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at her table. She is uncleanly in her person, a Nattern “ in her dress, and her family is no better than a dung

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“ A second sort of female soul was formed out of the “ fame materials that enter into the composition of a “ fox. Such an one is what we call a notable discern

ing woman, who has an insight into every thing, “ whether it be good or bad. In this species of fe“ males there are some virtuous and some vicious.

“ A third kind of women were made up of canine par“ ticles. These are what we commonly call scolds, who “ imitate the animals out of which they were taken, that

are always busy and barking, that snarl at every one “ who comes in their way, and live in perpetual clamour.

« The fourth kind of women were made out of the “ earth. These are your sluggards, who pass away their “ time in indolence and ignorance, hover over the fire a “ whole winter, and apply themselves with alacrity to

no kind of business but eating.

“ The fifth species of females were made out of the “ sea. These are women of variable uneven tempers, “ sometimes all storm and tempeft, sometimes all calm " and sunshine. The stranger who sees one of these in

her smiles and smoothness, would cry her up for a “ miracle of good-humour ; but on a sudden her looks “ and words are changed, she is nothing but fury and

outrage, noise and hurricane.

“ The sixth species were made up of the ingredients “ which compose an ass, or a beast of burden. These

are naturally exceeding Nothful, but upon the huf" band's exerting his authority, will live upon hard fare, “ " and do every thing to please him. They are low

ever far from being averse to venereal pleasure, and “ seldom refuse a male companion.

“ The cat furnished materials for a seventh species of women, who are of a melancholy, froward, unaniable nature, and so repugnant to the offers of love, that

they fly in the face of their husband when he ap“ proaches them with conjugal endearments.

species of women are likewise subject to little thefts, “cheats, and pilferings.

“. The mare with a flowing mane, which was never “ broke to any servile toil and labour, composed an

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“ eighth species of women. These are they who have
“ little regard for their husbands, who pass away their
“ time in dressing, bathing, and perfuming; who throw
“ their hair into the niceft curls, and trick it up with
“ the faireft Aowers and garlands. A woman of this
“ species is a very pretty thing for a stranger to look
upon,

but

very detrimental to the owner, unless it be a king or prince who takes a fancy to such a toy. “ The ninth fpecies of females were taken out of the

ape. These are such as are both ugly and ill-natured, “who have nothing beautiful in themselves, and endea

vour to detrafrom or ridicule every thing which
appears. so in others.
“ The tenth and last species of women were made

out of the bee ; and happy is the man who gets such “ an one for his wife. She is altogether faultless and “ unblamable ; her family flourishes and improves by " her good management. She loves her husband, and “ is beloved by him. She brings him a race of beautiful " and virtuous children. She distinguishes herself among “ her fex. She is surrounded with graces. She never among

the loose tribe of women, nor paffes away “ her time with them in wanton discourses. She is full “ of virtue and prudence, and is the best wife that Ju

piter can bestow on man.”

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I shall conclude these iambics with the motto of this paper, which is a fragment of the fame author : “A man

cannot possess any thing that is better than a good woman, nor any thing that is worse than a bad one."

As the poet has shewn a great penetration in this diversity of female characters, he has avoided the fault which Juvenal and monsieur Boileau are guilty of, the former in his sixth, and the other in his last satire, where they have endeavoured to expose the sex in general, without doing justice to the valuable part of it. Such levelling satires are of no use to the world, and for this reason I have often wondered how the French author above-mentioned, who was a man of exquisite judgment, and a lover of virtue, could think human nature a proper subject for fatire in another of his celebrated pieces, which is called “The fatire upon man.” What vice or frailty can a discourse correct, which censures the whole

species alike, and endeavours to shew by fome fuperficial strokes of wit, that brutes are the more excellent creatures of the two? A satire should expofe nothing but what is corrigible, and make a due difcrimination between thofe who are, and those who are not the proper objects of it.

L.

N° 210.

Wednesday, October 31.

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Nefcio quomodo inhæret in mentibus quasi seculorum quoddam augurium futurorum ; idque in maximis ingeniis altiffimisque animis & exiftit maximè & apparet facillimè.

Cic. Tusc. Quæst. There is, I know not how, in the minds of men a certain

presage, as it were, of a future existence; and this takes the deepest root, and is most discoverable in the greatest geniuses and inost exalted fouls.

To the SPECTATOR.

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I am fully perfuaded that one of the belt Springs of

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generous and worthy actions, is the having generous and worthy thoughts of ourselves. Whoever has a mean opinion of the dignity of his nature, will act in no higher a rank than he has allotted himself in his own estimation. If he considers his being as circumscribed by the uncertain term of a few years, his designs will be contracted into the same narrow span he imagines is to bound his existence. How can he exalt his thoughts to any thing great and noble, who only believes that,

after a short turn on the stage of this world, he is to ' sink into oblivion, and to lose his consciousness for

? ' For this reason I am of opinion, that so useful and elevated a contemplation as that of the soul's immortality cannot be resumed too often. There is not a more

improving exercise to the human mind, than to be fre* quently reviewing its own great privileges and endow

ments ; nor a more effectual means to awaken in us an ' ambition raised above low objects and little pursuits, • than to value ourselves as heirs of eternity.

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• It is a very great fatisfaction to consider the best and wifeft of mankind in all nations and ages, asserting, 'as with one voice, this their birthright, and to find it * ratified by an express revelation. At the same time if 'we turn our thoughts inward upon ourselves, we may 'meet with a kind of secret senle concurring with the • proofs of our own immortality:

You have, in my opinion, raised a good presumptive argument from the increasing appetite the mind has to • knowledge, and to the extending its own faculties, ' which cannot be accomplished, as the more restrained

perfection of lower creatures may, in the limits of a

Thort life. I think another probable conjecture may be ' raised from our appetite to duration itself, and from a ' reflection on our progress through the several ttages of 'it : “ We are complaining," as you observe in a former speculation, “ of the shortness of life, and yet are perpetually hurrying ove the

parts

of it to arrive at certain little settlements, or imaginary points of rest, “ which are dispersed up and down in it."

• Now let us consider what happens to us when we • arrive at these“ imaginary points of reft:" Do we stop

our motion, and fit down fatisfied in the settlement we have gained ? or are we not removing the boundary,

and marking out new points of rest, to which we press . forward with the like eagerness, and which cease to be • such as fast as we attain them? Our case is like that of a traveller

upon the Alps, who should fancy that the top of the next hill must end his journey, because it • terminates his profpe&t ; but he no sooner arrives at it • than he sees new ground and other hills beyond it, and continues to travel on as before.

This is so plainly every man's condition in life, • that there is no one who has observed any thing, but

may observe, that as fast as his time wears away, his appetite to something future remains. The use therefore I would make of it is this, that since nature, as s some love to express it, does nothing in vain, or, to

speak properly, since the Author of our being has planted no wandering passion in it, no desire which has not its object, futurity is the proper object of the passion so constantly exercised about it; and this reft

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lessness in the present, this assigning ourselves over to

farther stages of duration, this successive grasping at • somewhat still to come, appears to me, whatever it

may to others, as a kind of instinct or natural fymptom • which the mind of man has of its own immortality.

..I take it at the same time for granted, that the im* mortality of the foul is sufficiently established by other

arguments: and if fo, this appetite, which otherwise • would be very unaccountable and absurd, seems very

reasonable, and adds strength to the conclufion. But I

am amazed when I consider there are creatures capable • of thought, who, in spite of every argument, can form

to themselves a sullen satisfaction in thinking other• wise. There is something so pitifully mean in the in

verted ambition of that man who can hope for anni

hilation, and please himself to think that his whole • fabric shall one day crumble into duft, and mix with • the inals of inanimate beings, that it equally deserves ·

our admiration and pity. The mystery of such mens • unbelief is not hard to be penetrated ; and indeed

amounts to nothing more than a sordid hope that they • shall not be immortal, because they dare not be fo.

• This brings me back to my first observation, and

gives me occasion to say further, that as worthy ac• tions spring from worthy thoughts, fo worthy thoughts

are likewise the consequence of worthy actions : but the 'wretch whơ has degraded himself below the character of immortality, is very willing to resign his pretensions to it, and to substitute in its room a dark negative happiness in the extinction of his being:

The admirable Shakespeare has given us a strong inage of the unsupported condition of such a person · in his last minutes in the second part of King Henry • the sixth, where cardinal Beaufort, who had been con• cerned in the murder of the good duke Humphrey, is

represented on his death-bed. After some short confused speeches which shew an iinagination disturbed ' with guilt, just as he was expiring, King Henry standing by him full of compassion, says, Lord Cardinal! if thou think'st on heav'n's bliss, “ Hold up thy hand, make signal of that hope ! “ He dies, and makes no sign !”.

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