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Paradise, which indeed would have been a place as little delightful as a barren heath or desert to those who slept in it. The fondness of the posture in which Adam is represente 1, and the softness of his whisper, are passa, es in this divine poem that are above all commendation, and rather to be admired than praised.

Now Morn her rosy steps in th' eastern c'ime
Advancing, sow'd the earth with oriens pearl,
When Adam wak'd, to custom'd¡ for his sierp
Was airy big from pure digestion bred,

And temperate vapours bia d, which th' only sound
Of leaves and fuming rill, Aurora's fin,
1ghtly disper'd, and the shrul matin song
Of birds on every tough; so much the more
Hie wonder was to find anwaken'd Eve,
With tresses dis ompos'd, and glowing check,
As through unquiet rest.
He on his side
I caning halfer 'd, with locks of cordial love,
Hong or her enamour'd, and beheld
He uty, which, whether w

Shot forth peculiar graces,

king or asleep,

Then with voice

Mild as when Z phyrus on Flora breathes,
Her band soft touchin,, whiper'd thus: Awake,
My fauest, my espous'd, my I te t found,
Heaven's last Fest gift, my ever new delight,
Aw-ke; the morning shines, and the fresh field
Calls us we lose the prime, to mak how spring
Our tended plants, how blows the citron grove,
What drops the myth, and what the balmy reed,
How nature paints her colours, how the bec
Sits on the bloom extr cting liquid sweets.

Such whispering wak'd her, but with startled eye
On Adam, whom embracing, thus she spake.
O sole ! in whom my thoughts find all repose,
My glory, my perfection, glad I see

Thy face, and morn return'd

MILION's Par. Lost, b. V. 1. x, &c,

N°264. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 16, 1710.

Favete linguis

Favour your tongues.

HOR. 1 Od. iii. 2.

From my own Apartment, December 15. BOCCALINI, in his "Parnassus," indicts a laconic writer for speaking that in three words which he might have said in two, and sentences him for his punishment to read over all the works of Guicciardini. This Guicciardini is so very prolix and circumstantial in his writings, that I remember our countryman, doctor Donne, speaking of that majestic and concise manner in which Moses has described the creation of the world, adds, "that if such an author as Guicciardini were to have written on such a subject, the world itself would not have been able to have contained the books that gave the history of its creation."

I look upon a tedious talker, or what is generally known by the name of a story-teller, to be much more insufferable than even a prolix writer. An author may be tossed out of your hand, and thrown aside when he grows dull and tiresome; but such liberties are so far from being allowed towards your orators in common corv rsation, that I have known a challenge sent a person for going out of the room abruptly, and leaving a man of honour in the midst of a dissertation. This evil is at present so very common and epidemical, that there is scarce a coffee-house in town that has not some speakers be

longing to it, who utter their political essays, and draw parallels out of Baker's "Chronicle" to almost every part of her Majesty's reign. It was said of two antient authors, who had very different beauties in their style, "that if you took a word from one of them, you only spoiled his eloquence; but if you took a word from the other, you spoiled his sense." I have often applied the first part of this criticism to several of these coffee-house speakers whom I have at present in my thoughts, though the character that is given to the last of those authors, is what I would recommend to the imitation of my loving countrymen. But it is not only public places of resort, but private clubs and conversations over a bottle, that are infested with this loquacious kind of animal, especially with that species which I comprehend under the name of a storyteller. I would earnestly desire these gentlemen to consider, that no point of wit or mirth at the end of a story can atone for the half hour that has been lost before they come at it. I would likewise lay it home to their serious consideration, whether they think that every man in the company has not a right to speak as well as themselves? and whether they do not think they are invading another man's property, when they engross the time which should be divided equally among the company to their own private use?

What makes this evil the much greater in conversation is, that these humdrum companions seldom endeavour to wind up their narrations into a point of mirth or instruction, which might make some amends for the tediousness of them; but think they have a right to tell any thing that has happened within their memory. They look upon matter of fact to be a sufficient foundation for a story, and give us a long account of things, not because they

are entertaining or surprizing, but because they

are true.

My ingenious kinsman, Mr. Humphry Wagstaff, "the life of man is too short for a

used to say,

story-teller."

Methusalem might be half-an-hour in telling what o'clock it was: but as for us post-diluvians, we ought to do every thing in haste; and in our speeches, as well as actions, remember that our time is short. A man that talks for a quarter of an hour together in company, if I meet him frequently, takes up a great part of my span. A quarter of an hour may be reckoned the eight-and-fortieth part of a day, a day the three hundred and sixtieth part of a year, and a year the threescore and tenth part of life. By this moral arithmetic, supposing a man to be in the talking world one third part of the day, whoever gives another a quarter of an hour's hearing, makes him a sacrifice of more than the four hundred thousandth part of his conversable life.

I would establish but one great general rule to be observed in all conversation, which is this, "that men should not talk to please themselves, but those that hear them." This would make them consider, whether what they speak be worth hearing; whether there be either wit or sense in what they are about to say and, whether it be adapted to the time when, the place where, and the person to whom, it is spoken.

For the utter extirpation of these orators and story-tellers, which I look upon as very great pests of society, I have invented a watch which divides the minute into twelve parts, after the same manner that the ordinary watches are divided into hours: and will endeavour to get a patent, which shall oblige every club or company to provide themselves with one of these watches, that shall lie upon the VOL. V.,

Z

N° 263. THURSDAY, DECEMBER 14, 1710.

Minima contentos nocte Britannos.

JUV. Sat. II. 161.

Britons contented with the shortest night.

From my own Apartment, December 13.

AN old friend of mine being lately come to town, I went to see him on Tuesday last about eight o'clock in the evening, with a design to sit with him an hour or two, and talk over old stories; but, upon inquiry after him, I found he was gone to-bed. The next morning, as soon as I was up and dressed, and had dispatched a little business, I came again to my friend's house about eleven o'clock, with a design to renew my visit: but, upon asking for him, his servant told me he was just sat down to dinner. In short, I found that my old fashioned friend religiously adhered to the example of his forefathers, and observed the same hours that had been kept in the family ever since the Conquest.

It is very plain, that the night was much longer formerly in this island than it is at present. By the night, Í mean that portion of time which nature has thrown into darkness, and which the wisdom of mankind had formerly dedicated to rest and silence. This used to begin at eight o'clock in the evening, and conclude at six in the morning. The curfeu, or eight o'clock bell, was the signal throughout the nation for putting out their candles and going to-bed.

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