guished:) among such his ears are ever open to receive instruction, for he considers that a silent young man generally makes a wise old one. He attends to everybody, and speaks but little, and that not till he has heard and collected the opin⚫ ions of the whole company; well knowing that he shall profit more by hearing than speaking, on any subject; and that, by this means, he not only fathoms the capacities of the com pany, but also gratifies, as it were, and obliges each person, by giving him an opportunity to talk; and especially when, with proper questions, he introduces such subjects as each man can speak to them with propriety and judgment. This he does with wonderful dexterity, and offers every one an occasion of displaying his talents; for he knows that in order to keep up a universal good humor, every man should be pleased with himself as well as with his company. And pray, what pleases a man more than to have an opportunity of letting the circle know that he is somebody? How unlike him are those, who, without knowing the world, expose themselves to contempt and ridicule, by impertinently giving their opinion of things they do not understand?-What Mr. Montague says, is always to the purpose, is properly addressed, and everybody hears him with satisfaction; for, though he is young in years, he is old in experience and understanding. When he speaks, it is always with a becoming ease and freedom. He has resolution enough to defend and support the truth; but always delivers his sentiments in such a manner that it may not appear like dictating to the company; and when he has done, he hears (let them differ from him ever so much) with patience, complacency, and temper. In short, Tom, excuses of ceremony will never gain a man friends, but impertinent babbling will undoubtedly create him enemies; for conversation is a banquet, which every man is entitled to a share of, who is present; and why should any one expect to have the whole feast to himself? Besides, the very end of conversation, which is improvement, is thereby destroyed; for he who always talks has no time to hear; and consequently, can reap no benefit from what is said in company. Another vice in conversation (if I may be allowed the expression) I would caution you against, and that is talking obscenely, which is both a mark of a depraved mind, and of low breeding, and s never encouraged but in company of fools; since, as Lord Roscommon justly observes,

Immodest words admit of no defence;
For want of decency is want of sense

I am, dear son, your truly affectionate father

LETTER XXXVII.—From an Uncle to his Nephew, on his keeping bad company, bad hours, &c. in his Apprenticeship.

Dear Nephew,

I AM very much concerned to hear, that you are of late fallen into bad company; that you keep bad hours, and give great uneasiness to your master, and break the rules of his family: that when he expostulates with you on this occasion, you return pert and bold answers; and, instead of promising or endeavoring to amend, repeat the offence; and have entered into clubs and societies of young fellows, who set at naught all good example, and make such persons who would do their duty, the subject of their ridicule, as persons of narrow minds, and who want courage to do as they do.

Let me, on this occasion, expostulate with you, and set before you the evil of the way you are in.

In the first place: What can you mean by breaking the rules of a family, you had bound yourselves by contract to observe? Do you think it honest to break through engagements into which you have so solemnly entered; and which are no less the rules of the corporation you are to be one day a freeman of, than those of a private family? Seven years, several of which have elapsed, is not so long a term but that you may see it terminate before you are over-fit to be trusted with your own conduct. Twenty-one, or twenty-two years of age, is full early for a young man to be his own master, whatever you may think; and you may surely stay till then, at least, to choose your own hours and your own company; and I fear as you go on, if you do not mend your ways, your discretion will not then do credit to your choice. Remember, you have no time you can call your own, during the continuance of your contract; and must you abuse your master in a double sense; rob him of his time, especially if any of it be hours of business; rob him of his rest; break the peace of his family, and give a bad example to others? And all for what? Why, to riot in the company of a set of persons who contemn, as they teach you to do, all order and discipline; who, in all likelihood, will lead you into gaming, drinking, swearing, and even more dangerous vices, to the destroying of your morals, and the unhinging of your mind from your business, which must be your future support.

Consider, I exhort you, in time, to what these courses may lead you. Consider the affliction you will give to all your friends, by your continuance in them. Lay together the

substance of a conversation that passes in a whole evening, with your frothy companions, after you have come from them, and reflect what solid truth, what useful lesson, worthy of being inculcated in your future life, that whole evening has afforded you; and consider whether it is worth breaking through all rule and order for? Whether your present conduct is such as you would allow in a servant of your own Whether you are so capable to pursue your business with that ador and delight, next morning, as if you had not drunk, or kept bad hours over-night? If not, whether your master has not a double loss from your misspent evenings? Whether the taking of small liberties, as you may think them, lead you not on to greater? For let me tell you, you will not find it in your power to stop when you will: and then, whether any restraint at all will not in time be irksome to you?

I have gone through the like servitude with pleasure and credit. I found myself my own master full soon for my discretion: what you think of yourself I know not; but I wish you may do as well for your own interest and reputation too, as I have done for mine: and I will assure you I should not have thought it creditable or honest to do as you do. I could have stood the laugh of a hundred such vain companions as you choose, for being too narrow-minded to break through all obligations to my master, in order to show the bravery of a bad heart, and what an abandoned mind dared to perpetrate. A bad beginning seldom makes a good ending, and if you were assured that you could stop when you come to do for yourself, which is very improbable, how will you answer it to equity and a good conscience, that you will not do so for your master? There is, let me tell you, more true bravery of mind in forbearing to do an injury, than in giving offence.

You are now at an age, when you should study to improve, not divert your faculties. You should now lay in a fund of knowledge, that in time, when ripened by experience, may make you a worthy member of the commonwealth. Do you think you have nothing to learn, either as to your business, or as to the forming of your mind? Would it not be much better to choose the silent, the sober conversation of books, than of such companions as never read or think? An author never commits any but his best thoughts to paper; but what can you expect from the laughing noisy company you keep, but frothy prate, indigested notions, and thoughts so unworthy of being remembered, that it is the greatest kindness to forget them?

Let me entreat you then, my dear kinsman, for your family's Р

sake, for your own sake, before it be too late, to reflect as you ought upon the course you are entered into. By applying yourself to books, instead of such vain company, you will be qualified in time for the best of company, and be respected by all ranks of men. This will keep you out of unnecessary expenses, will employ all your leisure time, will exclude a world of temptations, open and enlarge your notions of men and things, and finally set you above that wretched company which now you seem so much delighted with. And one thing let me recommend to you, that you keep a list of the young men of your standing within the compass of your knowledge, and for the next seven years observe what fate will attend them: see if those who follow not the course you are so lately entered into, will not appear in a very different light from those who do: and for the industry and prosperity of the one, and the decay or failure of the other, (if their vain ways do not blast them before, or as soon as they begin the world,) you'll find abundant reason every day to justify the truth of the observations I have thrown together. As nothing but my affection for you, could possibly influence me to these expostulations, I hope for a proper effect from them, if you will be thought well of by, or expect any favor from,

Your loving uncle. P. S. Your master will, at my request, send me word of the success of my remonstrances.

LETTER XXXVIII.-From a Daughter to her Father, pleading for her Sister, who had married without his Consent.

Honored Sir,

THE kind indulgence you have always shown to your children, makes me presume to become an advocate for my sister, though not for her fault. She is very sensible of that, and sorry she has offended you; but has great hopes that Mr. Robinson will prove such a careful and loving husband to her, as may atone for his past wildness, and engage your forgiveness: for all your children are sensible of your paternal kindness, and that you wish their good more for their sakes, than your own.

This makes it the more wicked to offend so good a father: but, dear Sir, be pleased to consider, that it now cannot be helped, and that she may be made hy your displeasure very miserable in her own choice; and as his faults are owing to the inconsideration of youth, or otherwise it would not have ocen a very discreditable match, had it received your approba

hon. I could humbly hope, for my poor sister's sake, that vcu would be pleased rather to encourage his present good resolutions by your kind favor, than to make him despair of a reconciliation, and so perhaps treat her with a negligence which hitherto she is not apprehensive of: for he is really very fond of her, and I hope will continue so. Yet is she dejected for her fault to you, and wishes, yet dreads, to have your leave to throw herself at your feet, to beg your forgive. ness and blessing, which would make the poor dear offender quite happy.

Pardon, Sir, my interposing in her favor, in which my husband also joins. She is my sister. She is your daughter; though she has not behaved so worthily as I wish to become that character. Be pleased, Sir, to forgive her, however; and also forgive me, for my pleading for her.

I am, dear Sir,

Your ever obedient daughter

LETTER XXXIX.-The Father's Answer.

My Dear Nancy,

You must believe, that your sister's unadvised marriage which she must have known would be very disagreeable to me, gives me no small concern; and yet I will assure you that it arises more from my affection for her, than any other consideration. In her education, I took all the pains and care my circumstances would admit, and often flattered myself with the hope, that the happy fruits of it would be made to appear in her prudent conduct. What she has now done is not vicious, but indiscreet; for, you must remember, that I have often declared in her hearing, that the vile assertion of a rake making a good husband, was the most dangerous opinion a young woman could imbibe.

I will not, however, in pity to her, point out the many ills I am afraid will attend her rashness, because it is done and cannot be helped; but wish she may be happier than I ever saw a woman who leaped to a fatal precipice.

Her husband has this morning been with me for her fortune; and it was with much temper I told him, that as all she could hope for was wholly at my disposal, I should disburse it in such a manner as I thought would most contribute to her advantage; and that as he was a stranger to me, I should choose to know how he deser ved it, before he had the power over what intended for her. He bit his lip, and with a hasty step was my humble servant.