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flumbers, and sunk as deeply in downy beds as he; that many who are now kept within the compass of four bare walls, have rattled through the streets in carriages, as magnificent as himself.

Hz is, in the next place, to be informed, that they had THEN as good security to remain in that splendour as he has now; that the fault of their breaking was in necessity, and not in their will; particular instances he will adduce to the contrary; but, comparatively, few, very few indeed. He is then to be told, that one out of a thousand unprovided mischances, out of a million unforeseen accidents, may, in one fatal day, reduce him to the like variety of wretchedness. And therefore, all that I beseech and implore of any such man, is, to spare from his pleasures one virtuous look into his own bosom, to make the case his own, and then, after asking himself the question, what a tenderness of behaviour he would imagine due from his fellowcreatures ? let him be guided in his conduct by the answer his reason would give him.

How different is this honest spirit, from the spirit of a cruel creditor! How is he by himself deprived cven of the nature of man, when he speaks real vengeance for crimes purely imaginary, and framed by his own wild and outrageous fancy, upon the head of an innocent and wellmeaning debtor, whom unavoidable casually, has made insolvent, and rendered the causeless object of his wrath! I. order to have a clear idea of this

matter, let us imagine we now see what, in such a trading and populous city, we may every day behold if we will be at a little trouble for the obser. vation : let us, I say, place before us some honest, generous and wealthy merchant, with a large, good, and happy family round him, high in the estcem of all his neighbours, and of those that he deals with; to whom the news is just arrived of all his ships being loft ; one surprised in a sudden tempest, and fnatched away from him in a whirlwind; a second dashed to pieces against “ merchant-marring rocks ;" a third staved and funk by water-spouts bursting from a cloud; and the last drowned and swallowed up within fight of his own shore, by bulging fatally on a land. Let us behold the good honeft man supporting himself under this load of calamity, by the props of a heavenly resignation, stopping the heart-breaks that gape to let out life, and would make a shipwreck of his person too, when the tears of a dearly beloved wife, and the cries of the pledges of their loves, who, by being their children, are grown the orphans of good fortune, swell up the ocean of his misery, and distract the tide of hope.

Let us bchold him ftemming a sea of troubles, strugling and grapling in a hurricane of fate, sweating and toiling beneath a weary lile, and just sinking under the burden of heavy debis, which it is impossible for him to discharge, otherwise than by a pious rcfolution to do it as soon as he is able, and to make himself able as far as his strongeft endeavours would let him. Let us bchold him weathering through the storm for a time, with the chcarfulness of a good conscience, and never sighing at his own inisfortunes but when he sighs that they were the cruel causes of those disappointments, with which he is not willing, but is forced to disoblige his creditors. And shall we not, aster placing all this scene of unavoidable woe before our eyes, be melted into compassion for such a man? And mall we noi, with uncommon wrath and indignation, rise up against any barbarous purse-proud creditor, that breaks in roughly upon his prayers and tears, to insult his wants, and mock and aggravate his for. rows; that interrupts his honeft labours and intentions to pay his debts, on purpose to make him an everlasting debtor? It is because thele creditors have the world on their lide, and the fpecious colour of infamous laws to justify their cause. Shall they not be told that the cxtremity. of rigour in the law is frequently the extremity of injustice? And that it as often happens that what is nationally legal is not only not religionly lawful, but, on the contrary, ccnfcientiously cxamined, very criminal?

IŃ this view, and it loo often happens to be a truc one, the debtor is an innocent sufferer, but loaded with reproach that claims all the aid and aslistance we can bring him; and the creditor is by lo much more larbarous a villain, because, vefted with the authority of the law, he makes his

power his will, without any consideration or mercy for his fellow-creature, and out of a luft of rage, profecutes, with propenfe ir:alice, a man for being innocently and unfortunately guilty, not of a voluntary, but of a neceflary crime against him.

In this casc not the debtor, but the creditor is the unjust man; and if ever it lies honestly in their way to do it, all men are obliged to moderate the severity of the law, when it is fo flagrantly inconlistent with humanity. I must own, for my part, I would step in between fuch a ruined debtor, and such an cnraged creditor, as foon as if I beheld a man falling from a window, breaking his own limbs, and only joftling another in his fall; I would defend him as he lay on the ground, from the rafhness of a person who would be only like the creditor, if he went


to stab him as he lay helpless on the earth, for giving him an affront which was only caused by the same accident that made the poor creature break his limbs, and put him in danger of his life, without the additional calamity, of being inhumanly butchered.

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The parallel is just, and the case I have stated is the case of most of those debtors who are really insolvent. With respect to those who are not really insolvent, some further considerations will be necessary, when I shall resume this subject.

It will, perhaps, be remarked that the particular instance I have adduced of a merchant reduced to distress, is the case of a very few of the insolvent debtors in this kingdom; and perhaps the remark may be just. But I have no doubt that the cases of at least two thirds of the poor wretches that now linger in prisons, if truly stated, would prove them to be as much more honest as they are less fortunate than those who sent them there. And nothing can justify a creditor depriving an honcft debtor of his liberty.

The attaining the age of twenty one ycars by a Prince of Wales has generally been celebrated by the liberation of all prisoners for debt, by an act of the legislature ; and it is no wonder if, previous to a period fo well known, many should voluntarily become prisoners, with an intent to defraud their creditors. Such men doubtless deserve an almost perpetual continuance of that punishment, which thcy have solicited, and if they could be indentified should be precluded all benefit arising from that act by which the honest infolvent would regain bis freedom.

Many objections arise against acts of this nature which, however, may be easily obviated by particular clauses to prevent fraud and collusion. If instead of the debt being entirely done away, the debtor was restored to liberty, on condition of repayment, according to his ability, in a given lime, five years for instance, I have no doubt but that every debtor would gladly sign an instrument to that purpofe, and that creditors would at length be repaid those demands which, under conmon circumlances, many have little reason to expect. I truit fome fuch mode will be adopted; that our prisons will be cleared of their present inhabitants ; and that the community will reap

benefit froin the labours of those who are now deprived of their liberty and means of subfiftence, by the operation of ridiculous laws, and the caprice of unfeeling creditors.

• Some truths, from long experience flowing,

• Worth more than royal grants, receive ; · For truths are gifts of heaven's belowing,

· Which kings have seldom power to give.

Since, froin an ancient race descended,

"You boast an unattainted blood, By your's be their fair fame defended,

• And claim by birth-right to be good. • In love of every fellow creature,

Superior rise above the croud: "What most ennobles human nature,

• Was ne'er the portion of the proud. • Be thine the generous heart that borrows

· From other's joys, a friendly glow; • And for each hapless neighbour's sorrows,

• Throbs with a sympathetic woe. * This is the temper molt endearing,

• Though wide proud pomp her banner (preads; " An heavenlier power, good nature bearing,

• Each heart in willing thraldom leads. · Talle not of Fame's uncertain fountain,

"The peace-destroying streams that flow; • Nor from Ambition's dangerous mountain

• Look down upon the world below.

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By noon-tide heat its youth was walled:

• The waters, as they pass’d, complain'd ; • At eve its glory all was blasted,

. And not one former tint remain'd.

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• But should some hapless wretch pursuing,

• Tread where the faithless meteors glow, • He'd find too late, his rashness ruing,

• That fatal quicksands lurk below. • In life, such bubbles nought admiring,

• Gilt with false light, and fill'd with air, Do you from pageant crouds retiring,

• To peace in virtue's cot repair. • There seek the never-wasted treasure

· Which inutual love and friendship give; • Domestic comfort, spotless pleasure,

. And bless'd and blessing you shall live!

To his friend, the New SPECTATOR,

Greeting : WHEREAS, in obedience to your SPECTATORship's commands, I have, for the last ten days, made it my business to attend most places of public resort in this metropolis, and, have been enabled to draw no other conclusion than one, made some centuries ago by a famous writer of those days : that there is nothing new under the sun. l-am glad, however, to find that amongt the most fashionable pastimes, are to be reckoned

THEATRICAL AMUSEMENTS, which, as the Nage is now tolerably chaste, and as tragedy has, in some measure, regained her empire, may tend to improve, rather than to injure the morals of the people. It, therefore, gives me no small pleasure, at a well-played tragedy, on casting my cyes round the theatre, to observe those of others bedecked with the sympathetic pearls which indicate hearts feeling for the distresses of others. And my feelings, in this respect, were amply gratificd on Saturday evening; at Drury-lane Theatre, when the tra

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• If heaven with children crown your dwelling,

• As mine its bounty does with you; • In fondness fatherly excelling,

• The example you have felt pursue !"

He paus'd, for tenderly caressing

The darling of his wounded heart, Looks had means only of expressing

Thoughts language açúer could impart ! Now night her fable mantle spreading,

Had sobed with black the horizon round; And dank dew from her trelles shedding,

With genial moisture bath'd the ground:

TANCRED and SIGISMUNDA was performed, for the benefit of Mrs. Siddons, in which that lady played Sigismunda, and Mr. Kemble Tancred, with such happiness of expresfion, as to leave few, if any, dry eyes in the house. It was well, indeed, that the strength of the piece rested on those two characters, for the others were but indifferently supported. The play is well got up; and Mr. Kemble and Mrs. Siddons are the only performers in London who can do justice to Tancred and Sigismunda.


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The politics of the times in terfere with all our amusements. When Tancred declares,


Yes, I will be a king, but not a slave !
In this will be a king! in this my people
Shall learn to judge how I will guard THEIR rights,
When they behold me vindicate my own!

the house clapped him three times : and when, presently afterwards, he says

There is, Can be no PUBLIC, without PRIVATE virtue, the hearts and hands of the audicnce confirmed the justice of the sentiment.

COVENT-GARDEN Theatre, since my last, has produced nothing material.

SQUIR: MORGAX'S NEPHEW. I Have for some time past had by me a few leaves of this young gentlemen's private meinorandum book, for the year 1783 ; and, in order to give you some idea of his notions and manner of palling his time, the following is an extract of one week,

SUNDAY,-Went to church. There is something more than priesteraft in religion. The lovely R. always told there was not, and she has fenfe.-Mem, not to trouble myself about the matter.—Dined with the family; all chearful.Going to town, detained at Kew by a pair of bright eyes. Proves to be a Windsor milliner. A good deal of the starch of virtue about her. Patience.-Accompany C. to M's-Both drunk Return home at twelve.

MONDAY.--A pathetic Ic&ture from Mater. Sorry to difoblige her, but what is life without women and winc?--Letter from R.-Cursed fick of her.-Money, money, money. Why don't you te get into keeping with ****? Threatens to shew my letters. Not so bad as my uncle's neither._Send her sol. and have done with her.Try on a hunting frock.-Look well in boots and leather-breaches.-Order fix frocks of the same fort and colour..Write to Charles about l'argent.-Dine with uncle and aunt.Uncle not a good judge of women.-His claret good.-Drunk.-Who can help it?-Go privately to the play:-Belt company in the two shilling gallery. See a girl to Water-lane -So. ber.-Sup.--Drunk, -Go to bed.

TUESDAY.-Head-ach.-Determined never to be intoxicated again.-Drink strong tea. --Better. -Read a page of Voltaire's Candide.Defcription of the summer-houfe lined with mirrors, delightful.-Mem. To have one myself when I have a garden of my own; but the sofa to be light blue fattin.-Ride---Meet R. Well drefled;

looks like Diana, but nothing nouvelle.-Shake hands, and give her a iol. note.- Very badly spare it.-Return.-Dress-Charles dines with

-Can get no cash.-Consult about ways and mcans.-Charles a rake half reformed, and an honest fellow.--Play billiards.—Lose 700l. His instructions worth half the money, and his company

the other half.M. and I.. come. Drink deep.New knee buckles come; exquisite taste. These make my bill 8751.-Order two pair more to give away.-Tea.--Burgundy. Claret. --Mixing liquors the devil.-L. sings and throws M. and I asleep.Sup.-Scotch ale.-Drunk.-Go to bed.

WEDNESDAY. Ride out early.---Breakfast.... No head-ach.-.-Skim the papers; d---d impudent; abuse poor R.about her poverty; must do something to set her straight.---Order a new dress.---Letter from Mrs. C. offering her services.---Stick to the little millincr.---Ride with Pater..--See a distrelled family; Pater gives them all his ready money. Give a guinca myself. ---Mem. Generally costs me something when I go with him.---Return... Dress..--Hair looks vilely.--Dine with Mater... Talk of the poor family.-- Tears in her eyes.--Sends them ten guineas..--Mem. Mater the best woman living.---Sister plays a lesson, Bach's, on the harpsichord.---Plays well five minutes, and then carelessly.---A private ball to morrow evening.--Mem. To keep sober.---Coffee.--Sister reads La Fontaine very well.---Gives me a pair of worked ruffles ---Vilit M.-His wife handsome. Sup there..--Drink too much...Go to bed.

THURSDAY.--- Breakfast.---Read an Epistle from Florizel to Perdita. Not genuine ---Music master. Practisc on the Violincella. Certainly improved.---Ride.---Dress.---Dine.---Play billiards with L.-.-Tea.-.-Dress for the ball..--Dance with M. She dances very well.---Pleasant evening's amusement.---Accompany M. home *** Go to bed.

FRIDAY.---Card from D. for tea and cards. --Not so handsome as her lister; too masculine; unmeaning face; mouth always open...-Will attend.---Breakfast, and read the pamphlet Charles

Don't understand it.---Ride..--Meet Charles; go to a billiard-table; win 701.---Dress and dine.---Dally an hour with little E.---Visit D. A room full of ladies. --Aunt the handsomeft amongst them.---Losc 19 guineas at quadrille. Tea and chatter.-L.M. and C, come in and join us at cards.---Lose 36 guineas.--Determined to be revenged on the lovely M. Think no woman can withstand me.- Sup. Take formal leave of the company,


to mother ***** with Charles.-Drunk. Go to bed.


fent me.

SATURDAY.-Hunt. Very good sport.—Buy a fresh hunter.Give one to Charles, who returns it, having no stable to keep it. Would keep it for him, but Pater would be angry.-Mem. Pater don't not like Charles..Dress.-Dine. Goto the opera; Pacchierotti inimitable; Theodore a flying devil.---Mem. To enquire after the figurante that nodded to L. in the pit, and to have her as cheap as poffible.- Sup. Half leas over,-Go to bed.

Scchi, friend Spec, are the memorandums of this young gentleman; by which you will perceive that he was, at that time, something too much addi&ted to Bacchus; but I am told, that he has, in a great measure, renounced the jolly god; in which cafe, I have no doubt but that he will become a valuable member of society.

You will perceive that his engagements are of fuch a kind, and with fuch people, that they précluđe all poffibility of mental improvement, unless he had virtue enough to renounce his bottle companions, as well as Bacchus himself. But he is perpetually told that it is time enough for him to think of grave affairs; and it is a kind of fashion for young men to pass their carly years in such a manner as to provide sufficient matter of tepentance for many years to come. This ģentleman's disposition is naturally good, and he has nothing to dread but the bane of Falstaffe, villainous company!"

BULIA. We had been repeatedly informed that in no place more than in Bulia, was the influence of example more discernible. And, refpeéting infamous example, we found it so. The King and Queen of Niatirb were the most amiablc of the Bulians in their public and private conduct, and the cxample of royalty usually extends through the subject realms. But heie it failed. It requires fome virtue to follow virtuous example, and the Bulians were too deeply emerged in grofs purfuits to let virtue generally predomináte over vice. The King and Queen, therefore, stood alone. The Court was apparently adorned with graces, but, alas! they were the external graces of polluted minds; the mere semblance of goodncfs.

Selaw, the eldest son of the king, vain, giddy, and oftentatiously affable, had set an example to the rising nobility very different from that of his parents. He was courted by youth and age, and flattered, becaufe his ideas were fimilar to those of the Bulians who centred all good in present enjoyment; wiro renounced all religion as an idle ceremony; and who willingly facrificed every thing to paflion and intereft.

ALARMED at the rapid and increasing progress which manners fubversive of all human felicity was making through the land, and trembling for the honor and the future happiness of her son ; the Queen called him before her, and, with that grace and complacency by which female wisdom is ever distinguished, addressed him as follows:

“ If thou art influenced by any consideration 6 for thinc own honour and happiness; by any “ regard for my peace, the affe&tion of the king,

or the respect of the people; attend, O Se“ law, and do not despise the admonitions of 66 maternal love.

“: With an aching heart have I beheld thy

pursuits, and marked thy connexions with deep “ distress. It becomes not thee, my son, like 6 base-born souls, to emerge into dissipation, and “ waste thy precious time in folly. The mind of “ Selaw should be actuated by noble views. Thy 6 public and thy private conduct fhould be the “ reverse of that by which the minions of these 6 days are distinguished. Believe me, Selaw, “ thy associates are such that ' 'tis a vice to “ know them.' Guard thine own heart, and be“ lieve not the tongue of flattery, left it lead thee " to destruction. Let not the lovely propensity " of thy foul to oblige universally, tempt thee to is facrifice to others the conduct of thy own life, 6 for that will lead thee to disgrace. Neither “ be persuaded that those actions can be pardon6 able in thee, which bring dishonour on others, “ Elevation of dignity aggravates crimes.

66 Ler a determined resolution to discounte

nance vice, in all her forms, mark thy gene. “ ral conduct. Thy pleasures resulting then “ from virtuous pursuits, shall acquire stability : • and thou shalt soon discern the vast difference “ between the transient flushes of dissipated mer6 riment, and the inextinguishable glow of mou ral happinefs. To renounce pleasure is dif“ ficult to an ignoble mind; but, O my Sclaw, “ lct Bulia see that thy mind, like thy station, 66 is elevated.' Whilft I with tears, Bulia with

indignation, views thee the sport of every gale 6 of passion ; unsteady in thy purposes ; quii“ ting good for evil, and, like folly, pursuing the

phantoms of delusion. 'Turn, nobly turn; “ free thyfelf from public scorn, and me from " public pity.

“ It becomes not me to interfere respećting thy “ political conduct. Ridicule always, and fome. 6 times infamy attends the female politician, " The club of Hercules ill becomes the hand of 66 Diana. In this, act as becomes a man and a

prince. Remember that thy father's intereft is

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