THESE are the words of King Solo­mon, emphatically called the Wise Man, from his great pre-eminence in wisdom over the whole human race. His knowledge, like his pleasures, was unconfined, and while he tortured na­ture for the one, he ransacked her no less for the other. He was none of those philosophers, who exclaim against the [Page 8] world for no other reason, than because they possess so small a share of it. He tasted, he possessed, he knew every thing which the mind of man in its most im­proved state is capable of tasting, possess­ing, or knowing. This raises his cha­racter above all praise, and gives the same eloquence to every thing which comes from his pen, as if a voice had proclaimed it from heaven.

Without taking up your time in wire-drawing the words, which are plain, and stand in need of no illustration, I shall proceed immediately to speak of TEM­PERANCE in EATING. The method I have chosen for this purpose, is to con­sider it as it relates

I. To the QUALITY.

II. To the QUANTITY of our ALI­MENT. And,

III. To the TIME of taking it. Af­ter this I shall conclude with an APPLI­CATION.

I. OF THE QUALITY OF OUR ALI­MENT. There hath been much com­mon-place [Page 9] declamation upon this sub­ject. There is such a variety in the appetites and constitutions of mankind (implanted originally for wise purposes) that no fixed rules can be laid down un­der this head. In general, the more simple our food is, the better. Animal and vegetable food should always be mixed together by people in health.— That nature intended man should be supported by them both, we infer from the structure of his teeth, and organs of digestion, which are formed upon the compound principles of carnivorous and granivorous animals. The proportion of vegetable food should always predo­minate, especially in warm seasons, and warm climates. Wild animals, and those which are full grown, should be prefer­red to tame and young animals, as be­ing more easy of digestion and perspira­tion. For the same reason, flesh which has been kept for some time, is to be preferred to that which is newly killed.

Much has been said against high-sea­soned food. To persons, in the full vi­gor of health and youth, I grant it may be hurtful; but to old, and to sickly peo­ple, [Page 10] who are afflicted with a general tor­por of the alimentary canal, it is not only inoffensive, but absolutely necessa­ry. I appeal to all such of my hearers, as labour under a weakness of the sto­mach, indigestion, acid belchings, and the like, whether a little salted or smoak­ed beef has not sat easier upon your sto­machs, and been sooner digested, than the most simple food that could be con­trived. High-seasoned food is like­wise necessary to the inhabitants of low marshy countries, more especially at those seasons of the year, when the dis­eases of such places are epidemic. It is remarked in some of the West-Indian islands, as well as in those parts of South-America, which are within the tropic, that such as eat a large quantity of spices of all kinds, with their food, are less sub­ject to the intermitting and bilious fe­vers, than those who avoid them. This is easily accounted for, when we reflect, how much they obviate the relaxing powers of heat and moisture, which al­ways combine to produce these diseases. It is for this reason, probably, that Pro­vidence has so ordered it, that the spicy trees grow spontaneously in warm cli­mates only, in all parts of the world.

[Page 11]Before I conclude this head, I shall remark, that little mischief is done to the constitution by the quality of ali­ment. Nature, for the most part, takes the alarm, and, unless we use violence with her, deprives us of our relish for those things, which are destructive to our constitutions. Such persons as love meat with those qualities which are hurt­ful, too often love likewise an excess in quantity, which leads us to the next head we proposed, namely, to speak

II. OF THE QUANTITY OF OUR A­LIMENT. 'Temperance (says Sir Wil­liam Temple) consists in a regular and simple diet, limited by every man's ex­perience of his own easy digestion."— Food, therefore, may be said to be ta­ken in too large a quantity, when we do not feel light and cheerful after it.— There are few who do not eat one third, or a fourth, more than is necessary to support them. The chief incentive to this is the variety of our dishes, which excites us to eat after the appetite is sa­tisfied. Few men, I believe, ever eat to excess more than once of one plain dish.

[Page 12]The church of Rome acts with a wise regard to the health as well as morals of her sons, in prescribing abstinence from flesh during Lent, and in allowing them nothing but fish —Most animals, in the spring of the year, or the season of Lent, are very poor, and upon several ac­counts unfit for food; but the chief rea­son upon which this canon is founded, and which serves our present purpose more immediately, is, that, by confi­ning them to fish only, there is less dan­ger of their eating to excess. Nature, we see, not only in this, but in another sensual enjoyment, ^* seems to have set a guard over our health, and, instead of rousing our sensations by variety or no­velty, kindly keeps them suspended, till appetite and pleasure are awakened to­gether, which to the same object they never will be oftener than is consistent [Page 13] with the health and vigor of the consti­tution. This wise oeconomy in the make of our bodies cannot be too much ad­mired, especially as we are enabled to discover in it the strict connexion be­tween the positive precepts of heaven, and our own happiness.

Next to our eating of but one dish, I would inculcate eating but one hearty meal a day. In support of this piece of advice, I might here summons many of the illustrious dead among the ancient philosophers and legislators, who never eat more than one hearty meal in the four-and-twenty hours. So common was this simplicity of living in Greece, that Plato, upon being asked, when he returned to Athens from his travels into Sicily, what he had seen that was curi­ous while he was abroad, answered, Vidi monstrum in natura, hominem bis satura­tum in die—"I have beheld (said he) a monster in nature; a man who eat two hearty meals in a day." These are more than sufficient to repair the daily waste of the body. They oppress nature, and keep her constantly fatigued, in concoct­ing the immense supplies of food which [Page 14] are thrown into the stomach. Although she sometimes forbears long, yet, soon­er or later, she takes ample vengeance of such as treat her in this manner, by afflicting them with blotches, and other disorders, which are the legitimate off­spring of this species of intemperance. But if we are to eat only one hearty meal a day, a question very naturally occurs here, and that is, at what time should it be taken?

This brings us to our last general head, namely, to speak of temperance as it re­lates to the

III. TIME OF EATING. At present noon is looked upon as the most proper for this purpose. Hence we generally find dinner the principal meal through this country. I am aware of the diffi­culty of opposing popular prejudices, and that it is often much better to swim with the multitude down the stream than to stem it alone. I am aware too of the fate of reformers in religion, politics, and science. Many have lost their characters, their livings, and even their lives, by advancing things contrary to [Page 15] the established opinions of the world. But, should this be my case, I will not conceal my sentiments, nor resist what I look upon and feel to be the sacred power of truth. It is well known to every one, that exercise of mind or body is disagreeable after dinner. Nature re­coils from them both. Every full meal is a stimulous to the whole system, and brings on a temporary fever, which shows itself in that chilliness and quick­ness of pulse, which are so remarkable after eating. To add to these either ex­ercise of body or mind, is to divide and weaken the powers of nature in a work which requires the combined action of them all. Upon this account, I think the principal meal should always be made in the evening.

The old Romans, we find, in the early and virtuous ages of their common-wealth, made their chief meal after night. The French (except such of them as co­py after the English manners) and the Italians always make supper their prin­cipal meal. The Indians in this coun­try (who live the most agreeable to na­ture of any people in the world) eat flesh [Page 16] but once in the four-and-twenty hours, and that is in the evening, after the fa­tigues of fishing, hunting, or marching, are over. The Spaniards, who have not yet adopted the French and Italian cus­tom of making their chief meal at night, are nevertheless so unanimous in the practice of sleeping an hour or two every day after dinner, that it is a common thing to hear a Spaniard say, in most of the cities of Spain, that 'none but Eng­lishmen and dogs are to be seen in their streets immediately after dinner.' Sleep is always natural after eating. Nature calls loudly for it. It is common to all the brute animals we are acquainted with. That state of the body or mind which approaches nearest to it, is always most agreeable to us, when we cannot enjoy it immediately.—Hence we read that many ancient nations used to re­cline upon beds or cushions, and to lean upon each other at their entertainments. This posture in eating was practised by the Greeks, Romans, ^* and Persians, ^† [Page 17] nor was it uncommon among the Jews. ^‡ But what proves, above all things, that rest and sleep are necessary after eating, is, that digestion has been lately proved to be carried on chiefly by FERMENTA­TION, to which rest, every body knows, is so essentially necessary, that it cannot take place without it. Unless the body [Page 18] enjoys more or less of this after eating, there can be no perfect concoction of the food. This is what all must consent to, who have been obliged to ride on horse­back, or to use any violent exercise of body, after a hearty dinner. The di­gestion, in such cases, is so disturbed, that persons have complained of being indisposed for several days after it.

But methinks I hear some object and say, that eating a hearty supper makes them restless in the night, and prevents their sleeping. To such I would wish joy.—It is a proof that nature has not yet sunk under the weight of two hearty meals a day; for I never heard any one make this complaint who did not like­wise eat a hearty dinner. Leave off di­ning in your usual manner, and, instead of eating half a pound, or a pound of flesh, with vegetables proportioned to it, allay your appetite with a little bread and cheese, a bowl of light soup, a cup of coffee or chocolate, or, after the French custom, with a few raisins, or an apple, and I am persuaded you will feel no inconvenience from eating a mode­rate supper. Here give me leave to re­mark [Page 19] to you, that the more of these light substances you take during the day, the better, as they tend to lesson the sense of hunger, or the keenness of the appe­tite, which too often provokes us to in­temperance Sir Francis Bacon tells us a story of a very old man, whose manner of living he enquired into, and found that he observed no other rules than eating before he was hungry, and drinking before he was dry; for by these means, he said, he was sure never to eat nor to drink too much at a time.—If we appeal once more to the brute animals, they will furnish us with arguments in favour of this practice. Every ana­logy borrowed from them deserves to be attended to, as they have never yet sub­jected their instincts to the tyranny of fashion. The cow and the horse, as al­so the sheep, when they range at large in a pasture, feed with little interruption during the day, and thus guard against the intemperate effects of hunger. The horse, it is true, sometimes suffers from this cause; but it is only when he is obliged to live as we do, that is, to di­vide his meals into three or four in a day, and to work immediately after­wards [Page 20] It is universally agreed, that people live much longer in warm than in cold climates. May not one reason of this be owing to the heat of such cli­mates diminishing their appetites, and thus preventing their wearing out their constitutions by excess of eating?—I would have it remembered here, that in speaking of warm climates, I mean the improved parts of Asia and Africa only. The warm climates of America are as yet too little cultivated, to allow us to extend the observation to our own country.—But to return. Me­thinks I hear others say, if we make supper our principal meal, we shall o­verset part of an old rule, which bids us,

This adage, it is true, from its great antiquity, as well as from its being de­livered in rhyme, comes armed with the strength of Sampson, but it does not require the skill of a Delilah to cut its locks. I might here mention an hundred common sayings in several of the arts and sciences, as well as in com­mon [Page 21] life, which are equally universal, and at the same time equally false with the above. It is a vulgar error, and is repugnant both to experience and sound philosophy. I conclude, therefore, that it is most agreeable to the usage of the most civilized nations—to the practice of savages—to nature—and to common experience, to eat our chief meal at night, and that the seeming objections against it are of no weight.

I hasten now to the APPLICATION of this discourse. And here I might ex­claim against the depravity of man, which has converted the common bles­sings of life into weapons of destruction against himself —I might open Pando­ra's box, or show you Milton's lazar-house,

And might prove to you, that most of these diseases are the children of intem­perance in eating. I might conduct you to yonder grave-yard, and point to the tombs of many of your former com­panions, who "came up like flowers, and were cut down," and who, strictly speaking, "lived not out half their days."—But, without entering upon these things, I shall conclude, by fixing your attention on the picture of a man who has spent part of his life "among riotous eaters of flesh."—Mark his pale countenance! his belly is swelled—His physicians tell us that it arises from a fixed obstruction in his liver, which has brought on a species of dropsy of the worst sort.—See! with what difficulty he breathes! A flow fever consumes his vitals—His thirst is inextinguishable.— Say, ye patrons and practisers of the healing art, can nothing be done to re­lieve him from this deplorable conditi­on? Call for some rich dainty—Per­haps this may revive him—Tell him of [Page 23] his past enjoyment—of the honour he once had of eating and drinking with the "Rulers" and chief men of the land. Alas! these can avail nothing. —The sight of the one—and the re­membrance of the other—serve only to increase his pain.—Will cordials and bitters do nothing to rouse the languid powers of life? Their virtues have long ago been exhausted, when there was no occasion for them. Better, far better, would it have been for him, had he (in the words of our text) "put a knife to his throat," or even plunged a dagger into his heart, the first day he gave him­self up to his appetite, than lived to endure such aggravated misery. In a word, all nature is up in arms against him—The elements keep back their medical aids—They take part in their Creator's quarrel, whose bounties he has abused—The air refuses to expand his lungs—water, to allay his thirst— fire, to warm his limbs, and thus he dies his own executioner. Be exhorted, my hearers, from these considerations, to temperance and sobriety. If you have any love for yourselves—for your fa­milies—for your posterity—and for the [Page 24] community to which you belong, think of these things. I have only to add my best wishes, that what has been deliver­ed upon this subject may have due weight with you, more especially at this season of the year ^*, when, as the Poet expresses it,

THE last time I addressed you from this place, I enlarged upon Tem­perance in Eating; in the present dis­course, I shall lay before you a few con­siderations upon the USE and ABUSE of WINE and STRONG DRINK. This, I shall attempt, by considering more par­ticularly [Page 26] the words of our text. For this purpose, I shall enquire,

I. TO WHOM WINE AND STRONG DRINK SHOULD BE GIVEN.

II. TO WHOM THEY SHOULD NOT BE GIVEN; and then I shall conclude with an APPLICATION.

I. WINE OR STRONG DRINK MAY BE GIVEN.

1. To the sick. The diseases in which wine is indicated are, First, The slow nervous fever. Here the powers of nature are weakened and oppressed, and the poor patient may, strictly speaking, be said to be ready to perish. Wine may be administered therefore in such cases with advantage.—If ever it fails of doing service, it is because it is given in too small a quantity. Secondly, In chronic diseases, which are accompanied with a langour of the whole system, which shows itself in a more especial manner in the stomach, wine is a sove­reign remedy. It was to relieve a com­plaint of this kind that St. Paul prescri­bed it to his son Timothy. By its gen­tle [Page 27] stimulus it excites the action of the stomach—invigorates the circulation— opens obstructions—and thus, in some measure, renews the whole constitution. The relief which wine affords in these cases, is the more certain, if the weak­ness of the system has been brought on by grief, or any of those passions which are of the sedative kind. Here the hea­vy heart is revived, and made to sing for joy.

2. Wine is sometimes necessary to the inhabitants of low marshy countries. The moisture of such places obstructs perspiration, and brings on a general laxity of the system. When used in a moderate quantity, it braces the solids, and by keeping up a proper balance between them and the fluids, it obviates diseases.—Hence we seldom find those people, who live in affluence, and who can afford to drink a glass or two of generous wine every day, afflicted with those fevers and agues, which make such great havock among poor people. The Hollanders have been charged with the national reflection of loving strong drink. This censure is unjust, as necessity at [Page 28] first drove them to it; and as it is by using wine and other spirituous liquors in moderation, that they guard them­selves from the ill effects of the moisture to which their country is always exposed. Remember, you are to use wine in these cases only during that season, in which these diseases are epidemic; which, in this climate, is chiefly during the months of August, September, and Oc­tober. But,

3. Wine is principally useful to old people, or such as are in the decline of life. It is hard to fix the limits between the beginning of old age, and the close of manhood. At a medium, the body begins to decline at the age of forty-five or fifty in this climate. Then the hot fit of the fever of life begins to abate, and from the many disappointments in love—friendship—ambition, or trade, which most of men meet with by the time they arrive at this age, they gene­rally feel a heavy heart.—The decay of the vital heat—the slowness of the pulse —the diminution of the strength, all show that the vigour of the system is declining. Here wine prolongs the [Page 29] strength and powers of nature; it is the grave of past misfortunes: in a word, it is another name for phylosophy. Re­member, my aged hearers, if you would expect to enjoy a long reprieve from the infirmities of age, you must begin to use wine moderately, and increase the quantity of it as you descend into the valley of life.—Add to this, you must diminish the quantity of your solid aliment.—This nature points out to us; by depriving us of our teeth in propor­tion as we grow old, teaching us there­by, that we have now no longer use for them.

I come now to the second general head of my discourse, namely,

II. TO SHOW TO WHOM WINE OR STRONG DRINK SHOULD NOT BE GIV­EN.

In the First place, it should not be given to children. Wine, we said for­merly, is of a heating nature, and is in­dicated in those constitutions and ages, where a stimulus is necessary to support the powers of life. Children, from the natural vigour of their systems, which shows itself in the remarkable quickness [Page 30] of their pulses, and in their great acti­vity of mind and body, stand in no need of a stimulus of this kind. On the con­trary, every thing should be withheld from them, which tends to add to the natural impetuosity of their fluids, or the vigorous action of their solids.— Hence we are led to commend those parents, who forbid their children to taste all kinds of animal food (upon the account of its stimulating quality) till they are upwards of seven or eight years of age. But,

2. Studious people, or those who have occasion to exercise their thinking faculties much, should abstain from wine. Thinking is a stimulus to the constitution, and wears out the springs of life beyond the most laborious exer­cise of body.—Much study is literally a "weariness of the flesh."—Hence we find statesmen, generals, and even such as fill the learned professions with dig­nity, are more subject to the gout, from small deviations in their ordinary way of living, than other people. Wine, and a constant or vigorous exertion of the active faculties of the soul, produce [Page 31] nearly the same effects upon the body. —This is one reason probably why So­lomon, in the chapter from whence our text is taken, says, "It is not for kings to drink wine, nor for princes strong drink." Much recreation and great exercise of body, are necessary to guard against the effects of too much applica­tion of the mind to business; should the stimulating effects of wine be added to this, relief will be sought from exercise and amusements in vain. But,

3. Wine should not be used by young people, or such as are under five and thirty or forty years of age, unless they labour under some of those evils we mentioned under our first head. The pursuits and pleasures of youth are too often more than sufficient to keep the system in an excited state. To add wine to these, is like throwing oil into fire, in order to extinguish it. It is al­ways a sign of a vitiated heart, when in full health wine is called for, in order to impart cheerfulness to it ^*. By a­voiding [Page 32] wine in the early part of life; you will receive benefit from it when you grow old. You will likewise es­cape that dreadful scourge of intempe­rance the gout. This is the natural off­spring of wine. In the great empire of China the gout is unknown. This is owing to their being unacquainted with the juice of the grape; and is a proof that the other causes, which have been accused of bringing on the gout, act too feebly to produce it, unless they are roused into action by the use of wine. Besides all this, by refraining from wine during this period of your lives, you may become the fathers of a healthful pro­geny, whose ruddy looks, and well-form­ed limbs, will adorn your happy board, and more than repay you for your ab­stinence and self-denial.

But methinks I hear some of you say —why all this noise about wine and strong drink?—Have we not seen hun­dreds,

[Page 33] who have made it a constant practise to get drunk almost every day for thirty or forty years, who, notwith­standing, arrived to a great age, and enjoyed the same good health as those who have followed the strictest rules of temperance—or who have lived by weight and measure like Lewis Corna­ro himself?—Some instances of this kind I grant might be mentioned; but they are few when compared with the num­ber of those who have abstained from wine and strong drink: even these have began to drink after their constitutions were on the decline. They were more­over generally poor people, who were obliged to work hard for their support, and thus by their labour carried off the effects of their intemperance. But who knows how much longer they might have lived, had they been more tempe­rate. Perhaps after all, they died mar­tyrs to spirituous liquors, and at the age of eighty, ninety, or even an hundred, were guilty of a species of suicide. If you should see a sailor fall from the mast of a ship under full sail into the sea, and afterwards be taken up alive, would you not think his companions mad, if [Page 34] they should leap from the same place, in hopes of meeting with the same good fortune?—

But who is he that says, if we banish wine from company, how shall we con­trive to entertain our friends? The poets and philosophers of former ages, who abound so much with the praises of wine, would rise up against us, should we tear so precious a relick from the temple of hospitality. To this I answer, that more have complained of drinking too much, than of drinking too little in company. How many have refused to be present at entertainments, only be­cause they were afraid of being forced to drink to excess? How many are obliged to counterfeit excuses, or to steal pri­vately from company for the same rea­son? What confusion—what discord, among the most intimate friends, have you not seen follow those feasts where the host has relied upon the quantity or goodness of his wine, for the enter­tainment of his guests?—Three or four glasses of wine will impart all its cheer­ful qualities to a stomach which is not rendered insensible to it by habit or [Page 35] disease. These may be taken occasion­ally among friends by persons of all a­ges and conditions, especially upon fes­tive seasons. These seasons, however, should not recur too often. Our SAVI­OUR wrought a miracle at a wedding, in order to furnish wine to the guests; but he fed five thousand people with a few loves and fishes in the wilderness, without ordering any wine to be drank after them. This is the more remark­able, as there is no food which is sup­posed to require wine with it so much as fish,—it being a common saying, that it should always swim three times— namely, in water—butter—and wine.

It is time now to hasten to the AP­PLICATION of this discourse.

Here then I would call upon the dis­eased and the melancholy part of my hearers, as well as such whose misfor­tune it is to live in low marshy coun­tries, to come and partake of this sove­reign antidote to disease and care.— Banish your cordials—your bitters, and your magnesias, the paltry prescriptions of mercenary quacks, and substitute in the room of them a few glasses of good [Page 36] old wine. But to you, my aged hear­ers—my venerable fathers, would I chiefly address myself. Come here and drown all your sorrows in full bumpers of Lisbon or Madeira.—Here forget the inconstancy of your mistresses—the perfidy of friends—the broken promises of your patrons—and the villainy of those who have betrayed either your in­terest or character.—Above all things, here you may forget not only to com­plain, but even to feel most of those infirmities which are too often connec­ted with your age. "The keepers of the house, shall cease to tremble—nor shall the strong men bow themselves; and al­though your grinders may cease, because they are few, yet those that look out of the windows, shall not be darkened.— Ye shall not rise at the voice of the bird, unable to sleep any longer, nor shall the grass-hopper any more be a burthen to you." The days shall never come in which you shall say, "we have no plea­sure in them." Thus will you prolong your health and spirits till, like full ma­tured fruit, you shall drop into the lap of your mother earth. Your bodies, like the garments of the children of Is­rael, [Page 37] shall not be torn by the ravages of time—and the same stroke which puts an end to your enjoyments, shall cut the silver cord of life.

It is now time to address myself to another class of my hearers. First, let me call upon parents to withhold wine from their children. It is a poison in­stead of a cordial, which you pour down their little throats. No fortune which you can bequeath them, will ever be e­quivalent for depriving them of the in­estimable blessing of a good constitution. Next, let me call upon statesmen, legis­lators, and all those who labour for the public good, to abstain from wine. Re­member, you are the guardians of your country: public business should, like time, have no pauses. How often have treaties been suspended, and even march­es and battles been delayed, by the principals or leaders of them being laid up with a fit of the gout. Suffer not the short-lived pleasures of drinking, to rob you of your fame or importance, or to obstruct your motions through these exalted spheres which you are called to fill. But to you, young men, would I [Page 38] now, in the last place, address myself.— You have heard several arguments a­gainst the necessity of your drinking wine. None of you can pretend to be of heavy hearts, or ready to perish. If you are not moved by a regard to your own health and happiness—think of your posterity. Let not your third and forth generations be visited for your iniqui­ties: they will imprecate vengeance up­on your ashes every time they feel the punishment of your folly.

But if, after all I have said, you are determined to persevere in your usual manner of living, I must address you once more in the words of the Wise Man, and say, "Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth, and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thy heart, and in the sight of thine eyes;" yet remember there is a time coming when you will repent that you have hated reproof, and turned a deaf ear to the voice of the preacher. There is the same inseparable connec­tion between intemperance and disease, that there is betwixt vice and its punish­ment. Unless you should be cut off by [Page 39] some sudden gust of intemperance, you may depend upon feeling the effects of it hereafter. Think now, I beseech you, of the sleepless nights—of the low spirits—of the scorching pains in your hands and feet which await you. To give you an idea of the dreadful conse­quences of excess in drinking, let me beg of you to accompany me to the bed-chamber of a mar afflicted with the gout. Be not alarmed at his groans— Let us go in—Is this the man who a few years ago was the life and soul of every company he went into?—Is this he who boasted of the quantity of liquor he could drink without being intoxicated?—who spent his youth in a constant round of gaiety and pleasure?—How is he changed!—It is now eleven years since he has been a prisoner in this cham­ber. His physicians have long since deserted him! nor is it any reproach to their art that they cannot cure him, any more than it is that they are unable to raise the dead. He is a burthen to his friends. In vain does he seek relief from wine—food—physic—company, or even from philosophy. His only a­musement is to number the days of his [Page 40] misery on the wall, with the chalk which grows on the ends of his fingers.— Death, the last friend of the wretched, refuses to come at his call—He lives—I retract the word—He has ceased to live ever since his confinement:—He breathes shorter and shorter, till at last he closes his eyes for ever in the silence of death. This is no exaggerated picture. We have all seen it at some time of our lives.

I cannot conclude what has been said upon this subject, with words more to our purpose than those of Solomon: "Who hath woe? who hath sorrow? who hath contentions? who hath bab­ling? who hath wounds without cause? who hath redness of eyes? They that tarry long at the wine; they that go to seek mixt wine. Look not thou upon the wine when it is red, when it giveth his colour in the cup, when it moveth itself aright. At the last it bi­teth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder."

MAN was formed to be active. The vigour of his mind, and the health of his body can be fully preserved by no other means, than by labour of some sort. Hence, when we read the sen­tence which was pronounced upon man after the fall, "That in the sweat of his [Page 42] brow he should eat bread all the days of his life;" we cannot help admiring the goodness of the Supreme Being, in connecting his punishment with what had now become the necessary means of preserving his health. Had God aban­doned him to idleness, he would have entailed tenfold misery upon him. The solid parts of his body, particularly the nerves, would have lost their tone—the muscles would have lost their feeling and moving powers—and the fluids, in consequence of this, would have lost their original or native qualities, and have stagnated in every part of his bo­dy. But, instead of inflicting this com­plicated punishment upon him, he bids him be ACTIVE, and implants a princi­ple within him which impels him to it. Civil society and agriculture began to­gether. The latter has always been looked upon among the first employ­ments of mankind.—It calls forth every individual of the human race into acti­on;—it employs the body in a manner the most conducive to its health; it preserves and increases the species most; —and lastly, it is most friendly to the practice of virtue. For these reasons, [Page 43] therefore, it is natural to conclude, that it is most agreeable to the Supreme Be­ing, that man should be supported by it. The earth is a skilful as well as a kind mother to her children. Instead of pouring her treasures in lapfuls upon them at once, and consigning them to idleness ever afterwards, she bestows her gifts with a sparing hand, and ceases to yield them any thing, as soon as they cease to cultivate her. Thus by en­tailing constant labour, she meant to entail constant health upon them.

But these employments were too in­nocent for the restless spirit of man. He soon deserted his fields—and his flocks—and sought for some more spee­dy methods of acquiring fortune—inde­pendence—and a superiority over his fellow-creatures. These have been ob­tained by commerce—war—rapine— and lastly, to the reproach of the Ame­rican colonies, and of humanity, be it spoken, by the perpetration of a crime, compared with which, every other breach of the laws of nature or nations, deserves the name of holiness, I mean, by SLAVERY. But in exchange for [Page 44] these, he hath given up that greatest of all blessings, HEALTH. He hath had recourse to medicine as a succedaneum for labour; but this hath proved inef­fectual; for the fossil—vegetable—and those parts of the animal kingdom which are employed in medicine, have not yet learned, like man, to rise in rebellion against the will of their Creator. So­lomon seems to have been aware of this in the words of our text; and hence we hear him calling upon him to awake from his unhealthy "slumber"—to rise from his enervating bed—to unfold his "arms," and employ them in some use­ful labour, least sickness, with its com­panion "poverty," should come upon him like "travail upon a woman with child; or like an "armed man:" nei­ther of which can be avoided or resisted. But Solomon, and all the preachers from his time to the present day, who have addressed him upon this subject, have used their eloquence in vain. Since therefore we cannot bring man back again to his implements of husbandry, we must attempt to find out some kinds of exercise as substitutes for them. The most healthy and long-lived people are [Page 45] found among the labouring part of man­kind —Would the rich then enjoy health and long-life, they must do that of choice which these people do of ne­cessity. They must by exercise, subject themselves to a kind of voluntary la­bour.

As this discourse is addressed chiefly to the rich and the luxurious, who are the most given to idleness, I shall con­fine myself to exercise only; and, in or­der to handle the subject in the most extensive manner, I shall consider

I. THE DIFFERENT MODES OF EX­ERCISE.

II. THE PROPER TIME FOR USING IT; and then I shall conclude with an APPLICATION.

I. All Exercise may be divided into ACTIVE and PASSIVE.

ACTIVE EXERCISE includes walking —running—dancing—fencing—swim­ming, and the like.

PASSIVE EXERCISE includes sailing —riding in a carriage, and on horseback. [Page 46] The last of these it of a mixed nature, and is in some measure active as well as passive. We shall treat of each of them in order.

OF ACTIVE EXERCISE.

WALKING is the most gentle species of it we are acquainted with. It pro­motes perspiration, and if not continued too long, invigorates and strengthens the system. As the most simple and wholesome drink, namely water, is with­in every body's reach, so this species of simple and wholesome exercise is in e­very body's power, who has the use of his limbs. It is to be lamented, that carriages are too often substituted in the room of it. At Pekin in China, we are told, that none but the emperor, and a few of the first officers of state, are suf­fered to use chariots. Although the intention of this law was to suppress the number of horses, in order to make room for the increase and support of the hu­man species, in the number of which the riches of all countries consist, yet we find it attended with good effects otherwise; for the rich and the great, by being obliged to walk in common [Page 47] with the poor people, enjoy with them the common blessing of health, more than people of the same rank in other countries. To such as can be [...] it, I would recommend walking frequently up a hill. The inhabitants of moun­tainous countries are generally healthy and long-lived. This is commonly at­tributed to the purity of the air in such places. Although this has a chief share in it, yet I cannot help thinking, that the frequent and necessary exercise of climb­ing mountains, which these people are obliged to undergo, adds much to their health and lives. Every body knows how much walking up a hill tends to create an appetite. This depends upon its increasing the insensible perspiration: —an excretion with which the appetite, and the state of the stomach in general, are much connected.

RUNNING is too violent to be used often, or continued for any length of time. The running-footmen in all coun­tries are short-lived:—Few of them es­cape consumptions before they arrive at their thirty-fifth year.—Sweating and perspiration, according to Sanctorius, [Page 48] have been found to be incompatible:— The former always suppresses the latter. Upon this account, I would recommend it to be used as seldom as possible.

DANCING is a most salutary exercise. Future ages will be surprised to hear, that rational creatures should, at any time, have looked upon it as a criminal amusement. To reason against it, from its abuse, concludes equally strong a­gainst the lawfulness of every thing we hold sacred and valuable in life.—It was a part of the Jewish worship. By its mechanical effects on the body, it inspires the mind with cheerfulness; and this, when well founded, and properly restrained, is another name for religion. It is common among the Indians, and the savage nations of all countries, upon public and festive occasions.—They have their war—their love—and their religious dances. The music, which always accompanies this exercise, hath a pleasing and salutary effect upon the body as well as the mind It is ad­dressed through the avenue of the ears to the brain, the common centre of life and motion, from whence its oscillati­ons [Page 49] are communicated to every part of the system, imparting to each that equal and uniform vigour and action, upon which the healthy state of all the functi­ons depends. It would lead us to a long digression, or I might here menti­on many remarkable cures which have been performed, particularly of those disorders, which are much connected with the nervous system, by the magic power of music. Dancing should not be used more than once or twice a week. It should never be continued till wea­riness comes on, nor should we expose ourselves to the cold air too soon after it.

FENCING calls forth most of the mus­cles into exercise, particularly those which move the limbs. The brain is likewise roused by it, through the avenue of the eyes; and its action, as in the case of music, is propagated to the whole system. It has long been a subject of complaint, that the human species has been degenerating for these several cen­turies. When we see the coats of mail of our ancestors, who fought under Ed­wards and Heneries of former ages, we wonder how they moved, much more [Page 50] how they atchieved such great exploits, beneath the weight of such massy cover­ings. We grant that rum—tobacco —tea—and some other luxuries of modern invention, have had a large share in weakning the stamina of our constitutions, and thus producing a more feeble race of men; yet we must attri­bute much of our great inferiority in strength, size and agility to our fore-fa­thers, to the disuse which the invention of gun-powder and fire-arms hath in­troduced of those athletic exercises, which were so much practised in former ages, as a part of military discipline.

Too much cannot be said in praise of SWIMMING, or as the poet of Avon expresses it—"buffeting the waves with lusty sinews." Besides exercising the limbs, it serves to wash away the dust, which is apt to mix itself with the sweat of our bodies in warm weather. Wash­ing frequently in water, we find, was enjoined upon the Jews and Mahome­tans, as a part of their religious ceremo­nies. The Hollanders are cleanly in their houses and streets, without remem­bering, or perhaps knowing, that clean­liness [Page 51] was absolutely necessary at first, to guard against the effects of those inun­dations of mire, to which their country is always exposed:—so a Jew and a Mussulman contend for, and practise their ablutions, without remembering that they were instituted only to guard them against those cutaneous diseases, to which the constant accumulation of sordes upon their skins in a warm cli­mate, naturally exposed them. For the same reason I would strongly recom­mend the practice of bathing and swim­ming, frequently in the summer season. But remember, you should not stay too long in the water at one time, least you lessen instead of increasing the vigour of the constitution.

To all these species of exercise which we have mentioned, I would add, SKEATING, JUMPING, also, the active plays of TENNIS, BOWLES, QUOITS, GOLF ^*, and the like. The manner in [Page 52] which each of these operate, may be understood from what we said under the former particulars.

Active exercise includes, in the last place, TALKING—READING with an AUDIBLE VOICE——SINGING and LAUGHING. They all promote the circulation of the blood through the lungs, and tend to strengthen those im­portant organs, when used in moderati­on. The last has the advantage over them all, inasmuch as the mind co-ope­rates with it. May unfading laurels bloom to the latest ages upon the grave of him ^* who said, "That every time a man laughs, he adds something to his life."

I would remark here, that all these species of exercise which we have de­scribed, should be varied according to [Page 53] age—sex—temperament—climate, and season. Young people stand in less need of exercise than old:—Women less than men. The natural vigour of their constitutions is such, that they suf­fer least from the want of it. This will explain the meaning, and show the pro­priety of an opinion of a modern Phi­losopher ^†, that "Women only should follow those mechanical arts which re­quire a sedentary life." But again, a man, who is phlegmatic, requires more frequent and violent exercise than he who is of a bilious constitution: And lastly, people in warm climates and sea­sons, require less than those who live in cold. As Providence, by supplying the inhabitants of warm climates with so many of the spontaneous fruits of the earth, seems to have intended they should labour less than the inhabitants of cold climates; so we may infer from this, that less exercise, which is only a substitute for labour, is necessary for them. The heat of such climates is sufficient of itself to keep up a regular and due perspiration. We said in a [Page 54] former discourse, that the longest-lived people were to be found in warm cli­mates, and we gave one conjecture into the cause of it. It may not be impro­per here to add another. The cold­ness of northern climates, from the vi­gour it gives to the constitution, prompts to all kinds of exercise, which are not always restrained within proper bounds. These, when used to excess, wear out the body. Thus, blowing a fire, may cause it to burn the brighter, but it consumes it the sooner. The inhabitants of warm climates being less prompted to these things, their bodies continue longer un­impaired. I confine this observation, as in the former instance, to the improv­ed parts of Asia and Africa only. The inhabitants of the West-India islands are so mixed, and partake so much of the European manners, that we cannot as yet include them in any general re­marks which are made upon this subject.

I come next to speak of those exer­cises which are of a PASSIVE NATURE. These are proper chiefly for valetudi­narians: but, as I intend these sermons should be of use to them as well as the [Page 55] healthy, I shall make a few remarks upon each of them.

The life of a SAILOR is environed with so many dangers, that Heaven has, in compensation for them, connected with it an exemption from many diseas­es. In vain do the angry elements as­sault him. His body, like some huge promontory, is proof against them all. Notwithstanding the dangers from ship­wreck—fire—falling over-board—and famine, to which sailors are exposed, I believe, that if we were to count an hundred sailors, and the same number of people on land, in a place that was ordinarily healthy, we should find more of the former alive at the end of ten years than the latter. The exercise of SAILING is constant. Every muscle is occasionally brought into exercise from the efforts we make to keep ourselves from falling. These efforts continue to be exerted by the oldest sailors, al­though the consciousness of the mind in these, as well as in many other actions we perform, is not observed from the influence of habit. By means of this regular and gentle exercise, the blood [Page 56] is moved in those small capillary vessels, where it is most apt to stagnate, and perspiration is increased, which is car­ried off as fast as it is discharged from the body, by the constant change of at­mosphere in a ship under sail. I say nothing here of the benefit of the sea air, it being entirely negative. Its vir­tue, both at sea and on the sea-shore, consists in nothing but its being freed from those noxious animal and vegeta­ble effluvia, which abound in the air which comes across land. From what has been said, you will no longer be surprised at the uncommon appetite which some people feel at sea. It is owing to the great and constant dis­charge of the aliment (after it has un­dergone its usual changes) by means of perspiration. I would recommend this species of exercise to consumptive peo­ple, especially to such as labour under a spitting of blood. Dr. Lind tells us ^*, "That out of 5741 sailors who were admitted into the naval hospital at Has­lar, near Portsmouth, in two years, only [Page 57] 360 of them had consumptions, and in one fourth of these (he says) it was brought on by bruises or falls." In the same number of hospital patients, in this or any other country, I am per­suaded six times that number would have been consumptive—so much does the gentle exercise of sailing fortify the lungs against all accidents, and deter­mine the quantity and force of the flu­ids towards the surface of the body.

RIDING IN A CHARIOT has but few advantages, inasmuch as we are exclu­ded from the benefit of fresh air; an article, upon which the success of all kinds of exercise in a great measure de­pends. It should be used only by such persons as are unable to walk or to ride on horseback. We cannot help lamen­ting here, that those people use this mode of exercise the most, who stand in the greatest need of a more violent species of it.

RIDING ON HORSEBACK is the most manly and useful species of exercise for gentlemen. Bishop Burnet expresses his surprize at the lawyers of his own [Page 58] time being so much more long-lived (caeteris paribus) than other people, con­sidering how much those of them who become eminent in their profession, are obliged to devote themselves to constant and intense study. He attributes it en­tirely to their RIDING the circuits so frequently, to attend the different courts in every part of the kingdom. This, no doubt, has a chief share in it: but we shall hereafter mention another cause which concurs with this, to protract their lives. It may be varied according to our strength, or the nature of our dis­order, by walking—pacing—trotting or cantering our horse. All those diseases which are attended with a weakness of the nerves, such as the hysteric and hypo­chondriac disorders, which show them­selves in a weakness of the stomach and bowels—indigestion—low spirits, &c. require this exercise. It should be used with caution in the consumption, and should never be violent, nor continued too long at a time. In riding, to pre­serve health, eight or ten miles a day are sufficient to answer all the purposes we would wish for. But in riding, to [Page 59] restore health, these little excursions will avail nothing. The mind, as well as the body, must be roused from its lan­gour. In taking an airing, as it is cal­led, we ride over the same ground for the most part every day. We see no new objects to divert us, and the very consideration of our riding for health sinks our spirits so much, that we receive more harm than good from it. Upon this account I would recommend long journies to such people, in order, by the variety or novelty of the journey, to a­waken and divert the mind. Many people have by these means been sur­prised into health. Persons who labour under hysteric or epileptic disorders, should be sent to cold, those who labour under hypochondriac or consumptive complaints should visit warm climates.

Before I finish this head of our dis­course, I shall add a few words con­cerning the exercise of the faculties of the soul. The mind and body have a reciprocal action upon each other. Are our passions inflamed with desire or a­version? Or does our reason trace out relations in those things which are the [Page 60] objects of our understanding?—The bo­dy, we find, is brought into sympathy. The pulse and the circulation of the blood are immediately quickened, per­spiration and the other secretions are promoted, and the body is insensibly in­vigorated afterwards. The body par­takes therefore of the torpor which the mind contracts by its neglecting to ex­ercise its faculties. He must be but lit­tle acquainted with biography, who has not remarked, that such as have distin­guished themselves in the literary world, have generally been long-lived. AD­DISON, SWIFT, LOCKE, NEWTON, FRANKLIN, with many others whom we might mention, all found a retreat, in the evening of their lives, under the shade of laurels which they had planted in their youth. Perhaps, in most cases, they might promise themselves an ex­emption from diseases, and a death from mere old age, could they be persuaded to relinquish their midnight lamp be­fore the oil which feeds it was consu­med. Great care should be taken, there­fore, to avoid too great application of the mind to study. The most powerful [Page 61] medicines in nature are the most cer­tain poisons. Many promising geniuses have sacrificed themselves, before they arrived at the altar in the Temple of Fame. Such as are in danger of suf­fering from this cause, will do well in consulting the ingenious and humane Dr. Tissot's excellent treatise upon the diseases of literary people. The PAS­SIONS, as well as our reason, should al­ways be exercised as much as possible. We shall walk, run, dance, swim, fence, sail, and ride to little purpose, unless we make choice of an agreeable friend to accompany us. Solitude is the bane of man; insomuch, that it is difficult to tell which suffers most, the soul in its qualities, or the body in its tempera­ment, from being alone. Too great a concourse of people breeds diseases. Too much company is destructive to cheerfulness. For the sake of both mind and body, therefore, we should move in a little circle, and let heaven circumscribe it for us. Let over wives and children be always around us, or, if we are not blessed with these, let a few chearful friends be our constant [Page 62] companions. It is remarked, that more single people die among those who are come to manhood than married, and all physicians agree, that single men and women compose by far the greatest num­ber of their chronic patients among a­dults. Some men may talk against the cares of a family. They are unavoid­able, it is true, but they are necessary. Stagnating waters are never sweet.— Thus, these little cares, by keeping the tender passions always agitated, prevent that uniformity in life, which is so fo­reign and disagreeable both to the body and mind. After all, I believe I shall have the suffrages of most of my hearers, when I add, that they are at least ba­lanced by the sweets of domestic friend­ship.

We come now to the next head of our discourse, namely,

II. To enquire into the proper TIME for EXERCISES.—Sanctorius informs us ¹¹, that "exercise, from the seventh to the eleventh hour after eating, wastes more insensibly in one hour, than in three at [Page 63] any other time." If this be true, then (supposing you sup at eight o'clock in the evening) that exercise which is used from five till seven o'clock in the morn­ing, will promote the greatest discharge in a given time, by insensible perspira­tion. Such as make dinner their prin­cipal meal, are excluded from the be­nefit of this aphorism; as the interval, between the seventh and the eleventh hour, with them (supposing they dine at two o'clock in the afternoon) is from nine in the evening till one o'clock in the morning—a time, in which darkness, and the unwholesome night air, forbid walking—riding—and almost every o­ther species of manly exercise we have described.

I know it will be objected here, that we often see labourers return, after a full meal, to their work, without feeling any inconvenience from it. This is like the argument of those who recom­mend raw flesh to the human species, because the strongest and fiercest ani­mals in nature eat it. It is because they are so fierce and so strong, that they are able to digest raw stein. In like [Page 64] manner it is, because these men are na­turally so strong, that labour immedi­ately after eating does not hurt them ^*. But let me ask, whether you have not observed such people leave their tables with reluctance?—how slowly do they return—and how many excuses do they form to loitor away a little time, before they renew their work?

But further—there is another reason why I would recommend this practice of eating the chief meal in the evening, which is indeed a little foreign to our present subject.—In a country like this, where the constant labour of every indi­vidual is so very necessary, the general use of this custom would add several hours to every day, and thus have the most beneficial effects upon the agricul­ture—commerce—and manufactures of the country, exclusive of its influence upon the health of the inhabitants.

After what has been said, I need hardly add, that exercise should never be used with a full stomach. Persons who use exercise, either to preserve or [Page 65] restore health, immediately after eating a hearty meal, resemble the man "who fled from a lion, and a bear met him; and who went into the house, and lean­ed his hand upon the wall, and a serpent bit him."

I come now to the APPLICATION of this discourse.

I have endeavoured, in every part of it, to lay before you the most powerful arguments, to excite you to exercise, and have addressed them chiefly to that main spring of human actions—SELF-PRE­SERVATION. I have taught you the true art of alchymy, and furnished you with the genuine philosopher's stone; but with this difference from that which has been sought for, by the deluded pretenders of philosophy in all ages, that, instead of converting, like Midas, every thing you touch into gold, every thing which touches you shall—not convert you into gold, but impart HEALTH to you—compared with which, even the gold of Ophir loses its weight. In a word—I have showed you an harbour where I have anchored safely for many [Page 66] years; for, from my youth upwards, I have followed the mode of living I have recommended to you, as far as my con­nections or intercourse with the world would admit; and although I received from nature a weakly constitution, yet —I speak it with a grateful heart!— few men enjoy better health—none bet­ter spirits—than myself; and was I now about to leave the world, surrounded with a family of children, I would charge them, among the most important lessons I should give them, to bind these things as "a sign upon their hands, or as front­less between their eyes"—to think of them "when they sat in their houses, and when they walked by the way— when they lay down, and when they rose up—that their days might be mul­tiplied; and that the days of their chil­dren might be as the days of heaven upon the earth."

I shall conclude this discourse with a story, which, I hope, will not be looked upon as foreign to what has been deli­vered upon this subject.

In the island of Ceylon, in the Indian ocean, a number of invalids were as­sembled [Page 67] together, who were afflicted with most of the chronic diseases to which the human body is subject. In the midst of them sat several venerable figures, who amused them with encomi­ums upon some medicines, which they assured them would afford infallible re­lief in all cases. One boasted of an elixir—another of a powder, brought from America—a third, of a medicine, invented and prepared in Germany— all of which, they said, were certain antidotes for the gout—a fourth cried up a nostrum for the vapours—a fifth, drops for the gravel—a sixth, a balsam, prepared from honey, as a sovereign remedy for a consumption—a seventh, a pill for cutaneous eruptions—while an eighth cried down the whole, and extolled a mineral water, which lay a few miles from the place where they were assembled. The credulous mul­titude partook eagerly of these medi­cines, but without any relief of their respective complaints. Several of those, who made use of the German preparation, were hurried suddenly out of the world. Some said their medicines were adulte­rated [Page 68] —others that the doctors had mis­taken their disorders—while most of them agreed that they were much worse than ever. While they were all, with one accord, giving vent in this manner, to the transports of disappointment and vexation, a clap of thunder was heard over their heads. Upon looking up, a light was seen in the sky.—In the midst of this appeared the figure of something more than human—she was tall and comely—her skin was fair as the driven snow—a rosy hue tinged her cheeks— her hair hung loose upon her shoulders— her flowing robes disclosed a shape which would have cast a shade upon the statue of Venus of Medicis.—In her right hand she held a bough of an EVERGREEN —in her left hand she had a scroll of parchment—she descended slowly, and stood erect upon the earth—she fixed her eyes, which sparkled with life, upon the deluded and afflicted company— there was a mixture of pity and indig­nation in her countenance—she stretch­ed forth her right arm, and, with a voice which was sweeter than melody itself, she addressed them in the following [Page 69] language: ‘Ye children of men, listen for a while to the voice of instruction. Ye seek health where it is not to be found. The boasted specifies you have been using, have no virtues. Even the persons who gave them, la­bour under many of the disorders they attempt to cure. My name is HYGIAEA. I preside over the health of mankind. Discard all your medi­cines, and seek relief from Tempe­rance and Exercise alone. Every thing you see is active around you. All the brute animals in nature are active in their instinctive pursuits. In­animate nature is active too: air—fire —and water—are always in motion. Unless this were the case, they would soon be unfit for the purposes they were designed to serve in the oecono­my of nature. Shun sloth. This unhinges all the springs of life—fly from your diseases—they will not— they cannot pursue.’ Here she end­ed—she dropped the parchment upon the earth—a cloud received her, and she immediately ascended and disap­peared from their sight.—A silence en­sued [Page 70] —more expressive of approbation than the loudest peals of applause. One of them approached with reverence to the spot where she stood—took up the scroll, and read the contents of it to his companions. It contained directions to each of them, what they should do to restore their health. They all prepared themselves to obey the advice of the heavenly vision. The gouty man broke his vial of elixir, threw his powders in­to the fire, and walked four or five miles every day before breakfast. The man afflicted with the gravel threw aside his drops, and began to work in his garden, or to play two or three hours every day at bowls. The hypochondriac and hys­teric patients discharged their boxes of assafoetida, and took a journey on horse­back, to distant and opposite ends of the island. The melancholic threw aside his gloomy systems of philosophy, and sent for a dancing-master. The studi­ous man shut up his folios, and sought amusement from the sports of children. The leper threw away his mercurial pills, and swam every day in a neighbouring river. The consumptive man threw [Page 71] his balsam out of his window, and took a voyage to a distant country. After some months, they all returned to the place they were wont to assemble in. Joy appeared in each of their countenances. One had renewed his youth—another had recovered the use of his limbs—a third, who had been half bent for many years, now walked upright—a fourth began to sing some jovial song, without being asked—a fifth could talk for hours together without being interrupted with a cough—in a word, they all enjoyed now a complete recovery of their health. They joined in offering sacrifices to HY­GIAEA. Temples were erected to her memory; and she continues, to this day, to be worshipped by all the inha­bitants of that island.