No. 580, Natures; whether as they excel one another in Per Friday, fection, they are not admitted nearer to the Throne of August 13, the Almighty, and enjoy greater Manifestations of his 1714,

Presence; whether there are not solemn Times and Occasions, when all the Multitude of Heaven celebrate the Presence of their Maker in more extraordinary Forms of Praise and Adoration; as Adam, though he had continued in a State of Innocence, would, in the Opinion of our Divines, have kept holy the Sabbath Day, in a more particular Manner than any other of the Seven. These, and the like Speculations, we may very innocently indulge, so long as we make use of them to inspire us with a Desire of becoming Inhabitants of this delightful Place,

I have in this, and in two foregoing Letters, treated on the most serious Subject that can employ the Mind of Man, the Omnipresence of the Deity; a Subject which, if possible, should never depart from our Meditations. We have considered the Divine Being, as he inhabits Infinitude, as he dwells among his Work, as he is present to the Mind of Man, and as he discovers himself in a more glorious Manner among the Regions of the Blest. Such a Consideration should be kept awake in us at all Times, and in all Places, and possess our Minds with a perpetual Awe and Reverence. It should be interwoven with all our Thoughts and Perceptions, and become One with the Consciousness of our own Being. It is not to be reflected on in the Coldness of Philosophy, but ought to sink us into the lowest Prostration before him, who is so astonishingly Great, Wonderful, and Holy,'

No. 581.

I

Monday, August 16.

Sunt bona, sunt quaedam mediocria, sunt mala plura
Quae legis-

-Mart.

AM at present sitting with a Heap of Letters before me, which I have received under the Character of SPECTATOR; I have Complaints from Lovers, Schemes from Projectors, Scandal from Ladies, Congratulations, Compli ments, and Advice in abundance.

1714.

I have not been thus long an Author, to be insensible No. 581. of the natural Fondness every Person must have for their Monday, own Productions; and I begin to think I have treated August 16, my Correspondents a little too uncivilly in stringing them all together on a File, and letting them lye so long unregarded. I shall therefore, for the future, think my self at least obliged to take some Notice of such Letters as I receive, and may possibly do it at the End of every Month,

In the mean time, I intend my present Paper as a short Answer to most of those which have been already

sent me.

The Publick however is not to expect I should let them into all my Secrets; and though I appear abstruse to most People, it is sufficient if I am understood by my particular Correspondents.

My Well-wisher Van Nath is very arch, but not quite enough so to appear in Print,

Philadelphus will, in a little time, see his Query fully answered by a Treatise which is now in the Press.

It was very improper at that time to comply with Mr. G.

Miss Kitty must excuse me.

The Gentleman who sent me a Copy of Verses on his Mistress's Dancing, is I believe too thoroughly in Love to compose correctly.

I have too great a Respect for both the Universities, to praise one at the Expense of the other.

Tom Nimble is a very honest Fellow, and I desire him to present my humble Service to his Cousin Fill, Bumper.

I am obliged for the Letter upon Prejudice.

I may

Grumble.

in due time animadvert on the Case of Grace

The Petition of P. S. granted.

That of Sarah Loveit, refused.

The Papers of A. S. are returned.

I thank Aristippus for his kind Invitation.

My Friend at Woodstock is a bold Man, to undertake for all within Ten Miles of him.

I am afraid the Entertainment of Tom Turnover will

IV.

2 C

hardly

No. 581. hardly be relished by the good Cities of London and
Monday, Westminster.
August 16,

1714,

I must consider further of it, before I indulge W. F in those Freedoms he takes with the Lady's Stockings.

I am obliged to the ingenious Gentleman, who sent me an Ode on the Subject of a late SPECTATOR, and shall take particular Notice of his last Letter,

When the Lady who wrote me a Letter, dated July the 20th, in relation to some Passages in a Lover, will be more particular in her Directions, I shall be so in my Answer

The poor Gentleman, who fancies my Writings could reclaim an Husband who can abuse such a Wife as he describes, has I am afraid too great an Opinion of my Skill.

Philanthropos is, I dare say, a very well-meaning Man, but is a little too prolix in his Compositions.

Constantius himself must be the best Judge in the Affair he mentions,

The Letter dated from Lincoln is received,

Arethusa and her Friend may hear further from me.
Celia is a little too hasty,

Harriot is a good Girl, but must not curtsie to Folks she does not know,

I must ingeniously confess my Friend Sampson Bente staff has quite puzzled me, and writ me a long Letter which I cannot comprehend one Word of

Collidan must also explain what he means by his Drigelling.

I think it beneath my Spectatorial Dignity to concern my self in the Affair of the boiled Dumpling.

Í shall consult some Litterati on the Project sent me for the Discovery of the Longitude,

I know not how to conclude this Paper better, than by inserting a Couple of Letters which are really genuine, and which I look upon to be two of the smartest Pieces I have received from my Correspondents of either Sex,

'Brother SPEC,

While you are surveying every Object that falls in your way, I am wholly taken up with one. Had that

יד,'

Sage

ம்

Sage, who demanded what Beauty was, lived to see the No. 581.
dear Angel I love, he would not have asked such a Monday,
Question. Had another seen her, he would himself have August 16,
1714.
loved the Person in whom Heaven has made Virtue
visible; and were you your self to be in her Company,
you could never, with all your Loquacity, say enough
of her good Humour and Sense. I send you the Outlines
of a Picture, which I can no more finish than I can
sufficiently admire the dear Original. I am,

Your most affectionate Brother,
Constantio Spec.'

'Good Mr. Pert,

I will allow you nothing 'till you resolve me the follow ing Question. Pray what's the Reason that while you only talk now upon Wednesdays, Fridays, and Mondays, you pretend to be a greater Tatler, than when you spoke every Day as you formerly used to do? If this be your plunging out of your Taciturnity, pray let the Length of your Speeches compensate for the Scarceness of them.

HERE is a certain Distemper, which is mentioned neither by Galen nor Hippocrates, nor to be met with in the London Dispensary. Juvenal, in the Motto of my Paper, terms it a Cacoethes; which is a hard Word for a Disease called in plain English, the Itch of Writing. This Cacoethes is as Epidemical as the Small-Pox, there being very few who are not seized with it some time or other in their Lives. There is however this Difference in these two Distempers, that the first, after having indis posed you for a time, never returns again; whereas this

I am speaking of, when it is once got into the Blood, seldom comes out of it, The British Nation is very much afflicted with this Malady, and tho' very many Remedies have been applied to Persons infected with it, few of them have ever proved successful. Some have been cauterized with Satyrs and Lampoons, but have received little or no Benefit from them; others have had their Heads fastened for an Hour together between a Cleft Board, which is made use of as a Cure for the Disease when it appears in its greatest Malignity. There is indeed one kind of this Malady which has been some times removed, like the Biting of a Tarantula, with the Sound of a musical Instrument, which is commonly known by the Name of a Cat-Call. But if you have a Patient of this kind under your Care, you may assure your self there is no other way of recovering him effectually, but by forbidding him the use of Pen, Ink, and Paper.

But to drop the Allegory before I have tired it out, there is no Species of Scriblers more offensive, and more incurable, than your Periodical Writers, whose Works return upon the Publick on certain Days and at stated Times. We have not the Consolation in the Perusal of these Authors, which we find at the Reading of all others, (namely) that we are sure, if we have but Patience, we may come to the End of their Labours. I have often admired a humorous Saying of Diogenes, who reading a dull Author to several of his Friends, when every one began to be tired, finding he was almost come to a Blank Leaf at the End of it, cried, Courage, Lads, I see Land. On the contrary, our Progress through that kind of Writers I am now speaking of is never at an End, One Day makes Work for another, we do not know when to promise our selves rest,

It is a melancholy thing to consider, that the Art of Printing, which might be the greatest Blessing to Man kind, should prove detrimental to us, and that it should be made use of to scatter Prejudice and Ignorance through a People, instead of conveying to them Truth and Know ledge.

I was lately reading a very whimsical Treatise, entitled,
William