at so agreeable an object, must be excused if the | her absence will make away with me as well as ordinary occurrences in conversation are be- thee. If she offers to remove thee; I will low his attention. I call her indeed perverse, jump into these waves to lay hold on thee; but alas! why do I call her so? Because her herself, her own dear person, I must never superior merit is such, that I cannot approach embrace again.-Still do you hear me without her without awe, that my heart is checked by one smile-It is too much to bear.'-He had no too much esteem: I am angry that her charms sooner spoke these words, but he made an ofare not more accessible, that I am more in-fer of throwing himself into the water: clined to worship than salute her. How often which his mistress started up, and at the next have I wished her unhappy, that I might have instant he jumped across the fountain, and met an opportunity of serving her? and how often her in an embrace. She, half recovering from troubled in that very imagination, at giving her fright, said in the most charming voice her the pain of being obliged? Well, I have imaginable, and with a tone of complaint, led a miserable life in secret upon her ac-'I thought how well you would drown yourcount; but fancy she would have condescend-self. No, no, you will not drown yourself till ed to have some regard for me, if it had not you have taken your leave of Susan Holiday." been for that watchful animal her confidant. The huntsman, with a tenderness that spoke "Of all persons under the sun,' (continued the most passionate love, and with his cheek he, calling me by name) be sure to set a close to hers, whispered the softest vows of mark upon confidants: they are of all people fidelity in her ear, and cried, 'Do not, my the most impertinent. What is most pleasant dear, believe a word Kate Willow says; she is to observe in them, is, that they assume to spiteful, and makes stories, because she loves themselves the merit of the persons whom they to hear me talk to herself for your sake.'have in their custody. Oristilla is a great for- Look you there,' quoth Sir Roger, do you tune, and in wonderful danger of surprises, see there, all mischief comes from confidants! therefore full of suspicions of the least indiffer But let us not interrupt them; the maid is hoent thing, particularly careful of new acquain-nest, and the man dares not be otherwise, for tance, and of growing too familiar with the old. he knows I loved her father: I will interpoɛe Themista, her favourite woman, is every whit in this matter, and hasten the wedding. Kate as careful of whom she speaks to, and what Willow is a witty mischievous wench in the she says. Let the ward be a beauty, her con- neighbourhood, who was a beauty; and makes fidant shall treat you with an air of distance; me hope I shall see the perverse widow in her let her be a fortune, and she assumes the sus-condition. She was so flippant with her anpicious behaviour of her friend and patroness.swers to all the honest fellows that came near Thus it is that very many of our unmarried her, and so very vain of her beauty, that she women of distinction are to all intents and has valued herself upon her charms till they purposes married, except the consideration of are ceased. She therefore now makes it her different sexes. They are directly under the business to prevent other young women from conduct of their whisperer; and think they being more discreet than she was herself: are in a state of freedom, while they can prate however, the saucy thing said, the other day, with one of these attendants of all men in gen-well enough, "Sir Roger and I must make a eral, and still avoid the man they most like. match, for we are both despised by those we You do not see one heiress in a hundred whose loved." The hussy has a great deal of power fate does not turn upon this circumstance of wherever she comes, and has her share of cunchoosing a confidant. Thus it is that the lady ning. is addressed to, presented and flattered, only 'However, when I reflect upon this woman, by proxy, in her woman. In my case, how I do not know whether in the main I am the is it possible that Sir Roger was proceed-worse for having loved her; whenever she is ing in his harangue, when we heard the voice recalled to my imagination my youth returns, of one speaking very importunately, and re- and I feel a forgotten warmth in my veins. peating these words, 'What, not one smile?' This affliction in my life has streaked all my We followed the sound till we came close to a conduct with a softness, of which I should thicket, on the other side of which we saw a otherwise have been incapable. It is owing, young woman sitting as it were in a personat-perhaps, to this dear image in my heart that ed sullenness just over a transparent fountain. I am apt to relent, that I easily forgive, and Opposite to her stood Mr. William, Sir Roger's that many desirable things are grown into my master of the game. The knight whispered temper, which I should not have arrived at by me, Hist, these are lovers.' The huntsman better motives than the thought of being one looking earnestly at the shadow of the young day hers. I am pretty well satisfied such a maiden in the stream, 'Oh thou dear picture, if passion as I have had is never well cured; and thou couldst remain there in the absence of between you and me, I am often apt to imagine that fair creature whom you represent in the it has had some whimsical effect upon my water, how willingly could I stand here satis-brain: for I frequently find, that in my most fied for ever, without troubling my dear Betty serious discourse I let fall some comical familiherself with any mention of her unfortunate William, whom she is angry with! But alas! when she pleases to be gone, thou wilt also vanish- -Yet let me talk to thee while thou dost stay. Tell my dearest Betty thou dost not more depend upon her, than does her William: arity of speech or odd phrase that makes the company laugh. However, I cannot but allow she is a most excellent woman. When she is in the country, I warrant she does not run into dairies, but reads upon the nature of plants: she has a glass bee-hive, and comes into the 1 garden out of books to see them work, and ob- ja man of my temper, who generally take the serve the policies of their commonwealth. She chair that is next me, and walk first or last, understands every thing. I would give ten in the front or in the rear, as chance directs. pounds to hear her argue with my friend Sir Andrew Freeport about trade. No, no, for all she looks so innocent as it were, take my word for it she is no fool.' No. 119.] Tuesday, July 17, 1711. T. Urbem quam dicunt Romam, Meliboe, putavi I have known my friend Sir Roger's dinner almost cold before the company could adjust the ceremonial, and be prevailed upon to sit down: and have heartily pitied my old friend, when I have seen him forced to pick and cull his guests as they sat at the several parts of his table, that he might drink their healths according to their respective ranks and qualities. Honest Will Wimble, who I should have thought had been altogether uninfected with ceremony, gives me abundance of trouble in this particular. Though he has been fishing all the morning, he will not help himself at dinner until I am served. When we are going out of the THE first and most obvious reflections which hall, he runs behind me; and last night, as arise in a man who changes the city for the we were walking in the fields, stopped short country, are upon the different manners of the at a stile until I came up to it, and upon my people whom he meets with in those two dif- making signs to him to get over, told me with ferent scenes of life. By manners I do not a serious smile, that sure I believed they had mean morals, but behaviour and good-breed- no manners in the country. The city men call Rome, unskilful clown, Warton. ing, as they show themselves in the town and There has happened another revolution in in the country. the point of good-breeding, which relates to And here, in the first place, I must observe the conversation among men of mode, and a very great revolution that has happened in which I cannot but look upon as very extraorthis article of good-breeding. Several oblig-dinary. It was certainly one of the first dis. ing deferences, condescensions, and submis- tinctions of a well-bred man to express every sions, with many outward forms and ceremo- thing that had the most remote appearance nies that accompany them, were first of all of being obscene, in modest terms and disbrought up among the politer part of mankind, tant phrases; whilst the clown who had no who lived in courts and cities, and distinguish- such delicacy of conception and expression, ed themselves from the rustic part of the spe- clothed his ideas in those plain homely terms cies (who on all occasions acted bluntly and that are the most obvious and natural. This naturally) by such a mutual complaisance and kind of good-manners was perhaps carried to intercourse of civilities. These forms of con- an excess, so as to make conversation too stiff, versation by degrees multiplied and grew trou- formal, and precise for which reason (as hyblesome; the modish world found too great a pocrisy in one age is generally succeeded by constraint in them, and have therefore thrown atheism in another) conversation is in a great most of them aside. Conversation, like the measure relapsed into the first extreme; so Romish religion, was so encumbered with show that at present several of our men of the town, and ceremony, that it stood in need of a re- and particularly those who have been polished formation to retrench its superfluities, and re-in France make use of the most coarse unstore it to its natural good sense and beauty. civilized words in our language, and utter At present therefore an unconstrained carri- themselves often in such a manner as a clown age, and a certain openness of behaviour, are would blush to hear. the height of good-breeding. The fashionable world is grown free and easy; our manners sit more loose upon us. Nothing is so modish as an agreeable negligence. In a word, goodbreeding shows itself most, where to an ordinary eye it appears the least. This infamous piece of good-breeding, which reigns among the coxcombs of the town, has not yet made its way into the country; and as it is impossible for such an irrational way of conversation to last long among a people that make any profession of religion, or show of modesty, if the country gontlemen get into it, they will certainly be left in the lurch. Their good-breeding will come too late to them. and they will be thought a parcel of lewd clowns, while they fancy themselves talking together like men of wit and pleasure. If after this we look on the people of mode in the country, we find in them the manners of the last age. They have no sooner fetched themselves up to the fashions of the polite world, but the town has dropped them, and are nearer to the first state of nature than to those refinements which formerly reigned in As the two points of good breeding, which the court, and still prevail in the country. One I have hitherto insisted upon, regard behaviour may now know a man that never conversed in and conversation. there is a third which turns the world, by his excess of good-breeding. A upon dress. In this too the country are very polite country 'squire shall make you as many much behind-hand. The rural beaus are not bows in half an hour, as would serve a courtier yet got out of the fashion that took place at for a week. There is infinitely more to do the time of the revolution, but ride about the about place and precedency in a meeting of country in red coats and laced hats, while the justices' wives, than in an assembly of dutch-women in many parts are still trying to outvie one another in the height of their head esses. This rural politeness is very troublesome to dresses. But a friend of mine, who is now upon the the laying of a stick, with all the other nests western circuit, having promised to give me of the same species. It cannot be reason; for an account of the several mopes and fashions were animals endowed with it, to as great a that prevail in the different parts of the nation degree as man, their buildings would be as through which he passes, I shall defer the en- different as ours, according to the different larging upon this last topic till I have received conveniences that they would propose to thema letter from him, which I expect every post. selves. It is not remarkable that the same temper of weather, which raises this genial warmth in animals, should cover the trees with leaves, and the fields with grass, for their security and concealment, and produce such infinite swarms of insects for the support aud sustenance of their respective broods? Is it not wonderful that the love of the parent should be so violent while it lasts, and that it should last no longer than is necessary for the preservation of the young? My friend Sir Roger is very often merry with me upon my passing so much of my time among his poultry. He has caught me twice The violence of this natural love is exemplior thrice looking after a bird's-nest, and sever-fied by a very barbarous experiment; which al times sitting an hour or two together near I shall quote at length, as I find it in an excela hen and chickens. He tells me he believes lent author, and hope my readers will pardon I am personally acquainted with every fowl the mentioning such an instance of cruelty, about his house; calls such a particular cock because there is nothing can so effectually my favourite; and frequently complains that show the strength of that principle in animals his ducks and geese have more of my company of which I am here speaking. than himself. 'A person who was well skilled in dissection I must confess I am infinitely delighted with opened a bitch, and as she lay in the most those speculations of nature which are to be exquisite tortures, offered her one of her young made in a country-life; and as my reading puppies, which she immediately fell a licking; has very much-lain among books of natural and for the time seemed insensible of her own history, I cannot forbear recollecting upon pain. On the removal she kept her eyes fixed this occasion the several remarks which I have on it, and began a wailing sort of cry, which met with in authors, and comparing them with seemed rather to proceed from the loss of what falls under my own observation: the ar- her young one, than the sense of her own torguments for Providence drawn from the natu-ments.' ral history of animals being in my opinion de- But notwithstanding this natural love in monstrative.. brutes is much more violent and intense than The make of every kind of animal iş dif-in rational creatures, Providence has taken ferent from that of every other kind: and yet care that it should be no longer troublesome there is not the least turn in the muscles or to the parent than it is useful to the young; twist in the fibres of any one, which does not for so soon as the wants of the latter cease, render them more proper for that particular the mother withdraws her fondness, and leaves animal's way of life than any other cast or texture of them would have been. The most violent appetites in all creatures are lust and hunger. The first is a perpetual call upon them to propagate their kind; the latter to preserve themselves. them to provide for themselves; and what is a very remarkable circumstance in this part of instinct, we find that the love of the parent may be lengthened out beyond its usual time, if the preservation of the species requires it: as we may see in birds that drive away their It is astonishing to consider the different young as soon as they are able to get their degrees of care that descend from the parent livelihood, but continue to feed them if they to the young, so far as is absolutely necessary are tied to the nest, or confined wifhin a for the leaving a posterity. Some creatures cage, or by any other means appear to be cast their eggs as chance directs them, and out of a condition of supplying their own nethink of then no further; as insects and seve- cessities. ral kinds of fish. Others, of a nicer frame, This natural love is not observed in animals find out proper beds to deposit them in, and to ascend from the young to the parent, whicǝ 'there leave them; as the serpent, the croco-is not at all necessary for the continuance of dile, and ostrich: others hatch their eggs and the species: nor indeed in reasonable creatend the birth, until it is able to shift for tures does it rise in any proportion, as it spreads itself downward; for in all family af What can we call the principle which directs fection, we find protection granted and faevery different kind of bird to observe a par-vours bestowed, are greater motives to love ticular plan in the structure of its nest, and and tenderness, than safety, benefits, or life directs all the same species to work after the received. itself. same model? It cannot be imitation; for One would wonder to hear sceptical men though you hatch a crow under a hen, and disputing for the reason of animals, and tellnever let it see any of the works of its own ing us it is only our pride and prejudices kind, the nest it makes shall be the same, to that will not allow them the use of that 'faculty. Reason shows itself in all occurrences of life; ing to the best notions of the greatest philosowhereas the brute makes no discovery of such phers, is an immediate impression from the a talent, but in what immediately regards his first mover, and the divine energy acting in own preservation or the continuance of his the creatures. species. Animals in their generation are wiser than the sons of men; but their wisdom is Jovis omnia plena. L. Virg. Ecl. iii. 60. confined to a few particulars, and lies in a very No. 121.] Thursday, July 19, 1711. All things are full of Jove. With what caution does the hen provide As I was walking this morning in the great herself a nest in places unfrequented, and free yard that belongs to my friends country-house, from noise and disturbance! When she has I was wonderfully pleased to see the different laid her eggs in such a manner that she can workings of instinct in a hen followed by a cover them, what care does she take in turning brood of ducks. The young upon the sight of them frequently that all parts may partake of a pond, immediately ran into it; while the the vital warmth! When she leaves them, to step-mother, with all imaginable anxiety, hoprovide for her necessary sustenance, how vered about the borders of it, to call them punctually does she return before they have out of an element that appeared to her so time to cool, and become incapable of pro- dangerous and destructive. As the different ducing an animal! In the summer you see principle which acted in these different aniher giving herself greater freedoms, and quit-mals cannot be termed reason, so when we ting her care for above two hours together; call it Instinct, we mean something we have but in winter, when the rigour of the season no knowledge of. To me, as I hinted in my would chill the principles of life, and destroy last paper, it seems the immediate direction of the young one, she grows more assiduous in Providence, and such an operation of the suher attendance, and stays away but half the time. When the birth approaches, with how much nicety and attention does she help the chick to break its prison! not to take notice of her covering it from the injuries of the weather, providing it proper nourishment, and a bolder form of words, where he says, Deus teaching it to help itself; nor to mention her forsaking the nest, if after the usual time of reckoning the young one does not make its appearance. A chymical operation could not be followed with greater art or diligence than is seen in the hatching of a chick; though there are many other birds that show an infinitely greater sagacity in all the forementioned particulars. preme Being, as that which determines all the portions of matter to their proper centres. A modern philosopher, quoted by Monsier Bayle in his learned Dissertation on the Souls of Brutes, delivers the same opinion, though in est anima brutorum,—' God himself is the soul of brutes.' Who can tell what to call that seeming sagacity in animals, which directs them to such food as is proper for them, and makes them naturally avoid whatever is noxious or unwholesome? Tully has observed that a lamb no sooner falls from its mother, but immediately and after its own accord it applies itself to the teat. Dampier, in his Travels, tells But at the same time the hen, that has all us, that when seamen are thrown upon any this seeming ingenuity (which is indeed abso- of the unknown coasts of America, they nelutely necessary for the propagation of the species,) considered in other respects, is without the least glimmering of thought or common sense. She mistakes a piece of chalk for an egg, and sits upon it in the same manner. She is insensible of any increase or diminution in the number of those she lays. She does not distinguish between her own and those of another species; and when the birth appears of never so different a bird, will cherish it for her own. In all these circumstances, which do not carry an immediate regard to the subsistence of herself or her species, she is a very idiot. ver venture upon the fruit of any tree, how tempting soever it may appear, unless they observe that it is marked with the pecking of birds; but fall on without any fear or apprehension where the birds have been before them. But notwithstanding animals have nothing like the use of reason, we find in them all the lower parts of our nature, the passions and senses, in their greatest strength and perfection. And here it is worth our observation, that all beasts and birds of prey are wonderfully subject to anger, malice, revenge and all the other violent passions that may There is not, in my opinion, any thing more animate them in search of their proper food; mysterious in nature than this instinct in ani- as those that are incapable of defending themmals, which thus rises above reason and falls selves, or annoying others, or whose safety lies infinitely short of it. It cannot be accounted chiefly in their flight, are suspicious, fearful, for by any properties in matter, and at the and apprehensive of every thing they see or same time works after so odd a manner, that hear: whilst others that are of assistance and one cannot think it the faculty of an intellec-use to man, have their natures softened with tual being. For my own part, I look upon it something mild and tractable, and by that as upon the principle of gravitation in bodies, means are qualified for a domestic life. In which is not to be explained by any known this case the passions generally correspond qualities inherent in the bodies themselves, with the make of the body. We do not find nor from the laws of mechanism, but, accord-the fury of a lion in so weak and defenceless an animal as a lamb; nor the meekness of a that she need dig no more than will serve the lamb in a creature so armed for battle and mere thickness of her body; and her fore-feet assault as the lion. In the same manner, we are broad, that she may scoop away much find that particular animals have a more or less earth at a time; and little or no tail she has, exquisite sharpness and sagacity in those par- because she courses it not upon the ground ticular senses which most turn to their ad-like the rat or mouse, of whose kindred she vantage, and in which their safety and welfare is the most concerned. is; but lives under the earth, and is fain to dig herself a dwelling there. And she making her way through so thick an element, which will not yield easily as the air or the water, it had been dangerous to have drawn so long a train behind her; for her enemy might fall upon her rear, and fetch her out before she had completed or got full possession of her works.' Nor must we here omit that great variety of arms with which nature has differently for tified the bodies of several kind of animals, such as claws, hoofs, horns, teeth, and tusks, a tail, a sting, a trunk, or a proboscis. It is likewise observed by naturalists, that it must be some hidden principle, distinct from what we call reason, which instructs animals in the I cannot forbear mentioning Mr. Boyle's reuse of these their arms, and teaches them to mark upon this last creature, who I remember manage them to the best advantage; because somewhere in his works observes, that though they naturally defend themselves with that the mole be not totally blind (as it is commonly part in which their strength lies, before the thought) she has not sight enough to distinweapon be formed in it; as is remarkable in guish particular objects. Her eye is said to lambs, which, though they are bred within have but one humour in it, which is supposed doors, and never saw the actions of their own to give her the idea of light, but of nothing species, push at those who approach them with else, and is so formed that this idea is probatheir foreheads, before the first budding of a bly painful to the animal. Whenever she comes horn appears. up into broad day she might be in danger of I shall add to these general observations an being taken, unless she were thus affected by a instance, which Mr. Locke has given us of light striking upon her eye, and immediately Providence even in the imperfections of a crea-warning her to bury herself in her proper eleture which seems the meanest and the most ment. More sight would be useless to her, as despicable in the whole animal world. 'We none at all might be fatal. may,' says he, from the make of an oyster or I have only instanced such animals as seem cockle, conclude that it has not so many nor the most imperfect works of nature; and if so quick senses as a man, or several other Providence shows itself even in the blemises of animals; nor if it had, would it, in that state these creatures, how much more does it discoand incapacity of transferring itself from one ver itself in the several endowments which it place to another, be bettered by them. What has variously bestowed upon such creatures as good would sight and hearing do to a creature, are more or less finished and completed in their that cannot move itself to or from the object, several faculties, according to the condition of wherein at a distance it perceives good or evil? | life in which they are posted. And would not quickness of sensation be an I could wish our Royal Society would cominconvenience to an animal that must be still where chance has once placed it, and there receive the afflux of colder or warmer, clean or foul water, as it happens to come to it? pile a body of natural history, the best that could be gathered together from books and observations. If the several writers among them took each his particular species, and gave us a I shall add to this instance out of Mr. Locke distinct account of its original, birth, and eduanother out of the learned Dr. More, who cites cation, its policies, hostilities, and alliances, it from Cardan, in relation to another animal with the frame and texture of its inward and which Providence has left defective, but at the outward parts, and particularly those that dissame time has shown its wisdom in the forma- tinguish it from all other animals, with their tion of that organ in which it seems chiefly to peculiar aptitudes for the state of being in have failed. What is more obvious and ordi- which Providence has placed them, it would be nary than a mole? and yet what more palpa- one of the best services their studies could do ble argument of Providence than she? The mankind, and not a little redound to the glory members of her body are so exactly fitted to of the all-wise Contriver. her nature and manner of life: for her dwell- It is true, such a natural history, after all ing being under ground, where nothing is to the disquisitions of the learned, would be inbe seen, nature has so obscurely fitted her finitely short and defective. Seas and deserts with eyes. that naturalists can scarce agree hide millions of animals from our observation. whether she have any sight at all, or no. But Innumerable artifices and stratagems are acted for amends, what she is capable of for her in the howling wilderness' and in the great defence and warning of danger, she has very deep,' that can never come to our knowledge. eminently conferred upon her; for she is ex- Besides that there are infinitely more species of ceeding quick of hearing. And then her short creatures which are not to be seen without nor tail and short legs, but broad fore-feet armed indeed with the help of the finest glasses, than with sharp claws; we see by the event to what of such as are bulky enough for the naked eye purpose they are, she so swiftly working her- to take hold of. However, from the consideraself under ground, and making her way so tion of such animals as lie within the compass fast in the earth as they that behold it cannot of our knowledge, we might easily form a conBut admire it. Her legs therefore are short, clusion of the rest, that the same variety of |