THE WHISTLE:
A TRUE STORY.
WRITTEN TO HIS NEPHEW.
WHEN I was a child, at ſeven years old, my friends, on a holiday, filled my pocket with coppers. I went directly to a ſhop where they ſold toys for children; and being charmed with the ſound of a whiſtle, that I met by the way in the hands of another boy, I voluntarily offered him all my money for one. I then came home, and went whiſtling all over the houſe, much pleaſed with my whiſtle 9 but diſturbing all the family. My brothers, and ſiſters, and couſins, underſtanding the bargain I had made, told me I had given four times as much for it as it was worth. This put me in mind what good things I might have bought with the reſt of the money; and they laughed at me ſo much for my folly, that I cried with vexation; and the reflection gave me more chagrin than the whiſtle gave me pleaſure.
This however was afterwards of uſe to me, the impreſſion continuing on my mind; ſo that often, when I was tempted to buy ſome unneceſſary thing, I ſaid to myſelf Don't give too much for the whiſtle; and ſo I ſaved my money.
As I grew up, came into the world, and obſerved the actions of men, I thought I met with many, very many, who gave too much for the whiſtle.
When I ſaw any one too ambitious of court favours, ſacrificing his time in attendance on
