mass of fand were thus annihilated at the rate of one fand in a thousand years; which of these two cafes would you make your choice? It must be confeffed, in this cafe, fo many thousands

of

of years are to the imagination as a kind of eternity, though in reality they do not bear fo great a proportion to that duration which is to follow them, as an unit does to the greatest number which you can put together in figures, or as one of those farids to the fuppofed heap. Reafon therefore tells us, without any manner of hefitation, which would be the better part in this choice. However, as I have before intimated, our reafon might, in fuch cafe, be fo overfet by the imagination, as to dif pofe fome perfons to fink under the confideration of the great length of the firft part of this duration, and of the great diftance of that fecond duration which is to fucceed it: the mind, I fay, might give itself up to that happiness which is at hand, confidering that it is fo very near, and that it would, laft fo very long. But when the choice we actually have before us is this-Whether we will choofe to be happy for the space of only threefcore and ten, nay perhaps of only twenty or ten years, I might fay of only a day or an hour, and miferable to all eternity; or, on the contrary, miferable for this fhort term of years, and happy for a whole eternity-what words are fufficient to exprefs that folly and want of confideration which in fuch a cafe makes a wrong choice!

I here put the cafe even at the worst, by fuppofing what feldom happens, that a courfe of virtue makes us miferable in this life: but if we fuppofe, as it generally happens, that virtue would make us more happy even in this life than a contrary courfe of vice; how can we fufficiently admire the ftupidity or madness of thofe perfons who are capable of making fo abfurd a choice!

Every wife man therefore will confider this life only as it may conduce to the happiness of the other, and cheerfully facrifice the pleafures of a few years to those of an eternity.

XIII. Uncle Toby's Benevolence.

MY uncle Toby was a man patient of injuries-not from want of courage-I have told you in a former chapter, that he was a man of courage; and I will add here, that, where juft occafions préfented or called it forth, I know no man under whofe arm I would have fooner taken fhelter, Nor did this arife from any infenfi

bility or obtufenefs of his intellectual parts, for he felt as feelingly as a man could do. But he was of a peaceful, placid nature; no jarring element in him: all was mixed up fo kindly within him, my uncle Toby had fcarce a heart to retaliate upon a fly.

Go-fays he, one day at dinner, to an overgrown one which had buzzed about his nofe, and tormented him cruelly all dinner-time, and which, after infinite attempts, he had caught at laft as it flew by him—I'll not hurt thee-fays my uncle Toby, rifing from his chair, and going across the room with the fly in his hand-I'll not hurt a hair of thy head: Go-fays he, lifting up the fafh, and opening his hand as he spoke to let it efcape-go, poor devil; get thee gone; why fhould I hurt thee? This world furely is wide enough to hold both thee and me.

This leffon of univerfal good-will, taught by my uncle Toby, may ferve instead of a whole volume upon the fubject.

E

XIV. Story of the Siege of Calais.

DWARD III. after the battle of Creffy, laid fiege to Calais. He had fortified his camp in fo impreg nable a manner, that all the efforts of France proved neffectual to raife the fiege, or throw fuccours into the city. The citizens, under Count Vienne, their gallant governour, made an admirable defence:-France had now put the fickle into her fecond harveft, fince Edward, with his victorious army, fat down before the towns The eyes of all Europe were intent on the flue. At length, famine did more for Edward than arms.—After fuffering unheard-of calamities, they refolved to attempt the enemy's camp. They boldly fallied forth: the English joined battle; and, after a long and def perate engagement, Count Vienne' was taken prisoner, and the citizens who furvived the flaughter retired within their gates. The command devolving upon Euftace St Pierre, a man of mean birth but of exalted virtue, he offered to capitulate with Edward, provided he permitted them to depart with life and liberty. Edward, to avoid the imputation of cruelty, confented to spare the bulk of the plebeians, provided they delivered up to

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