_'Tis an old Saying, of which_ Teucer _the Son of_ Telamon _is the supposed Author, and which has been approved of these many Ages_, A Man's Country is, where-ever he lives at Ease. [Footnote: _Patria est ubicunq; est bene._] _For to bear even Banishment it self with an unconcern'd Temper of Mind like other Misfortunes and Inconveniences, and to despise the Injuries of an ungrateful Country, which uses one more like a Stepmother than a true Mother, seems to be the Indication of a great Soul. But I am of a quite different Opinion: For if it be a great Crime, and almost an Impiety not to live under and suffer patiently the Humours and harsh Usage of our Natural Parents; 'tis sure a much greater, not to endure those of our Country, which wise Men have unanimously preferr'd to their_ Parents. _'Tis indeed the Property of a wary self-interested Man, to measure his Kindness for his Country by his own particular Advantages: But such a sort of Carelesness and Indifferency seems a Part of that Barbarity which was attributed to the_ Cynicks _and_ Epicureans; _whence that detestable Saying proceeded_, When I am dead, let the whole World be a Fire. _Which is not unlike the Old Tyrannical Axiom_; Let my Friends perish, so my Enemies fall along with them. [Footnote: _Me mortuo terra misceatur incendio. Pereant amici dum una inimici intercidant._] _But in gentle Dispositions, there is a certain inbred Love of their Country, which they can no more divest themselves of, than of Humanity it self. Such a Love as_ Homer _describes in_ Ulysses, _who preferred_ Ithaca, _tho' no better than a Bird's Nest fix'd to a craggy Rock in the Sea, to all the Delights of the Kingdom which_ Calypso _offer'd him_. Nescio qua natale Solum dulcedine cunctos Ducit, & immemores non finit esse sui: _Was very truly said by the Ancient Poet; When we think of that Air we first suck'd in, that Earth we first trod on, those Relations, Neighbours and Acquaintance to whose Conversation we have been accustomed._