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hers. This gentleman has used Fidelia from her cradle with all the tenderness imaginable, and has viewed her growing perfections with the partiality of a parent, that ioon thought her accomplished above the children of all other men, but never thought she was come to the ut- . moll improvement of which she herself was capable. This fondness has had very happy effects upon his own happiness; for she reads, she dances, she sings, uses her spinet and lute to the utmost perfection: And the lady's use of all these excellencies, is to divert the old man in his easy chair, when he is out of the pangs of a chionical distemper. Fidelia is now in the twenty third year of her age; but the application of many lovers, her vigorous time of life, her quick fense of ail that is truly galant and elegant in the enjoyment of a plentiful fortune, are not able to draw her from the side of her good old father. Certain it is, that there is no kind of asfection so pure and angelic as that of a father to a daughter. He beholds her both with, and without regard to her sex. In love to our wives there is desire, to our sons there is ambition ; but in that to our daughters, there is something which there are no words to express. Her life is designed wholly domestic, and she is Ib read) a frieid and companion, that every thing that passes about a man, is accompanied with the idea of her presence. Her lex also is naturally so much exposed to hazard, both as to fortune and innocencej that there is perhaps a new cause of fondness arising from that consideration also. None but fathers can have a true fense of thele fort of pleasures and sensations; but my familiarity with the father of Fidelia, makes me let drop the words which I have heard him speak, and observe upon his tenderness towards her.

Fidelia on her part, as I was going to fay, as accomplished as she is, with all her beauty, wit, air and mien, employs her whole time in care and attendance upon her father. How have I been charmed to fee one of the most beautiful women the age has produced on her knees helping on an old man's flipper I Her silial regard to him is what she makes her diversion, her business, and her glory. When she was asked by a friend of her dt ceased mother to admit of the courtship of her son, (he'answer'd,


That she had a great respect and gratitude to her for the overture in behalf of one so dear to her, but that during her father's life she would admit into her heart no value for any thing that should interfere wi.h her endeavour to make his remains of fife as happy and easy as could be expected in his circumstances. The lady admonished her of the prime of life with a smile; which Fidelia nswer'd with a frankness that always attends unfeigned virtue ; // is true, Madam, there is to be sure very great satisfactions to be expected in the commerce of a man of honour, whom one tenderly loves; but 1 find so muc satisfaction in the reflexion, how much I mitigate a good man's pains, whose welfare depends upon mj cijlduity ahout him, that I willingly exclude the looje gratifications of pajjion for the slid refl'xions of duty. I knew not wbe her any mans 'wife would be allowed, and (what I still more sear) I know not whether I, a ix.fe, Jboud be willing to ie as ojscious as I am at present about my parent. The happy father has her declaration that she will not marry during his life, and the pleasure of eting that resolution not uneasy to her. Were one 10 paint silial affection in its utmost beauty, he could not have a more lively idea of it than in beholding Fidelia serving her father at his hours of rising, meals and rest.

When the general croud of female youth are consulting their glasses, preparing for bails, assemblies, or plays; for a young lady, who could be regarded among the foremost in those places, either for her person, wit, fortune, or conversation, and yet contemn all these entertainments, to sweeten the heavy hours of a decrepid parent, is a resignation truly heroic. Fidelia performs the duty of a nude with all the beauty of a bride; not does slie neglect her person, because of her attendance on him, when he is too ill to receive company, to whom she may make an appearance.

Fidelia, who gives him up her youth, does not think it any great sacrisice to add to it the spoiling of her dress Her care and exactness in her habit convince her father of the alacrity of her mind ; and she has of all women the best foundation for affecting the praise of a kerning negligence. What adds to the entertainment Went of the good old man is, that Fidelia, where merit and fortune cannot be overlooked by epistolary lovers, reads over the accounts of her conquests, plays on her spinet the gayest airs, (and while she is doing so, you would think her formed only for galantry) to intimate to him- the pleasures she despises for his fake.

Those who think themselves the pattern of good breeding and galantry, would be astonished 10 hear that in those intervals when the old gentleman is at ease, and can bear company, there are at his house in the most regular order, assemblies of people of the highest merit; where there is conversation without mention of the faults of the absent, benevolence between men and women without passion, and the highest subjects of morality treated of as natural and accidental diiccurse; alt which, is owing to the genius of Fidelia, who at once makes her father's way to another world easy, and herself capable of being an honour to his name in this,

Mr. SfBCTatOr,

'T Was the other day at the Bear-Garden in hopes to « _|_ have seen your short face; but not being so sortu

• nate. I must tell you by way of letter, That there is a

• mystery among the gladiators which has escaped your

• spectatorial penetration. For being in a box at an ale« house near that renowned seat os honour above-men« tioned, I over-heard two masters of the science agreeing

• to quarrel on the next opport unity. This was to happen

• in the company of a set of the fraternity of basket-hilts j

• who were to meet that evening. When this was set

• tied, one asked the other,Will you give cuts or receives « the other answered, Receive. It was replied, are your

• a passionate man? No, provided you cut no more nor

• no deeper than we agree. I though: it my duty to

• acquaint you with this, that the people may not pay

• their money for sighting, and be cheated. .

Your bumble servant, T Scabbard Rusty.

Wednesday, N° 450 Wednesday, August 6.

- Qurerenda puunia primum,

Virtus post nummos Hor. Ep. 1. I. V. 53.

Get money, money still;

And then let virtue follow, if sl.e will. Pope.

Mr. Spectator,

AL L men, through different paths, make at the same common thing, Money; and it is to her 'we owe the politician, the merchant, and the

'lawyer; nay to be free with you, I believe to that

* also we are beholden for our Speit.tor. I am apt to

* think, that could we look kto our own hearts, we

* should fee money engraved in them in more lively and « moving characters than self-preservation; for who can, « reflect upon the merchant hoisting sail in 2 doubtful

« pursuit of her, and all mankind sacrisicing their quiet

« to her, but must perceive that the characters of self'preservation (which were doubtless originally the « brightest) are sullied, if not wholly defaced ; and that « those of money (which at sirst was only valuable as a « mean to security) are of kte so brightened, that the « characters of (elf-preservation, like a less light set by « a greater, are become almost imperceptible? Thus has « money got the upper hand of what all mankind for« merly thought mot dear, 'viz. security; and I wish I « could say she had here put a slop to he? victories ; but,. « alas! common honesty fell a sacrisice to her. This is « the way scholastic men talk of the greatest good in the. « world: but I, a tradesman, shals give you another « account os this matter in the plain narrative of my « own life. 1 think it proper, in the sirst place, to ac« quaint my readers, that since my setting out in the « world, which was- in the year 1660, I never wanted « money ; having begun with an indifferent good stock

4 « la 'in the tobacco-trade, to which I was bred; and by

'the continual successes, it has pleased Providence to

'bless my endeavours with, am at last arrived at what

'they call a Plumb. To uphold my discourse in the man

'ner of your wits or philosophers, by Speaking sine

'things, or drawing inserences, as they pretend, from

'the nature of the subject, I account it vairt; having neyer round any thing in the waitings of such men, '.hat

* did not savour more of the invention of the brairr, or

* what is stiled speculation, than of sound judgment or 'prositable observation. I will readily grant indeed, that

* there is what the wits call natural in their talk; which 'is the utmost those curious authors can assume to them'selves, and is indeed all they endeavour at, for they 'are but lamentable teachers. And what, 1 pray, is'

* natural i That which is pleasing and easy : And what *. are pleasing and easy? Forsooth, a new thought or 'conceit dressed up in smooth quaint language, to make 'you smile and wag your head, as being what you 'never imagined before, and yet wonder why you had

* not; mere frothy amusements! lit only for boys or

* silly women to be caught with,

'it is not my present intention to instruct my readers' 'in the methods of acquiring riches; that may be the' 'work of another essay: but to exhibit the real and 'solid advantages I have found by them in my long and'

* manifold experience; nor yet all the advantages of so « worthy and valuable a blessing, (for who does not know 'or imagine the comforts of being warm or living at

* ease? And that power and pre-eminence are their inse

* parable attendants?) But only to instance the great 'lupports they afford us under the severest calamities 'and misfortunes; to shew that the love of them is a 'special antidote against immorality and vice, and that

* the same does likewise naturally dispose men to.

* actions of piety and devotion: All which 1 can make

* out by my own experience, who think myself no ways 'particular from the rest of mankind, nor better nor « worse by nature than generally other men are.

'In the year 1665, when the sickness was, I lost by 'it my wife and two children, which were all my

* stock. Probably I might have had more, considering

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