rheumatism, and dropsy, in the language of the Spectator, seem to be hovering over the dishes. Wine, the great purveyor of pleasure, and the second in rank among the senses, offers his service, when love takes his leave. It is natural to catch hold of every help, when the spirits begin to droop. Love and wine are good cordials, but are not proper for the beverages of common use,

Resolve not to go to bed on a full meal. A light supper and a good conscience are the best receipts for a good night's rest: and the parents of undisturbing dreams.

Not to be enervated by the flatulence of tea.

Let the second or third thoughts of the morning be to consider of the employment of the day; and, one of the last at night, to enquire what has been done in the course of that day.

Not to let one's tongue run at the expence of truth.

Be neither too communicative, nor too reserved. A close tongue, with an open countenance, are the safest passports through the journey of life. To correct the error of too much talking, and restrain the narrativeness of the approaching climacteric. To take the good-natured side in conversation. Not, however, to praise every body, for that would be praising nobody.

Not to be inquisitive and eager to know secrets, nor be thought to have a head full of other people's affairs.

Not to make an enemy, or lose a friend, if it can

possibly, even at some sacrifice, be avoided; but to aim at public esteem, to leave a good name, which is "better than riches," behind.

Not to be singular in dress, in behaviour, in notions, or expressions of one's thoughts.

Never to give bad advice; nor any advice at all until asked, for it appears so much like giving something that is superfluous to one's self.

Not like or dislike too much at first.

Not to wonder at every thing; for all wonder is ignorance that possession falls short of expectation. The longing of twenty years may be disappointed in the unanswerable gratification of a single hour. Whilst we are wishing, we see the best side; after we have taken possession, the worst. Resolve to attend to the arguments on both sides; and to hear every body against every body. The mind ought not to be made up but upon the best evidence.

To be affectionate to relations, which is a kind of self-love, in preference to all other acquaintance. But not to omit paying the commanding respect to merit, which is superior to all the accidental claims of kindred.

Not to debilitate the mind by new and futile compositions. Like the spider, it may spin itself to death. The mind, like the field, must have its fallow season. The leisure of the pen has created honourable acquaintance, and pleased all it has wished to please.

To resolve not to be too free of promises, for performances are sometimes very difficult things.

Not to be too much alone, nor to read, nor meditate, or talk too much on points that may awaken tender sensations, and be too pathetic for the soul.

To enjoy the present, not to be made too unhappy by reflection on the past, nor to be oppressed by invincible gloom on the future.

To give and receive comfort; those necessary alms to a distressed mind. To be constantly thankful to Providence for the plenty hitherto possessed, which has preserved one from the dependence on persons and opinions; and kept one out of debt. The appearance of a happy situation, and opportunities of tasting many worldly felicities (for content has seldom perverted itself into discontent), has induced many to conclude, that one must be pleased with one's lot in life; and it occasions many to look with the eye of innocent envy.

To resolve more than ever to shun every public station and responsibility of conduct. To be satisfied with being master of one's self, one's habits (now second nature), and one's time. Determined not to solicit, unless trampled upon by fortune, to live and die in the harness of trade, or a profession.

To take care that pity (humanity is not here meant), does not discover one in the endurance of any calamity. When pity is within call, contempt is not far off.

Not to wish to have a greater hold of life, nor to quit that hold. The possible tenure of existence is of too short possession for the long night that is to succeed; a moment, therefore, ought not to be lost.

Not to lose sight, even for a single day, of the good

and proverbial doctors, Messrs. Diet, Merryman, and Quiet. Resolved to remember, and to recommend, towards tranquillity and longevity, the three oral maxims of Sir Hans Sloane:-"Never to quarrel with one's self, one's wife, nor one's prince."

Not to put one's self too much in the power of the elements, those great enemies to the human frame —namely, the sun, the wind, the rain, and the night-air.

Lastly; Keep your bowels open, and the fear of God before your eyes; and hence may be avoided many troubles, both of body and mind.

SECTION XXXII.

ON THE PROPER TREATMENT OF AGED PEOPLE.

OLD age, though the natural consequence of living, and the commencement of death, can itself, on the other hand, be a mean for prolonging an existence. It does not, however, increase the power to live, but it retards its being exhausted; and one may thus affirm, that a man in the last period of life, at the time when his powers are lessened, would, were he not old, finish his career much sooner. This position, which appears to be somewhat paradoxical, is confirmed by the following explanation:-Man, during the period of old age, has a much smaller provision of the vital power, and much less capacity for restoration. If he lived with the same activity and vigour as before, this provision would be much sooner exhausted, and death would soon be the consequence. Now, the character of age lessens the natural irritability and sensibility of the body, by which the effects of internal as well as of external irritation, and consequently the exertion and wasting of the powers are also lessened; and on this account, as consumption is less, he can with such a stock of powers hold out much longer. The decrease of the intention of the vital process, as age increases, prolongs, therefore, vital