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'almost forgot what I chiefly proposed; which was,. 'barely to tell you how hardly we who pass most of our 'time in town dispense with a long -vacation in the 'country, how uneasy we grow to ourselves and to 'one another when our conversation is consined, inso'much that by Michaelmas, 'tis odds but we come to 'downright squabbling, and make as free with one ano'ther to our faces, as we do with the rest of the world
* behind their backs. After 1 have told you this, I am 'to desire that you would now and then give us a lesson 'of good-humour, a family-piece, which, since we are « all very fond of you, I hope may have some influence 'upon us.
« After these plain observations, give me leave to
* give you an hint of what a set of company of my ac
* quaintance, who are now gone into the country, and
* have the use of an absent nobleman's feat, have set*
* tied among themselves, to avoid the inconveniencies « above mentioned. They are a collection of ten or 'twelve, of the fame good inclination towards each
* other, but of very different talents and inclinations:
* from hence they hope, that the variety of their tem
* pers will only create variety of pleasures. But as there 'always will arise, among the same people, either for
* want of diversity'of objects, or the like causes, a cer'tain satiety, which may grow into ill-humour or dis'content, there is a large wing of the house which they 'design to employ in the nature of an insirmary. Who
* ever says a peevish thing, or acts any thing which
* betrays a sourness or indisposition to company, is im'mediately to be conveyed to his chambers in the in
* sirmary; from whence he is not to be relieved, till by
* his manner of submission, and the sentiments expres'fed in his petition for that purpose, he appears to the 'majority of the company to be again sit for society.
* Yew are to understand, that all ill-natured words or « uneasy gestures are sufficient cause for banishment; 'speaking impatiently to servants, making a man repeat
* what he fays, or any thing that betrays inattention or
* dishumour, are also criminal without reprieve: But it
* is provided, that whoever observes the ill-natured sit 'coming upon himself, and voluntarily retires, shall be
« received 'received at his return from the insirmary with the
'highest marks of esteem. By these and other whol
'som methods it is expected that it they cannot care
'one another, yet at least they have taken care that the
'ill-humour of one sha 1 not be troublesome to the rest
'of the company. There are many other rules which
* the society have established for the preservation of their
* ease and tranquillity, the effects of which, with the 'incidents that ariseamong them, shall be communicated f to you from time to time for the public good, by,
Your mtji humble servant. T . R.O.
N° 425 Tuesday, July 8.
Frigora mite/cunt scephyris; vtr preterit æstat
Bruma recurrit liters. Hor. Od. 7.1. 4. v. 9.
The cold grows soft with western gales,
But yields to autumn's fruitful rain,
Each loss the hasting moon repairs again.
Sir W. Temple.
THERE is hardly any thing gives me a more sensible delight, than the enjoyment of a cool « still evening after the uneasiness of a hot sul
* try day. Such a one I passed not long ago, which 'made me rejoice, when the hour was come for the fun
* to set, that I might enjoy the freshness of the even
* ing in my garden, which then affords me the plea
* fanteit hours I pass in the whole four and twenty. I
. - * imme* immediately rose from my couch, and went down into 'it. You descend at sirlt by twelve stone steps into a 'large square divided into four grass-plots, in each of 'which is a statue of white marble. This is separated
* from a large parterre by a low wall, and from thence
* thro' a pair of iron gates, you are led into a long broad
* walk of the sinest turf, set on each side with tall yews, 'and on either hand bordered by a canal, which on the 'right divides the walk from a wilderness parted into
* variety of allies and arbours, and on the left from a
* kind of amphitheatre, which is the receptacle of a great
* number of oranges and myrtles. The moon shore 'bright, and seemed then most agreeably to supply the
* place of the sun, obliging me with as much light as 'was necessary to discover a thousand pleasing objects,
* and at the fame time divested of all power of heat.
* The reflexion of it in the water, the fanning of the
* wind rustling on the leaves, the singing of the thrush 'and nightingale, and the coolness of the walks, all con'spired to make me lay aside all displeasing thoughts, 'and brought me into such a tranquillity ot mind, as is
* I believe the next happiness to that of hereafter. In
* this sweet retirement I naturally fell into the repetition 'of some lines out of a poem of Milton's, which he in'titles // Penseroso, the ideas of which were exquisitely
* suited to my present wandrings of thought.
Sweet bird! that jhun'st the noise of folly,
Then let some strange myster ious dream
Of lively portraiture displaid,
'I reflected then upon the sweet vicissitudes of night
'genius * genius it was Mars, who had long usurped a place
* among the attendants of the spring. He made way for
* a softer appearance : It was Venus, without any orna« nament but her own beauties, not so much as her own. -* cestus, with which she had entompass'd a globe, which
* she held in h«r right hand, and in her left she had a « scepter of gold. After her followed the Graces with.
* their arms entwined within one another: their girdles « were loosed,, and they moved to the sound of soft mu
* sic, striking the ground alternately with their feet.
* Then came up the three months which belong to this - * season. As March advanced towards me, there was
* methought in his look a louring roughness, which ill -* besitted a month which was ranked in so soft a season;
* but as he came forwards his features became insen
* sibly more mild and gentle: He smooth'd his brow,
* and looked with so sweet a countenance that I could 'not but lament his departure, though he made way for
* April. He appeared in the greatest gaiety imaginable, 'and had a thousand pleasures to attend him: His look 'was frequently clouded, but immediately returned to its 'sirst composure, and remained sixed in a smile. Then
* came May, attended by Cupid, with his bow strung,
* and in a posture to let By an arrow: As he pasted by,
* methought 1 heard a consused noise of soft complaints,
* gentle extasies, and tender sighs of lovers; vows of « constancy, and as many complainings of persidious« ness; all which the winds wafted away as soon as they
* had reached my hearing. After these f saw a man ad
* vance in the full prime and vigour of his age : his com'plexion was sanguine and ruddy, his hair black, and « fell down in beautifuj»ringlets beneath his shoulders;
* a mantle of hair-colour'd silk hung loosely upon him:
* He advanced with a hasty step after the Spring, and 'sought out the shade and cool fountains which play'd 'in the garden. He was particularly well pleased when
* a troop of Z pbyrs fanned him with their wings : He « had two companions who walked on each side, that « made him appear the most agreeable, the one was 'Aurora with singers of roses, and her feet dewy, at« tired in gray : The other was Vesper in a robe of azure « beset with drops of gold, whose breath he caught