fance, we advert to; it is rare that we realize our prefent happiness, wè feldom value a prefent good, except when we are threat'ned with the lofs of it, fo intermixed are the evils of life with the plea fures of it, that there is fcarcely afweet without a bitter, fcarcely a rofe without a thorn, fcarcely a pleasure whofe exiftence did not fpring from a previous pain, or which will not prove the means of begetting a fubfequent one. "Man never is but always To BE bleft." The infirmities attendant on old age are fo confpicuous, that little need be urg'd in fupport of our argument, from the circumftances of life at that helpless period. The ftriking figures in which it is defcrib'd by the mouth of the preacher in holy writ❤ "while the fun, and the moon, and the flars are dark'ned," &c. confirain us with him to entitle it, the evil days wherein (we may emphatically fay) we have no pleasure. ---- I might greatly enlarge upon this subject and fhew, that most of our enjoyments in life are fuch only as depend entirely upon, and owe their very existence to the wants, neceffities and diftreffes previously experienced, and that our pleafures in general as neceffarily prefuppofe pain and uueafiness, as the matural appetite, and relish for food implies a preceeding fenfation of hunger; a fingle day's enjoyment of eafe and prefent relief from acute pain, to a perfon who has been continually aited with extreme bodily torture, is a higuer pleasure, if we may fo call it, than a year of the most perfect,and uninterrupted health, to a man, who from his cradle, has been unacquainted with any more than the names of pain and difeafe. Is a life of perfect calmnefs, and ferenity, that which is attended with the, higheft pleasure? on the contrary do they not oftener accompany the lefs eafy circumstances of life? Do we not oftener fee them in the cottage, than in the palace? Is there any condition of life, that does not become infipid by habit, so that the very continuance of it fhall become an evil? In fine, are not the calamities of life, as, neceffary to conflitute our pleafure, as forms, and commotions in the atmosphere, are for rendering it habitable and falutary? If so, then Eccle. xii. chap. I infer, that most of our pleasures are but a negative of pain, and that poffitive pleasure, or abfolute happiness, is rarely to be met with, in the prefent fate. Bodily pain, however, is moft undoubtedly a pofitive evil.---On the one hand then, we find fcarcely any thing, that can deserve the name of happiness; but on the other, a thoufand pains and disquietudes, which with the common feelings of humani ty, are infeperably connected with our prefent exiftence. The obfervations that have been made, may lead to the proof of another propofition,of important confequence in the economy of the human system, that the diftribution of the real calamities of life, is pretty equal among the whole (pecies, and, with perhaps a very few exceptions, if any, of cor poreal pain, each individual has his thare, of what are called the pleasures and enjoyments of life. No external circumstances of poverty, or affluence, have any permanent effect on the degrees of happiness; but the mind tho perhaps momentarily affected by exfernal occurrences, and the habitudes of the body, seems to be endued with, a property of accomodating itfelf to a certain equality, or a general ftandard of ferenity and quietude, if it is proper to apply thefe terms, to a mere negation of pain. Let any man fairly examine human life, and if he can fully diveft himself of prejudice, he must conclude, that whatever may be our reluctance, at the idea of a diffolution of the body, it does by no means proceed from the advantages of the prefent ftate, with refpect to happiness. Animal nature, without reafon, is terrified at the view of that convulfive pang, which tends to the deftruction of life.It is very difficult to undeceive ourselves in this matter, because there are fo many other ftrong reasons for the dread of mortality, which perhaps our pride will not allow us to acknowledge for the true ones, that we early receive the prejudice, and adopt it for a truth, without giving ourfelves the trouble to examine it. We are not willing to confels, a cowardly fear of the agonies of dying, and we are too hypocritical to own any apprehenfion, from the events of futurity; but we think it no difhonor, What to affign as a reafon, for the dread of diffolution, that we are gainers by our continuance in the prefent ftate.-What fhall we fay,then in vindication of the juftice of the Almighty, in the government of the univerfe? Surely that fyftem cannot be the beft, which does not, on the whole, advance the happiness of his creatures; the balance is against us in the prefent fate; the fought for in a future one.--- The un completion of the defign then, muft be equal, and apparently promifcuous in this life, has been ufed as an arguDiftributions of happiness and mifery ment in favour of a future ftate; but fuch inequality, I think, has been by no means proved; or if it has, it might perhaps be found on enquiry, to be much more proportionate to the good or evil difpofitions of the heart, than is at firft view imagined. In either case the force of the argument deduced from this hypothefis is deftroyed, though by the above reafoning I truft, that of a better one may be eftablished. Were I as an individnal to form my fentiments of a future exiflence, folely on a view of the diftribution of happinefs in the prefent life, I must confefs I fee no argument that would amount to a fufficient proof for my own conviction. I believe it to be very nearly equal in every period, and in peads in a great meafure, on the confcioufnefs of a rectitude of condu&, neither of which, have any neceflary every condition of life; or that it de relation to a future exiftence. But when 1eftimate the aggregate fum of har pinefs and mifery which falls to the lot of almoft every mortal that breathes, I find the account by no means bal the building is erected from after as are very unfuitable, and when experience, find they have not proceeded in the way, most advantageous to their intereft, and as in your last number, I gave a few hints on the making of Bricks, and prefuming that a. few of fuch extracts relative ta made use of in buildings, as may fome of the principal materials. elucidate the fubject, with fome obfervations and remarks on them, may be of fome benefit to the public, therefore wifh for a column or two, in a few proceeding numbers, for the purpose, and shall begin with mortar and cement. Experiments made in Europe, on this subject, do not accurately apply in this country, where the climate, is fo different.---I fhall therefore, in a future paper, if not difagreeable, make fome difcriminations,---and fhew fome experiments upon that fert of cement, that has been used more fuccessfully in this country. 2. Janced here, and I am therefore necef- MORTAR, 1 in Architecture, is a Preparation of farily led to look forward into a flate, where a proper adjustment shall be made, and where the fum total of happinefs fhall finally appear to overbalance all the miferies of this fublunary scene. Lime and Sand, mixt up with Water, ferving as a Cement, and nfed by Masons and Bricklayers in building of walls of ftone and brick. For plaiftering of walls, they make their mortar of lime, and ex or cow hair, tempered well together with two parts of it, and one of lime. He alfo adds, that if to the river, or fea fand, you put one third part of powder of tiles, or bricks, it will work the better. But Vitruvius's proportion of fand feems too much, tho' he fhould mean of lime, before it is flack; for one buthel of lime, before 'tis flak'd, will make five pecks, after 'tis flak’d. About LONDON (where for the most part, lime is made of chalk) they put about thirty fix bufhels of pit fand to twenty five bufhels of quick lime, that is, about a bufhel and a half of fand to a bufhel of lime. In fome piaces they put after the proportion of three pecks of fand to one bufhel of lime. In effect, the proportion of lime and fand in making of mortar, ought to be according to the goodness or badnefs of these materials, and is therefore rather to be regulated by the judgment of experienc'd workmen in each particular country, than by any ftated proportions of materials. As to the METHOD of making MOR. TAR ---Some workmen are of opinion 'tis the best way not to use mortar as foon as it is made; nor (in making it) to make the lime run before it is mix'd with the fand (as fome do) but rather to throw the fand on the lime while it is in the ftones, before it is run, and fo to mix it together, and then to wet it; by which means (they fay) it will be the ftronger, and When it has lain a while before it is us'd, will not be subject to blow and blifter. Others advife, to let mortar (when made) lie in a heap,two or three years before it is us'd, which they fay, will render it the ftronger and better; they likewife fay, the ufing of mortar as foon as is made, is the caule of fo many infufficient buildings. Others advife, that in flaking of lime to wet it every where but a little (and not to over wet it) and to cover every laying or bed of lime (about the quantity of a bufhel) with fand, as you flack it; that fo the fleam or fpirit of the lime may be kept in, and not fly away, but mix itself with the fand; which will render the mortar confiderably fronger, than if it were all flak'd at firft, and the fand thrown on altogether at lafl. 2. That all the mortar fhould be well beaten with a beater, three or four times over, be fore it is us'd by that means to break all the knots of the lime well toge ther; and they fay, that the air which the beater forces into the mortar at every ftroke, conduces very much to the ftrength of it. 3. That when you defign to build well, or ufe frong mortar for repairs, you beat the mortar well, and let it lie two or three days, and then beat it well again, when it is to be us'd. 4. That mortar be us'd as foft as may be in fummer time; but prett fliff or hard in winter. As to mixing and blending of mortar, Mr. FELIBIEN obferves, that the ancient mafons were fo very fcrupulous herein, that the Greeks kept ten men conftantly employ'd for a long (pace of time, to each bafon, which rendereft it of fuch prodigious hardnefs, that Vitruvius tells us, the pieces of plaifter falling off from old walls, ferv'd to make tables. And Mr. FELIBIEN tells us, 'tis a maxim among old mafons to tell their labourers, that they should dilute it with the fweat of their brow. i. e. labour it a long time, inftead of drowning it with water, to have done the fooner. Mr. WORLIDGE advifes, that if you would have your mortar ftrong, when you cannot have your choice of lime, but can chufe your fand and water, not to use that fand that is full of duft; for all dufty fand makes the mortar weaker; and the rounder the fand is, the ftronger the mortar will be, as is ufually obferv'd in water drift fand; that it makes better mortar than fand out of the pit. Therefore he advises, that if you have occafion for extraordinary mortar, to wash your fand in a tub, till the water, after much stirring comes off clear, and to mix that with new lime, and the mortar will be very ftrong and durable. And if the water be foul, dirty or muddy, the mortar will be the weaker. WOLFIUS obferves, that the fand fhould be dry and sharp, fo as to prick the hands when rubbed; yet not earthy, fo as to foul the water it is wafh'd in. He also finds fault with masons and Bricklayers, as committing a great error,in letting their lime flacken and cool, cool, before they make up their mortar, and alfo, in letting their mortar cool, and die, before they use it; tberefore, he advices, that if you expect your work to be well done, and to continue long, to work up the lime quick, and but a little at a time, that the mortar may not lie long before it be used. So that it appars, men differ in their opinions in this point; fome affirming it to be beft to work up the mortar new, and other, not till it has lain 'a long time. A certain author tells us, that an experienced Mafon told him, that being at work at ERIDGE-PLACE, (at the Lord ABERGAVENY's) at FARIT inSussex, they would have him make ufe of mortar, that had been made four years. But when he came to try it, he faid it was good for nothing, beCaufe it was fo very had that there was no tempering it. Upon which a certain Jefuite (who refided in the house, and had been a great traveller) told him, that to his knowledge, at feveral places beyond fea, they always kept their mortar 20 years,before they nfed it; put in cifterns for the purpose, and always moist.” (To be continued.) Anecdotical notices of Dr. Franklin, from the Wefiminfer Magazine. HIS man, who for many years T carried on tite bufinels of a Printer at Philadelphia, may be confidered as the first fruits of American genius and perhaps no man ever owed more to the time and place of his birth: had he been a native of London inftead of Boston, and born into the fame rank of fociety, the world would probably have never heard his name either as a philofopher or politician. Pent within a populous city, his occupation would have been more laborious, and his incentives to cultivate fpeculative fcience, would have been fuppreffed by every con fideration of intereft or ambition. might have diftinguished himself as an ingenious author; but he would neither have formed an Hypotheks to account for the phænomanon of the AURORA BOREALIS, nor have traced out the principles and operations of the electric fluid; and what is much He more important, he would never have become a powerful engine, to shake a great Empire, and to erect a congeries of Republics, from its difmembered parts; nor could he have had the appropriated diftinction of being the principal agent, to introduce a new æra, into the history of mankind, which' inay prove as important as any which giflative power to the western hemihave yet elapfed, by procuring a lefphere.In this view, he may be confidered as a greater enemy to England, than even Philip II, or Louis XIV. His love of fcience marked his early years; and as if no event of his life was deftined to be unimportant, that which caufed him to quit Bofton and fettle in Philadelphia, brought him into a wider fphere of action, and placed him in a more refpe&table fituation, he of life, before he rendered himself conhad, however, pased the meridian of ip cuous as a politician. As his influence became extenfive, it was exerted to inculcate among the people the virtues of frugality, temperance and industry and all his labours were directed to advance the effential interefts of humanity. Trammelled in no fyftem, he may be faid to be a philofopher without the rules, a poltician without adopting the Roman pandects, and a ftatesman without having facrificed to the graces: poffeffing a diverfity of genius without a verfatility of temper. Such was the man, thoughtful, deliberate, collected and circumfpe&ive; who, when more than seventy years of age,appeared at theCourt of France, firft, as an Agent, and afterwards as a Plenipotentiary, from the new Américan States. All ranks vied with each other, in paying their court to this hoary headed Sage. Among the fubjects of an absolute monarch, it became fashionable to admire the fpirit of freedom, and the new member of the CORPS DIPLOMATIQUE. Public admiration, however, is no proof of merit; the frivólous frequently obtain it, when it is denied to the wife. His negociations, with the Court of France, required uncommon abilities, and that he has fucceeded in the arduous work, proves, that during his long life, he had practically fluded the Philofophy of man." |