Calm'd all his pains, and banish'd all his woes. POPE.

IF every day did not produce fresh instances of
the ingratitude of mankind, we might, perhaps,
be at a loss, why so liberal and impartial a
benefactor as sleep, should meet with so few historians
or panegyrists. Writers are so totally absorbed by
the business of the day, as never to turn their
attention to that power, whose officious hand so
seasonably suspends the burthen of life; and without
whose interposition man would not be able to endure
the fatigue of labour, however rewarded, or
the struggle with opposition, however successful.

Night, though she divides to many the longest
part of life, and to almost all the most innocent and
happy, is yet unthankfully neglected, except by
those who pervert her gifts.

The astronomers, indeed, expect her with
impatience, and felicitate themselves upon her arrival:
Fontenelle has not failed to celebrate her praises;
and to chide the sun for hiding from his view the
worlds, which he imagines to appear in every
constellation. Nor have the poets been always deficient
in her praises: Milton has observed of the night,
that it is "the pleasant time, the cool, the silent."

These men may, indeed, well be expected to pay
particular homage to night; since they are indebted