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tnow not frow svOp we may again have occasion for all of thein. With great and sincere esteen,
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 my 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 voluntarily offered him all my inoney for 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, understanding the bargain I had made, told ine I had given four times 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, howevei, was asterwards 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, came into the world, and observed the actions of men, I thought I niet with jnany, very many, who gave too much for their whistle.
When I saw any one too anibitious of court fa Tours. sacrificing his time in allendance on levees, AIS reuse, his liberty, lus virtue, and perhaps his
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 own affairs, and ruining them by that neglect; He pays indeed, says I, too much for his whistle.
If I knew a iniser, who gave up every kind of coinfortable living, all the pleasure of doing good to others, all the esteem of his fellow-citizens, and the joys of benevolent frienuship, for the sake of accumulating wealt; Poor man, says I, you do indeed pay too much for your whistle.
When I meet a mian of pleasure, sacrificing every laudable improvement of the mind, or of his fortune, to mere corporeal sensations; Mistaken man, says I, 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!) above his fortune, for which he contracts dents, and ends his career in prison ; Aias, says I, he has paid dear, very dear, for his whistle,
When I see a beautiful sweet tempered girl, mar. ried to an ill-natured brute of a husband; What a pity it is, says 1, that she has paid so much for a whistle.
In short, I conccived that great part of the mise. ries of mankind 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 tu 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, inusic, 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 iny coinplaints are instigated 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 acci. dents-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 cqual ? Alas! we must perish froin distress: for it would not be in my power even to scrawl a suppliant petition for relief, having bcen obliged to employ the hand of another in transcribing the request which I have now the honour to prefer to you.
Cor descend. Sirs, to make my parents sensible o the injustice of an exrlusive tenderness, and cf thio 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 reople in the world, who, with equal degrecs of health and wealth, and the other comforts of life, become, the one happy, and the other iniserable. This arises very much from the different vierys in which they consider things persons, and events; and the effect of those differen views ipon their own minds.
In whatever situation en can be placed, they ma find conveniences and inconveniences, in wliatever company, they inay find pers.ms and conversation more or less pleasing: at whatever table, they igay meet with meats anvi drinks of better and worse iaste, dishes bete ter and worse dressed : in whatever climate, they will fiud good and bad weather : uiler whatever govern. ment, they may fin l good and bad law's, ana good and vad adninistration of those iaws: in whatever poem, or work of genius, they may see faults and Treauties: in alınost 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 fix their attention ; those who are Gisposew to be liappy, on the conveniences of things, the pleasant parts of conversation, the well. dressed dishes, the goodhuess of the wines, the fine weather, &c. and enjoy all with cheerfulness. Those who are to be uhappy, 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." I this turr. of mind was founded in nature, such unhappy persons would be the more to lie pitied. But as the disposition to criticise, and to be disyusted, is, perhaps, taken up originally by imitation, and is, unawares, grown into a hebit, which, though at pre. sent suiong, 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 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. If they aim at obtaining some advantage in rank or fortune
obody wishes them success, or will stir a step, 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 conde scend 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 sometiines 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. If a stranger, at first interview, regarded his ugly leg more than
is handsome ore, he doubled him. If he spoke oj * t, and took no notice of the handsome leg, that wa
ufficient to determine. my philosopher to have 110 further acquaintance with 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, dis contented, unhappy people, if they wish to be reo