lessens in proportion to our familiarity with object and upon a thorough acquaintance is utterly extin guished. But I think it hath not been so common remarked, that all the other passions depend cons derably on the same circumstances. What is it by novelty that awakens desire, enhances delight, kin dles anger, provokes envy, inspires horror? To th cause we must ascribe it, that love languishes wit fruition, and friendship itself is recommended b intervals of absence: hence monsters, by use, ar beheld without loathing, and the most enchantin beauty without rapture. That emotion of the spirit in which passion consists, is usually the effect of sur prise, and, as long as it continues, heightens th agreeable or disagreeable qualities of its object; bu as this emotion ceases (and it ceases with the novelty things appear in another light, and affects us ever less than might be expected from their proper ener gy, for having moved us too much before.

"It may not be an useless inquiry how far the lov of novelty is the unavoidable growth of nature, and in what respect it is peculiarly adapted to the presen state. To me it seems impossible, that a reasonable creature should rest absolutely satisfied in any acquisitions whatever, without endeavoring farther; for after its highest improvements, the mind hath an idea of an infinity of things still behind worth knowing to the knowledge of which therefore it cannot be indifferent; as by climbing up a hill in the midst of a wide plain, a man hath his prospect enlarged, and, together with that, the bounds of his desires. Upon this account, I cannot think he detracts from the

state of the blessed who

y employed in fresh searches into nature, and nity advancing into the fathomless depths of vine perfections. In this thought there is g but what doth honor to these glorified spirovided still it be remembered, that their demore proceeds not from their disrelishing hey possess; and the pleasure of a new enat is not with them measured by its novelty is a thing merely foreign and accidental,) but -eal intrinsic value. After an acquaintance of housand years with the works of God, the and magnificence of the creation fills them he same pleasing wonder and profound awe Adam felt himself seized with as he first openeyes upon this glorious scene. Truth captiwith unborrowed charms; and whatever hath iven satisfaction will always do it: in all which ave manifestly the advantage of us, who are so governed by sickly and changeable appetites, we can with the greatest boldness behold the dous displays of omnipotence, and be in transat the puny essays of human skill; throw peculations of the sublimest nature and vastest tance into some obscure corner of the mind, to room for new notions of no consequence at re even tired of health, because not enlivened Iternate pain; and prefer the first reading of lifferent author to the second or third perusal e whose merit and reputation are established. our being thus formed serves many useful purin the present state. It contributes not a lit

dergo the fatigues of philosophical disquisitions; not so much the greatness of objects as their novelt It is not enough that there is field and game for thi chace, and that the understanding is prompted wit a restless thirst of knowledge, effectually to rous the soul, sunk into a state of sloth and indolence it is also necessary that there be an uncommon plea sure annexed to the first appearance of truth in th mind. This pleasure being exquisite for the time lasts, but transient, it hereby comes to pass, that th mind grows into an indifference to its former notion and passes on after new discoveries, in hopes of re peating the delight. It is with knowledge as wit wealth, the pleasure of which lies more in makin endless additions than in taking a review of our ol store. There are some inconveniences that follo this temper, if not guarded against, particularly this that through a too great eagerness of something ne we are many times impatient of staying long enoug upon a question that requires sometime to resolve it or, which is worse, persuade ourselves that we are ma ters of the subject before we are so, only to be at th liberty of going upon a fresh scent; in Mr. Locke' words, We see a little, presume a great deal, an so jump to the conclusion.'

"A farther advantage of our inclination for novel ty, as at present circumstantiated, is, that it annih lates all the boasted distinctions among mankin Look not up with envy to those above thee. Sound ing titles, stately buildings, fine gardens, gilde chariots, rich equipages, what are they? They da zle every one but the possessor: to him that is a

things they supply him not with brighter images, or more sublime satisfactions, than the plain man may have, whose small estate may just enable him to sup. port the charge of a simple unencumbered life. He enters heedless into his rooms of state, as you or I do under our poor sheds. The noble paintings and costly furniture are lost on him; he sees them not : as how can it be otherwise, when by custom, a fabric infinitely more grand and finished, that of the universe, stands unobserved by the inhabitants, and the everlasting lamps of heaven are lighted up in vain, for

any notice that mortals take of them? Thanks to indulgent Nature, which not only placed her children originally upon a level, but still, by the strength of this principle, in a great measure preserves it, in spite of all the care of man to introduce artificial distinctions

"To add no more, Is not this fondness for novelty, which makes us out of conceit with all we already have, a convincing proof of a future state? Either man was made in vain, or this is not the only world he was made for: for there cannot be a greater instance of vanity, than that to which man is liable, to be deluded from the cradle to the grave with fleeting shadows of happiness. His pleasures, and those not considerable neither, die in the possession, and fresh enjoyments do not rise fast enough to fill up half his life with satisfaction. When I see persons sick of themselves any longer than they are called away by something that is of force to chain down the present thought; when I see them hurry from country to town, and then from the town back again into the country; continually shifting postures, and placing

life in all the different lights they can think of "Surely, say I to myself, life is vain, and the man be yond expression stupid or prejudiced, who from the vanity of life cannot gather, he is designed for im mortality.""

No. 627. WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 1, 1714

AUTHOR UNKNOWN.

Tantum inter densas umbrosa cacumine fagos
Assidue veniebat: ibi hæc incondita solus

Montibus, et sylvis studio jactabat inani.

He, underneath the beechen shade alone,

VIRG. Ecl. 2. v. 3.

Thus to the woods and mountains made his moan.

DRYDEN.

THE HE following account, which came to my hands some time ago, may be no disagreeable entertainment to such of my readers as have tender hearts, and nothing to do.

"MR. SPECTATOR,

"A friend of mine died of a fever last week, which he caught by walking too late in a dewy evening amongst his reapers. I must inform you, that his greatest pleasure was in husbandry and gardening. He had some humors which seemed inconsistent with that good sense he was otherwise master of. His uneasiness in the company of women was very remarkable in a man of such perfect good-breeding,