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e hour of exigence comes upon him, and compulsion shall torture him to diligence. It is below the dignity of a reasonable being to owe that strength to necessity which ought always to act at the call of choice, or to need any other motive to industry than the desire of performing his duty. Reflections that may drive away despair, cannot be wanting to him who considers how much life is now advanced beyond the state of naked, undisciplined, uninstructed nature. Whatever has been effected for convenience or elegance, while it was yet unknown, was believed impossible; and therefore would never have been attempted, had not some, more daring than the rest, adventured to bid defiance to prejudice and censure. Nor is there yet any reason to doubt that the same labour would be rewarded with the same success. There are qualities in the products of nature yet undiscovered, and combinations in the powers of art yet untried. It is the duty of every man to endeavour that something may be added by his industry to the hereditary aggregate of knowledge and happiness. To add much can indeed be the lot of few, but to add something, however little, every one may hope; and of every honest endeavour, it is certain, that, however unsuccessful, it will be at last rewarded. [Footnote e: Johnson gained _his_ knowledge from actual experience. He told Boswell that before he wrote the Rambler he had been running about the world more than almost any body. Boswell's Life of Johnson, vol. i. p. 196.; and vol. iii. pp. 20, 21.] No. 130. SATURDAY, JUNE 15, 1751. Non sic prata novo vere decentia AEstatis calidtae dispoliat vapor: Saevit solstitio cum medius dies;-- Ut fulgor teneris qui radiat genis Momento rapitur! nullaque non dies Formosi spolium corporis abstulit. Res est forma fugax: quis sapiens bono Confidat fragili? SENECA, Hippol. act. ii. 764. Not faster in the summer's ray The spring's frail beauty fades away, Than anguish and decay consume The smiling virgin's rosy bloom. Some beauty's snatch'd each day, each hour; For beauty is a fleeting flow'r: Then how can wisdom e'er confide In beauty's momentary pride? ELPHINSTON TO THE RAMBLER. SIR, You have very lately observed that in the numerous subdivisions of the world, every class and order of mankind have joys and sorrows of their own; we all feel hourly pain and pleasure from events which pass unheeded before other eyes, but can scar
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