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warrant she does not run into dairies, but | half an hour, as would serve a courtier for reads upon the nature of plants; she has a a week. There is infinitely more to do glass bee-hive, and comes into the garden about place and precedency in a meeting out of books to see them work, and observe of justices' wives, than in an assembly of the policies of their commonwealth. She duchesses. understands every thing. I would give ten 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 I word for it she is no fool.' T.

No. 119.] Tuesday, July 17, 1711.

Urbem quam dicunt Romam, Melibee, putavi
Stultus ego huic nostræ similem-
Virg. Ecl. i. 20.
The city men call Rome, unskilful clown,
I thought resembled this our humble town.


THE first and most obvious reflections which arise in a man who changes the city for the country, are upon the different manners of the people whom he meets with in those two different scenes of life. By manners I do not mean morals, but behaviour and good-breeding, as they show themselves in the town and in the country.

And here, in the first place, I must observe a very great revolution that has happened in this article of good-breeding. Several obliging deferences, condescensions, and submissions, with many outward forms and ceremonies that accompany them, were first of all brought up among the politer part of mankind, who lived in courts and cities, and distinguished themselves from the rustic part of the species (who on all occasions acted bluntly and naturally) by such a mutual complaisance and intercourse of civilities. These forms of conversation by degrees multiplied and grew troublesome; the modish world found too great a constraint in them, and have therefore thrown most of them aside. Conversation, like the Romish religion, was so encumbered with show and ceremony, that it stood in need of a reformation to retrench its superfluities, and restore it to its natural good sense and beauty. At present therefore an unconstrained carriage, and a certain openness of behaviour, are 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.

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 the court, and still prevail in the country. One may now know a man that never conversed in the world, by his excess of good-breeding. A polite country 'squire shall make you as many bows in

This rural politeness is very troublesome to a man of my temper, who generally take the chair that is next me, and walk first or last, in the front, or in the rear, as chance directs. 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 hall, he runs behind me; and last night, as we were walking in the fields, stopped short at a stile until I came up to it, and upon my making signs to him to get over, told me with a serious smile, that sure I believed they had no manners in the country.

There has happened another revolution in the point of good-breeding, which relates to the conversation among men of mode, and which I cannot but look upon as very extraordinary. It was certainly one of the first distinctions of a well-bred man to express every thing that had the most remote appearance of being obscene, in modest terms and distant phrases; whilst the clown who had no such delicacy of conception and expression, clothed his ideas in those plain, homely terms that are the most obvious and natural. This kind of good-manners was perhaps carried to an excess, so as to make conversation too stiff, formal, and precise: for which reason, (as hypocrisy in one age is generally succeeded by atheism in another,) conversation is in a great measure relapsed into the first extreme; so that at present several of our men of the town, and particularly those who have been polished in France, make use of the most coarse uncivilized words in our language, and utter themselves often in such a manner as a clown would blush to hear.

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 gentlemen 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. quod

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As the two points of good-breeding, which
I have hitherto insisted upon, regard be-
aviour and conversation, there is a third
which turns upon dress. In this too the What can we call the principle which
country are very much behind-hand. The directs every different kind of bird to ob-
ural beaux are not yet got out of the fashion serve a particular plan in the structure of
hat took place at the time of the revolu- its nest, and directs all the same species to
ion, but ride about the country in red coats work after the same model? It cannot be
and laced hats, while the women in many imitation; for though you hatch a crow un-
parts are still trying to outvie one another
n the height of their head-dresses.
But a friend of mine, who is now upon the
western circuit, having promised to give
me an account of the several modes and
Fashions that prevail in the different parts
of the nation through which he passes, I
shall defer the enlarging upon this last
opic till I have received a letter from him,
which I expect every post.

the crocodile, and ostrich: others hatch
their eggs, and tend the birth until it is able
to shift for itself.


No. 120.] Wednesday, July 18, 1711.
-Equidem credo, quia sit divinitus illis
Virg. Georg. i. 451.

-I deem their breasts inspir'd
With a divine sagacity.-

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 or thrice looking after a bird's-nest, and several times sitting an hour or two together near a hen and chickens. He tells me he believes I am personally acquainted with every fowl about his house; calls such a particular cock my favourite; and frequently complains that his ducks and geese have more of my company than himself.

der a hen, and never let it see any of the
works of its own kind, the nest it makes
shall be the same, to the laying of a stick,
with all the other nests of the same species.
It cannot be reason; for were animals en-
dowed with it, to as great a degree as man,
their buildings would be as different as ours,
according to the different conveniences that
they would propose to themselves.

Is it not remarkable that the same tem-
per 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 pro-
duce such infinite swarms of insects for the
support and sustenance of their respective

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?

The violence of this natural love is exemplified by a very barbarous experiment; which I shall quote at length, as I find it in an excellent author, and hope my readers will pardon the mentioning such an instance of cruelty, because there is nothing can so effectually show the strength of that principle in animals of which I am here speaking.

I must confess I am infinitely delighted 'A person who was well skilled in dis-
with those speculations of nature which are section opened a bitch, and as she lay in the
to be made in a country-life; and as my most exquisite tortures, offered her one of
reading has very much lain among books of her young puppies, which she immediately
natural history, I cannot forbear recollect- fell a licking: and for the time seemed in-
ing upon this occasion the several remarks sensible of her own pain. On the removal
which I have met with in authors, and
comparing them with what falls under my
own observation: the arguments for Provi-
dence drawn from the natural history of
animals being in my opinion demonstrative. But notwithstanding this natural love in
The make of every kind of animal is dif- brutes is much more violent and intense
ferent from that of every other kind: and than in rational creatures, Providence has
yet there is not the least turn in the muscles taken care that it should be no longer trou-
or twist in the fibres of any one, which does blesome to the parent than it is useful to the
not render them more proper for that par- young; for so soon as the wants of the latter
ticular animal's way of life than any other cease, the mother withdraws her fondness,
cast or texture of them would have been. and leaves them to provide for themselves;
The most violent appetites in all crea- and what is a very remarkable circum-
tures are lust and hunger. The first is a stance in this part of instinct, we find that
perpetual call upon them to propagate their the love of the parent may be lengthened
kind; the latter to preserve themselves. out beyond its usual time, if the preserva-
It is astonishing to consider the different tion of the species requires it: as we may
degrees of care that descend from the parent see in birds that drive away their young as
to the young, so far as is absolutely neces- soon as they are able to get their livelihood,
sary for the leaving a posterity. Some crea- but continue to feed them if they are tied to
tures cast their eggs as chance directs them, the nest, or confined within a cage, or by
and think of them no farther; as insects and any other means appear to be out of a con-
several kinds of fish. Others, of a nicer dition of supplying their own necessities.
frame, find out proper beds to deposit them This natural love is not observed in ani-
in, and there leave them; as the serpent, mals to ascend from the young to the parent,

she kept her eyes fixed on it, and began a
wailing sort of cry, which seemed rather to
proceed from the loss of her young one,
than the sense of her own torments.

which is not at all necessary for the con- other species; and when the birth appears tinuance of the species: nor indeed in rea- of never so different a bird, will cherish it sonable creatures does it rise in any propor- for her own. In all these circumstances, tion, as it spreads itself downward; for in all which do not carry an immediate regard to family affection, we find protection granted the subsistence of herself or her species, and favours bestowed, are greater motives she is a very idiot. to love and tenderness, than safety, benefits, or life received.

There is not, in my opinion, any thing more mysterious in nature than this instinct in animals, which thus rises above reason and falls infinitely short of it. It cannot be accounted for by any properties in matter, and at the same time works after so odd a manner, that one cannot think Reason shows itself in all occurrences of it the faculty of an intellectual being. For life; whereas the brute makes no discovery my own part, I look upon it as upon the of such a talent, but in what immediately principle of gravitation in bodies, which is regards his own preservation or the con- not to be explained by any known qualities tinuance of his species. Animals in their inherent in the bodies themselves, nor from generations are wiser than the sons of men; the laws of mechanism, but, according to but their wisdom is confined to a few par- the best notions of the greatest philosoticulars, and lies in a very narrow compass.phers, is an immediate impression from the Take a brute out of his instinct, and you first mover, and the divine energy acting find him wholly deprived of understanding. in the creatures.

One would wonder to hear sceptical men disputing for the reason of animals, and telling us it is only our pride and prejudices that will not allow them the use of that faculty.

To use an instance that comes often under




With what caution does the hen provide No. 121.] Thursday, July 19, 1711. herself a nest in places unfrequented, and free from noise and disturbance! When -Jovis omnia plena. Virg. Ecl. iii. 60. she has laid her eggs in such a manner -All things are full of Jove. that she can cover them, what care does As I was walking this morning in the she take in turning them frequently that great yard that belongs to my friend's all parts may partake of the vital warmth! country-house, I was wonderfully pleased When she leaves them, to provide for her to see the different workings of instinct in a necessary sustenance, how punctually does hen followed by a brood of ducks. The she return before they have time to cool, young upon the sight of a pond, immedi and become incapable of producing an ani- ately ran into it; while the step-mother, mal! In the summer you see her giving her- with all imaginable anxiety, hovered about self greater freedoms, and quitting her care the borders of it, to call them out of an for above two hours together; but in win- element that appeared to her so dangerous ter, when the rigour of the season would and destructive. As the different principle chill the principles of life, and destroy the which acted in these different animals canyoung one, she grows more assiduous in her not be termed reason, so, when we call it attendance, and stays away but half the Instinct, we mean something we have no time. When the birth approaches, with knowledge of. To me, as I hinted in my how much nicety and attention does she last paper, it seems the immediate direc help the chick to break its prison! not to tion of Providence, and such an operation take notice of her covering it from the in- of the supreme Being, as that which deter juries of the weather, providing it proper mines all the portions of matter to their nourishment, and teaching it to help itself; proper centres. A modern philosopher, nor to mention her forsaking the nest, if quoted by Monsieur Bayle in his learned after the usual time of reckoning the young Dissertation on the Souls of Brutes, delivers one does not make its appearance. A the same opinion, though in a bolder form chymical operation could not be followed of words, where he says, Deus est anima with greater art or diligence than is seen brutonum,-God himself is the soul of in the hatching of a chick; though there are many other birds that show an infinitely greater sagacity in all the forementioned particulars.

But at the same time the hen, that has all this seeming ingenuity (which is indeed absolutely 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 an

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 ob served that a lamb no sooner falls from its mother, but immediately and of its own accord it applies itself to the teat. Dampier, in his Travels, tells us, that when seamen are thrown upon any of the un known coasts of America, they never venture upon the fruit of any tree, how tempt ing soever it may appear, unless they observe that it is marked with the pecking of birds; but fall on y without any fear or

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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 animate them in search of their proper food; as those that are incapable of defending themselves, or annoying others, or whose safety lies chiefly in their flight, are suspicious, fearful, and apprehensive of every thing they see or hear: whilst others that are of assistance and use to man, have their natures softened with something mild and tractable, and by that means are qualified for a domestic life. In this case the passions generally correspond with the make of the body. We do not find the fury of a lion in so weak and defenceless an animal as a lamb; nor the meekness of a lamb in a creature so armed for battle and assault as the lion. In the same manner, we find that particular animals have a more or less exquisite sharpness and sagacity in those particular senses which most turn to their advantage, and in which their safety and welfare is the

most concerned.

Nor must we hene omit that great variety of arms with which nature has differently fortified the bodies of several kinds 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 use of these their arms, and teaches them to manage them to the best advantage; because they naturally defend themselves with that part in which formed in it; as is remarkable in lambs, strength lies, before the weapon be which, and never saw the actions of their own species, push at those who approach them with their foreheads, before the first budding of a horn appears.


placed it, and there receive the afflux of
colder or warmer, clean or foul water, as
it happens to come to it?'

I shall add to this instance out of Mr.
Locke another out of the learned Dr. More,
who cites it from Cardan, in relation to an-
other animal which Providence has left de-
fective, but at the same time has shown its
wisdom in the formation of that organ in
which it seems chiefly to have failed.
What is more obvious and ordinary than
a mole? and yet what more palpable argu-
ment of Providence than she? The mem-
bers of her body are so exactly fitted to her
nature and manner of life: for her dwelling
being under ground, where nothing is to be
seen, nature has so obscurely fitted her
with eyes, that naturalists can scarce agree
whether she have any sight at all, or no.
But for amends, what she is capable of for
her defence and warning of danger, she has
very eminently conferred upon her; for she
is exceeding quick of hearing. And then
her short tail and short legs, but broad
fore-feet armed with sharp claws; we see
by the event to what purpose they are, she
so swiftly working herself under ground,
and making her way so fast in the earth, as
they that behold it cannot but admire it.
Her legs therefore are short, that she need
dig no more than will serve the mere thick-
ness of her body; and her fore-feet are
broad, that she may scoop away much
earth at a time; and little or no tail she has,
because she courses it not upon the ground
like the rat or mouse, of whose kindred she
is; but lives under the earth, and is fain to
dig herself a dwelling there. And she
making her way through so thick an ele-
ment, 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?'

I cannot forbear mentioning Mr. Boyle's remark upon this last creature, who I remember somewhere in his works observes, that though the mole be not totally blind (as it is commonly thought) she has not sight enough to distinguish particular obshall add to these general observations jects. Her eye is said to have but one huan instance, which Mr. Locke has given us, mour in it, which is supposed to give her of Providence even in the imperfections of the idea of light, but of nothing else, and a creature which seems the meanest and is so formed that this idea is probably painthe most despicable in the whole animal ful to the animal. Whenever she comes world. 'We may,' says he, from the up into broad day she might be in danmake of an oyster or cockle, conclude that ger of being taken, unless she were thus it has not so many nor so quick senses as a affected by a light striking upon her eye, man, or several other animals; nor if it and immediately warning her to bury herhad, would it, in that state and incapacity self in her proper element. More sight of transferring itself from one place to an- would be useless to her, as none at all other, be bettered by them. would sight and hearing do to a creature, What good might be fatal. that ject, wherein at a distance it perceives good or evil? And would not quickness of sensation be an inconvenience to an animal that must be still where chance has once

I have only instanced such animals as seem the most imperfect works of nature; and if Providence shows itself even in the blemishes of these creatures, how much more does it discover itself in the several endowments which it has variously bestowed upon

such creatures as are more or less finished and completed in their several faculties, according to the condition of life in which they are posted.

I could wish our Royal Society would compile 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 distinct account of its original, birth, and education, its policies, hostilities, and alliances, with the frame and texture of its inward and outward parts, and particularly those that distinguish it from all other animals, with their peculiar aptitudes for the state of being in which Providence has placed them, it would be one of the best services their studies could do mankind, and not a little redound to the glory of the all-wise Contriver.

It is true, such a natural history, after all the disquisitions of the learned, would be infinitely short and defective. Seas and deserts hide millions of animals from our observation. Innumerable artifices and stratagems are acted in the 'howling wilderness' and in the 'great deep,' that can never come to our knowledge. Besides that there are infinitely more species of creatures which are not to be seen without nor indeed with the help of the finest glasses, than of such as are bulky enough for the naked eye to take hold of. However, from the consideration of such animals as lie within the compass of our knowledge, we might easily form a conclusion of the rest, that the same variety of wisdom and goodness runs through the whole creation and puts every creature in a condition to provide for its safety and subsistence in its proper station.

Tully has given us an admirable sketch of natural history in his second book concerning the Nature of the Gods; and that in a style so raised by metaphors and descriptions, that it lifts the subject above raillery and ridicule, which frequently fall on such nice observations when they pass through the hands of an ordinary writer. L.

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and confirmed by the opinion of all that know him.

My worthy friend, Sir Roger, is one of those who is not only at peace within himself, but beloved and esteemed by all about him. He receives a suitable tribute for his universal benevolence to mankind, in the returns of affection and good-will, which are paid him by every one that lives within his neighbourhood. I lately met with two or three cdd instances of that general respect which is shown to the good old knight. He would needs carry Will Wimble and myself with him to the county assizes. As we were upon the road Will Wimble joined a couple of plain men who rid before us, and conversed with them for some time; during which, my friend Sir Roger acquainted me with their characters.

The first of them,' says he, that has a spaniel by his side, is a yeoman of about an hundred pounds a year, an honest man. He is just within the game-act, and qualified to kill a hare or a pheasant. He knocks down his dinner with his gun twice or thrice a week; and by that means lives much cheaper than those who have not so good an estate as himself. He would be a good neighbour if he did not destroy so many partridges. In short, he is a very sensible man; shoots flying; and has been several times foreman of the petty-jury.


The other that rides along with him is Tom Touchy, a fellow famous for "taking the law" of every body. There is not one in the town where he lives that he has not sued at a quarter sessions. The had rogue once the impudence to go to law with the Widow. His head is full of costs, damages, and ejectments. He plagued a couple honest gentlemen so long for a trespass in breaking one of his hedges, till he was forced to sell the ground it enclosed to defray the charges of the prosecution; his father left him fourscore pounds a year; but he has cast and been cast so often, that he is not now worth thirty. I suppose is going upon the old business of the wil




As Sir Roger was giving me this account of Tom Touchy, Will Wimble and his two companions stopped short till we came up to them. After having paid their respects to Sir Roger, Will told him that Mr. Touchy and he must appeal to him upon dispute that arose between them. Will, it seems, had been giving his fellow-traveller an account of his angling one day in such a hole: when Tom Touchy, instead of hearing out his story, told him that Mr. Sucha-One, if he pleased, might take the law of him' for fishing in that part of the river. My friend Sir Roger heard them both, upon a round trot; and after having paused some time, told them, with the air of a man who would not give his judgment rashly, that much might be said on both sides.' They were neither of them dissatisfied with the knight's determination,

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