But if we look into the Bulk of our Species, they are such as are not likely to be remembred a Moment after their Disappearance.  They leave behind them no Traces of their Existence, but are forgotten as tho they had never been.  They are neither wanted by the Poor, regretted by the Rich, [n]or celebrated by the Learned.  They are neither missed in the Commonwealth, nor lamented by private Persons.  Their Actions are of no Significancy to Mankind, and might have been performed by Creatures of much less Dignity, than those who are distinguished by the Faculty of Reason.  An eminent French Author speaks somewhere to the following Purpose:  I have often seen from my Chamber-window two noble Creatures, both of them of an erect Countenance and endowed with Reason.  These two intellectual Beings are employed from Morning to Night, in rubbing two smooth Stones one upon another; that is, as the Vulgar phrase it, in polishing Marble.

My Friend, Sir ANDREW FREEPORT, as we were sitting in the Club last Night, gave us an Account of a sober Citizen, who died a few Days since.  This honest Man being of greater Consequence in his own Thoughts, than in the Eye of the World, had for some Years past kept a Journal of his Life.  Sir ANDREW shewed us one Week of it. [Since [1]] the Occurrences set down in it mark out such a Road of Action as that I have been speaking of, I shall present my Reader with a faithful Copy of it; after having first inform’d him, that the Deceased Person had in his Youth been bred to Trade, but finding himself not so well turned for Business, he had for several Years last past lived altogether upon a moderate Annuity.

  MONDAY, Eight-a-Clock.  I put on my Cloaths and walked into the
  Parlour.

  Nine a-Clock, ditto.  Tied my Knee-strings, and washed my Hands.

  Hours Ten, Eleven and Twelve.  Smoaked three Pipes of Virginia.  Read
  the Supplement and Daily Courant.  Things go ill in the North.  Mr.
  Nisby’s Opinion thereupon.

  One a-Clock in the Afternoon.  Chid Ralph for mislaying my Tobacco-Box.

  Two a-Clock.  Sate down to Dinner.  Mem.  Too many Plumbs, and no Sewet.

  From Three to Four.  Took my Afternoons Nap.

  From Four to Six.  Walked into the Fields.  Wind, S. S. E.

  From Six to Ten.  At the Club.  Mr. Nisby’s Opinion about the Peace.

  Ten a-Clock.  Went to Bed, slept sound.

  TUESDAY, BEING HOLIDAY, Eight a-Clock.  Rose as usual.

  Nine a-Clock.  Washed Hands and Face, shaved, put on my double-soaled
  Shoes.

  Ten, Eleven, Twelve.  Took a Walk to Islington.

  One.  Took a Pot of Mother Cobs Mild.

  Between Two and Three.  Return’d, dined on a Knuckle of Veal and Bacon. 
  Mem.  Sprouts wanting.

  Three.  Nap as usual.

  From Four to Six.  Coffee-house.  Read the News.  A Dish of Twist.  Grand
  Vizier strangled.