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tnow not how SUOp we may again have occasion for all of thein. With great and sincere esteem,
I have the honour to be,
THE WHISTLE A True Story, written to his Nephew. When I was a child, at seven years old, iny friends, on a holiday, filled ny pockets with coppers. I went directly to a shop where they sold toys for children; and, being charmed with the sound of a whistle, thai I met by the way in the hands of another boy, I vo. luntarily offered him all my inoney or one. I then came home, and went whistling all over the house, much pleased with my whistle, but disturbing all the family. My brothers, and sisters, and cousins, un. derstanding the bargain I had made, told ine I had given four tiines as much for it as it was worth. This put me in mind what good things I might have bought with the rest of the money; and they laughed at me so much for iny folly, that I cried with vexation; and the reflection gave me mcre chagrin than the whistle gave me pleasure.
'This, however, was afterwards of use to me, the Impression continuing on my mind; so that often when I was tempted to buy some unnecessary thing I said to myself, Don't give too much for the whistle ; and so I saved my money.
As I grew up, caine into the world, and observed the actions of men, I thought I niet with inany, very many, who gave too inuch
for their whistle. When I saw any one tno anibitious of court fa yours. sacrificing his time in allendance on levees, AiS rowse, lis liberty, lus virtue, and perhaps liis friends, to attain it, I have said to myself, This man gives too much for his whistle.
When I saw another fond of popularity, constantly employing himself in political bustles, neglecting his ovn affairs, and ruining them by that neglect; He pays indeed, says I, too much for his whistle.
If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of confortable living, all the pleasure of doing good to others, all the esteem of his fellow-citizens, and the joys of benevolent frienu ship, for the sake of accu. inulating wealt); Poor man, says I, you do indeed pay too much for your whistle.
When I meet a man of pleasure, sacrificing every laudable improvement of the mind, or of his fortune, to mere corporeal sensations; Mistaken man, says 1, you are providing pain for yourself instead of pleasure: you give too much for your whistle.
If I see one fond of fine clothes, fine furniture, fine equipages, a!l above his fortune, for which he con. tracts dents, and ends his career in prison; Alas, says I, he has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle.
When I see a beautiful sweet tempered girl, married to an ill-natured brute of a husband; What a pity it is, says I, that she has paid so much for a whistle.
In short, I conceived that great part of the mise. ries of inankind were brought upon thein by the false estimates they had made of the value of things, and by their giving too much for their whistles.
Education. I ADDRESS myself to all the friends of youth, ana conjure them to direct their compassionate regards to my unhappy fate, in order to remove the prejudicos of which I am the victim. There are twin sisters of us; and the two eyes of man do not more resemble, nor are capable of being upon better terms with each
other, than my sister and myself, were it not for the partiality of our parents, who made the most injuri. ous distinctions between us. From my infancy, I have been led to consider my sister as a being of a more elevated rank. I was suffered to grow up without the least instruction, while nothing was spared in her education. She had masters to teach her writing, drawing, music, and other accomplishments but if, by chance, I touched a pencil, a pen, or needle, I was bitterly rebuked; and more than onc I have been beaten for being awkward, and wanting a graceful manner. It is true, my sister associated me with her upon some occasions; but she always made a point of taking the lead, calling upon me only from necessity, or o figure by her side.
But conceive not, Sirs, that my coinplaints are in. stigated merely by vanity–No; my uneasiness is occasioned by an object much more serious. It is the practice in our family, that the whole business of providing for its subsistence falis upon my sister and myself. If any indisposition should attack my sister and I mention it in confidence upon this occasion, that she is subject to the gout, the rhumatism, and cramp, without making inention of other accidents—what would be the fate of our poor family! Must not the regret of our parents be excessive, at having placed so great a difference between sisters, who are so perfectly equal ? Alas! we must perish froin distress: for it would not be in my power even to scrawl a suppliant petition for relief, having been obliged to employ the hand of another in transcribing ihe requesi which I have now the honour to pre. fer to you.
Corxescend. Sirs, to make my parents sensible o the injustice of an exrlusive tenderness, and cf tl.o necessity of distributing theircare and affection among all their children equally. I am, with a profound respect,
THE LEFT HAND
HANDSOME AND DEFORMED LEG.
THERE are two sorts of people in the world, who, with equal degrees of health and wealth, and the other comforts of life, become, the one happy, and the other miserable. This arises very much from the different views in which they consider things persons, and events; and the effect of those differen views upon their own minds.
In whatever situation men can be placed, they ma find conveniences and inconveniences: in whatever company, they may find persons and conversation more or less pleasing: ai whaiever table, they inay meet with meats anri drinks of better and worse taste, dishes bete ter and worse dressed: in whatever climate, they will find good and bad weather : uner whatever govern. ment, they may fin! good and bad laws, ana good and vad administration of those iaws: in whatever poem, or work of genius, they may see faults and beauties: in almost every face, and every person, they inay discover fine features and defects, good and bad qualites.
Under these circumstances, the two sorts of people ahove mentioned tix their attention ; those who are Cisposeu to be liappy, on the conveniences of things, the pleasant parts of conversation, the welldressed dishes, the goodness of the wines, the ine weather, &c. and enjoy all with cheerfulness. Those who are to be unhappy, thirk and speak only of the contrarieties. Hence they are continually discontented themselves, and, by their remarks, sour the pleasures of society; offend personally many peoplc, And inake themselves every where disagreeable. this turr. of mind was founded in nature, such unbappy persons would be the more to lie pitied. But as the disposition to criticise, and to be disgusted, is, perhaps, taken up originally by imitation, and is, unawares, grown into a hebit, which, though at pre. sent sliong, may nevertheless be cured, when those who have it are convinced of its bad effect on their felicity ; I hope this little admonition may be of ser. vice io them, and put them on changing a habit If they
which, though in the exercise it is chiefly an act of imagination, yet it has serious consequences in life, as it brings on real griefs and misfortunes. For as many as are offended by, and nobody loves, this sort of people; no one shows thein more than the most common civility and respect, and scarcely that and this frequently puts thein out of humour, and draws them into disputes and contentions. aim at obtaining some advantage in rank or fortune
obody wishes them success, or will stir a stef, o peak a word to favour their pretensions. If they incur public censure or disgrace, no one will defend or excuse, and many join to aggravate their misconduct, and render them completely odious. If these people will not change this bad habit, and condescend to be pleased with what is pleasing, without fretting themselves or others about the contrarieties, it is good for others to avoid an acquaintance with them, which is always disagreeable, and sometimes very inconvenient, especially when one finds one's self entangled in their quarrels.
An old philosophical friend of mine was grown, from experience, very cautious in this particular, and carefully avoided any intimacy with such people. He had, like other philosophers, a thermometer to show him the heat of the weather; and a barometer to mark when it was likely to prove gooa or bad; but there being no instrumer.t invented to discover, at first sight, this unpleasing disposition in a person, he, for that purpose, made use of his legs : one of which was reinarkably handsome; the other, by some accident, crooked and deformed. Ifa stranger, at first interview, regarded his ugly leg more than
is handsome ore, he doubled him. If he spoke oj 1, and took no notice of the handsome leg, that wa ufficient to determine. my philosopher to have no further acquaintance wjth him. Every body has not this two-legged instrument; but every one, with a little attention, may observe signs of that carping, fault-finding disposition, and take the same resolution of avoiding the acquaintance of those infected wna it. I therefore advise those critical, querulous, diso coulented, unhappy people, if they wish to bora.