AN

 

EXTRACT

 

FROM

 

DR. GOODMAN'S WINTER EVENING CONFERENCE.

 

IN THREE PARTS.

 

THE CHARACTER

 

OF THE

 

PERSONS IN THE FOLLOWING CONFERENCES.

 

 SEBASTIAN; a learned and pious gentleman, who takes all advantages of engaging those he converses with, in sobriety, and a sense of religion.

 

 PHILANDER; a genteel and ingenious person, but too much addicted to the lightnesses of the age, until reclaimed by the conversation of SEBASTIAN.

 

 BIOPHILUS; a skeptical person, who had no settled behef of any thing; but especially was averse to the great doctrines of Christianity, until at length awakened by the discreet reasoning of SEBASTIAN, and the affectionate discourses of PHILANDER, he begins to deliberate of what before he despised.

 

A

 

WINTER EVENING CONFERENCE,

 

AT

 

PHILANDER'S HOUSE. PART 1:

 

THE ARGUMENT OF THE FIRST CONFERENCE.

 

 SEBASTIAN visiting his neighbor PHILANDER, after a little time spent in civil salutation, is quickly pressed by him to the too usual entertainment of liberal drinking; which, SEBASTIAN at first modestly declines; but afterwards, more directly shows the folly and unmanliness of it. He is then invited to gaming; which he also excusing himself from, and giving his reasons against, PHILANDER complains of the difficulty of spending time without such diversions. Whereupon SEBASTIAN represents to him sundry entertainments of time, both more delightful and more profitable, amongst which, that of friendly and ingenious intercourse: And from thence, they are led on to debate about Religious Conference: the usefullness, easiness, prudence, and gentility, of which are largely demonstrated: of which PHILANDER being convinced, inquires the way of entering into it, of continuing and managing of it. In which being instructed by SE BASTIAN, he resolves to put it in practice.

 

 SEBASTIAN. Good. evening to you, PHILANDER. I am glad to find you in health, and I hope all your family

 

is so too.

 

 PHILANDER. I humbly thank you, Sir, we are all well; (GOD be praised;) and the better to see you here: for I hope you come with intentions to give us your good company this long evening.

 

 SEBAST. If that will do you any pleasure, I am at your service for to deal plainly, I came with the resolution to spend an hour or two with you; provided it be not unseasonable for your occasions, nor intrench upon any business of your family.

 

 PHIL. Business, Sir! At this time of the year we are even weary with rest, and tired with having nothing to do.

 

 SEBAST. It is a time of leisure, I confess; the earth rests, and so do we; yet, I thank GOD, my time never hes upon my hands, for I can always find something or other to employ myself in. When the fields he dead, and admit of no husbandry, I then can cultivate the little garden of my own soul; and when there is no recreation abroad, I have a company of honest old fellows in leathern coats, which find me divertisement at home.

 

 PHIL. I know the company you mean, though I confess I have not much acquaintance with them; but do you not find it a melancholy thing to converse with the dead

 

 SEBAST. Why should you say they are dead No, they are immortal; they cannot die; they are all soul reason without passion, and eloquence without noise or clamour. Indeed, they do not eat and drink, by which only argument some men prove, themselves to be alive, as CYRUS proved the divinity of his god Bel. But these are kept without cost, and yet retain the same countenance, and are always cheerful and diverting. Besides, they have this peculiar quality, that a man may have their company, or lay them aside at pleasure, without offence. Notwithstanding, I must needs acknowledge, I prefer the company of a good neighbor before them; and particularly am well satisfied, that I cannot spend this evening better than in your conversation.

 

 PHIL. You doubly oblige me, SEBASTIAN, first in your great condescension to make me this kind visit, and then in forsaking so good company for mine.

 

 SEBAST. Your great courtesy, PHILANDER, interprets that to be an obligation upon yourself, which is but self love in me; for truly I am sensible that so great a part of the comfort of life depends upon a man's good correspondence with those that are near about him, that I think I cannot love myself, unless I love my neighbor also. And now, Sir, if you please, let us upon this occasion improve our neighborhood to a more intimate friendship; so that you and I, who have hitherto lived peaceably and inoffensively by each other, may henceforth become useful to one another.

 

 PHIL. You talk of self-love; but I shall be so far from it, that I must hate myself, and that deservedly too, if I lay not hold of so advantageous a proposal.

 

 SEBAST. No compliments, I beseech you; that will spoil our design, and continue us strangers to each other.

 

 PHIL. If I were used to compliment, yet I should be ashamed to make so superficial a return to an overture of so much kindness and reality; but I am plain and hearty, and I heartily embrace both yourself and your motion.

 

Come, Sir, what will you drink

 

 SEBAST. All in good time, Sir.

 

 PHIL. Nay, never in better time; now is the season of drinking; we must imitate the plants, and now suck in sap to serve us all the year after. If you will flourish in the spring, you must take in good juices in the winter.

 

 SEBAST. You seem, PHILANDER, to dream of a dry summer; however, I will pledge you, for I am sure the winter is cold.

 

 PHIL. Well, Sir, here is what will abate the edge of the weather, be it as sharp as it can. This drink will make the evenings warm, and the nights short, in, spite of the season. But then you must take the full dose. Come, fear it not; this will breed good blood, cure melancholy, and is the only cement of good neighborhood:

 

 SEBAST. Why then I hope our friendship will be lasting, for the cement (as you call it) is strong.

 

 PHIL. You are pleasant, SEBASTIAN. But now you and I are together, and under the rose too, (as they say,) why should not we drink somewhat briskly We shall know one another, and love one another the better even after. For, let me tell you, this will open our hearts, and turn our very insides outward.

 

 SEBAST. That trick, PHILANDER, I confess I have seen played, but I thought it a very unseemly one.

 

 PHIL. I doubt you mistake me; I mean only, that a liberal glass will take of all reservedness.

 

 SEBAST. I understand you; but with your pardon, I must needs tell you, that I have never been able to observe the glass you speak of to be so exact a mirror of minds, but as often to disfigure and disguise men, as truly to represent them. Have you not found some men, who upon an infusion in strong liquor, have seemed for the present to be totally dissolved into kindness and good nature; and yet as soon as ever the drink is squeezed out of these sponges, they become again as dry, as hard, and as rough as a pumice. Others you shall observe to hector in their drink, as if they were of the most redoubted courage, whose spirits nevertheless evaporating with their wine, they prove as tame errant cowards as any in nature. Perhaps also you may have taken notice of a kind of soakers, who commonly relent when they are well moistened, as if they shrunk in the wetting; and will at such times seem to be very religious; and yet for all they continue as

 

sottish as ever, as impenitent as a weeping wall. Contrariwise, there are some men, who, in the general habit of their lives, appear to be very discreet and ingenious persons; yet, if contrary to their custom, they have the misfortune to be surprised with drink, they become as dull as dormice, as flat and insipid as pompions.

 

 I cannot think, therefore, that this drink ordeal is so infallible a test of men's tempers as you imagine; or if' it were, yet there is no need of it between you and Inc.

 

We can candidly and sincerely lay open our bosoms to each other, without having a confession of our sentiments forced from us by this new-fashioned Dutch torture.

 

 PHIL. I am not for scandalous and debauched drinking, but in a civil way between friends, to make our spirits light, and our hearts cheerful.

 

 SEBAST. And I am not of that morose humor, to condemn all cheerfulness; neither do I take upon me to prescribe to every man his just dose, or think a man must divide by a hair, or be intemperate. Yet, on the other side, I am persuaded that a man may love his house, though he doth not ride upon the ridge of it; and can by no means be of their opinion, who fancy there is no freedom but in a debauch, no sincerity without a surfeit, or no cheerfulness whilst men are in their right wits: and I look upon the very conceit of this as reproachful both to GOD and man; but the practice of it, I am sure, is the bane of all manly conversation.

 

 PHIL. I have known' some men oppose one vice with another as bad, or worse; and who, whilst they railed at drinking, have only made apologies for ill nature; but you, SEBASTIAN, that have so much good nature yourself, will, I presume, make some allowances to complaisance in others.

 

 SEBAST. Far be it from me to undervalue good-nature, which I have in so great esteem, that I scarcely think any thing is good without it. It is the very air of a good mind, the sign of a large and generous soul, and the peculiar soil on which virtue prospers. And as for that genuine fruit of it, complaisance, I take it (if it be rightly understood) to be that which above all things renders a man both amiable and useful in the world; but the mischief is, (as it generally happens to all excellent things,) there is a counterfeit, which, 'assuming the name, passes current for it in the world, by which men become impotent, and incapable of withstanding any importunities, be they never so unreasonable, or resisting any temptations, be they never so dangerous; but as if they were crippled in their powers, or crazed in their minds, are wholly governed by example, and sneakingly conform themselves to other men's humors and vices; and, in a word, become every man's fool that has the confidence to impose upon them. Now this is so far from that lovely masculine temper of true complaisance, that it is indeed no better than a childish bashfulness, a silly softness of mind, which: makes a man first the slave and property, and then the scorn of his company. Wherefore it is the part of a good natured man, neither so rigidly to insist upon the punctilios of his liberty or property, as to refuse a glass recommended to him by civility; nor yet, on the other side, to be either hectored or wheedled out of his Christian name, (as we say,) and sheepishly submit himself to be taxed in his drink, or other indifferent things, at other men's pleasure. And if he shall fall into the company of those who shall assume to themselves such an arbitrary power as to assess him at their own rate, and prescribe their measures to him, I do not doubt but that with a salvo both to good-nature and civility, he may and ought so far to assert his own dominion over himself, as with a generous disdain to reject the imposition, and look upon the imposers as equally tyrannical and impertinent with those who would prescribe to me to eat their proportions of meat, or to wear my clothes just of their size.

 

 PHIL. O Sir, your discourse is brave and wise, but I doubt it is not practicable. You cannot certainly but be sensible how difficult a thing it is for modesty and good nature to oppose the prevailing humor of the age, which, in plain truth, is such, that now-a-days a man looks very oddly that keeps any strict measures of drinking.

 

 SEBAST. I am afraid it is too true which you say: I confess to you, it is a matter of regret and disdain to me to observe skill in good liquors ambitiously pretended to, as if they were a considerable point of knowledge; and good drinking looked upon as so important an affair, that that time seems to be lost, in which the glass goes not round, and thu cup and bottle seem to be the hour-glass, or the only measure of time. And this I the more wonder at, because the air, the climate, and constitutions of men's bodies are not changed, and the laws of temperance are the same they were wont to be: I would therefore faire know, what has brought this tippling humor into fashion.

 

 PHIL. It is the observation of wise men, that generally the customs of people were taken up at first, upon the account of some natural necessity or defect,; as we see generally art supplies and perfects nature. Now you know we live in a cold climate, and consequently must needs have dull phlegmatic bodies, the influence of -which upon our minds is easily discernible; so that it should seem, drinking is more necessary to us, than to most other people, if it were but to make us sprightly and conversable.

 

 SEBAST. Now, PHILANDER, you have mended the matter finely: to avoid my censure of the good fellows, you have censured the whole nation as a generation of dull sots, and represented your countrymen as a sort of people newly fashioned out of clay, that have no soul at all, until it is extracted out of the spirit of wine. But in the mean time, I wonder what became of all our sober ancestors, and particularly of the dry race of QUEEN ELIZABETH-men, as they are called. I cannot find but they had as much soul and spirit as the present generation, (however they came by it,) though they never made alembicks of themselves. But why do you smile, PHILANDER

 

 PHIL. Even at myself. In plain truth, I am such a spot of earth, as will bear nothing unless it be well watered; and to countenance myself' in this condition, though I cannot pretend to learning, yet I remember I have heard, that. the gravest Philosophers did use to water =their plaits, (as we say,) and sometimes philosophized over a glass of wine.

 

 SEBAST. And why not over a glass of wine, as well as by a fire-side Provided a man take care, that as by the -one he does not burn his shins, so by the other he doth not over-heat his head; or, to follow your metaphor, pro=vided a man only water the soil, and do not drown it.

 

 PHIL. But I have heard some say, they have always found their reason to be strongest, when their spirits were most exalted.

 

 SEBAST. But sure they did not mean that their reason was strongest, when the wine was too strong for them If they did, then either their reason was very small at the best, and nothing so strong as their drink, or else we are quite mistaken in the names of things; and so in plain English, drunkenness is sobriety, and sobriety drunkenness: for who can imagine that that which clouds the head, should enlighten the mind; and that which wildly agitates the spirits, should strengthen the understanding; or that a coherent thread of discourse should be spun by a shattered vertiginous brain

 

 But if I should grant, that men well whetted with wine (as they love to speak) are very sharp and piquant, very jocose, and ready at a repartee; yet besides that, this edge is so thin, and razor-like, that it will serve to no manly purposes; it is also very dangerous, since at that time a wise Iran has it not in keeping.

 

 PHIL. Well, but one thing I am sure you will grant, that wine suppresses cares and melancholy; and this, I suppose, sufficiently commends the liberal use of it.

 

 SEBAST. That which you now say is undeniably true; but yet I know not how, it comes to pass, that this remedy is seldom made use of by those to whom it was peculiarly prescribed: I mean, the melancholy and dejected have ordinarily the least share of it. It is commonly taken by the prosperous, the sanguine, and debonair, and such as have least need of it; and these frequently have it in such large proportions, that it makes them not only forget their sorrows, if they had any, but themselves and their business too: so that, upon the whole matter, I see no tolerable account can be given of the way of drinking now in fashion; for it appears to be taken up upon no necessity; it is recommended by no real advantage, either to the body or mind; and therefore must owe its rise to no better causes than dullness or idleness; a silly obsequiousness to other men's humors, or epicurism and wantonness of our own inclinations. And for the habit of it, it is no better than a lewd artifice to avoid thinking; a way for a man to get shut of himself, and of all sober considerations.

 

 Shall I need after all this, to represent the sin committed against GOD ALMIGHTY, by this vain custom, in the breach of his laws, deforming his image, and quenching his SPIRIT; or the injury it does to human society, in the riotous and profuse expense of so comfortable a cordial; or shall I but reckon up the mischiefs a man hereby incurs to his own person, the danger of his health, the damage to his fortune.

 

 PHIL. O no more, no more, good SEBASTIAN. You have silenced, you have vanquished me. I am not able to resist the evidence of truth. You have quite marred a good fellow, and spoiled my drinking.

 

But how then shall I treat you Come, you are for serious things; what say you to a game at tables Methinks that is both a grave and a pleasant entertainment of the time.

 

 SEBAST. Truly, Sir, I am so unskillful at that and most other games, that I should rather give you trouble than diversion at it. But what need you be solicitous for my entertainment It is your company only which I desire and methinks it looks as if friends were weary one of the other, when they fall to gamins.

 

 PHIL. But I should think a man of your temper might have a fancy for this game, because it seems to be a pretty emblem of the world.

 

 SEBAST. How, I pray you, Sir

 

 PHIL. Why, in the first place, the casual agitation of the dice in the box, which unaccountably produces such or such a lot, seems to me to represent the disposal of that invisible Hand which orders the fortunes of men. And then the dextrous management of that lot or cast resembles the use and efficacy of prudence acid industry in the conduct of a man's own fortunes.

 

 SEBAST. I perceive, PHILANDER, that you play like a philosopher, as well as a gamester but, in my opinion, you have forgotten the main resemblance of all; which is,

 

That the clatter and noise in tossing and tumbling the dice and table-men up and down, backward and forward, lively describes the hurry and tumult of this world, where one man goes up, and another tumbles down; one is dignified and preferred, another is degraded; that man reigns and triumphs, this man frets and vexes; the one laughs, tlic other repines; and all the rest tug and scuffle to make their advantage of one another. Let this, if you please, he added to the moral of your game. But when all is done, I must tell you, for my part, I am not so much taken with the original, as to be fond of the type or effigies. I mean, I am not so in love with the world, as to take any great delight in seeing it brought upon the stage, and acted over again; but had much rather retreat from it when I can, and give myself the contentment of repose, and quiet thoughts.

 

 PHIL. However, I hope you are not offended at my mention of that game. Do you think it unlawful to use any diversion

 

 SEBAST. No, dear PHILANDER; I am sensible that whilst men dwell in bodies, it is fit they not only keep them up in necessary reparation by meat and drink, but also make them lightsome and cheerful, otherwise the mind will have but an uncomfortable tenancy. I would therefore as soon universally forbid all physic, as all kinds of exercise and diversion; and indeed rather of the two, for I think the latter may, in a great measure, save the trouble of the former; but that will do little or no good without this.

 

 But to deal freely with you I cannot very much commend these kinds of sports; for indeed I scarce think them sports, they are rather a counterfeit kind of business, and -weary one's head as much as real study arid business of importance; so that in the use of them a man only puts a cheat upon himself, and tickles himself to death: for by applying himself for delight to these busy and thoughtful games, he becomes like a candle lighted at both ends, and must needs be quickly wasted away between jest and earnest, when both his cares and his delight prey upon him.

 

 Besides, I observe that diversions of this nature having so much of chance and surprise in them, generally too much raise the passions of men, which it were fitter by all arts and endeavors to charm down and suppress. For, to say nothing of the usual accidents of common gaming houses, which (as I have heard from those that knew too well) are the most lively pictures- of hell upon earth; I have seen sad examples of extravagance in the more modest and private, but over-eager pursuits of these recreations; insomuch that sometimes a well-tempered person has quite lost all command of himself at them: so that you might see his eyes fiery, his color inflamed, his hands tremble, his breath to be short, his accents of speech fierce and violent; by all which, and abundantly more ill-favored symptoms, you might conclude his heart hot, and his thoughts solicitous; and indeed the whole man, body and soul, to be in an agony. Now will you call this a recreation, or a rack and torture rather A rack certainly, which makes a man seek to conceal, and heightens those passions which every good man endeavors to subdue.

 

 To which we add, that gaming (and especially at such games as we are speaking of) doth insensibly steal away' too much of our time from better business, and tempts us to be prodigals and bankrupts of that which no good fortune can ever redeem or repair. And this is so notoriously true, that there is hardly any man who sets himself down to these pastimes, (as they are called,) that can break off and recall himself when he designed so to do. Forasmuch as either by the too great intention of his mind, he forgets himself; or the anger stirred up by his misfortunes, and the indignation to go off baffled, suffers him not to think of any thing but reparation of his losses, or the hopes he is fed withal trowls him on, so that business, health, family, friends, and even the worship of GOD itself, are all super ceded and neglected for the sake of this paltry game.

 

 All which considered, I am really afraid there is more of, the Devil in it than we are ordinarily aware of, and that it is a temptation of his to engage us in that, where he that wins most is sure to lose that which is infinitely of more value. Therefore, upon the whole matter, I think it much safer to keep out of the lists than to engage, where, besides the greatness of the stake, a man cannot bring himself off again without so great difficulty.

 

 PHIL. I thank you heartily for the freedom you have used with me. We good-natured men, (as the world flatters us, and we love to be styled,) considering little or nothing ourselves, and having seldom the happiness of discreet and faithful friends, that will have so much concern for us as to admonish us of our imprudence and our dangers, as if we were mere machines, move just as other men move and prompt us, and so drink, play, and do a thousand follies for companion-sake, and under the countenance of one another's example. GOD forgive me! I have too often been an instance of that which you now intimated: I therefore again and again thank you for your advice, and hope I shall remember, as long as I live, what you have said.

 

 But that you may work a perfect cure upon me, I will be so true to myself as to acquaint you faithfully with what I apprehend to be the cause of this epidemical distemper. I find the common temptation both to drinking and gaming is the unskilfulness of such men as myself to employ our time without such kind of diversions, especially at this season of the year, when the dark and long evenings, foul ways, and sharp weather, drive us into clubs and combinations. If, therefore, you will deal freely with me herein, and by your prudence help me over this difficulty, you will do an act worthy of yourself, and of that kindness which brought you hither.

 

 SEBAST. There is nothing within my power which you may not command me in. Nor is there any thing wherein I had rather serve you (if I could) than in a business of this nature. But all t can do, and as I think all that is needful in this case, is, to desire you to consider it again, and then I hope you will find the difficulty not so insuperable as you imagine. It is very true, idleness is more painful than hard labor, and nothing is more wearisome than having nothing to do; besides, as a rich soil will be sure to bring forth weeds if it be not sown with more profitable seed; so the active spirits in man will be sure to prompt him to evil, if they be not employed in doing good.

 

 But this difficulty which you represent, generally presses young men only. These, indeed having more sail than ballast;-I mean, having a mighty vigor and abundance of spirits, but not their minds furnished with a sufficient stock of knowledge and experience to govern and employ those active spirits upon;-no wonder if such persons, in defect of real business, greedily catch at those shadows and resemblances of it. But what is all this to men that are entered into real business, and have concerns under their hand, and the luxuriancy of whose spirits is taken off by cares and experience, and especially who cannot (without unpardonable stupidity) but be sensible how daily the time and age of man wear away.

 

 PHIL. Make what reflections upon it you please, however the matter of fact is certainly true in the general, that a gentleman's time is his burthen, (whether he be young or old,) and the want of employment for it is his great temptation to several extravagances.

 

 SEBAST. I believe it to be as you say: but really, it is very strange it should be so: and I am sure it cannot be verified without very ungrateful returns to the Divine bounty, which has made so ample provisions for the delight and contentment of such persons far above the rate of others. It is true, they have less bodily labor, and no drudgery to exhaust their time and spirits upon; (and that methinks should be no grievance;) but then the prudent management of a plentiful fortune (if things be rightly considered) doth not take up much less time than the poor man's labor for the necessities of life. For what with securing the patrimony, and husbanding the revenue, what with letting and setting his lands, and building and repairing his houses; what with planting walks, and beautifying his gardens; what with accommodating himself according to his quality, and hospitably treating his friends and neighbors according to theirs; and, to say no more, what with keeping accounts of all this, and governing a numerous and well-fed family; I am of opinion, that the gentleman has indeed the more pleasant, but a no less busy employment of his time than other men; insomuch, that I cannot but suspect that he must be deficient in some principal branch of good husbandry, and defraud his business, that surfeits on leisure.

 

 Moreover, as divine bounty has exempted such men from the common sweat and anxieties of life, by those large patrimonies provided to their hands, so the same Divine Majesty has thereby obliged them, and it is expected from them by the world, that they be more publicly serviceable to their Prince and country, in Magistracy, in making peace, and several ways assisting government, and promoting the ends of human society: upon which account, as it is very unjust that others should envy and malign them for their enjoyments, so it is apparent also, that they are so far from having less to do than their-inferiors, that, on the contrary, the gentleman's life seems to be far the busier of the two.

 

 Besides all this, gentlemen having usually more ingenious education, and consequently are presumed to have more exercised and improved minds, may therefore be able to employ themselves, if all other business ceased, and fill up the vacant spaces of their time with such delightful and profitable entertainment as others are incapable of.

 

 PHIL. That last point is the thing I would fain learn, namely, how to fill up the vacant spaces of life, (as you call it,) so as to leave no room for temptation to debauchery.

 

 SEBAST. I am heartily glad to see you of that mind; we will then, if you please, examine this matter between us, and by that time we have compared the period of our lives with the variety of business that occurs in it, I am out of all doubt you will be satisfied, that we have neither so much time as to be a burthen to us; nor if it were more than it is, should we be at a loss for the bestowing of it and this, without resorting to any of the extravagances if afore-mentioned.

 

 Let us then, in the first place, suppose that the lives of men at this age of the world, and particularly in this climate and country, amount commonly to seventy years; for though it is possible here and there one outlives that term, yet it is pretty evident, by the most probable calculations, that there is not above one man in thirty, or thereabouts, who arrives at that age: However, I say, let' us at present suppose that to be the common standard.

 

 Now to discover what an inconsiderable duration this is, let us but ask the opinion of those that have arrived at it, and they will assuredly tell us, that all the whole term,, when it is past, seems to be a very short stage, and quickly over; or, if we had rather trust to our own experience, let us look back upon twenty or thirty years of our own lives, which though it bear a very great proportion towards the lease of our whole lives, yet when it is over, seems to be but a little while to us; as if time, as it is usually pictured, fled upon wings.

 

 PHIL. I pray pardon me, if I a little interrupt the thread of your discourse; you may easily continue it again. That which I would say is this; I can verify the truth of what you were supposing, by my own experience, and have often wondered what should be the reason of it, that men have quite different apprehensions of time past, and time to come. When we look back (as you well observe) upon twenty or thirty years which are gone, they seem but a trice to us; but if we look forward, and forethink so many years to come, we are apt to fancy we have an ocean before us, and such a vast prospect that we can see no end of it. Now I ask your opinion, what it is that puts such a fallacy upon us, for other it cannot be: Forasmuch as the same term of years, whether it be reckoned forward car backward, past or to come, must needs really be of the same length and duration

 

 SEBAST. It is so as you say. But to give you an account of the reason of that different estimate, I can say but these two things, viz., Either as it is in the nature of hope to flatter us, so all things seem bigger at a distance, and whilst they are in expectation only, than what we find them to be in fruition. Or else it must be, that what is past of our lives we have fresh and lively remarks upon, by remembering the notable passages that have fallen out within that compass, by which means those equally remote portions of time are brought nearer to our eye.

 

 But on the contrary, in the time which is to come, we can have no remarks upon it: because, not knowing what shall happen, we have nothing to fix our thoughts upon; and so it looks like a vast ocean to us. For you know that things which are in confusion, seem to be more than the same things when they are digested into just order and method. And in traveling, you observe that twenty or thirty miles, which we are well acquainted with, and have frequently traced, seem short and inconsiderable; but the same length of journey in an unknown way, seems very tedious to us. Thus, I think, it is in the case you have propounded: but now, if you please, let us pass on where we were going.

 

 I say, then, suppose the term of our lives be about seventy years; yet, in the first place, we must subduct from this sum a very considerable part, as taken up in childhood and youth, and which slips away we know not how, so as to escape our observation, being wholly spent in folly and impertinency, but certainly lost to all manly purposes: To which if you add the infirmities of old age, which, though it do not equally in all men, yet always more or less renders some part of our time useless; you will think it no unreasonable postulatuan, if I suppose, that both together take up a third part of the whole.

 

 In the next place, let us consider how great a proportion is taken up in sleep, in eating and drinking; in dressing and undressing, in trimming and adorning, and, to be short, in the mere necessity of the body. I have read of a brave Saxon Prince of our country, who allowed only eight hours in the day, or one third part of his time, to these uses; but I doubt few men follow his example And if we take measures from common experience, we shall find, that these meaner offices take up near, if not altogether, half the time of most persons. And so another third of the whole is gone, and only one poor third remaining for all other occasions.

 

 Then again, out of that remainder, a very great share will be challenged by necessary business, the affairs of our estate or calling, and the concerns of our families; and these occasions are so importunate, that they will not be denied without culpable ill husbandry, nor gratified without a large proportion of the aforesaid remainder.

 

 Moreover, whether we will or no, another part will be ravished from us by sickness and physic, in visiting and being visited, in journeys and news, and a thousand impertinencies; so that he must be a very good and wary husband, that. suffers -not great expenses this way.

 

 And after all this, here is nothing for reading and study, for meditation, and the improvement of our own minds; nay, not for religion and devotion towards GOD, and the unspeakable concerns of another world, which in all reason may most justly put in for their shares.

 

 PHIL. All this is very true; but what do you infer front this account.

 

 SEBAST. I dare trust your judgment to make inferences from the premises: For, in the first place, I know you cannot fail to observe, that the lightest matters of our life have the greatest share of our time spent in them_ Folly and infirmity, infancy and dotage, take up the greatest room of all: Then worldly business and pleasure exhaust the most of that which is left, and the mind, and noblest interests, have least of all left for them.

 

 And then, secondly, you cannot but note, with admiration, how very little share GOD has even from the best of men; and you cannot but adore his goodness, which rewards with eternal life that little time in which men work in his vineyard. But that which I aim at in this calculation is, to demonstrate to you, that there is a great deal more. reason that men should rather redeem time from lesser occasions, than lavish it in impertinencies; that so our weightier concerns may have the more tolerable allowances: and to be sure he must be a very soft and feeble man that, after all these ends are served, can complain, that time lies upon his hands; which was the thing to be proved.

 

 PHIL. I am now amazed at my own stupidity, that could put such a case to you. What vain fools are we that complain of plenty, when we are rather straitened and in want What silly prodigals are we, that are so far from sparing betimes, that we are not so much as frugal, when all these claims and demands come in so thick upon us I have often heard it said, that by keeping a strict account of incomes and expenses, a man might easily preserve an estate from dilapidation; but now I perceive, that for the want of a little of your arithmetic to number our days, we run out our lease of life before we are aware; and fancying we have enough to squander away upon every trifle, we have ordinarily little or nothing left to defray the most weighty occasions.

 

 And, with your pardon, let me tell you, I think now I have found where the shoe pinches. It is not (I perceive now) a surplusage of time which tempts us to seek thcs3 diversions, but the mere vanity of our mind, which has a fondness for them; and then custom and example have made them so natural to us, that we think the time long we are at them. Not that we have much to spare: GOD knows, we have little enough; but because we think much of all that is otherwise employed. And this, I doubt, is the true reason why we are impatient of long prayers, and offended with a long sermon; which whoso observes, would perhaps charitably suppose, that the urgency of business would not permit us to attend them; but we utterly deprive ourselves of the pretence, when we complain that time hes upon our hands. To speak truth therefore, we can hardly spare time for GOD, because we love him too little: But we have abundance of spare time for our idle diversions, because we love them too much.

 

 SEBAST. You have hit the very mark; but let us go on, and suppose, that our spare time were more than it is, or possibly can be, yet it will be no hard matter to find out more pleasant, as well as more innocent entertainments of it, than those now in request.

 

 For, in the first place, there are some employments every whit as delightful; such as, in particular, planting and gardening, in which a man may not only have the pleasure to contemplate the admirable beauty and variety of the works of GOD, but by improving the nature of plants, by altering the species, by mixture and composition of several beauties and perfections into one, by deducing one out of another, exalting one by another, and, in a word, by giving being and continuance to several things, he becomes a kind of creator himself, if I may use such an expression. This kind of business ministers so many, and so ravishing delights, that I remember CATO preferred it before all the pleasure of youth, and thought the entertainment of his elder, a good exchange for the voluptuousness of younger years. Nay, EPICURUS himself placed a good part of his felicity in the delights of his garden. And, above all, I am certain that GOD who knew best what satisfactions were to be found within the whole sphere of his creation, and was not niggardly towards men, made choice of this for the entertainment of our first parents in their state of innocency, and before their folly and sin had damned them to care and toil, and the sweat of their brows.

 

 Again, there are some exercises both of body and mind, which are very ingenious as well as divertive; such as singing, painting, and the like: and they are so far from debauching the mind, or raising the passions, that they compose the temper, even to admiration.

 

 Besides all these, there are offices of humanity and charity, which afford a man unspeakable delight: Such as comforting a friend or neighbor in his affliction, or assisting and counseling him in his difficulties; promoting peace, and making an end of controversies; reheving a poor man in his hunger. In all which, besides the satisfaction a man has in his own mind, he, as it were by reflection, participates of the pleasure those persons find by his good offices towards them: For, to say nothing of any of the other, what a refreshment is it to our own bowels, to observe the appetite with which a poor hungry man feeds upon that which you supply him with. And it will do a man's heart good to take notice of the strange change wrought in such a person by a bountiful entertainment; his countenance more cheerful, his spirits brisk, his heart light, his whole temper sweet and ingenious. All which, who can be accessary to, without a kind of virtuous epicurism.

 

 All these which I have named are sincere and manly pleasures, without noise, and without danger; which neither raise a man's passions, nor drown his reason: They are neither so fine and spiritual, that the body can have no participation of them; nor so gross, that the mind should be ashamed of them. And in some or other of these every man that pleases may spend his vacant hours with satisfaction.

 

 But let me now go a little higher; and what if we take in somewhat of the other world to sweeten the present life What think you, after all, of prayer to God, and reading the Scripture May not a man bestow some of his time in these with as much pleasure as devotion, and so (to allude to modern philosophy) fill up the void spaces of his life with celestial matter

 

 As for the former of them, prayer, I remember you well observed, that several of those men who complain as if they were over-burthened with time, yet love to make as short work with this as they can; wherein they betray either some measure of atheism in their hearts, or a great deal of sensuality in their affections: and I cannot tell whether they more contradict themselves, or discover their shameful ignorance of the noblest pleasures of life. For besides that it is highly agreeable to the best reason of a man,, that he should daily pay his homage to his greatest Benefactor: Prayer is the known way to obtain the Divine blessing, upon which all the pleasure and comfort of our lives depend.

 

 Yea, and it is the very pulse of the soul, which keeps the spirits florid and vital; it answers to the motion of the lungs in the body, and exhales those melancholy vapors that would suffocate our hearts. By it we- put ourselves under the Divine protection, and our spirits are heightened and fortified by the patronage of Him who can secure us against all assaults and dangers whatsoever. When 'we have commended ourselves- to the Divine Providence- by prayer, our hearts are at rest; we are secure sleeping and waking; we are never alone, but have always one to second us; whatever the success of our endeavors be, our minds are quieted; if things answer our wishes,: we have-a double satisfaction, that GOD favors us, as well as that our labors are successful; if things miscarry, we impute no folly nor omission to ourselves; we have done all that was fit for us to do but it pleased Divine- wisdom to disappoint us. Besides, the frequent approach of the Divine Majesty, puts a gravity upon a man's countenance, checks and keeps down all exorbitancy of passions, begets an ingenuous modesty, and- makes men as well ashamed as afraid to do an unworthy action.

 

 To all which, add, that by the advantage of our prayers; we are enabled to become a public blessing, and every private man a benefactor to the whole world;, than which, what can be either greater in itself, or more acceptable to a great and generous- mind Consequently, what can a brave and public spirited man employ his time in with more delight, than in that which (whatsoever his external condition be) will make him a blessing, not only to his friends and neighborhood, but to the country and times

 

he lives in; that even Kings and Princes are really beholden to him Nor is it necessary that much time be taken up herein, to serve all these great ends; nor much less is it my intention to commend affectedly long prayers. A little time and a great deal of heartiness best do the business of religion; and that little, so employed, will make all the rest pass away the more sweetly and comfortably.

 

 And then for reading and meditating upon the Holy Scriptures, the Psalmist has told us, that the good man's "delight is in the law of GOD, and" that 11 therein be meditates day and night: " and surely any man may be able to entertain a few moments in it. If curiosity sway with us, there are as admirable things in the Holy Scriptures as the mind of man can desire. If we affect history, we have there the most ancient and faithful monuments in the world; those, without which all mankind had continued in their nonage and childhood to this day,- as being so far from able to give an account of the beginning of the world, and original of things, that they could not have looked backward many ages, but they would have been utterly bewildered in mists and fables, as absurd as the wildest fictions of poets. Besides, without this record, all the wonderful methods of Divine Providence (which are the comfort of the present age, and the obligation to virtue, and foundation of piety and religion) had been buried in oblivion.

 

 If we seek after knowledge, either natural, moral, or prudential, where is there such another treasury of it to be found as this, where we have not only the relations and observations of the wisest men in all ages past, but the discoveries of the Divine Majesty, the depths of Infinite Wisdom, (that know the true reason of things,) laid, open.

 

 If we are pleased with this foreknowledge of things to come, (as what man of soul can choose but desire to see beyond the curtain,) then all the presages, prognostics, and divinations, all the most rational inductions of the wisest men, are but silly surmises and idle dreams to the predictions of the holy Prophets, which give us light to the world's end, and a view of another world; and have both assured their own credit, and warranted our belief of what is yet to come, by the well known accomplishment of their former predictions.

 

 If we would approve ourselves in virtue, what surer rule can we have than the express declaration of GOD himself Who can prescribe to Him what shall please Him, or prescribe to us better than He that made us, and knows what is fit for us to do And what more full, plain, compendious, and higher institution of religion can there be than the Holy Scripture

 

 This brings GOD near to us, and us near to him: here you know his mind, you see his nature, and hear him speak; here you may stand as it were upon an isthmus or promontory, and take a view of both worlds: this is the light of our eyes, the rule of our faith, the law of our conscience, and the foundation of all our hopes. All this together, sure, cannot choose but make the reading the Scripture become a very serious and yet a very delightful employment. And now, upon the whole matter, what think you, may not a gentleman entertain himself and his time, without the relief of drinking and gaming.

 

 PHIL. What think I, say you Why I think worse of myself than ever I did. I do not wonder now at what you said when we first came together, viz., That you could always find employment for your time; but I wonder at my own folly: For I plainly see that no man can have time to be a burthen upon him that has come honestly by it: I mean, that has not stolen it from nobler entertainments, to bestow it upon a debauch.

 

 SEBAST. But yet this is not all neither. Besides all the forementioned, (and those which I have supposed, without naming them particularly,) there is a way of entertaining ourselves, called study and meditation. Study, I say, in general; not confined to any subject, but only 'directed to the time GOD has given us in the world.

 

For why should we abject ourselves that have rational souls-, an active, vigorous, intellectual spirit in us 

 

 Is not this able to employ itself, our -time, and our bodily spirits too Is not our mind large enough to embrace the whole world Can we not bring upon the theatre of our imagination all the occurrences of time past, as well as present Must we needs only pore upon the things just before our eyes Must our understandings be fallow and barren, unless they be continually stirred up by our senses Are our souls only given us for salt to keep the body sweet, or servilely to cater for our inferior powers; and not rather to subdue and govern them

 

 Why should we not remember we are men, and improve our best talent, sharpen the sense of our minds, and enlarge and greaten our spirits What hinders, but that a man may converse with himself, and never have better company than when he is most solitary How can a man want company that has an angelical nature within him; or need diversion, that has the whole world before him to contemplate

 

 What should discourage or hinder men from this course Is it the pains and difficulty Nothing in the world is pleasanter when a man is once used to it. Is it for fear we should exhaust ourselves, and, like the spider, spin out our own bowels in our web There can be no danger of that, an immortal soul never wears out. And should there be no great fruit from our study, at least, this is gotten by it, that we employ our time and keep ourselves out of harm, which is as much as we now seek for.

 

 PHIL. It is generally the fault of contemplative men to outshoot the mark, and whilst they talk finely, to deliver very unpracticable things. Pardon me, dear SEBASTIAN, if I suppose this infirmity has accompanied you at this time. No doubt but meditation is a noble entertainment of time; and questionless, he that has once got the knack of it, nothing in the world is so pleasant to him: But you must consider, there are very few who have so much command over themselves, as to hold their minds long steady and intent; and perhaps fewer that have sufficient knowledge to employ their thoughts at home: it requires a stock for a man to be able to set up this trade by himself. Your advice therefore is very good for them that can receive it; but this is no Catholicon, no general receipt.

 

 SEBAST. I thank you, Sir, most heartily for the modest and seasonable check you gave to the career of my discourse. I must confess, upon second thoughts, that all men are not fit for meditation; yet, I must tell you withal, I suspect more are unwilling than incapable; and I doubt some are more afraid of awakening their conscience, than stirring their spleen by it. However, I have another expedient to propound, (for the purpose we are upon,) which will supply the place of the former, and which, I am sure, can be liable to no objection; and that is, conference or discourse: which when I have recommended to you, I shall have delivered my whole mind.

 

 GOD has given us speech to express ourselves to one another. We are not left alone in the world so, but that every man has some friend or neighbor to hold correspondence with. Why should we not then entertain ourselves, our friend, and our time, in friendly communication, without the help of the bottle, This requires no great intention of mind, no great stock is required in this case; and by this way we may not only divert ourselves, but clear our thoughts, enlarge our experience, resolve one another's difficulties, and mutually please and profit one another.

 

 And the more effectually to recommend this expedient to you, I will first take the confidence to affirm, and do not doubt but I shall, by and by, make it appear, that this is not only a very genteel and creditable way of conversation, but also, if it he rightly practiced, a most pleasant and delightful, and (which perhaps may seem the greatest paradox of all) one of the most healthful exercises in the world.

 

 The first of these you will easily grant me, when you consider, that discourse is that which principally distinguishes a wise, man from a fool. For, what else do we take our measures of one another by If a man discourse of weighty matters, and keep close to the point, -and speak sharply in the case, we account him a worthy man: But, contrariwise, if he talk flatly, insipidly, and impertinently, we have no esteem or reverence for such a person.

 

 It is certain we cannot know a man's thoughts until he expresses them: a fool, we say, is a wise man so long as he holds his peace, and man differs nothing from a fool until he speaks. For a man's actions may be by rote, or custom, or the direction of some other person; but a man's discourse is his own. "Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh," said our SAVIOR. The tongue will betray not only the inclinations of the heart, but the very sense and capacity, and the latter much more than the former; as the liquor will carry the tincture of the vessel. It is possible, indeed, for an evil man to talk virtuously, and a silly man may get into a road of wise sayings; but the lesson he has conned will soon be at an end; and then he will no more be able to hold out at that rate, than a flawed vessel to make the same sound with a good one. Wisdom and folly are-widely different in their natures; but it is discourse that lays them open, and makes the distinction conspicuous.

 

 But now for the vulgar methods of conversation, which commonly consist of drinking and gaming, they are no better than leveling practices, that observe no distance, nor make any distinction among men; the master and servant are at hail fellow; the gentleman and the clown are upon the square with one another; the man of parts and learning, the veriest idiot and coxcomb, are upon even ground in those entertainments.

 

 As for Drinking, I cannot sufficiently wonder at that abjection of mind in persons of quality, who, as if they consented to their own degradation, will contend for victory with their inferiors at equal glasses; when it is notorious, that a porter shall bear more than a gentleman; and a fine wit shall be baffled and disordered with that which a thick-skulled sot will carry away well enough, and come off as wise a man as he entered. But, suppose the gentleman should out-do the clown and the wit the dunce; yet, as the match was made very imprudently, so the victory would be inglorious.

 

 And then for Gaming. I have heard of an ape that has been too hard for his master at that most ingenious game of chess: But I have known one very near to a natural, that has been a great master at it. And certainly, it is very easy to imagine, that in those other games that are governed by chance, the victory may fall to the less worthy person. It seems therefore, a very mean thing to be eagerly intent upon that to which a wise man has no better title than a fool, and if we believe the Proverb, much less. To be sure, no man can be so vain as to think himself the wiser or better man for his conquest. But now, discourse discriminates men's real abilities, and bears an impartial testimony to a man's worth; and the contests of reason are therefore truly honorable, because the wiser man is sure to have the victory.

 

 But then, Secondly, for the pleasure of Discourse, it cannot be doubted, but that the higher powers in a man are attended with the sweetest delights in the exercise of them; and the more strong and vigorous those powers are, the more quick must the sense of their peculiar pleasure be. This the experience of all studious men bears testimony to, among whom one truth sifted out by reason, is more pleasant than all the entertainments of an epicure.

 

 And now, in the last place, for that seeming paradox concerning the wholesomeness of discoursing. It is observed, that they who are curious of the health of their bodies, to the end that they may invigorate all their powers and faculties, have to. that purpose found out appropriate exercises to all the principal parts: for so, they say, Walking is peculiarly good for digestion, by gently agitating the stomach and bowels; riding is singularly beneficial to the head; the use of the long bow is especially commended for opening the breast and lungs. Now 'I think I may be bold to say, that whatsoever each of these is to its respective part and member, that will vigorous conference perform to the whole man. For as to the very bodily powers, it warms the heart and stomach, dries the brain, opens the lungs, quickens the motion of the blood, and brings a fresh and florid colour into the face and whole habit. And then, as for the better part of man, discourse raises the fancy, exercises the memory, clears the thoughts, enlightens the judgment, and improves the reasoning.

 

 And now; I appeal to you, judge whether I have performed my promise or no. If I have, then, besides all the afore-mentioned, here is a manly employment of time always at hand; an exercise that every one is capable of that has a tongue in his head, and a soul in his body. Thus we may treat our neighbor, and cost us nothing but what we (it seems) have too much of, I mean, time. And thus we may profit ourselves, and oblige him too, beyond all other entertainments.

 

 PHIL. I have a great reverence for your judgment; but, in truth, I cannot tell what to say to this gossiping kind of diversion, and until this moment, I never thought lip-labor had been of such value. As for thinking men, the world is content to let them enjoy the reputation of being wise, or at least, to suspend their judgment of them till they see the contrary. But as for talkative men, (I need not tell you,) they have ever been accounted troublesome and impertinent. And for our own part, good SEBASTIAN, give me leave to say, that your practice confutes your doctrine; for after all you have spoken in the commendation of conversation, and notwithstanding that every one who knows you, knows your singular dexterity in managing any subject, yet, you, of all men, are generally observed to be the most silent and reserved.

 

 SEBAST. I see plainly, that there is a wrong as well as a right handle to every thing, and a continual proneness in men to mistake one another. Whensoever any vice is censured, or exposed, men presently think the contrary extreme must needs be the virtue: So whilst I have been -recommending friendly conference, you represent me as if I had pleaded for impertinent talkativeness; which, truly, I am so far from, that I think the world doth that sort of men no wrong in the censure it passes upon them; amongst

 

whom, (if it be a wise man's lot td be cast,) he will think himself in the region of parrots; and for his deliverance, be tempted to pray for deafness as a great blessing. No, PHILANDER, no; I would neither have men say all they can, nor much less talk whether they can or no; but I would have them first think, to direct their speaking, and then speak that a judgment may be made of their thoughts. I would that men should bend their minds whenever they relax their tongues, and try the strength of one another's heads in reasoning, rather than in drinking.

 

 But then, as for what yourself or others have observed of my carriage in company, I confess the observation is rightly taken, and I will ingenuously assign you the occasions of it; which are (as far as I know myself) such as these: In the first, place, it sometimes falls out, that the subject which other men are discoursing of, is not very agreeable to my mind. Now in this case I am generally silent; at least, till I can turn the stream of discourse some other way.

 

 Again, sometimes I am in the company of those who are every way my betters; and there I think it is much more advisable to hear than to speak, as it is better to reap than to sow.

 

 Sometimes also I meet with a company of desultorious wits, who skip so hastily from one thing to another that they overrun me; and whilst I am meditating what to say

 

pertinently to the question in hand, they are gotten into another subject. A man must ride post, or be left behind by such discoursers.

 

 But let that be as it may, or however my practice falls short of my counsel, I am certain my example is not sufficient to counterbalance the reasons I have given. Wherefore let me again heartily recommend it to you, not only for its own benefit, but if it were, to supersede those other soft and silly diversions, which have of late so far usurped upon human society, as well nigh to engross to themselves all men's vacant hours, and a great deal more.

 

 PHIL. You have the ascendant of me, and may persuade me to what you will. But, good Sir, do not convert me from a good fellow to a prating fool. If I had been used to study as you have, I might have been in a capacity to please myself, and perhaps the company too, with discourse; but for want of that education, silence will generally be my best discretion.

 

 SEBAST. Books! It is neither books, nor much reading, that makes a wise man. How many shrewd men have you known, and very welt accomplished in most parts of conversation, that never had any great matter of clerkship And, on thte other side, amongst the great number of those that have had the advantages of bookish education, how few are those that are really the better for it With many men, reading is nothing better than a dozing kind of idleness, and the book is a mere opiate that makes them sleep with their eyes open. It is perverted into an antidote against thinking wisely, and made a creditable pretence for dismission of business. Such men's studying is only an artifice to reconcile the ease and voluptuousness of sloth with the reputation of wisdom; a gentle and wary kind of epicurism, that surfeits without pain or shame, and in which men spend their time without profit to themselves, or usefulness to the world.

 

 Again, there are some with whom bookishness is a disease: for by overmuch reading they surcharge their minds, and so digest nothing. They stuff themselves so full of other men's notions, that there is no room for their faculties to display themselves. Such as these, after all their reading, can no more be accounted learned, than a beast of burden may that carries a student's books for him. Only so much meat is nourishment to the body as a man can digest, as he can apply to the reparation of his body, when he can separate the superfluities, and be stronger and lightsomer after it: more than this breeds ill humors, obstructs the passages, and impairs the health, instead of advancing it: and so much study only is profitable as will excite a man's thoughts, as well as afford hints to the mind, or as will furnish him with matter for meditation and discourse; which two last things are the two great instruments of improving ourselves, and therefore are to prescribe the measures of our study and reading.

 

 Wherefore it is well said by a great man of our country, that reading indeed might make a full and copious man, but meditation made a sound roan, and discourse a clear, distinct, and useful man. For reading, at most, doth but make a man's mind equal to that of the author he reads; but meditation sets a man upon the shoulders of his author, by which means he sees further than he did or could do. Or whereas the one may fill up the present capacity of a man's mind, the other, viz., meditation, stretches and enlarges those capacities. And then for discourse, (which is that we are now speaking of,) besides the advantages which it has in common with meditation, it opens and unfolds a man's thoughts, and so brings his notions to a test, and makes proof of the solidity or weakness of his conceptions; by which means, as on the one hand he shall not run away with the shadows of things instead of the substance, so on the other hand, when his apprehensions are sifted, and approved to be right and sound, his mind will be confirmed against wavering, and he will become constant and consistent with himself. I have often observed, with equal pleasure and wonder, that by the mere propounding a difficulty to another, I have been presently able to resolve that which was too hard for me, whilst I revolved it in my own breast for, by that opening and unfolding of our thoughts, we let in light to our own judgments, and see clearer than we did before.

 

 Besides, a man is too apt, to have a partial fondness to the issue of his own brain; but when he has brought his conceptions to the impartial touchstone of other men's judgments, and, as it were, tried them by the light, he will neither be apt to be upon all occasions over-confident, peremptory, and dogmatical; nor, on the other side, will he stumble at every rub, and stagger at every objection, and so give up the best cause upon the slightest (but unforeseen) attack.

 

 And there is one thing more very considerable in this matter: namely, That by conference a man is accustomed to methodize and digest his thoughts in order; by which means his notions are not only rendered more beautiful, but are more at hand, and also more perspicuous and fitter for use. Whereas contrariwise, (let. a man have read ever so much, and meditated too into the bargain,) without this expedient all his notions will he very oddly and confusedly; and come out all in a heap or huddle. In sum, he that uses himself only to books, is fit for nothing but a book; and he that converses with nobody, is fit to converse with nobody.

 

 PHIL. In truth, SEBASTIAN, though I am very sensible of my own defects in point of learning, yet in that little experience which I have had in the world, I have seen so many instances of the ill use, or rather no use that some men have made of it, that I am not only convinced there is some truth in what you say, but am the better inclined to be content with my own education. I have known some mighty bookish men like full vessels without vent; their notions ferment in them, but they cannot utter them either to their own ease, or the profit of others. And again, some men's learning has served only to make them pedantic and troublesome. Notwithstanding, by your favor, it. cannot be doubted but learning has mighty advantages; and I verily think you should speak against your own conscience, if you condemned it in the, general. Wherefore, you must excuse me if I continue of the opinion, that it is next to impossible, without more of it than I can pretend to, to hold such conversation as you are putting me upon.

 

 SEBAST. Excuse me, I do not put a slight upon learning, or the means of it, books and study. 'I know well it is of admirable use in a wise man's hand, because it gradually opens men's minds, and both gives, them a quicker sight, and affords them a larger prospect. All I was saying was only this, That neither you nor any man of your capacity, ought to discourage yourselves upon the pretence of your lesser advantages that way; forasmuch as a wise and good man may (though perhaps not with the same ease) with a very little of it, maintain an ingenuous and profitable conversation.

 

 PHIL. Perhaps it may be so as you say; but then certainly a man must have very extraordinary natural abilities to supply that defect.

 

 SEBAST. That needs not neither; for discourse will both supply the want of acquired abilities, and also improve the natural. I suppose you remember the saying of SOLOMON, "As iron sharpeneth iron, so Both the countenance of a man his friend." I confess I have heard that passage of the wise man applied to the comforting a friend in adversity, which certainly doth mightily support a man's spirits, when he finds that he is not forsaken of his friend, but owned by him in the lowest ebb of his fortunes. But I think it is every whit as true and applicable to that we are speaking of, as if he had said that the company and conversation of a friend doth as well quicken a man's wits, and improve his understanding, as one iron instrument is sharpened by another. For, as I said before, conference and discourse give us the advantage of whatsoever he, we converse with, has read or thought upon that subject; and so we reap the benefit of his reading and of his meditations too. And then besides that, we exercise our own judgment upon the matter so digested and prepared for us; the very presence and attention of our friend sharpens the attention of our minds; his question prevents our extravagance and wandering, and keeps us in a method, and his expectation from us holds our thoughts close and steady to the point in debate. By all which, not only the stock of our knowledge is improved, but the patrimony also: I mean the very powers of the soul. In consideration of all which, that great man of our country, whom I cited but now, doth not stick to pronounce, that if it should be a man's hard fortune to have nobody to con-e verse withal, it were better he should talk to a post than not to open his mouth at all.

 

 PHIL. I begin to think something better of myself, and am resolved to try what may be done. But what would you have a man discourse about I am afraid, if there be not some care in the choice of a subject, all will degenerate into gossipping and impertinent chat.

 

 SEBAST. There is no need of solicitude in that particular, forasmuch as any, even the most obvious subject will enable us to attain the end we aim at, provided it be followed home. I mean, talk of what matter you will, if you do not talk flatly and carelessly about it, but set your thoughts on work, they will bring forth both pleasure and profit; for the exercise of our minds improves them, as well as that of the body doth the state of bodily health; and whilst our thoughts are intent, though we are insensible how time slips away, yet we shall be sensible in the conclusion that we have not quite lost it.

 

 Besides, you have observed musicians to make the most curious descant upon the plainest ground. It is not therefore the theme, but the prosecution of it that is considerable; for, as I said, let that be what you will, if you pursue it with a train of thoughts, and especially if you be vigilant to take notice of, and apprehend those hints that will thence be occasionally started, you shall quickly be amazed to find yourself led, before you were aware, into some spacious and beautiful field of contemplation.

 

 Notwithstanding, I acknowledge to you, that the pitching upon some good and useful subject at first, is both the shortest and the surest way to attain our end. For the

 

very importance of a weighty affair naturally rouses up our minds, and collects and fixes our loose and scattered thoughts; as you shall seldom see any man drowsy and inattentive whilst a matter of consequence to his life, or credit, or fortune is in agitation.

 

 Therefore, if indeed you would awaken your senses, and improve yourself and your time together, let me, above all things in the world, commend to you religious communication, talk of the concerns of a soul, and of another world. This is a subject of that weight and moment) that it cannot fail either to make you intent, or the company you shall be in grave and serious; and it is withal so vast and so large, that you can never fear to be run on ground; for it will always afford you fresh matter of discourse.

 

 PHIL. It is true, the subject is copious enough, and I may be sure to have it all to myself, because nobody will talk with me about it. Who is there now-a-days that troubles his head with religion, or especially makes it any part of conversation If, perhaps, any mention of it fall in by the by, it is presently let fall again, as if it were too hot for men's fingers; and at most it is made but a kind of parenthesis, which may be kept in, or left out of the discourse, without interruption of the sense. You have found me out a subject indeed, but now you must seek me out company to treat upon it; for as the world now is, this will seem so irksome a business, that no time will be so tedious as that which is spent upon it, and so we have lost the whole design we were leveling at.

 

 SEBAST. Who (say you) will discourse of religion Why every body sure that thinks of it. For, tell me, is there any man so absurdly vain as to think he shall not die Can any man, that observes the frail contexture of his body, and the innumerable accidents he is subject to, think himself immortal And when he sees men daily drop away, and die in their full strength, can he be so fond as to imagine he shall escape the common lot And seeing what happens to another man to-day, may befall himself tomorrow; or however, he is certain that he cannot be of any long continuance in. this world; who, I say, that is sensible of this, can choose but pry beyond the curtain, and bethink himself what shall come after

 

 Doth not every wise man provide for what may be And do not even the most cold and incredulous suspect at least there may something concern us after the present life And is there any man that can, if he would never so fain, quite rid his thoughts of it Sure, therefore, every man that thinks he shall die, (that is, every man that lives,) thinks something of religion, if it be but for fear of the worst. Perhaps you will say, there are some men, who though they know they shall die, yet think they shall die as the beasts die, and have no concern hereafter; but are they worthy to be accounted men that can fancy such a thing Is it probable, that a creature of this admirable make should be only designed to be a pageant for a day, and be totally dissolved at the date of this short life; especially if he consider withal, that these powers and capacities which man is endued with, not only put him upon the thoughts, and expectations, and desires of another state, but render him marvelously fit for it, and capable of it; insomuch that several of the noblest of these endowments are wholly in vain, if there be no such thing, and that a man died as the beasts do.

 

 Besides all this, doth not every man that has eyes in his head, to observe the admirable structure of the world, conclude that it must be the workmanship of a GOD, and he a great, a wise, a good, and a just Being; and can he think so, and not resolve there must be a great necessity of, and reality in, religion That is, in the reverend observance of that great Majesty that deserves it, and who has both made us capable of performing it to him, and obliged us thereunto.

 

 Now if all, or but any part of this be true, who is so mad as to have no concern for this GOD, religion, and another world; and who is there that having any concern for them, can choose but think fit to make it some part of his business, the employment of some part of his time, and the subject of his most serious debates

 

 PHIL. I readily consent to you that the business of religion is a most serious affair, and worthy of the greatest consideration; but besides that there are few will correspond with a man in discourse about it. To tell you truly, I am somewhat of opinion that it is not fit for that kind of treatment. As it is a sacred, so it is a secret thing, transacted only between GOD and a man's own conscience, and therefore is rather the theme of a man's thoughts, the solitary employment of his own heart; and so fit to be kept up in the closet of his breast, and not so proper matter for discourse.

 

 SEBAST. I readily yield that the soul and spirit of religion is very retired and inward; and so inaccessible to other men, that they can neither see it, nor judge of it, But though the first source and springs of it he very keep, yet why the streams of it should not issue forth, both in words and actions, I cannot comprehend. The Apostle says expressly, a With the heart man believeth unto righteousness, and with the mouth confession is, made to salvation."

 

 PHIL. O pardon me, Sir! I make no question, but that when a man is called to make profession of his faith, and to discover what religion he is of, then to dissemble is to betray it, and to be silent on such a critical occasion is to apostatize from it; and in that sense, I take it, another Apostle has required us a to render to every man that asks us a reason of the hope that is in us." But this is not the case. We are not now speaking of what must be done upon an authoritative inquisition into our consciences; but what is to be done in times of peace, and in common conversation: and then, and there, I am still of opinion, that at least it is not an express duty to talk of religion.

 

 SEBAST. Nor do I differ from you therein. For I do not assert it as an universal duty to make religion the matter of our discourse; but my meaning is, that it will exceedingly become us to do so sometimes: and I assure myself, that he that has a quick sense of GOD upon his mind, will have savory expressions of him upon ordinary occasions, (if a foolish modesty do not overcome him,) as well as witness a good confession in- times of persecution; for, as our SAVIOR said, " Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh." And it seems to me more easily conceivable, that there should be a great fire without any smoke, or a great light without any heat, than that such a man as is inwardly principled with the fear and love of Gov, . should be either able or willing altogether to stifle and suppress his sentiments. a Can a man carry fire in his bosom," said the wise man, " and not be burned" Such a holy fervor as I speak of; will assuredly both seek and find a vent for itself, and break out, upon all fitting occasions, in reverend and affectionate expressions; by which means, a man in the first place eases his own breast, and besides, thus this holy fire not only preserves itself' from extinction, but propagates itself' also, warming and inflaming others.

 

 You have heard, I suppose, of an odd superstition among the Jews, who out of a pretended reverence to the name of GOD, so long forbade the common pronunciation of it, till at length they had quite forgotten how to pronounce it: and thus I am afraid it will fare with religion, if men should (out of I know not what conceit) forbear all discourse of GOD and another world; the result would be, that in time both would be forgotten. Nor is it, as you seem to imagine, only times of persecution that ought to rouse up our spirits, and call for expressions of our zeal; for the road of business, the successively flowing tide of entertainments in this world, and the rust upon our minds, contracted by lying still in ease and security, more endanger the state of religion than those trying times you speak of; and therefore Atheism is well known to be a weed that thrives most in the best weather. The seed that-was sown upon. stony ground fell away when the hot sun scorched it, because it had no depth of earth; but that which was sown among the thorns was choked too, though the soil was never so good. In a word, stormy weather in the Church may tempt men to be false and treacherous, but I believe it never made an Atheist: that and profaneness are the ill fruit of prosperity. So that you see there is need that the spirit of piety should exert itself as well in the one season, as in the other.

 

 Neither will the publicly stated times, or forms and exercises of religion, sufficiently secure it against this danger, without such voluntary efforts and sallies of it as we are speaking of: for in regard GOD is not to be seen, and the world is before its; the world to come is at distance, and the present world at hand; ill examples are numerous, and good ones few and rare:, and, in a word, we dwell in so cold a region, that we had need not only to use a great deal of exercise, but frequently to rub up one another. Therefore, as SOCRATES is said to have brought down philosophy (eccelo in urbes) from speculation to practice, from high notions to the common affairs of life; so it seems necessary to us, not only to be religious at church, in our closets, but in our daily and ordinary converse.

 

 And I verily believe the Apostle, when he forbids "that any corrupt communication shall proceed out of our mouths; " and enjoins, "that it be such as is good, to the use of edifying," intended We should interpret tile latter expression by the former, viz., that instead of rotten and filthy talk, we should tend so earnestly to the contrary, that we might turn the stream of men's discourse to that which is virtuous and profitable. And when he adds, "that it may minister grace to the hearers," I think he requires that very thing which I have been recommending to you; namely, that we should take all fair opportunities of bringing religion into play, and of suggesting good meditations to one another.

 

 PHIL. Give me leave to go a little farther with you. What kind of religious conference is it you Would be at Would you have men enter into disputes about divine matters This I the rather ask-, because there is a sort of men, who seem to be mighty zealous of religion; but their heat breaks out wholly this way, and they fill the place wherever they are, with noise and clamor, with dust and smoke.

 

 SEBAST. It is not disputing in religion that I would provoke you to; but the improvement of the indisputable rules of it, viz., to make yourself, and those you converse with, sensible of the vital principles and powers of Christianity; not to chase one another into a passion, but to warm one another's hearts with devotion: By wise and affectionate applications to beget an equal fervor of spirit. And, in a word, that when friends are met together, they should, like flint and steel, raise both light and heat by their mutual and amicable collisions.

 

 And why, I pray you, should, not religion have its turn in our conversation What reason can be given that pious men should not discourse as freely of holy things, as they, or other men, concerning common affairs Why should our lesser concerns for this world, our secular business, be the only subject of our communication Why, when some talk of their trades, their pleasures, and of news, should we not talk of our callings; as we are Christians, of the interests of our souls, and another world Why may not we discourse of our heavenly country, whither we are going, as well as other men busy themselves about foreign countries, which, perhaps, they never saw, nor ever shall be concerned in

 

 You yourself acknowledge religion to deserve the most serious and attentive consideration; and upon the sauce account (if you be consistent with yourself) you will be induced to believe it the most commendable subject of discourse, as having all those advantages that can recommend any subject to the debate of ingenious men; as it were easy to make appear if it were necessary.

 

 PHIL. Sir, I value your judgment, but must make use of my own: if therefore it be not too troublesome to you, let me entreat you to make out that more fully; and then, I promise you, I will either comply with the reasons you gives or will show you mine to the contrary.

 

 SEBAST. With all my heart, Sir: and to do it with as much brevity as may be, I will desire you to consider, in the first place, whether this subject, religion, does not contain in it the most noble and excellent points of inquiry, and consequently, be not the most worthy, not only to take up the affections, but to exercise the wits of men upon; such as, for instance, about the nature and attributes of GOD; the wisdom of that Providence that manages and governs the world; the nature of spirits, and particularly the soul of man; of conscience, and freedom of will; of the nature and obligation of laws; of the grounds of faith, and the efficacy of it; of the nature of repentance; of redemption, and the way of propitiating GOD to man; of the judgment to come, the resurrection of the body, and eternal life; with abundance more of the like nature. Points all vastly great and copious, profound and difficult, yet equally necessary and discoverable; such as are able to stir up and provoke the greatest capacities, and yet invite and encourage the meanest: In a word, such things, as that there is nothing else within the whole sphere of knowledge, that either requires or deserves such serious debates.

 

 And if you will please to consider well the aforesaid ,particulars, especially if you make trial of the course I am advising you, you will find these subjects every whit as pleasant, as they are necessary and important. For what can be imagined able to administer more delight, than the lively representation of another world, when men modestly reason together, and endeavor to affect one another's hearts with the certainty and unspeakable felicity of living for ever Of the ravishing contentment of enjoying everlasting friendship; of being out of the sphere of mortality, sickness, and pain, care and vexation; of being exempted from all weakness, silliness, passion, and infirmity; of being exalted above all temptation, and secured against all possibility of apostasy: If discourse of this nature do not affect a man beyond all other; it must be, because either he has not the sense of a man, or not the faith of a Christian, Or suppose men should take a subject somewhat lower, and confer together about the providence of GOD, that governs the present world: What a beautiful thing is it to observe all the variety of second causes move in a just order under the first, towards certain and uniform ends, the glory of GOD, and good of men! And that though the divine wisdom may lose and confound us in that admirable maze it seems to make, yet there is nothing defective or redundant in the whole world, no room for chance, nothing unforeseen, no cross accident that hinders the projections; the same design is all along carried on, and at last certainly attained: But especially, if we confine our contemplations of Divine Providence to that more peculiar object of his, his Church, it will become yet more visible, and more comfortable; where, if we wisely consider times past with the present, and view the whole process, we shall find that even schisms, heresies, persecutions, and the greatest calamities of the Church, tend to its advantage in the conclusion. But, above all, that which comes nearest to a man, and must needs affect him most in the affair of Providence, is, that thereby he finds himself under the protection of a mighty being; that nothing befalls him without the consent of his great patron, that he is not left to himself to scuffle with ill fortune, and second causes, as well as he can; but he is the charge of ALMIGHTY God, the favorite of Heaven. This, certainly, is highly pleasant and satisfactory above any thing in the world.

 

 Or, if we go lower, and make the subject of our discourse peace of conscience, the bravery of a victory over a man's passions or temptations, the unspeakable comfort and satisfaction in doing good; any of these will afford us an entertainment beyond the flavor of wine, or the odd variety of chance in a game; and indeed, to speak to the point, above all other subjects of discourse and conversation: and although it be true that there is none of these, but a man may contemplate with great satisfaction by himself alone, and in solitude; yet, as all social exercises of the body are more refreshing than those that are solitary, it is here; the comfort that results from these contemplations, is doubled and multiplied by reflection in friendly conferences: and all this together, shall be my first argument, by which I recommend discourse of religion. What think you of this, PHILANDER

 

 PHIL. I think very well of it: But, I pray you, let me hear out the whole cause, and then I will give my answer.

 

 SEBAST. Why then, my second plea for religious discourse, is, from the consideration that it is far the more safe, prudent, and inoffensive matter of communication; and that in several respects. In the first place, it kindles no coals, stirs up no strife, inflames nobody's choler, and touches upon no man's interest or reputation. You cannot talk of yourself without vanity or envy; you can hardly talk of your neighbors, without some suspicious reflection; nor of those that are farthest off, but you are in danger that some body present may be concerned for them. It is very difficult to talk of news, but you will make yourself of some party pr other; and of opinions, without giving offence where you did not intend it; and you can scarcely speak of your governors and superiors, so as to avoid all imputation either of flattery or pragmaticalness. But here you may talk securely, and have this assurance, that if you profit nobody, you shall hurt' nobody; if you do not benefit others, you shall not prejudice yourself. And then, in the second place, and in consequence of the former, this kind of discourse will invite no eaves-droppers to listen and carry tales of what passed amongst friends in their families and privacies. For although there be hardly any place so inaccessible, or any retirement so sacred, as to be a sufficient sanctuary against this pestilent sort of vermin; yet besides, that matters of religion afford them the least hold or handle; the discoursing gravely of it, is the most effectual charm in the world to lay them; so that they shall either not be able or not be willing to misreport you. To which add, in the third place, that this course is one of the most effectual and unexceptionable ways of ridding ourselves of the company of impertinent people; which I reckon no small advantage of this kind. of conversation: for this serious way will certainly make them better, or make them weary of our company; that is, we shall either gain them, or gain our time from them, the least of which two is very desirable.

 

 Are not then all serious and sensible men bound to put to their endeavor to turn the stream of conversation from froth and folly, to this great and important concern If this be out of fashion, the more is the shame; and it is a thousand pities, but that we should strive to bring it into fashion; and to repair the dishonor to the Divine majesty by those scurrilous libertines, who, with equal madness and folly, let their tongues run riot against him.

 

 What! Shall we be meally-mouthed in a good cause, when they are impudent in a bad one Shall we be ashamed to own GOD, when they defy him Is GOD so inconsiderable a being, that we dare not stand by him Are piety and virtue things to be blushed at' Is eternal salvation become so trivial a thing, that we should be unconcerned about it Do we yield the cause to these half-witted profligates Do we acknowledge the Gospel to be indeed ridiculous Or, do we confess ourselves the greatest cowards in the world, and judge ourselves unworthy of eternal life For shame! let us be so far from being either cowed, or biassed by such examples, that we resolve to make better where we cannot find them.

 

 Besides, I persuade myself, this will be no very hard thing to do, if we consider the authority and majesty of sincere and generous piety, and the guilt and base-spiritedness of vice and profaneness. If we be soft and timorous, that grows rampant and intolerable; but if virtue shines out in its own rays, it dazzles and baffles all those birds of night. If men will be persuaded to assert their own principles manfully, to talk of GOD worthily and courageously, the greatest ruffians will presently be gagged and tongue-tied: as in conjurations, they say, name but GOD, and the Devil vanishes; so enter resolutely into pious conference, and it will presently lay all the oaths, and blasphemies, and scurrilous talk of those desperate wretches.