"About this time the English admitted to the "conduct of affairs a man who undertook to save "from destruction that ferocious and turbulent

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people, who, from the mean insolence of wealthy "traders, and the lawless confidence of successful "robbers, were now sunk in despair and stupified "with horror. He called in the ships which had "been dispersed over the ocean to guard their "merchants, and sent a fleet and an army, in "which almost the whole strength of England was

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comprised, to secure their possessions in America, "which were endangered alike by the French arms "and the French virtue. We had taken the Eng"lish fortresses by force, and gained the Indian "nations by humanity. The English, wherever

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they come, are sure to have the natives for their "enemies; for the only motive of their settle❝ments is avarice, and the only consequence of "their success is oppression. In this war they "acted like other barbarians, and, with a degree "of outrageous cruelty, which the gentleness of "our manners scarcely suffers us to conceive, of"fered rewards by open proclamation to those who "should bring in the scalps of Indian women and "children. A trader always makes war with the cruelty of a pirate.

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"They had long looked with envy and with ter"ror upon the influence which the French exerted "over all the northern regions of America by the "possession of Louisbourg, a place naturally strong "and new fortified with some slight outworks.

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They hoped to surprize the garrison unprovided; "but that sluggishness which always defeats their

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"malice, gave us time to send supplies, and to "station ships for the defence of the harbour.

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They came before Louisbourg in June, and were "for some time in doubt whether they should "land. But the commanders, who had lately seen "an admiral beheaded for not having done what "he had not power to do, durst not leave the place unassaulted. An Englishman has no "ardour for honour, nor zeal for duty; he neither "values glory nor loves his king, but balances one danger with another, and will fight rather than "be hanged. They therefore landed, but with great loss; their engineers had, in the last war "with the French, learned something of the mili "tary science, and made their approaches with "sufficient skill; but all their efforts had been "without effect, had not a ball unfortunately fallen "into the powder of one of our ships, which com"municated the fire to the rest, and, by opening "the passage of the harbour, obliged the garrison "to capitulate. Thus was Louisbourg lost, and "our troops marched out with the admiration of "their enemies, who durst hardly think them"selves masters of the place."

NUMB. 21. SATURDAY, September 2, 1758.

To the IDLER.

DEAR MR. IDLER,

THE

HERE is a species of misery, or of disease, for which our language is commonly supposed to be without a name, but which I think is emphatically enough denominated listlessness, and which is commonly termed a want of something to do.

Of the unhappiness of this state I do not expect all your readers to have an adequate idea. Many are overburdened with business, and can imagine no comfort but in rest; many have minds so placid, as willingly to indulge a voluntary lethargy; or so narrow, as easily to be filled to their utmost capacity. By these I shall not be understood, and therefore cannot be pitied. Those only will sympathize with my complaint, whose imagination is active and resolution weak, whose desires are ardent, and whose choice is delicate; who cannot satisfy themselves with standing still, and yet cannot find a motive to direct their course.

I was the second son of a gentleman, whose estate was barely sufficient to support himself and his heir in the dignity of killing game. He therefore made use of the interest which the alliances of his family afforded him, to procure me a post in the army. I passed some years in the most contemptible of all

human stations, that of a soldier in time of peace. I wandered with the regiment as the quarters were changed, without opportunity for business, taste for knowledge, or money for pleasure. Wherever I came, I was for some time a stranger without curiosity, and afterwards an acquaintance without friendship. Having nothing to hope in these places of fortuitous residence, I resigned my conduct to chance; I had no intention to offend, I had no ambition to delight.

I suppose every man is shocked when he hears how frequently soldiers are wishing for war. The wish is not always sincere; the greater part are content with sleep and lace, and counterfeit an ardour which they do not feel; but those who desire it most are neither prompted by malevolence nor patriotism; they neither pant for laurels, nor delight in blood; but long to be delivered from the tyranny of idleness, and restored to the dignity of active beings.

I never imagined myself to have more courage than other men, yet was often involuntarily wishing for a war, but of a war at that time I had no prospect; and being enabled, by the death of an uncle, to live without my pay, I quitted the army, and resolved to regulate my own motions.

I was pleassed, for a while, with the novelty of independence, and imagined that I had now found what every man desires. My time was in my own power, and my habitation was wherever my choice should fix it. I amused myself for two years in passing from place to place, and comparing one convenience with another; but being at last ashamed of

inquiry, and weary of uncertainty, I purchased a house, and established my family.

I now expected to begin to be happy, and was happy for a short time with that expectation. But I soon perceived my spirits to subside, and my imagination to grow dark. The gloom thickened every day round me. I wondered by what malignant power my peace was blasted, till I discovered at last that I had nothing to do..

Time with all its celerity, moves slowly to him whose whole employment is to watch its flight. I am forced upon a thousand shifts to enable me to endure the tediousness of the day. I rise when I can sleep no longer, and take my morning walk; I see what I have seen before, and return. I sit down,

and persuade myself that I sit down to think, find it impossible to think without a subject, rise up to inquire after news, and endeavour to kindle in myself an artificial impatience for intelligence of events, which will never extend any consequence to me, but that a few minutes they abstract me from myself.

When I have heard any thing that may gratify curiosity, I am busied for a while in running to relate it. I hasten from one place of concourse to another, delighted with my own importance, and proud to think that I am doing something, though I know that another hour would spare my labour.

I had once a round of visits, which I paid very regularly; but I have now tired most of my friends. When I have sat down I forget to rise, and have more than once overheard one asking another when I would be gone. I perceive the company tired, I