room at a French bookseller's. There came into the shop a very learned man with an erect solemn air; and though a person of great parts otherwise, slow in understanding anything which makes against himself. The composure of the faulty man, and the whimsical perplexity of him that was justly angry, is perfectly new. After turning over many volumes, said the seller to the buyer, "Sir, you know I have long asked you to send me back the first volume of the French Sermons I formerly lent you."—"Sir," said the chapman, "I have often looked for it, but cannot find it; it is certainly lost, and I know not to whom I lent it, it is so many years ago."—" Then, Sir, here is the other volume; I'll send you home that, and please to pay for both.”—" My friend,” replied he, "canst thou be so senseless as not to know that one volume is as imperfect in my library as in your shop?"—"Yes, Sir, but it is you have lost the first volume; and, to be short, I will be paid."—" Sir," answered the chapman, 'you are a young man, your book is lost; and learn by this little loss to bear much greater adversities, which you must expect to meet with."-" Yes, Sir, but I'll bear when I must, but I have not lost now, for I say you have it, and shall pay me."-" Friend, you grow warm; I tell you the book is lost; and I foresee, in the course even of a prosperous life, that you will meet afflictions to make you mad, if you cannot bear this trifle."—" Sir, there is in this case no need of bearing, for you have the book.”—“I say, Sir, I have not the book; but your passion will not let you hear enough to be informed that I have it not. Learn resignation of yourself to the distresses of this life: nay, do not fret and fume; it is my duty to tell you, that you are of an impatient spirit, and an impatient spirit is never without woe."—" Was ever anything like this?”. -"Yes, Sir, there have been many things like this: the loss is but a trifle; but your temper is wanton, and incapable of the least pain; therefore, let me advise you, be patient; the book is lost, but do not you for that reason lose yourself." T.* No. 441.] SATURDAY, JULY 26, 1712. Si fractus illabatur orbis, Impavidum ferient ruinæ.-HOR. 3 Od. iii. 7. Should the whole frame of nature round him break, He, unconcern'd, would hear the mighty crack, And stand secure amidst a falling world.-ANON. MAN, considered in himself, is a very helpless and a very wretched being. He is subject every moment to the greatest calamities and misfortunes. He is beset with dangers on all sides; and may become unhappy by numberless casualties, which he could not foresee, nor have prevented had he foreseen them. It is our comfort, while we are obnoxious to so many accidents, that we are under the care of One who directs contingencies, and has in his hands the management of everything that is capable of annoying or offending us; who knows the assistance we stand in need of, and is always ready to bestow it on those who ask it of him. The natural homage which such a creature bears to so infinitely wise and good a Being, is a firm reliance on him for the blessings and conveniences of life, and a habitual trust in him for deliverance out of all such dangers and difficulties as may befall us. * This scene passed in the shop of Mr. Vaillant, afterward Messrs. Payne and Mackinlay's, in the strand; and the subject of it was (for it is still in remembrance) a volume of Massillon's Sermons. The man who always lives in this disposition of mind, has not the same dark and melancholy views of human nature, as he who considers himself abstractedly from this relation to the Supreme Being. At the same time that he reflects upon his own weakness and imperfection, he comforts himself with the contemplation of those divine attributes which are employed for his safety and his welfare. He finds his want of foresight made up by the Omniscience of him who is his support. He is not sensible of his own want of strength; when he knows that his helper is almighty. In short, the person who has a firm trust on the Supreme Being, is powerful in his power, wise by his wisdom, happy by his happiness. He reaps the benefit of every divine attribute, and loses his own insufficiency in the fullness of infinite perfection. To make our lives more easy to us, we are commanded to put our trust in him, who is thus able to relieve and succor us: the divine goodness having made such a reliance a duty, notwithstanding we should have been miserable had it been forbidden us. Among several motives which might be made use of to recommend this duty to us, I shall only take notice of these that follow: The first and strongest is, that we are promised he will not fail those who put their trust in him. But, without considering the supernatural blessing which accompanies this duty, we may observe that it has a natural tendency to its own reward, or, in other words, that this firm trust and confidence in the great Disposer of all things, contributes very much to the getting clear of any affliction, or to the bearing it manfully. A person who believes he has his succor at hand, and that he acts in the sight of his friend, often exerts himself beyond his abilities, and does wonders that are not to be matched by one who is not animated with such a confidence of success. I could produce instances from history, of generals, who, out of a belief that they were under the protection of some invisible assistant, did not only encourage their soldiers to do their utmost, but have acted themselves beyond what they would have done had they not been inspired by such a belief. I might in the same manner show how such a trust in the assistance of an Almighty Being naturally produces patience, hope, cheerfulness, and all other dispositions of the mind that alleviate those calamities which we are not able to remove. The practice of this virtue administers great comfort to the mind of man in times of poverty and affliction, but most of all in the hour of death. When the soul is hovering in the last moments of its separation, when it is just entering on another state of existence, to converse with scenes, and objects, and companions, that are altogether new,-what can support her under such tremblings of thought, such fears, such anxiety, such apprehensions, but the casting of all her cares upon him who first gave her being, who has conducted her through one stage of it, and will be always with her, to guide and comfort her in her progress through eternity? David has very beautifully represented this steady reliance on God Almighty in his twenty-third psalm, which is a kind of pastoral hymn, and filled with those allusions which are usual in that kind of writing. As the poetry is very exquisite, I shall present my reader with the following translation of it : I. The Lord my pasture shall prepare, My noon-day walks he shall attend, II. When in the sultry glebe I faint, III. Though in the paths of death I tread, IV. Though in a bare and rugged way, No. 447-] SATURDAY, AUGUST 2, 1712. Long exercise, my friend, inures the mind: THERE is not a common saying which has a better turn of sense in it, than what we often hear in the mouths of the vulgar, that " I custom is a second nature." It is indeed able to form the man anew, and to give him inclinations and capacities altogether different from those he was born with. Dr. Plot, in his History of Staffordshire, tells us of an idiot, that |