Chapter XV: Part I: Philad^a, NOV. 20: 1728

FIRST PRINCIPLES

I believe there is one supreme, most perfect Being, Author and Father of the Gods themselves. For I believe that Man is not the most perfect Being but one, rather that as there are many Degrees of Beings his Inferiors, so there are many Degrees of Beings superior to him.

Also, when I stretch my Imagination thro' and beyond our System of Planets, beyond the visible fix'd Stars themselves, into that Space that is every Way infinite, and conceive it fill'd with Suns like ours, each with a Chorus of Worlds forever moving round him, then this little Ball on which we move, seems, even in my narrow Imagination, to be almost Nothing, and myself less than nothing, and of no sort of Consequence.

When I think thus, I imagine it great Vanity in me to suppose, that the _Supremely Perfect_ does in the least regard such an inconsiderable Nothing as Man. More especially, since it is impossible for me to have any positive clear idea of that which is infinite and incomprehensible, I cannot conceive otherwise than that he _the Infinite Father_ expects or requires no Worship or Praise from us, but that he is even infinitely above it.

But, since there is in all Men something like a natural principle, which inclines them to DEVOTION, or the Worship of some unseen Power;

And since Men are endued with Reason superior to all other Animals, that we are in our World acquainted with;

Therefore I think it seems required of me, and my Duty as a Man, to pay Divine Regards to SOMETHING.

I conceive then, that the INFINITE has created many beings or Gods, vastly superior to Man, who can better conceive his Perfections than we, and return him a more rational and glorious Praise.

As, among Men, the Praise of the Ignorant or of Children is not regarded by the ingenious Painter or Architect, who is rather honour'd and pleas'd with the approbation of Wise Men & Artists.

It may be that these created Gods are immortal; or it may be that after many Ages, they are changed, and others Supply their Places.

Howbeit, I conceive that each of these is exceeding wise and good, and very powerful; and that Each has made for himself one glorious Sun, attended with a beautiful and admirable System of Planets.

It is that particular Wise and good God, who is the author and owner of our System, that I propose for the object of my praise and adoration.

For I conceive that he has in himself some of those Passions he has planted in us, and that, since he has given us Reason whereby we are capable of observing his Wisdom in the Creation, he is not above caring for us, being pleas'd with our Praise, and offended when we slight Him, or neglect his Glory.

I conceive for many Reasons, that he is a _good Being_; and as I should be happy to have so wise, good, and powerful a Being my Friend, let me consider in what manner I shall make myself most acceptable to him.

Next to the Praise resulting from and due to his Wisdom, I believe he is pleas'd and delights in the Happiness of those he has created; and since without Virtue Man can have no Happiness in this World, I firmly believe he delights to see me Virtuous, because he is pleased when he sees Me Happy.

And since he has created many Things, which seem purely design'd for the Delight of Man, I believe he is not offended, when he sees his Children solace themselves in any manner of pleasant exercises and Innocent Delights; and I think no Pleasure innocent, that is to Man hurtful.

I _love_ him therefore for his Goodness, and I _adore_ him for his Wisdom.

Let me then not fail to praise my God continually, for it is his Due, and it is all I can return for his many Favours and great Goodness to me; and let me resolve to be virtuous, that I may be happy, that I may please Him, who is delighted to see me happy. Amen!

ADORATION

PREL. Being mindful that before I address the Deity, my soul ought to be calm and serene, free from Passion and Perturbation, or otherwise elevated with Rational Joy and Pleasure, I ought to use a Countenance that expresses a filial Respect, mixed w^th a kind of Smiling, that Signifies inward Joy, and Satisfaction, and Admiration.

O wise God, my good Father!

Thou beholdest the sincerity of my Heart and of my Devotion; Grant me a Continuance of thy Favour!

1. O Creator, O Father! I believe that thou art Good, and that thou art _pleas'd with the pleasure_ of thy children.--Praised be thy name for Ever!

2. By thy Power hast thou made the glorious Sun, with his attending Worlds; from the energy of thy mighty Will, they first received [their prodigious] motion, and by thy Wisdom hast thou prescribed the wondrous Laws, by which they move.--Praised be thy name for Ever!

3. By thy Wisdom hast thou formed all Things. Thou hast created Man, bestowing Life and Reason, and placed him in Dignity superior to thy other earthly Creatures.--Praised be thy name for Ever!

4. Thy Wisdom, thy Power, and thy Goodness are everywhere clearly seen; in the air and in the water, in the Heaven and on the Earth; Thou providest for the various winged Fowl, and the innumerable Inhabitants of the Water; thou givest Cold and Heat, Rain and Sunshine, in their Season, & to the Fruits of the Earth Increase.--Praised be thy name for Ever!

5. Thou abhorrest in thy Creatures Treachery and Deceit, Malice, Revenge, [_Intemperance_,] and every other hurtful Vice; but Thou art a Lover of Justice and Sincerity, of Friendship and Benevolence, and every Virtue. Thou art my Friend, my Father, and my Benefactor.--Praised be thy name, O God, for Ever! Amen!

[After this, it will not be improper to read part of some such Book as Ray's _Wisdom of God in the Creation_, or _Blackmore on the Creation_, or the Archbishop of Cambray's _Demonstration of the Being of a God_, &c., or else spend some Minutes in a serious Silence, contemplating on those Subjects.]

Then sing

MILTON'S HYMN TO THE CREATOR

"These are thy Glorious Works, Parent of Good!
Almighty, Thine this Universal Frame,
Thus wondrous fair! Thyself how wondrous then!
Speak ye who best can tell, Ye Sons of Light,
Angels, for ye behold him, and with Songs
And Choral Symphonies, Day without Night,
Circle his Throne rejoicing you in Heav'n,
On Earth join all ye creatures to extol
Him first, him last, him midst, and without End.
"Fairest of Stars, last in the Train of Night,
If rather Thou belongst not to the Dawn,
Sure Pledge of Day! thou crown'st the smiling Morn
With thy bright Circlet, Praise him in thy Sphere
While Day arises, that sweet Hour of Prime.
Thou Sun, of this great World, both Eye and Soul,
Acknowledge him thy greater; Sound his Praise
In thy eternal Course; both when thou climb'st,
And when high Noon hast gain'd, and when thou fall'st.
Moon! that now meet'st the orient sun, now fly'st,
With the fixed Stars, fixed in their orb that flies,
And ye five other wandering Fires, that move
In mystic Dance not without Song; resound
His Praise, that out of Darkness called up Light.
Air! and ye Elements! the eldest Birth
Of Nature's womb, that in Quaternion run
Perpetual Circle, multiform, and mix
And nourish all things, let your ceaseless Change
Vary to our great Maker still new Praise.
Ye mists and Exhalations, that now rise
From Hill or steaming lake, dusky or grey,
Till the Sun paint your fleecy skirts with Gold,
In honour to the World's Great Author rise;
Whether to deck with Clouds the uncolor'd sky,
Or wet the thirsty Earth w^th falling show'rs,
Rising or falling still advance his Praise.
His Praise, ye Winds! that from 4 quarters blow,
Breathe soft or Loud; and wave your Tops, ye Pines!
With every Plant, in sign of worship wave.
Fountains! and ye that warble, as ye flow
Melodious Murmurs, warbling tune his Praise.
Join voices all ye living souls, ye Birds!
That singing, up to Heaven's high gate ascend,
Bear on your wings, & in your Note his Praise;
Ye that in Waters glide! and ye that walk
The Earth! and stately tread or lowly creep;
Witness _if I be silent_, Ev'n or Morn,
To Hill, or Valley, Fountain, or Fresh Shade,
Made Vocal by my Song, and taught his Praise."

[Here follows the Reading of some Book, or part of a Book, Discoursing on and exciting to Moral Virtue.]

PETITION

Inasmuch as by Reason of our Ignorance We cannot be certain that many Things, which we often hear mentioned in the Petitions of Men to the Deity, would prove real Goods, if they were in our Possession, and as I have reason to hope and believe that the Goodness of my Heavenly Father will not withold from me a suitable share of Temporal Blessings, if by a Virtuous and holy Life I conciliate his Favour and Kindness, Therefore I presume not to ask such things, but rather humbly and with a Sincere Heart, express my earnest desires that he would graciously assist my Continual Endeavours and Resolutions of eschewing Vice and embracing Virtue; which Kind of Supplications will _at least be thus far beneficial, as they remind me_ in a solemn manner of my Extensive duty.

That I may be preserved from Atheism & Infidelity, Impiety,
and Profaneness, and, in my Addresses to Thee, carefully
avoid Irreverence and ostentation, Formality and odious
Hypocrisy,--Help me, O Father!

That I may be loyal to my Prince, and faithful to my country,
careful for its good, valiant in its defence, and obedient to
its Laws, abhorring Treason as much as Tyranny,--Help me, O
Father!

That I may to those above me be dutiful, humble, and
submissive; avoiding Pride, Disrespect, and Contumacy,--Help
me, O Father!

That I may to those below me be gracious, Condescending, and
Forgiving, using Clemency, protecting _innocent Distress_,
avoiding Cruelty, Harshness, and Oppression, Insolence, and
unreasonable Severity,--Help me, O Father!

That I may refrain from Censure, Calumny and Detraction; that
I may avoid and abhor Deceit and Envy, Fraud, Flattery, and
Hatred, Malice, Lying, and Ingratitude,--Help me, O Father!

That I may be sincere in Friendship, faithful in trust, and
Impartial in Judgment, watchful against Pride, and against
Anger (that momentary Madness),--Help me, O Father!

That I may be just in all my Dealings, temperate in my
Pleasures, full of Candour and Ingenuity, Humanity and
Benevolence,--Help me, O Father!

That I may be grateful to my Benefactors, and generous to my
Friends, exercising Charity and Liberality to the Poor, and
Pity to the Miserable,--Help me, O Father!

That I may avoid Avarice and Ambition, Jealousie, and
Intemperance, Falsehood, Luxury, and Lasciviousness,--Help
me, O Father!

That I may possess Integrity and Evenness of Mind, Resolution
in Difficulties, and Fortitude under Affliction; that I may
be punctual in performing my promises, Peaceable and prudent
in my Behaviour,--Help me, O Father!

That I may have Tenderness for the Weak, and reverent Respect
for the Ancient; that I may be Kind to my Neighbours,
good-natured to my Companions, and hospitable to
Strangers,--Help me, O Father!

That I may be averse to Talebearing, Backbiting, Detraction,
Slander, & Craft, and overreaching, abhor Extortion, Perjury,
and every Kind of wickedness,--Help me, O Father!

That I may be honest and open-hearted, gentle, merciful, and
good, cheerful in spirit, rejoicing in the Good of
others,--Help me, O Father!

That I may have a constant Regard to Honour and Probity, that
I may possess a perfect innocence and a good Conscience, and
at length become truly Virtuous and Magnanimous,--Help me,
good God; help me, O Father![G]

And, forasmuch as ingratitude is one of the most odious of
vices, let me not be unmindful gratefully to acknowledge the
favours I receive from Heaven.

[G] At this point the original MS ends. The subsequent
paragraph, including the "Thanks," is found only in William
Temple Franklin's transcript, now in the Library of Congress.
[_Smyth's note._]

THANKS

For peace and liberty, for food and raiment, for corn, and
wine, and milk, and every kind of healthful
nourishment,--Good God, I thank thee!

For the common benefits of air and light; for useful fire and
delicious water,--Good God, I thank thee!

For knowledge, and literature, and every useful art, for my
friends and their prosperity, and for the fewness of my
enemies,--Good God, I thank thee!

For all thy innumerable benefits; for life, and reason, and
the use of speech; for health, and joy, and every pleasant
hour,--My good God, I thank thee!

THE BUSY-BODY, NO. 1[22]

Tuesday, February 4th, 1728/9

MR. ANDREW BRADFORD,

I design this to acquaint you, that I, who have long been one of your Courteous Readers, have lately entertain'd some Thoughts of setting up for an Author mySelf; not out of the least Vanity, I assure you, or Desire of showing my Parts, but purely for the Good of my Country.

I have often observ'd with Concern that your Mercury is not always equally entertaining. The Delay of Ships expected in, and want of fresh Advices from Europe, make it frequently very Dull; and I find the Freezing of our River has the same Effect on News as on Trade. With more Concern have I continually observ'd the growing Vices and Follies of my Country-folk; and, tho' Reformation is properly the concern of every Man; that is, Every one ought to mend One; yet 'tis too true in this Case, that what is every Body's Business is nobody's Business; and the Business is done accordingly. I therefore, upon mature Deliberation, think fit to take Nobody's Business wholly into my own Hands; and, out of Zeal for the Publick Good, design to erect mySelf into a Kind of _Censor Morum_; proposing, with your Allowance, to make Use of the _Weekly Mercury_ as a Vehicle in which my Remonstrances shall be convey'd to the World.

I am sensible I have in this Particular undertaken a very unthankful Office, and expect little besides my Labour for my Pains. Nay, 'tis probable I may displease a great Number of your Readers, who will not very well like to pay 10s. a Year for being told of their Faults. But, as most People delight in Censure when they themselves are not the Objects of it, if any are offended at my publickly exposing their private Vices, I promise they shall have the Satisfaction, in a very little Time, of seeing their good Friends and Neighbours in the same Circumstances.

However, let the Fair Sex be assur'd that I shall always treat them and their Affairs with the utmost Decency and Respect. I intend now and then to dedicate a Chapter wholly to their Service; and if my Lectures any Way contribute to the Embellishment of their Minds and brightning of their Understandings, without offending their Modesty, I doubt not of having their Favour and Encouragement.

'Tis certain, that no Country in the World produces naturally finer Spirits than ours; Men of Genius for every kind of Science, and capable of acquiring to Perfection every Qualification that is in Esteem among Mankind. But as few here have the Advantage of good Books, for want of which, good Conversation is still more scarce, it would doubtless have been very acceptable to your Readers, if, instead of an old out-of-date Article from Muscovy or Hungary, you had entertained them with some well-chosen Extract from a good Author. This I shall sometimes do, when I happen to have nothing of my own to say that I think of more Consequence. Sometimes I propose to deliver Lectures of Morality or Philosophy, and (because I am naturally enclin'd to be meddling with Things that don't concern me) perhaps I may sometimes talk Politicks. And if I can by any means furnish out a Weekly Entertainment for the Publick that will give a rational Diversion, and at the same Time be instructive to the Readers, I shall think my Leisure Hours well employ'd: And if you publish this, I hereby invite all ingenious Gentlemen and others (that approve of such an Undertaking) to my Assistance and Correspondence.

'Tis like by this Time, you have a Curiosity to be acquainted with my Name and Character. As I do not aim at publick Praise, I design to remain concealed; and there are such Numbers of our Family and Relations at this Time in the Country, that tho' I've sign'd my Name at full Length, I am not under the least Apprehension of being distinguish'd and discover'd by it. My Character, indeed, I would favour you with, but that I am cautious of praising mySelf, lest I should be told my Trumpeter's dead: And I cannot find in my Heart at present, to say any Thing to my own Disadvantage.

It is very common with Authors, in their first Performances, to talk to their Readers thus; "If this meets with a SUITABLE Reception; Or, If this should meet with DUE Encouragement, I shall hereafter publish, &c." This only manifests the Value they put on their own Writings, since they think to frighten the Publick into their Applause, by threatning, that unless you approve what they have already wrote, they intend never to write again; when perhaps it mayn't be a Pin Matter whether they ever do or no. As I have not observ'd the Criticks to be more favourable on this Account, I shall always avoid saying any Thing of the Kind; and conclude with telling you, that, if you send me a Bottle of Ink and a Quire of Paper by the Bearer, you may depend on hearing further from, Sir, your most humble Servant,

THE BUSY-BODY.

THE BUSY-BODY, NO. 2

Tuesday, February 11, 1728/9

All fools have still an itching to deride,
And fain would be upon the laughing side.
--POPE.

Monsieur de la Rochefoucault tells us somewhere in his Memoirs, that the Prince of Condé delighted much in ridicule, and used frequently to shut himself up for half a day together in his chamber, with a gentleman that was his favorite, purposely to divert himself with examining what was the foible or ridiculous side of every noted person in the court. That gentleman said afterwards in some company, that he thought nothing was more ridiculous in anybody, than this same humour in the Prince; and I am somewhat inclined to be of this opinion. The general tendency there is among us to this embellishment, which I fear has too often grossly imposed upon my loving countrymen instead of wit, and the applause it meets with from a rising generation, fill me with fearful apprehensions for the future reputation of my country. A young man of modesty (which is the most certain indication of large capacities) is hereby discouraged from attempting to make any figure in life; his apprehensions of being out-laughed will force him to continue in a restless obscurity, without having an opportunity of knowing his own merit himself or discovering it to the world, rather than venture to oppose himself in a place where a pun or a sneer shall pass for wit, noise for reason, and the strength of the argument be judged by that of the lungs.

Among these witty gentlemen let us take a view of Ridentius. What a contemptible figure does he make with his train of paltry admirers! This wight shall give himself an hour's diversion with the cock of a man's hat, the heels of his shoes, an unguarded expression in his discourse, or even some personal defect; and the height of his low ambition is to put some one of the company to the blush, who perhaps must pay an equal share of the reckoning with himself. If such a fellow makes laughing the sole end and purpose of his life; if it is necessary to his constitution, or if he has a great desire of growing suddenly fat, let him eat; let him give public notice where any dull stupid rogue may get a quart of four-penny for being laughed at; but it is barbarously unhandsome, when friends meet for the benefit of conversation and a proper relaxation from business, that one should be the butt of the company, and four men made merry at the cost of the fifth.

How different from this character is that of the good-natured, gay Eugenius, who never spoke yet but with a design to divert and please, and who was never yet baulked in his intention. Eugenius takes more delight in applying the wit of his friends, than in being admired himself; and if any one of the company is so unfortunate as to be touched a little too nearly, he will make use of some ingenious artifice to turn the edge of ridicule another way, choosing rather to make himself a public jest, than be at the pain of seeing his friend in confusion.

Among the tribe of laughers, I reckon the petty gentlemen that write satires, and carry them about in their pockets, reading them themselves in all company they happen into; taking an advantage of the ill taste of the town to make themselves famous for a pack of paltry, low nonsense, for which they deserve to be kicked rather than admired, by all who have the least tincture of politeness. These I take to be the most incorrigible of all my readers; nay, I expect they will be squibbing at the Busy-Body himself. However, the only favour he begs of them is this, that if they cannot control their overbearing itch of scribbling, let him be attacked in downright biting lyrics; for there is no satire he dreads half so much as an attempt towards a panegyric.

THE BUSY-BODY, NO. 3

Tuesday, February 18th, 1728/9

Non vultus instantis Tyranni
Mente quatit solidâ,--neque Auster,
Dux inquieti turbidus Adriæ,
Nec fulminantis magna Jovis manus.
--HOR.

It is said that the Persians, in their ancient Constitution, had publick Schools in which Virtue was taught as a Liberal Art or Science; and it is certainly of more Consequence to a Man, that he has learnt to govern his Passions; in spite of Temptation to be just in his Dealings, to be Temperate in his Pleasures, to support himself with Fortitude under his Misfortunes, to behave with Prudence in all Affairs, and in every Circumstance of Life; I say, it is of much more real Advantage to him to be thus qualified, than to be a Master of all the Arts and Sciences in the World beside.

Virtue alone is sufficient to make a Man Great, Glorious, and Happy. He that is acquainted with Cato, as I am, cannot help thinking as I do now, and will acknowledge he deserves the Name, without being honour'd by it. Cato is a Man whom Fortune has plac'd in the most obscure Part of the Country. His Circumstances are such, as only put him above Necessity, without affording him many Superfluities; Yet who is greater than Cato? I happened but the other Day to be at a House in Town, where, among others, were met Men of the most Note in this Place. Cato had Business with some of them, and knock'd at the Door. The most trifling Actions of a Man, in my Opinion, as well as the smallest Features and Lineaments of the Face, give a nice Observer some Notion of his Mind. Methought he rapp'd in such a peculiar Manner, as seem'd of itself to express there was One, who deserv'd as well as desir'd Admission. He appear'd in the plainest Country Garb; his Great Coat was coarse, and looked old and threadbare; his Linnen was home-spun; his Beard perhaps of Seven Days' Growth; his Shoes thick and heavy; and every Part of his Dress corresponding. Why was this Man receiv'd with such concurring Respect from every Person in the Room, even from those who had never known him or seen him before? It was not an exquisite Form of Person, or Grandeur of Dress, that struck us with Admiration.

I believe long Habits of Virtue have a sensible Effect on the Countenance. There was something in the Air of his Face, that manifested the true Greatness of his Mind, which likewise appear'd in all he said, and in every Part of his Behaviour, obliging us to regard him with a Kind of Veneration. His Aspect is sweetened with Humanity and Benevolence, and at the same Time enboldned with Resolution, equally free from a diffident Bashfulness and an unbecoming Assurance. The Consciousness of his own innate Worth and unshaken Integrity renders him calm and undaunted in the Presence of the most Great and Powerful, and upon the most extraordinary Occasions. His strict Justice and known Impartiality make him the Arbitrator and Decider of all Differences, that arise for many Miles around him, without putting his Neighbours to the Charge, Perplexity, and Uncertainty of Law-Suits. He always speaks the Thing he means, which he is never afraid or asham'd to do, because he knows he always means well, and therefore is never oblig'd to blush, and feel the Confusion of finding himself detected in the Meanness of a Falsehood. He never contrives Ill against his Neighbour, and therefore is never seen with a lowring, suspicious Aspect. A mixture of Innocence and Wisdom makes him ever seriously chearful. His generous Hospitality to Strangers, according to his Ability; his Goodness, his Charity, his Courage in the Cause of the Oppressed, his Fidelity in Friendship, his Humility, his Honesty and Sincerity, his Moderation, and his Loyalty to the Government; his Piety, his Temperance, his Love to Mankind, his Magnanimity, his Publick-Spiritedness, and in fine, his consummate Virtue, make him justly deserve to be esteem'd the Glory of his Country.

"The Brave do never shun the Light;
Just are their Thoughts, and open are their Tempers;
Freely without Disguise they love and hate;
Still are they found in the fair Face of Day,
And Heaven and Men are Judges of their Actions."
--ROWE.

Who would not rather chuse, if it were in his Choice, to merit the above Character, than be the richest, the most learned, or the most powerful Man in the Province without it?

Almost every Man has a strong natural Desire of being valu'd and esteem'd by the rest of his Species, but I am concern'd and griev'd to see how few fall into the Right and only infallible Method of becoming so. That laudable Ambition is too commonly misapply'd, and often ill employ'd. Some to make themselves considerable pursue Learning, others grasp at Wealth; some aim at being thought witty; and others are only careful to make the most of an handsome Person; But what is Wit, or Wealth, or Form, or Learning, when compar'd with Virtue? 'Tis true, we love the handsome, we applaud the Learned, and we fear the Rich and Powerful; but we even Worship and adore the Virtuous. Nor is it strange; since Men of Virtue are so rare, so very rare to be found. If we were as industrious to become Good as to make ourselves Great, we should become really Great by being Good, and the Number of valuable Men would be much increased; but it is a Grand Mistake to think of being Great without Goodness; and I pronounce it as certain, that there was never yet a truly Great Man, that was not at the same Time truly Virtuous.

O Cretico! thou sowre Philosopher! Thou cunning Statesman! Thou art crafty, but far from being Wise. When wilt thou be esteem'd, regarded, and belov'd like Cato? When wilt thou, among thy Creatures, meet with that unfeign'd respect and warm Good-will, that all Men have for him? Wilt thou never understand, that the cringing, mean, submissive Deportment of thy Dependents, is (like the worship paid by Indians to the Devil) rather thro' Fear of the Harm thou may'st do to them, than out of Gratitude for the Favours they have receiv'd of thee? Thou art not wholly void of Virtue; there are many good Things in thee, and many good Actions reported of thee. Be advised by thy Friend. Neglect those musty Authors; let them be cover'd with Dust, and moulder on their proper Shelves; and do thou apply thyself to a Study much more profitable, The knowledge of Mankind and of thySelf.

# # # # #

This is to give Notice, that the Busy-Body strictly forbids all Persons, from this Time forward, of what Age, Sex, Rank, Quality, Degree, or Denomination soever, on any Pretence, to enquire who is the Author of this Paper, on Pain of his Displeasure, (his own near and Dear Relations only excepted).

'Tis to be observ'd, that if any bad Characters happen to be drawn in the Course of these Papers, they mean no particular Person, if they are not particularly apply'd.

Likewise, that the Author is no Party-man, but a general Meddler.

N. B. Cretico lives in a neighbouring Province.

THE BUSY-BODY, NO. 4

Tuesday, February 25, 1728/9.

Ne quid nimis.

In my first Paper I invited the Learned and the Ingenious to join with me in this Undertaking, and I now repeat that Invitation. I would have such Gentlemen take this Opportunity (by trying their Talent in Writing) of diverting themselves and their Friends, and improving the Taste of the Town. And because I would encourage all Wit of our own Growth and Produce, I hereby promise, that whoever shall send me a little Essay on some moral or other Subject, that is fit for publick View in this Manner, (and not basely borrow'd from any other Author,) I shall receive it with Candour, and take care to place it to the best Advantage. It will be hard if we cannot muster up in the whole Country a sufficient Stock of Sense to supply the _Busy-Body_ at least for a Twelvemonth.

For my own Part, I have already profess'd, that I have the Good of my Country wholly at Heart in this Design, without the least sinister View; my chief Purpose being to inculcate the noble Principles of Virtue, and depreciate Vice of every kind. But, as I know the Mob hate Instruction, and the Generality would never read beyond the first Line of my Lectures, if they were actually fill'd with nothing but wholesome Precepts and Advice, I must therefore sometimes humor them in their own Way. There are a Set of Great Names in the Province, who are the common Objects of Popular Dislike. If I can now and then overcome my Reluctance, and prevail with myself to satyrize a little one of these Gentlemen, the Expectation of meeting with such a Gratification will induce many to read me through, who would otherwise proceed immediately to the Foreign News. As I am very well assured the greatest Men among us have a sincere Love for their Country, notwithstanding its Ingratitude, and the Insinuations of the Envious and Malicious to the contrary, so I doubt not but they will chearfully tolerate me in the Liberty I design to take for the End above mentioned.

As yet I have but few Correspondents, tho' they begin now to increase. The following Letter, left for me at the Printer's, is one of the first I have receiv'd, which I regard the more for that it comes from one of the Fair Sex, and because I have myself oftentimes suffer'd under the Grievance therein complain'd of.

"TO THE BUSY-BODY

"_Sir_,

"You having set yourself up for a _Censuror Morum_, (as I
think you call it), which is said to mean a Reformer of
_Manners_, I know no Person more proper to be apply'd to for
Redress in all the Grievances we suffer from Want of
_Manners_, in some People. You must know I am a single Woman,
and keep a Shop in this Town for a Livelyhood. There is a
certain Neighbour of mine, who is really agreeable Company
enough, and with whom I have had an Intimacy of some Time
standing; but of late she makes her visits so excessively
often, and stays so very long every Visit, that I am tir'd
out of all Patience. I have no Manner of Time at all to
myself; and you, who seem to be a wise Man, must needs be
sensible that every Person has little Secrets and Privacies,
that are not proper to be expos'd even to the nearest Friend.
Now I cannot do the least Thing in the World, but she must
know all about it; and it is a Wonder I have found an
Opportunity to write you this Letter. My Misfortune is, that
I respect her very well, and know not how to disoblige her so
much as to tell her I should be glad to have less other
Company; for if I should once hint such a Thing, I am afraid
she would resent it so as never to darken my Door again.

"But alas, Sir, I have not yet told you half my Affliction.
She has two Children, that are just big enough to run about
and do pretty Mischief; these are continually along with
Mamma, either in my Room or Shop, if I have ever so many
Customers or People with me about Business. Sometimes they
pull the Goods off my low Shelves down to the Ground, and
perhaps where one of them has just been making Water. My
Friend takes up the Stuff, and cries, 'Eh! thou little wicked
mischievous Rogue! But, however, it has done no great
Damage; 'tis only wet a little;' and so puts it up upon the
Shelf again. Sometimes they get to my Cask of Nails behind
the Counter, and divert themselves, to my great Vexation,
with mixing my Ten-penny, and Eight-penny, and Four-penny,
together. I endeavour to conceal my Uneasiness as much as
possible, and with a grave Look go to Sorting them out. She
cries, 'Don't thee trouble thyself, Neighbour: Let them play
a little; I'll put all to rights myself before I go.' But
Things are never so put to rights, but that I find a great
deal of Work to do after they are gone. Thus, Sir, I have all
the Trouble and Pesterment of Children, without the Pleasure
of--calling them my own; and they are now so us'd to being
here, that they will be content nowhere else. If she would
have been so kind as to have moderated her Visits to ten
times a Day, and stay'd but half an hour at a Time, I should
have been contented, and I believe never have given you this
Trouble. But this very Morning they have so tormented me,
that I could bear no longer; for, while the Mother was asking
me twenty impertinent Questions, the youngest got to my
Nails, and with great Delight rattled them by handfuls all
over the Floor; and the other, at the same Time, made such a
terrible Din upon my Counter with a Hammer, that I grew half
distracted. I was just then about to make myself a new Suit
of Pinners; but in the Fret and Confusion I cut it quite out
of all Manner of Shape, and utterly spoil'd a Piece of the
first Muslin.

"Pray, Sir, tell me what I shall do; and talk a little
against such unreasonable Visiting in your next Paper; tho' I
would not have her affronted with me for a great Deal, for
sincerely I love her and her Children, as well, I think, as a
Neighbour can, and she buys a great many Things in a Year at
my Shop. But I would beg her to consider, that she uses me
unmercifully, Tho' I believe it is only for want of Thought.
But I have twenty Things more to tell you besides all this:
There is a handsome Gentleman, that has a Mind (I don't
question) to make love to me, but he can't get the least
Opportunity to--O dear! here she comes again; I must
conclude, yours, &c.

"PATIENCE."

Indeed, 'tis well enough, as it happens, that she is come to shorten this Complaint, which I think is full long enough already, and probably would otherwise have been as long again. However, I must confess, I cannot help pitying my Correspondent's Case; and, in her Behalf, exhort the Visitor to remember and consider the Words of the Wise Man, "Withdraw thy Foot from the House of thy Neighbour, lest he grow weary of thee, and so hate thee." It is, I believe, a nice thing, and very difficult, to regulate our Visits in such a Manner, as never to give Offence by coming too seldom, or too often, or departing too abruptly, or staying too long. However, in my Opinion, it is safest for most People in a general way, who are unwilling to disoblige, to visit seldom, and tarry but a little while in a Place, notwithstanding pressing invitations, which are many times insincere. And tho' more of your Company should be really desir'd, yet in this Case, too much Reservedness is a Fault more easily excus'd than the Contrary.

Men are subjected to various Inconveniences meerly through lack of a small Share of Courage, which is a Quality very necessary in the common Occurrences of Life, as well as in a Battle. How many Impertinences do we daily suffer with great Uneasiness, because we have not Courage enough to discover our Dislike? And why may not a Man use the Boldness and Freedom of telling his Friends, that their long Visits sometimes incommode him? On this Occasion, it may be entertaining to some of my Readers, if I acquaint them with the _Turkish_ Manner of entertaining Visitors, which I have from an Author of unquestionable Veracity; who assures us, that even the Turks are not so ignorant of Civility and the Arts of Endearment, but that they can practise them with as much Exactness as any other Nation, whenever they have a Mind to shew themselves obliging.

"When you visit a Person of Quality," (says he) "and have
talk'd over your Business, or the Complements, or whatever
Concern brought you thither, he makes a Sign to have Things
serv'd in for the Entertainment, which is generally, a
little Sweetmeat, a Dish of Sherbet, and another of Coffee;
all which are immediately brought in by the Servants, and
tender'd to all the Guests in Order, with the greatest Care
and Awfulness imaginable. At last comes the finishing Part
of your Entertainment, which is, Perfuming the Beards of the
Company; a Ceremony which is perform'd in this Manner. They
have for the Purpose a small Silver Chaffing-Dish, cover'd
with a Lid full of Holes, and fixed upon a handsome Plate.
In this they put some fresh Coals, and upon them a piece of
_Lignum Aloes_, and shutting it up, the smoak immediately
ascends with a grateful Odour thro' the Holes of the Cover.
This smoak is held under every one's Chin, and offer'd as it
were a Sacrifice to his Beard. The bristly Idol soon
receives the Reverence done to it, and so greedily takes in
and incorporates the gummy Steam, that it retains the Savour
of it, and may serve for a Nosegay a good while after.

"This Ceremony may perhaps seem ridiculous at first hearing,
but it passes among the _Turks_ for a high Gratification.
And I will say this in its Vindication, that its Design is
very wise and useful. For it is understood to give a civil
Dismission to the Visitants, intimating to them, that the
Master of the House has Business to do, or some other
Avocation, that permits them to go away as soon as they
please, and the sooner after this Ceremony the better. By
this Means you may, at any Time, without Offence, deliver
yourself from being detain'd from your Affairs by tedious
and unseasonable Visits; and from being constrain'd to use
that Piece of Hypocrisy, so common in the World, of pressing
those to stay longer with you, whom perhaps in your Heart
you wish a great Way off for having troubled you so long
already."

Thus far my Author. For my own Part, I have taken such a Fancy to this Turkish Custom, that for the future I shall put something like it in Practice. I have provided a Bottle of right French Brandy for the Men, and Citron-Water for the Ladies. After I have treated with a Dram, and presented a Pinch of my best Snuff, I expect all Company will retire, and leave me to pursue my Studies for the Good of the Publick.

# # # # #

ADVERTISEMENT

I give Notice, that I am now actually compiling, and design to publish in a short Time, the true History of the Rise, Growth, and Progress of the renowned Tiff-Club. All Persons who are acquainted with any Facts, Circumstances, Characters, Transactions, &c. which will be requisite to the Perfecting and Embellishment of the said Work, are desired to communicate the same to the Author, and direct their Letters to be left with the Printer hereof.

The Letter, sign'd "_Would-be-Something_," is come to hand.