and endowed with reason. These two intellectual beings are employed from morning to night in rubbing two smooth stones one upon an other; that is, as the vulgar phrase is, in polishing marble.

My friend, Sir Andrew Freeport, as we were sitting in the club last night, gave us an account of a sober citizen, who died a few days since. This honest man being of greater consequence in his own thoughts than in the eye of the world, had for some years past kept a journal of his life. Sir Andrew shewed us one week of it. Since the occurences set down in it mark out such a road of action as that I have been speaking of, I shall present my reader with a faithful copy of it; after having first informed him, that the deceased person had in his youth been bred to trade, but finding himself not so well turned for business, he had for several years last past lived altogether upon a moderate annuity".

MONDAY, eight o'clock. I put on my clothes, and walked into the parlour.

Nine o'clock ditto. Tied my knce-strings and washed my hands.

Hours ten, eleven, and twelve. Smoaked three pipes of Virginia. Read the Supplement and Daily Courant. Things go ill in the north. Mr. Nisby's opinion thereupon.

One o'clock in the afternoon. Chid Ralph for mislaying my tobacco box.

*This journal was, it may be,genuine, but certainly published here as a banter on a gentleman who was a member of a congregation of dissenters, commonly called Independents, where a Mr. Nesbit officiated at that time as minister. The curious may find information satis superque, concerning Mr. Nesbit, in John Dunton's account of his Life, Errors, and Opinions. The person who kept this insipid journal led just such a life as is described and ridiculed here, and was continually asking or quoting his pas tor's opinion on every subject.

Two o'clock.

Sat down to dinner. Mem. Too

many plumbs and no suet.

From three to four. Took my afternoon's nap. From four to six. Walked into the fields. Wind S.S. E.

From six to ten. At the club. Mr. Nisby's opinion about the peace.

Ten o'clock. Went to bed, slept sound.

TUESDAY, being holiday, eight o'clock. Rose as usual.

Nine o'clock. Washed hands and face, shaved, put on my double-soaled shoes.

Ten, eleven, twelve. Took a walk to Islington. One. Took a pot of Mother Cob's mild.

Between two and three. Returned, dined on a knuckle of Veal and bacon. Mem. sprouts wanting. Three. Nap as usual.

From four to six.

A dish of twist.

From six to ten.

Coffee-house. Read the news.

Grand visier strangled.

At the club. Mr. Nisby's ac

count of the Great Turk.

Ten. Dream of the grand visier. Broken sleep.

WEDNESDAY, eight o'clock.

Tongue of my

shoe-buckle broke. Hands but not face.

Nine. Paid off the butcher's bill. Mem. to be

allowed for the last leg of mutton.

Ten, eleven. At the coffee-house. More work in the north. Stranger in a black wig asked me how stocks went.

From twelve to one. Walked in the fields. Wind to the south.

From one to two. Smoked a pipe and a half.
Two. Dined as usual. Stomach good.

Three. Nap broke by the falling of a pewter.

dish. Mem. Cook-maid in love, and grown care. less.

From four to six. At the coffee-house. Advice from Smyrna that the grand visier was first of all strangled, and afterwards beheaded.

Six o'clock in the evening. Was half an hour in the club before any body else came. Mr. Nisby of opinion that the grand visier was not strangled the sixth instant.

Ten at night. Went to bed. Slept without wak. ing until nine the next morning.

THURSDAY, nine o'clock. Staid within until two o'clock for Sir Timothy; who did not bring me my annuity according to his promise.

Two in the afternoon. Sat down to dinner. Loss of appetite. Small-beer sour. Beef over-corned! Three. Could not take my nap.

Four and five. Gave Ralph a box on the ear. Turned off my cook-maid. Sent a messenger to Sir Timothy. Mem. I did not go to the club to-night. Went to bed at nine o'clock.

FRIDAY. Passed the morning in meditation upon Sir Timothy, who was with me a quarter before twelve.

Twelve o'clock. Bought a new head to my cane, and a tongue to my buckle. Drank a glass of purk to recover appetite.

Two and three. Dined and slept well.

From four to six. Went to the coffee-house. Met Mr. Nisby there. Smoked several pipes. Mr. Nisby of opinion that laced coffee is bad for the head.

Six o'clock. At the club as steward. Sat late. Twelve o'clock. Went to bed, dreamt that I drank small-beer with the grand visier.

SATURDAY. Waked at eleven, walked in the fields, wind N. E.

Twelve. Caught in a shower.

One in the afternoon.

myself.

Returned home and dried

Two. Mr. Nisby dined with me. First course, marrow-bone; second, ox-cheek, with a bottle of Brooks and Hellier.

Three. Overslept myself.

Six.

Went to the club.

Like to have fallen into

a gutter. Grand visier certainly dead

I question not but the reader will be surprised to find the above-mentioned journalist taking so much care of a life that was filled with such inconsiderable actions, and received so very small improvements; and yet if we look into the behaviour of many whom we daily converse with, we shall find that most of their hours are taken up in those three important articles of eating, drinking, and sleeping. I do not suppose that man loses his time, who is not engaged in public affairs, or in an illustrious course of action. On the contrary, I believe our hours may very often be more profitably laid out in such transactions as make no figure in the world, than in such as are apt to draw upon them the attention of mankind. One may become wiser and better by several methods of employing one's self in secrecy and silence, and do what is laudable without noise or ostentation. I would, however, recommend to every one of my readers, the keeping a journal of their lives for one week, and setting down punctually their whole series of employments during that space of time. This kind of self examination would give them a true state of themselves, and incline them to consider seriously what they are about. One day would rectify the omissions of an

other, and make a man weigh all those indifferent actions, which, though they are easily forgotten, must certainly be accounted for.

L.

No 318. WEDNESDAY, MARCH 5, 1711-12.

-non omnia possumus omnes.

VIRG. Ecl. viii. 63.

With different talents form'd, we variously excel*.

" MR. SPECTATOR,

A CERTAIN vice, which you have lately attacked, has not yet been considered by you as growing so deep in the heart of man, that the affectation outlives the practice of it. You must have

observed, that men who have been bred in arms preserve to the most extreme and feeble old age, a certain daring in their aspect. In like manner, they who have passed their time in gallantry and adventure, keep up, as well as they can, the appearance of it, and carry a petulant inclination to their last moments. Let this serve for a preface to a relation I am going to give you of an old beau in town, that has not only been amorous, and a follower of women in general, but also, in spite of the admonition of grey hairs, been from his sixty-third to his preyear sent seventieth in an actual pursuit of a young lady, the wife of his friend, and a man of merit. The gay old Escalus has wit, good health, and is

This motto is likewise prefixed to Spectator, No. 404. The original motto to this paper in folio was,

'Rideat, et pulset lasciva decentius ætas.'

HOR.

'Lascivious age might better play the fool.'