onour,
even Food and Raiment are not to be come at without the Toil of the
Hands and Sweat of the Brows. Providence furnishes Materials, but
expects that we should work them up our selves. The Earth must be
laboured before it gives its Encrease, and when it is forced into its
several Products, how many Hands must they pass through before they
are fit for Use? Manufactures, Trade, and Agriculture, naturally
employ more than nineteen Parts of the Species in twenty; and as for
those who are not obliged to Labour, by the Condition in which they
are born, they are more miserable than the rest of Mankind, unless
they indulge themselves in that voluntary Labour which goes by the
Name of Exercise.

My Friend Sir ROGER has been an indefatigable Man in Business of this
kind, and has hung several Parts of his House with the Trophies of his
former Labours. The Walls of his great Hall are covered with the Horns
of several kinds of Deer that he has killed in the Chace, which he
thinks the most valuable Furniture of his House, as they afford him
frequent Topicks of Discourse, and shew that he has not been Idle. At
the lower end of the Hall, is a large Otter's Skin stuffed with Hay,
which his Mother ordered to be hung up in that manner, and the Knight
looks upon with great Satisfaction, because it seems he was but nine
Years old when his Dog killed him. A little Room adjoining to the Hall
is a kind of Arsenal filled with Guns of several Sizes and Inventions,
with which the Knight has made great Havock in the Woods, and
destroyed many thousands of Pheasants, Partridges and Wood-Cocks. His
Stable Doors are patched with Noses that belonged to Foxes of the
Knight's own hunting down. Sir Roger showed me one of them that for
Distinction sake has a Brass Nail stuck through it, which cost him
about fifteen Hours riding, carried him through half a dozen Counties,
killed him a brace of Geldings, and lost above half his Dogs. This the
Knight looks upon as one of the greatest Exploits of his Life. The
perverse Widow, whom I have given some account of, was the Death of
several Foxes; For Sir Roger has told me that in the Course of his
Amours he patched the Western Door of his Stable. Whenever the Widow
was cruel, the Foxes were sure to pay for it. In proportion as his
Passion for the Widow abated, and old Age came on, he left off
Fox-hunting; but a Hare is not yet safe that sits within ten Miles of
his House.

There is no kind of Exercise which