LAWS OF LAUGHING.

LAUGHING is that noble faculty which diſtinguiſhes man from beaſt, ſince it ſhews the rationality of the ſoul, which can be moved independent of the ſenſes. It is the mark of reaſon, the badge of good-humour, and the ſign of mirth. Shakſpeare ſays— [6]

And we may with great truth apply the ſame remark to—

It is ſaid of the Roman Caſſius, that—

Now this fellow Caſſius always lived a melancholy life, and at laſt died a murderer; but the man who lives laughing, ge⯑nerally dies in his bed, as an honeſt man ought.

With reſpect to laughing, we ſhould conſider three things: firſt, who laughs; ſecondly, who is laughed at; and, thirdly, what the laughing is about.

When a man tells a merry tale, he ſhould laugh inwardly, and enjoy the joke in his mind more than in his countenance; for he who laughs aloud at his own joke is in the court of Comus conſidered as a ſool.

When a merry ſtory is ended, you may be allowed to make a little noiſe in laughing, as it ſhews your approbation of what was meant for your entertainment; but never break into the middle of a ſtory by loud laughter, ſuch interruptions being very diſagreeable to the company, as well as to the ſpeaker; and all the merry ammunition ſhould be preſerved for the concluſion.

Laughing not only increaſes the good-humour of ſociety, and promotes ſocial enjoyment, but it is of infinite ſervice to the health, and has ſometimes ſaved the lives of ſick perſons.

The famous Doctor Radcliffe was once ſent for into the country by a gentleman who was dangerouſly ill of a quinſey; and ſoon perceiving that no application would be of ſervice, he deſired the cook to make a large haſty-pudding, and let his ſervant bring it up. While the cook was engaged in this bu⯑ſineſs, he took his man aſide, and inſtructed him. The man accordingly brought up the pudding in great order, and ſet it on the table in full view of the patient. "Come, John," ſaid the doctor, "you love haſty-pudding; eat ſome with me, for I believe you came out without your breakfaſt." Both then fell to with their ſpoons; but John's going twice to his mouth to his maſter's once, the doctor took occaſion to quarrel with him, by dabbing a ſpoonful of hot pudding in his face. John threw another at his maſter; who, apparently in a violent paſ⯑ſion, quitted his ſpoon, took the haſty-pudding up by handfuls, and threw it at his man, who battled him again in the ſame [7]manner, till they were both all over in a woeful pickle. The gentleman, having a full view of this comical combat, was ſo delighted at it, that he burſt into a moſt immoderate fit of laughter, which broke the quinſey, and compleatly cured him.

"Laugh, and be fat," is a common ſaying; therefore I would recommend laughing to the conſumptive, ill-conditioned, and ſplenetick, as the certain cure of their diſorders. When we are laughed at, we ſhould never be angry, as that ſerves only to increaſe the laughter of thoſe who jeer us. The only way is, to retort jeſt for jeſt, and joke for joke: and, when a ſtory is told to expoſe any of our follies, we ſhould not only take the hint to amend them, but endeavour, at the ſame time, to expoſe, by an appoſite ſtory, ſome folly peculiar to the per⯑ſon who attempted to expoſe us, that he may likewiſe come in for his ſhare of improvement. Thus laughing will be of mutual benefit, and good-humour and inſtruction go hand in hand. Beſides, a retort has great force: ſince it not only takes away the ſting of a former jeſt, but eſtabliſhes our reputation for a ready turn of wit.

Thus, when the pay of a certain regiment in France had been kept back for a long time, and one of the officers being greatly preſſed for money, and much diſcontented, went to the colonel, ſaying—"Three words with you, Sir—money or diſ⯑charge." The latter immediately replied—"Four with you, Sir—neither one nor t'other."

But as we may not always be able to parry the ſarcaſms of wit with ſucceſs, we ſhould endeavour to gain ſuch an aſcen⯑dancy over our paſſions, as to be always in a good humour with ourſelves. The tranquillity of our own minds will prove the beſt deſence againſt the worſt attacks.

I ſhall conclude theſe remarks with a ſhort ſtory, which every reader may apply as he pleaſes.

When gods and goddeſſes made frequent viſits to mankind, a beautiful and young roving divinity went into a nation of hunch-back people. On entering the capital, he was ſur⯑rounded by a multitude of the inhabitants, who derided him moſt unmercifully for having what they deemed ſo odious a form; and would have proceeded to ſtill greater violence, had not one, wiſer than the reſt, ſuddenly cried out—"My friends and countrymen, conſider well what you are doing! Let us not inſult this unhappy piece of deformi [...]y. If Heaven has laviſhed on us all the gifts of beauty; if it has adorned our backs with a noble mountain of fleſh; let us be filled with gratitude, repair to our temples, and return thanks to the immortal Gods!" This is the hiſtory of human vanity; for, to ſucceed in any country, we muſt carry the hunch of the nation into which we travel.

PLEASURES OF BEING IN DEBT.

I Hope you will not refuſe place to a correſpondent, who means to ſhew the futility of a maxim, which has gained credit with moſt people, though extremely ill-grounded, as I think I can fairly evince, from an experimental knowledge of mankind.

You undoubtedly recollect that Ovid has, in one of his Ele⯑gies, the following lines—

Now, it is ſo far from being true, that a man is ſurrounded with friends in proſperity, and is left deſtitute under his mis⯑fortunes, that I will undertake to prove the very reverſe: in doing this, I flatter myſelf, I ſhall ſerve the purpoſes of virtue, and vindicate the dignity of human nature.

You muſt know, then, that I came to this town, a few years ſince, with intent to read the law, having juſt fortune enough to ſupport me in my ſtudies, until I might fix myſelf in a tole⯑rable road of buſineſs. For this purpoſe I lodged in one of the Inns of Court; and the oeconomy which I was obliged to obſerve rendering it impoſſible for me to go much into com⯑pany, I ſoon found out that I led a very muzzy ſort of a life. I therefore ſhifted the ſcene; and, though in a ſhort time, I found means to run out my little fortune, I cannot ſay that I was relinquiſhed by the world on this account. It is true that ſome of my acquaintance totally deſerted me; but it was the occaſion, at the ſame time, that others were more earneſtly attached than they would otherwiſe have been. I remember the laſt word my aunt in the country ſaid to me, was—"Bob, wherever you go, be ſure to make friends for yourſelf." This advice, I will venture to ſay, I have had the addreſs to conform to, with great ſucceſs, as will appear from the ſequel.

Moſt of the friendſhips of the world are leagues in debauch⯑ery and intemperance, made in the drawing of a cork, and often ended in the ſame manner. "Out of ſight out of mind," is cer⯑tainly true, with regard to the generality of connections: but the impreſſions I have made on the minds of my friends are not ſo eaſily effaced; on the contrary, when it happens that I am ſeldom ſeen by them, they are known to be in very great ſolicitude about me, are conſtantly very earneſt in their en⯑quiries after me, and the diſcourſe they uſually have with each other is—"Have you ſeen our old friend lately? I can't think what's become of him; I hope he is not gone out of [9]town—I have not ſeen him for a long time—Faith, I am very uneaſy about him—I wiſh to God he would ſee and ſettle his affairs—He's a very careleſs young fellow—a great deal too wild—throws away his money like dirt—I have called upon him morning after morning, but all to no purpoſe—I'd give a bottle of wine I could meet with him—I'd rather that than my dinner—I never longed ſo much to ſee any body."

Theſe are the general expreſſions of anxiety, which my friends expreſs on my account; and there are ſome of them who are not content to reſt here—words coſt nothing; they carry the thing to ſuch a length as to employ a couple of fellows, who are daily in all quarters of the town, hunting and prying about for me. As there are few inſtances of ſuch earneſt friendſhip in the world, I am ſenſible what I have ſaid may have a romantick appearance; and the reader may ſug⯑geſt to himſelf, that I am entertaining him all this while with a novel; but, I muſt take leave to aſſure you that every word is literally true; and, what may perhaps raiſe your idea ſtill higher, not one of all theſe people has ever got a ſhilling by me; and, I verily believe, few of them ever will. Having ſaid thus much in the praiſe of theſe my well-wiſhers, it will naturally be deſired of me, to inform the world who and what they are, who are in ſuch concern about a ſtranger. Not to keep you any longer in ſuſpence, I will now tell you, that I have experienced all this generoſity from my Creditors.

By this it will appear that the pleaſure of being in debt, though very common in life, is very little underſtood by the generality of thoſe who addict themſelves to this gratification. The art, in all theſe caſes, is to refine upon the occurrences and diſappointments to which our ſtate is liable; and, for my part, the pleaſure juſt mentioned is one of the moſt valuable enjoyments of my life. My morning levee is as great as any nobleman's; whereas, in the days that I could ſay I was in poſſeſſion of a competence, I never had any viſitor whatever, except a laundreſs to make my bed in the Temple. But now the caſe is perfectly altered: there is a conſtant crowd of atten⯑dants about my doors; and, to thoſe that are admitted, I have the pleaſure of making as many promiſes as a miniſter of ſtate, beſides a loſty pride in keeping them much after the ſame faſhion. Upon theſe occaſions, it will now and then happen, that they who beſt know how to make their court, and have the art of taking a pliant hour, ſometimes prevail upon me to appoint a day for the completion of their wiſhes. As things of conſequence cannot be done in a violent hurry, the day agreed upon is generally very diſtant, may be from ſix to nine or twelve months; during which ſpace of time, it is obſerv⯑able, [10]that their good-nature never ſuffers the leaſt abatement, but they remain as ſolicitous as ever, frequently expreſſing the moſt tender regard for my welfare. "My dear Sir, do take a little care of yourſelf—It goes to my very heart to hear you cough ſo hard—Why, you'll not live three months at this rate—Be adviſed by me, and put a ſtocking about your neck to-night, and take ſomething to ſweat you a little and eaſe your cheſt. You ſhould not drink ſo much—Conſider, it im⯑pairs both conſtitution and purſe—You know it's for your good I ſpeak—You'd be a great loſs to your friends—Take up a little: fleſh and blood can't hold it always."

Thus, Sir, am I beloved; and that for no other reaſon, but my addreſs in making friends for myſelf: and I am ſo cloſely watched by theſe generous creatures, that it is totally out of my power to take any wrong ſtep, that might be detrimental to my affairs. Of this I had a convincing proof about a year ago, when the interpoſition of my taylor hindered me from committing a very inconſiderate action. I was going with a friend to take a trip to Paris, by which expedient I muſt cer⯑tainly have been drained of all my ready-money; but the vi⯑gilance of my friend contrived to have me ſtopped as I was juſt ſtepping into the poſt-chaiſe, and I was thence conducted to a generous bailiff's houſe in Gray's Inn Lane, for the ſum of three hundred pounds. Here I remained confined till my paſſion for travel was perfectly cooled; and when I was at length reſtored to my liberty, my above-mentioned friends, took particular care not to leave me a ſingle ſhilling, for fear I ſhould have the ſame unhappy turn a ſecond time.

While I thus enjoy the aſſiduity and benevolence of ſuch a number, who are kind enough to intereſt themſelves in my af⯑fairs, I muſt own there is a ſpecies of Creditors who are an exception to the general rule; for though all thoſe of whom I have hitherto been ſpeaking, are upon every occaſion highly pleaſed to meet me, this laſt claſs deteſt the very ſight of me. As I am not conſcious that I have ever done any thing to in⯑cur their diſpleaſure to ſo great a degree, their averſion ſhocks me the more; and, notwithſtanding all the pains I have taken to ſoften them by politeneſs, they ſtill remain inexorable. Whenever I do not pay them what is due to them, I en⯑deavour to put them off with the handſomeſt apology in my power: but it is all to no purpoſe; I have run too far in ar⯑rears, and they are not by any means to be ſatisfied. As I ſhould be glad if you would give them a word of advice, I will juſt hint to you that the perfonages whom I mean are no other than Gentlemen's Servants. The cry among them all is— "What can a poor ſerving-man do, if he is robbed of his [11]vales by ſuch ſcoundrels?" They are all very unwilling to let me run farther in their debt; and therefore it is, I can hardly get any thing out of their hands. If I call for beer at table, they are ſure not to hear me till their maſter orders them to ſerve the gentleman; then I receive the leavings of the tan⯑kard juſt out of the hands of the moſt capacious ſwallow in the company. In ſhort, the peeviſhneſs of theſe my Creditors is a great diſcount upon my happineſs; and, I muſt confeſs, there is no kind of pleaſure in being in debt to them. However, I muſt endeavour to bear this inconvenience; and, if you will be pleaſed to inſert this letter, I ſhall be proud to get into your books; and ſhall have the farther pleaſure of being indebted to you for this act of civility, which will always oblige me to be your moſt obedient ſervant, and ſincere well-wiſher,

DIRECTIONS FOR SERVANTS.

WHEN your maſter or lady calls a ſervant by name, if that ſervant be not in the way, none of you are to anſwer, for then there will be no end of your drudgery: and maſters themſelves allow, that if a ſervant comes when he is called it is ſufficient.

When you have done a fault, be always pert and inſolent, and behave yourſelf as if you were the injured perſon; this will immediately put your maſter or lady off their mettle.

If you ſee your maſter wronged by any of your fellow-ſer⯑vants, be ſure to conceal it, for fear of being called a tell-tale: however, there is one exception in caſe of a favourite ſervant, who is juſtly hated by the whole family; who therefore are bound in prudence to lay all the faults they can upon the favourite.

The cook, the butler, the groom, the market-man, and every other ſervant who is concerned in the expences of the family, ſhould act as if the whole of his maſter's eſtate ought to be applied to that ſervant's particular buſineſs. For in⯑ſtance, if the cook computes his maſter's eſtate to be a thou⯑ſand pounds a year, he reaſonably concludes, that a thouſand pounds a year will afford meat enough, and therefore he need not be ſparing; the butler makes the ſame judgment, ſo may the groom and the coachman; and thus every branch of expence will be filled to your maſter's honour.

When you are child before company, (which with ſubmiſ⯑ſion to our maſters and ladies is an unmannerly practice) it often happens that ſome ſtranger will have the good-nature to [12]drop a word in your excuſe; in ſuch a caſe you will have a good title to juſtify yourſelf, and may righty conclude, that, whenever he chides you afterwards on other occaſions, he may be in the wrong; in which opinion you will be the better confirmed by ſtating the caſe to your fellow ſervants in your own way, who will certainly decide in your favour: there⯑fore, as I have ſaid before, whenever you are chidden, com⯑plain as if you were injured.

It often happens, that ſervants ſent on meſſages are apt to ſtay out ſomewhat longer than the meſſage requires, perhaps two, four, ſix, or eight hours, or ſome ſuch trifle; for the temptation to be ſure was great, and fleſh and blood cannot always reſiſt: when you return, the maſter ſtorms, the lady ſcolds; ſtrip⯑ping, cudgelling, and turning off, is the word. But here you ought to be provided with a ſett of excuſes, enough to ſerve on all occaſions: for inſtance, your uncle came four⯑ſcore miles to town this morning on purpoſe to ſee you, and goes back by break of day to-morrow; a brother-ſervant, that borrowed money of you when he was out of place, was run⯑ning away to Ireland; you were taking leave of an old fel⯑low-ſervant, who was ſhipping for Barbadoes; your father ſent a cow to you to ſell, and you could not get a chapman till nine at night; you were taking leave of a dear couſin, who is to be hanged next Saturday; you wrenched your foot againſt a ſtone, and were forced to ſtay three hours in a ſhop, before you could ſtir a ſtep; ſome naſtineſs was thrown on you out of a garret-window, and you were aſhamed to come home before you were cleaned, and the ſmell went off; you were preſſed for the ſea-ſervice, and carried before a juſtice of peace, who kept you three hours before he examined you, and you got off with much ado; a bailiff by miſtake ſeized you for a debtor, and kept you the whole evening in a ſpunging-houſe: you were told your maſter had gone to a tavern, and came to ſome miſchance, and your grief was ſo great that you enquired for his honour in an hundred taverns between Pall Mall and Temple Bar.

Take all tradeſmen's parts againſt your maſter; and when you are ſent to buy any thing, never offer to cheapen it, but generouſly pay the full demand. This is highly to your maſter's honour; and may be ſome ſhillings in your pocket; and you are to conſider, if your maſter hath paid too much, he can better afford the loſs than a poor tradeſman.

Never ſubmit to ſtir a finger in any buſineſs, but that for which you was particularly hired. For example, if the groom be drunk, or abſent, and the butler be ordered to ſhut the ſtable door, the anſwer is ready, "An pleaſe your honour, I [13]don't underſtand horſes:" If a corner of the hanging wants a ſingle nail to faſten it, and the footman be directed to tack it up, he may ſay he doth not underſtand that ſort of work, but his honour may ſend for the upholſterer.

Maſters and ladies are uſually quarrelling with the ſervants for not ſhutting the doors after them: for neither maſters nor ladies conſider, that thoſe doors muſt be open before they can be ſhut, and that the labour is double to open and ſhut the doors; therefore the beſt, the ſhorteſt, and eaſieſt way, is to do neither. But if you are ſo often teazed to ſhut the door, that you cannot eaſily forget it, then give the door ſuch a clap as you go out, as will ſhake the whole room, and make every thing rattle in it, to put your maſter and lady in mind that you obſerve their directions.

If you find yourſelf to grow into favour with your maſter or lady, take ſome opportunity, in a very mild way, to give them warning; and when they aſk the reaſon, and ſeem loth to part with you, anſwer that you would rather live with them than any body elſe, but a poor ſervant is not to be blamed if he ſtrives to better himſelf; that ſervice is no inheritance; that your work is great, and your wages very ſmall. Upon which, if your maſter hath any generoſity, he will add five or ten ſhil⯑lings a quarter rather than let you go; but if you are baulked, and have no mind to go off, get ſome fellow-ſervant to tell your maſter that he hath prevailed upon you to ſtay.

Whatever good bits you can pilfer in the day, ſave them to junket with your fellow-ſervants at night; and take in the butler, provided he will give you drink.

Write your own name, and your ſweetheart's, with the ſmoak of a candle, on the roof of the kitchen, or the ſervants-hall, to ſhew your learning.

If you are a young ſightly fellow, whenever you whiſper your miſtreſs at the table, run your noſe full in her cheek; or, if your breath be good, breathe full in her face: this I have known to have had very good conſequences in ſome families.

Never come till you have been called three or four times; for none but dogs will come at the firſt whiſtle: and when the maſter calls, "Who's there?" no ſervant is bound to come; for Who's There is nobody's name.

When you have broken all your earthen drinking veſſels below ſtairs, (which is uſually done in a week) the copper⯑pot will do as well; it can boil milk, heat porridge, hold ſmall-beer, or in caſe of neceſſity ſerve for a jordan: therefore apply it indifferently to all theſe uſes; but never waſh or ſcour it, for fear of taking off the tin.

[14]Although you are allowed knives for the ſervants-hall at meals, yet you ought to ſpare them, and make uſe only of your maſter's.

Let it be a conſtant rule, that no chair, ſtool, or table, in the ſervants-hall, or the kitchen, ſhall have above three legs, which hath been the ancient and conſtant practice in all the families I ever knew, and is ſaid to be founded upon two reaſons; firſt, to ſhew that ſervants are ever in a tottering condition; ſecondly, it was thought a point of humility, that the ſervants chairs and tables ſhould have at leaſt one leg fewer than thoſe of their maſters. I grant there hath been an exception to this rule with regard to the cook, who by old cuſtom was allowed an eaſy-chair to ſleep in after dinner; and yet I have ſeldom ſeen them with above three legs. Now this epidemical lameneſs of ſervants chairs is by philoſophers im⯑puted to two cauſes, which are obſerved to make the greateſt revolutions in ſtates and empires; I mean, love and war. A ſtool, a chair, or a table, is the firſt weapon taken up in a general romping or ſkirmiſh; and after a peace, the chairs, if they be not very ſtrong, are apt to ſuffer in the conduct of an amour, the cook being uſually fat and heavy, and the butler a little in drink.

I could never enduce to ſee maid-ſervants ſo ungenteel as to walk the ſtreets with their petticoats pinned up; it is a fooliſh excuſe, to alledge their-petticoats will be dirty, when they have ſo eaſy a remedy as to walk three or four times down a clean pair of ſtairs after they come home.

When you ſtop to tattle with ſome crony ſervant in the ſame ſtreet, leave your own ſtreet-door open, that you may get in without knocking when you come back; otherwiſe your miſtreſs may know you are gone out, and you muſt be chidden.

I do moſt earneſtly exhort you all to unanimity and con⯑cord; but [...]iſtake me not; you may quarrel with each other as much as you pleaſe, only always bear in mind, that you have a common enemy, which is your maſter and lady, and you have a common cauſe to defend. Believe an old practitioner; whoever, out of malice to a fellow-ſervant, carries a tale to his maſter, ſhall be ruined by a general confederacy againſt him.

The general place of rendezvous for all the ſervants, both [...] winter and ſummer, is the kitchen; there the grand affairs of the family ought to be conſulted; whether they concern the ſtable, the dairy, the pantry, the laundry, the cellar, the nurſery, the dining-room, or my lady's chamber: there, as in your own proper element, you can laugh, and ſquall, and romp, in full ſecurity.

[15]When any ſervant comes home drunk, and cannot appear, you muſt all join in telling your maſter, that he is gone to bed ſick; upon which your lady will be ſo good-natured as to order ſome comfortable thing for the poor man or maid.

When your maſter or lady go abroad together to dinner, or on a viſit for the evening, you need leave only one ſervant in the houſe, unleſs you have a black-guard boy to anſwer at the door, and attend the children, if there be any. Who is to ſtay at home is to be determined by ſhort and long cuts, and the ſtayer at home may be comforted by a viſit from a ſweet⯑heart, without danger of being caught together. Theſe op⯑portunities muſt never be miſſed, becauſe they come but ſome⯑times; and all is ſafe enough while there is a ſervant in the houſe.

When your maſter or lady comes home, and wants a ſer⯑vant who happens to be abroad, your anſwer muſt be, that he had but juſt that minute ſtept out, being ſent for by a couſin who was dying.

If your maſter calls you by name, and you happen to anſwer at the fourth call, you need not hurry yourſelf; and if you be chidden for ſtaying, you may lawfully ſay, you came no ſooner becauſe you did not know what you were called for.

When you are chidden for a fault, as you go out of the room and down ſtairs, mutter loud enough to be plainly heard; this will make him believe you are innocent.

Whoever comes to viſit your maſter or lady when they are abroad, never burden your memory with the perſon's name, for indeed you have too many other things to remember: be⯑ſides, it is a porter's buſineſs, and your maſter's fault he does not keep one, and who can remember names? and you will certainly miſtake them, and you can neither write nor read.

If it be poſſible, never tell a lye to your maſter or lady, un⯑leſs you have ſome hopes that they cannot find it out in leſs than half an hour. When a ſervant is turned off [...]ll his faults muſt be told, although moſt of them were never [...]own by his maſter or lady; and all miſchiefs done by others charge to him. [Inſtance them.] And when they aſk any of you, why you never acquainted them before? the anſwer is, "Sir," or "Madam, really I was afraid it would make you angry; and beſides, perhaps, you might think it was malice in me." Where there are little maſters and miſſes in a houſe, they are uſually great impediments to the diverſions of the ſervants; the only remedy is to bride them with Goody Goodies, that they may not tell tales to papa and mamma.

I adviſe you of the ſervant [...], whoſe maſters live in the country, and who expect vales, always to ſtand rank and file [16]when a ſtranger is taking his leave; ſo that he muſt of ne⯑ceſſity paſs between you, and he muſt have more confidence, or leſs money than uſual, if any of you let him eſcape; and ac⯑cording as he behaves himſelf, remember to treat him the next time he comes.

If you are ſent with ready-money to buy any thing at a ſhop, and happen at that time to be out of pocket, ſink the money, and take up the goods on your maſter's account. This is for the honour of your maſter and yourſelf; for he becomes a man of credit at your recommendation.

When your lady ſends for you up to her chamber to give you any orders, be ſure to ſtand at the door, and keep it open, fiddling with the lock all the while ſhe is talking to you, and keep the button in your hand, for fear you ſhould forget to ſhut the door after you.

If your maſter or lady happen once in their lives to accuſe you wrongfully, you are a happy ſervant; for you have no⯑thing more to do, than for every fault you commit while you are in their ſervice to put them in mind of that falſe accuſation, and proteſt yourſelf equally innocent in the preſent caſe.

When you have a mind to leave your maſter, and are too baſhful to break the matter for fear of offending him, the beſt way is to grow rude and ſaucy of a ſudden, and beyond your uſual behaviour, till he finds it neceſſary to turn you off; and when you are gone, to revenge yourſelf, give him and his lady ſuch a character to all your brother ſervants who are out of place, that none will venture to offer their ſervice.

Some nice ladies, who are afraid of catching cold, having obſerved that the maids and fellows below-ſtairs often forget to ſhut the door after them, as they come in, or go out into the back-yards, have contrived that a pulley and a rope, with a large piece of lead at the end, ſhould be ſo fixed, as to make the door ſhut of itſelf, and require a ſtrong hand to open it, which is an immenſe toil to ſervants, whoſe buſineſs may force them to go in and out fifty times in a morning: but ingenuity can do much; for prudent ſervants have found out an effectual remedy againſt this inſupportable grievance, by tying up the pulley in ſuch a manner, that the weight of lead ſhall have no effect; however, as to my own part, I would rather chuſe to keep the door always open by laying a heavy ſtone at the bot⯑tom of it.

The ſervants candleſticks are generally broken, for nothing can laſt for ever. But you may find out many expedients; you may conveniently ſtick your candle in a bottle, or with a lump of butter againſt the wainſcot, in a powder-horn, or in an old ſhoe, or in a cleft-ſtick, or in the barrel of a piſtol, [17]or upon it's own greaſe on a table, in a coffee-cup, or a drink⯑ing glaſs, a horn-cann, a tea-pot, a twiſted napkin, a muſtard-pot, an inkhorn, a marrow-bone, a piece of dough, or you may cut a hole in the loaf and ſtick it there.

When you invi [...]e the neighbouring ſervants to junket with you at home in an evening, teach them a peculiar way of tap⯑ping or ſcraping at the kitchen-window, which you may hear, but not your maſter or lady, whom you muſt take care not to diſturb or frighten at ſuch unſeaſonable hours.

Lay all faults upon a lap-dog, or favourite cat, a monkey, a parrot, a child, or on the ſervant who was laſt turned off; by this rule you will excuſe yourſelf, do no hurt to any body elſe, and ſave your maſter or lady from the trouble and vexation of chiding.

When you want proper inſtruments for any work you are about, uſe all expedients you can invent, rather than leave your work undone. For inſtance, if the poker be out of the way, or broken, ſtir the fire with the tongs; if the tongs be not at hand, uſe the muzzle of the bellows, the wrong end of the fire-ſhovel, the handle of the fire-bruſh, the end of a mop, or your maſter's cane. If you want paper to ſinge a fowl, tear the firſt book you ſee about the houſe. Wipe your ſhoes, for want of a clout, with the bottom of a curtain, or a damaſk napkin. Strip your livery-lace for garters. If the butler wants a jordan, he may uſe the great ſilver cup.

There are ſeveral ways of putting out candles, and you ought to be inſtructed in them all: you may run the candle-end againſt the wainſcot, which puts the ſnuff out immediate⯑ly; you may lay it on the ground, and tread the ſnuff out with your foot; you may hold it upſide-down, until it is choaked with it's own greaſe; or cram it into the ſocket of the candleſtick; you may whirl it round in your hand till it goes out; when you go to bed, after you have made water, you may dip the candle-end into the chamber-pot; you may ſpit on your finger and thumb, and pinch the ſnuff till it goes out. The cook may run the candle's noſe into the meal-tub, or the groom into a veſſel of oats, or a lock of hay, or a heap of litter; the houſe-maid may put out her candle by running it againſt a looking-glaſs, which nothing cleans ſo well as candle-ſnuff; but the quickeſt and beſt of all methods is, to blow it out with your breath, which leaves the candle clear, and readier to be lighted.

There is nothing ſo pernicious in a family as a tell-tale, againſt whom it muſt be the principal buſineſs of you all to unite: whatever office he ſerves in, take all opportunities to ſpoil the buſineſs he is about, and to croſs him in every thing. [18]For inſtance, if the butler be a tell-tale, break his glaſſes when⯑ever he leaves the pantry-door open; or lock the cat or the maſtiff in it, who will do as well; or miſlay a fork or a ſpoon, ſo as he may never find it. If it be the cook, whenever ſhe turns her back, throw a lump of ſoot, or a handful of ſalt, in the pot, or ſmoaking coals into the dripping-pan, or daub the roaſt-meat with the back of the chimney, or hide the key of the jack. If a footman be ſuſpected, let the cook daub the back of his new livery; or when he is going up with a diſh of ſoup, let her follow him ſoftly with a ladle-full, and dribble it all the way up ſtairs to the dining-room, and then let the houſe-maid make ſuch a noiſe that her lady may hear it. The waiting-maid is very likely to be guilty of this fault in hopes to ingratiate herſelf: in this caſe, the laundreſs muſt be ſure to tear her ſmocks in the waſhing, and yet waſh them but half; and, when ſhe complains, tell all the houſe that ſhe ſweats ſo much, and her fleſh is ſo naſty, that ſhe ſouls a ſmock more in one hour, than the kitchen-maid doth in a week.

CURIOUS CRITIQUE ON ROUSSEAU, WITH A PROPHECY FOUND IN AN OLD MANUSCRIPT.

IT has been remarked, that a bad book ought as much to be guarded againſt as a bad companion. There certainly is nothing more true, and yet the moſt dangerous are daily pub⯑liſhed uncenſured; and a mean, ignorant, and mercenary, or unprincipled publiſher, may ſpead poiſon daily more detri⯑mental than arſenick. Some books, like men, acquire great reputation by ſome brilliant points, while the general tendency, like the general character, is never inveſtigated.

[34]In no inſtance is this more remarkable than in the writings of the celebrated Rouſſeau. The annals of literature never ex⯑hibited to the world a more paradoxical, whimſical, ingenious, eloquent, weak, and dangerous author.

This author's works have been much read, whiſe few have examined the truth of his pictures, or analized the conſiſtency or tendency of his doctrines. In the preface to his novel, he ſays—"Chaſte girls never read romances; and the girl who reads four pages of this is undone."

Yet no books are more called for at Circulating Libraries than romances, and none more than his. With ſuch ſenti⯑ments he gives his book to the world, and then preſumes to write on education.

The following fragment, which I lately met with, ſaid to be ſound among ſome old manuſcripts, it is believed, will convey, in a ſtrong and true light, what is ſaid of his writings; and may, perhaps, lead ſome people to think when they read.

THE PROPHECY.

IN thoſe days a ſtrange perſon ſhall appear in France, coming from the borders of a lake, and he ſhall cry to the peo⯑ple—"Behold I am poſſeſſed by the demon of enthuſiaſm; I have received the gift of incoherence; I am a philoſopher and a profeſſor of paradoxes."

And a multitude ſhall follow him, and many ſhall believe on him.

And he ſhall ſay to them, "You are all knaves and fools; and your wives and daughters are debauched; and I will come and live among you." And he ſhall abuſe the natural gentle⯑neſs of the people by his foul ſpeeches.

And he ſhall cry aloud, "All men are virtuous in the coun⯑try where I was born; but I will not live in the country where I was born."

And he ſhall maintain, that arts and ſciences neceſſarily cor⯑rupt the manners; and he ſhall write on all arts and ſciences.

And he ſhall declare the theatre a ſource of proſtitution and corruption, and he ſhall write operas and comedies.

And he ſhall affirm ſavages only are virtuous, though he has never lived among ſavages, but he ſhall be worthy to live among them.

And he ſhall ſay to men, "Caſt away your fine garments, and go naked," and he himſelf ſhall wear laced cloaths when they are given him.

And he ſhall ſay to the great, they are more deſpicable than their fortunes; but he ſhall frequent their houſes, and they [35]ſhall behold him as a curious animal brought from a ſtrange land.

And his occupation ſhall be to copy French muſick, and he ſhall ſay there is no French muſick.

And he ſhall declare romances deſtructive to morality, and he ſhall write a romance; and, in his romance, the words ſhall be virtuous, and the morals wicked, and his characters ſhall be outrageous lovers and philoſophers.

And he ſhall ſay to the univerſe, "I am a favourite of for⯑tune; I write and receive love-letters:" and the univerſe ſhall ſ [...] the letters he received were written by himſelf.

And in his romance he ſhall reach the art of ſuborning a maiden by philoſophy; and ſhe ſhall learn from her lover to forget ſhame, and become ridiculous and write maxims.

And ſhe ſhall give her lover the firſt kiſs upon his lips, and ſhall invite him to lie with her, and he ſhall lie with her, and ſhe ſhall become big with metaphyſicks, and her billet-doux ſhall be homilies of philoſophy.

And he ſhall teach her that parents have no authority in the choice of a huſband, and he ſhall paint them barbarous and un⯑natural.

And he ſhall refuſe wages from the father, becauſe of the de⯑licacy natural to men, and receive money underhand from the daughter, which he ſhall prove to be exceedingly proper.

And he ſhall get drank with an Engliſh Lord, who ſhall in⯑ſult him; and he ſhall propoſe to fight with the Engliſh Lord; and his miſtreſs, who [...]a [...] loſt the honour of her own ſex, ſhall decide upon that of men: and ſhe ſhall teach him, who taught her every thing, that he ought not to fight.

And he ſhall receive a perſion from the Lord, and ſhall go to Paris, where he ſhall not frequent the ſociety of well-bred and ſenſible people, but of flirts and petit-maities, and he ſhall believe he has ſeen Paris.

And he ſhall write to his miſtreſs that the women are grena⯑diers, go naked, and refuſe nothing to any man they chance to meet.

And when the ſame women ſhall receive him at their coun⯑try-houſes, and amuſe themſelves with his vanity, he ſhall ſay they are prodigies of reaſon and virtue.

And the petit-maitres ſhall bring him to a brothel, and he ſhall get drunk like a fool, and lie with ſtrange women, and write an account of all this to his miſtreſs, and ſhe ſhall thank him.

And he ſhall receive his miſtreſs's picture, and his imagi⯑nation ſhall kindle at the ſight; and his miſtreſs ſhall give him obſcene [...]ſſons on ſolitary chaſtity.

[36]And this miſtreſs ſhall marry the firſt man that arrives from the world's end; and, notwithſtanding all her craft, ſhe ſhall imagine no means to break off the match; and ſhe ſhall paſs intrepidly from her lover's to her huſband's arms.

And her huſband ſhall know, before his marriage, that ſhe is deſperately in love with and beloved by another man; and he ſhall voluntarily make them miſerable: but he ſhall be a good man; and, moreover, an atheiſt.

And his wife ſhall immediately find herſelf exceedingly happy, and ſhall write to her lover that, were ſhe ſtill free, ſhe would prefer her huſband to him.

And the philoſophick lover ſhall reſolve to kill himſelf.

And he ſhall write a long diſſertation, to prove that a man ought to kill himſelf when he has loſt his miſtreſs; and his friend ſhall prove the thing not worth the trouble; and the philoſopher ſhall not kill himſelf.

And he ſhall make the tour of the globe, to give his miſ⯑treſs's children time to grow, that he may return to be their preceptor, and teach them virtue, as he taught their mother.

And the philoſopher ſhall ſee nothing in his tour round the globe.

And he ſhall return to Europe.

And the huſband of his miſtreſs, though acquainted with their whole intrigue, ſhall bring his good friend to his houſe.

And the virtuous wife ſhall leap upon his neek at his en⯑trance, and the huſband ſhall be charmed; and they ſhall all three embrace every day; and the huſband ſhall be jocoſe upon their adventures, and ſhall believe they are become reaſonable; and they ſhall continue to love with extaſy, and ſhall delight to remember their voluptuouſneſs; and they ſhall walk hand in hand, and weep.

And the philoſopher being in a boat, with his miſtreſs alone, ſhall be inclined to throw her over-board, and jump after her.

And they ſhall call all this virtue and philoſophy.

And while they talk of virtue and philoſophy, no one ſhall be able to comprehend what is either virtue or philoſophy.

And they ſhall prove virtue no longer to conſiſt in the fear of temptation, but in the pleaſure of being continually expoſed to it; and philoſophy ſhall be the art of making vice amiable.

And the philoſopher's miſtreſs ſhall have a few trees, and a ſtream in her garden; and ſhe ſhall call her gardens Elyſium, and no one ſhall be able to comprehend her.

And ſhe ſhall feed the wanton ſparrows in her Elyſium; and ſhe ſhall watch her domeſtick male and female, leſt they ſhould be as amorous as herſelf.

[37]And ſhe ſhall ſup with her day-labourers, and hold them in great reſpect; and ſhall beat hemp with her philoſopher at her ſide.

And her philoſopher will determine to beat hemp the next day, the day after, and every day of his life.

And the labourers ſhall ſing, and the philoſopher ſhall be en⯑chanted by their melodies, although not Italian.

And ſhe ſhall educate her children with great care, and ſhall not let them ſpeak before ſtrangers, nor hear the name of God.

And ſhe ſhall gormandize; but ſhe ſhall eat beans and peaſe ſeldom, and only in the temple of Apollo, and this ſhall be phi⯑loſophick forbearance.

And ſhe ſhall write to her good friend, that ſhe continues as ſhe began; that is, to love him paſſionately.

And the huſband ſhall ſend the letter to the lover.

And they ſhall not know what is become of the lover.

And they ſhall not care what is become of the lover.

And the whole romance ſhall be uſeful, good, and moral; for it ſhall prove that daughters have a right to diſpoſe of their hearts, hands, and favours, without conſulting parents, or regarding the inequality of conditions.

And it ſhall ſhew that, while you talk of virtue, it is uſeleſs to practiſe it.

And that it is the duty of a young girl to go to bed to one man, and marry another.

And that it is ſufficient for thoſe who deliver themſelves up to vice, to feel a temporary remorſe for virtue.

And that a huſband ought to open his doors and his arms to his wife's lover.

And that the wife ought to have him for ever in her arms, and take in good part the huſband's jokes and the lover's whims.

And ſhe ought to prove, or believe ſhe has proved, that love between married people is uſeleſs and impertinent.

And this book ſhall be written in an emphatick ſtile, which ſhall impoſe upon ſimple people.

And the author ſhall abound in words, and ſhall ſuppoſe he abounds in arguments.

And he ſhall heap one exaggeration upon another, and he ſhall have no exceptions.

And he ſhall wiſh to be forcible; and he ſhall be extra⯑vagant; and he ſhall always induſtriouſly draw general con⯑cluſions from particular c [...]ſes.

And he ſhall neither know ſimplicity, truth, or nature; and he ſhall apply all his force to explain the eaſieſt and moſt trifi [...]ng things; and ſarcaſm ſhall be thought reaſon, and his talents [38]ſhall caricature virtue, and overthrow good ſenſe; and he ſhall gaze upon the phantoms of his brain, and his eyes ſhall never ſee reality.

And, like empiricks, who make wounds to ſhew the power of their ſpecificks, he ſhall poiſon ſouls, that he may have the glory of curing them: and the poiſon ſhall act violently on the mind and on the heart; but the antidote ſhall act on the mind only, and the poiſon ſhall prevail,

And he ſhall vaunt that he has dug a pit, and think himſelf free from reproach, by ſaying, "Woe be to the young girls that fall into my pit; I have warned them of it in my preface." And young girls never read prefaces.

And when, in his romance, he ſhall have mutually degraded philoſophy by manners, and manners by philoſophy, he ſhall ſay, a corrupt people muſt have romances.

And he ſhall alſo ſay, a corrupt people muſt have rogues.

And he ſhall leave the world to draw the concluſion.

And he ſhall add, to juſtify himſelf for having written a book where vice predominates, that he lived in an age when it was impoſſible to be good.

And, to excuſe himſelf, he ſhall calumniate all mankind.

And he ſhall threaten to deſpiſe all thoſe who do not believe in his book.

And virtuous people ſhall conſider his folly with an eye of pity.

And he ſhall no longer be called a philoſopher, but the moſt eloquent of all the ſophiſts.

And they ſhall wonder how a pure mind could conceive ſuch an impure book.

And thoſe who believed in him ſhall believe in him no more.

A CURE FOR VULGAR PREJUDICES AGAINST DRESS.

THE abſurd prejudices of the Vulgar are in nothing more conſpicuous than in their affected contempt of Dreſs, to which ſo many thouſands of thoſe who are moſt induſtriouſly diſpoſed owe their entire ſubſiſtence.

In Spitalfields, for example, a few years ago, till every por⯑ter's knot began to cover a pig-tail, when any perſon of tole⯑rable decency happened to paſs through one of the many popu⯑lous ſtreets of that diſtrict with his hair queued, he was in⯑ſulted by myriads of men, women, and children, ſwarming at the doors and windows, with—"Look at his tail!"—"Only ſee there!"—"La, what a tail our cat has got!"—"Well, I wiſh I had but a tail!"—and a hundred ſuch ſpeeches; till he happily got into the ſomewhat more civilized regions of Whitechapel, Shoreditch, or Bethnal Green, where he was only liable to occaſional attacks from ſtragglers: the poor thoughtleſs wretches never once conſidering, that they ſhould perhaps the next day be obliged to quit their habitations, and ſolicit charity from the perſon they were then inſulting, for want of that very employ, which the faſhion they thus rudely diſ⯑couraged was in ſome meaſure calculated to promote; with the additional diſadvantage of having ſteeled one, who might otherwiſe have felt for their diſtreſ [...], againſt Spitalfields weavers in general, by the indignities ſo univerſally received in [75]that quarter, and which muſt ſtill be green in his remem⯑brance.

Chairmen, Hackney-coachmen, and Watermen, have alſo a large ſhare of this diſpoſition, though they all owe much of their ſupport to cauſes which could not exiſt without dreſs, the neceſſary concomitant of viſits and parties of pleaſure: and, with reſpect to the laſt claſs of beings, in particular, it is abſo⯑lutely impoſſible, at preſent, for any well-dreſſed perſon to walk on the ſouthern banks of the Thames, or on the oppo⯑ſite ſhore highter than London Bridge, without many ſaluta⯑tions in what is emphatically ſtiled Water Language, as pro⯑mulged in the neighbouring univerſity of Billingſgate. Indeed, from that famous ſeminary, abuſe is ſo plentifully diſſeminated among all the ſtall-keepers and baſket-carriers in our markets and publick ſtreets, and their reſpective connections, that it bids fair for becoming, what philoſophers have long wanted, a univerſal dialect: nor can this univerſality be at all won⯑dered at, by thoſe who conſider that the venders of ſprats, oyſters, and other fiſh, in the winter—the ſeaſon when they take their academical degrees—are retailers of ſtrawberries, cherries, gooſeberries, cucumbers, cabbages, and other fruits and vegetables, in the ſummer; and that they carry all their original learning, vaſtly improved by practice, into every new proſeſſion, which is more than can be ſaid of many profeſſors in other arts and ſciences.

But though the ſeveral reſpectable perſonages included in the claſſes juſt mentioned, have powers of ſpeech at leaſt equal to thoſe of any other callings or profeſſions whatever, calculated to expreſs their antipa [...] to what they chuſe to conſider as ſomething more than ſ [...]rſiuous attention to dreſs; there are other tribes nearly as well qualified in theſe reſpects, from their conſtant intercourſe with thoſe proficients, and who have the ad⯑ditional advantage of being abundantly better furniſhed, gene⯑rally ſpeaking, from the nature of their occupations, with imple⯑ments capable of giving the moſt convincing proofs of their aver⯑ſion to any thing like gaiety, or even decency, in apparel. It is true that a baſket-woman may knock a lady down, o [...] even a gentleman, by running wilfully againſt them; or ſhe may con⯑tent herſelf with only carrying off the head-dreſs of the former, or hat and wig of the latter, to take their chance in the clean⯑lineſs of the ſtreet—a barrow-girl may diſpoſe the handles of her barrow, and a chairman his poles, ſo as to throw down any perſon whoſe dreſs gives them offence; or, at leaſt, tear a gown, a cloak, or the ſkirt of a coat—and a coachman, and a waterman, moſt of my readers have probably had frequent opportunities of obſerving, know perfectly well how to ſplaſh, [76]in the exerciſe of their reſpective vocations, any ſimilar of⯑fender who happens to be paſſing by them; the one by making his horſes ſuddenly plunge in a full kenned, and the other by a dextrous manoeuvre with his oars. But theſe contrivances, excellent as they all undoubtedly are, and highly to the credit of the ſeveral ingenious inventors, as well as to the excellent police which encourages, by not diſcouraging, ſuch laudable endeavours to increaſe the conſumption of our manufactures, are of little or no conſequence, when compared with the very ſuperior exertions of lamplighters, link-boys, chimney-ſweepers, ſcavengers, duſt-men, butchers, porters, and a variety of others; who are armed at all points to burn, oil, black, cover with mud, blind, bruiſe, and maim: ſo that all genteel perſons, who never fail to excite their attention, may eſteem themſelves extremely fortunate, if they walk in the publick ſtreets for ten minutes without meeting with ſome accident, as it is called, either in perſon or dreſs.

The ſucceſs of theſe gentry, in what ſeems to have become a part of their pr [...]feſſions, is indeed moſt aſtoniſhingly great: and the proofs they ſo abundantly give ſeldom fail to m [...]et with univerſal approbation from the ſurrounding ſpectators, who cordially join in the laugh which practices of this kind com⯑monly inſpire; not always conſidering at whoſe expence ſome future mirth of the ſame kind may chance to be furniſhed. So natural is it for man to enjoy the preſent; without any retro⯑ſpect of the paſt, or much concern about the future.

A circumſtance, however, ſome time ſince came to my knowledge—for I was, unfortunately, not a ſpectator of the tranſaction—where a very laudable deſign of this nature was not taken in ſuch good part as uſual, by the perſon on whom the intended favour was conferred. To ſay the truth, the gentleman, who turned out the hero in the buſineſs to which I allude, appears to have been rather too converſant in certain arts of the vulgar; though few, I apprehend, will greatly blame his conduct on the preſent occaſion, when they have heard the whole ſtory, which I ſhall now endeavour to relate.

A gentleman from the Weſt-end of the town, who not only approved of putting on clean ſtockings, but who was deſirous to preſerve them ſo as much as poſſible while they were on, was one dirty day haſtening to his banker's, in Cornhill, with a very conſiderable ſum in his pockets. At the north-eaſt corner of St. Paul's Church Yard, exactly in the croſſing to Cheapſide, ſtood a ſeavenger's cart, attended by three or four begrimed myrmidons, who had wilfully blocked up the way, and waited the approach of a fit object for their mirth. The gentleman's white ſilk ſtockings, and his evident caution in [77]walking, inſtantly attracted their notice: they accordingly ſet him down as a proper inſtrument, and made the uſual diſpo⯑ſition to receive him; ſpreading a large bed of mud acroſs the way, and wai [...]ing his approach with their ſcoops and beſoms; while one went forward to the horſes, that he might either ba [...]k them, or make them ſpring forward among the filth, as occaſion ſerved, ſo as to produce the moſt miſchievous effect. A ſingle haſtly glance of the gentleman's eye, however, ſoon in⯑formed him what they meant to be at; and, in order to avoid them he kept to the left, intending to croſs by the end of Newgate—formerly called Blowbladder—Street. But the game was in view, and they reſolved not to loſe their ſport: one of the fellows, therefore, running round the cart, where he had clearly no other buſineſs, met the gentleman as he paſſed the top of Paternoſter Row; and fixed the dirty ſcoop with ſo much adroitneſs, that it not only made an ample ſpot on his ſtooking, but very nearly threw him down. It was with the utmoſt difficulty that the gentleman's ſpirit enabled him to bear for a moment this inſolent attack: but he wiſely conſi⯑dered, that he had more property about him than he ſhould chuſe to loſe; that he had but a little way to go; and, that it would be impoſſible for them to have finiſhed, had they been more diſpoſed to work than they evidently were, before he ſhould return. He therefore haſtened on, without appearing to regard the univerſal roar of laughter againſt him; and, hav⯑ing diſpatched his buſineſs, was back in about twenty minutes, at one trunk-maker's, the corner of St. Paul's, froin whence he was about to croſs by the other's. The fellow, who had before met with ſuch ſucceſs and applauſe, had obſerved him returning, and was reſolved to have a ſtroke at the other ſtock⯑ing. He accordingly placed himſelf at the edge of the pave⯑ment, with his back towards Cheapſide; ready to turn round the inſtant the gentleman ſhould come up, with ſuch an appli⯑cation of the muddy implement in his hand as could not well fail effectually to do the buſineſs. Thus ſtationed, his grim features wore the aſpect of vaſt ſelf-complacency, and thoſe of his companions grinned their approbation. The gentleman had expected ſome ſimilar arrangement; and, having deter⯑mined on the part which it would be proper for him to act, took no pains to avoid the aſſailant, but went fairly into his clutches. The fellow, however, had very little time to con⯑gratulate himſelf on the good effect of his ſtratagem: for the gentleman, being fully prepared, inſtantly faſtened on his collar, and with a ſingle blow felled him to the earth. The others now came round; and, with the ulmoſt liberality—of abuſe, were about to convince him that four men are more than a [78]match for one: but the temporary ſtoppage had in the mean time formed a crowd; and, ſeveral perſons of genteel appear⯑ance being among them, the gentleman addreſſed himſelf to one in particular, and entreated him to depoſit his hat, coat, and watch, at the trunk-maker's, and to ſee that he had no foul play, as he had determined to fight the blackguard who had inſulted him in his own way. This propoſal gave univerſal ſatisfaction: for even the aggreſſor himſelf, little as he reliſhed the ſpecimen he had received from his antagoniſt, entertained no ſort of doubt that his own ſuperior ſtrength and ſkill, joined to a pretty extenſive practice, would ſoon enable him to repay with intereſt the blow under which he ſtill ſmarted; and, at any rate, it was no ſmall honour to box with a gentle⯑man —while, on the contrary, any thing like a refuſal to ac⯑cept ſuch a challenge would brand him with all the infamy of an eternal imputation of cowardice among his companions; nor, perhaps, after all, ſave him from a drubbing fully equal to what he ſhould receive in fair fighting. Which of theſe rea⯑ſons operated moſt powerfully, or whether all of them acted in concert, it is not by any means eaſy to decide: however, he loſt no time, in what bear-garden phraſeology denominates pecling, and in a few minutes he was quite uncaſed; in more refined language, ſtripped to the ſkin.

The ring was formed, and the combatants took their ſtations. The gentleman waited coolly to receive the fellow, who ad⯑vanced with great fury: but the former dextrouſly avoided a moſt tremendous blow; and, at the ſame inſtant, nimbly dart⯑ing forward, gave his antagoniſt a moſt ſevere ſtroke under the ribs, which drove him breathleſs to the ground. He roſe again, and was again treated preciſely in the ſame manner, with the addition of a deep cut in his ſkull, received from a large ſtone on which he this ſecond time fell. He was now aſked if he had enough; and loud were the plaudits of the mob, in praiſe of the gentleman's proweſs, which all declared they had never ſeen exceeded. The fellow, however, was by no means ſatisfied; for he had not once ſtruck his antagoniſt, and he confided that a ſingle blow from his powerful arm could not fail to terminate the conteſt: that blow, there⯑fore, he determined in his own mind to give; and approached for this purpoſe with much caution, not forgetting to pay par⯑ticular attention to the protection of his own ribs, which had been twice ſo ſeverely handled exactly in the ſame place. The gentleman ſaw what was paſſing, and took his meaſures accord⯑ingly: he was round the fellow in a moment; and, darting a blow, from which he inſtantaneouſly recoiled, hit him exactly between the eyes, with a violence which made them both [79]ſwell to an enormous ſize, and brought a torrent of blood from his noſtrils. He was now wild with anguiſh and diſappoint⯑ment; and, though he could hardly ſtand—for the blow had made him ſtagger, though he was kept from quite falling—he ruſhed on with prodigious force and fury. But extreme paſ⯑ſion had now thrown him quite off his guard; and another ſmart application to his ribs again beat him to the earth, from whence he appeared in no condition ſpeedily to ariſe without aſſiſtance. Indeed, it was for ſome time doubted that he would ever again recover. The gentleman, however, who had as much humanity as courage, deſired a ſurgeon might be ſent for before he quitted the ſpot; obſerving, that it was his wiſh only to cure, not to kill; the fellow who had want only inſulted him. The mob felt that the gentleman's heart was good; and, with their uſual attachment to what they think right, they idolized his generoſity, as well as his courage, and would almoſt to a man have now loſt their lives in his defence. What a pity that minds ſo well diſpoſed ſhould be ever miſled! what a pity that they do not always diſcover what is juſt! Had the gen⯑tleman been incapable of at firſt taking his own part, the very ſame perſons might have ſeen him treated with every indignity, and indeed cruelty, with the utmoſt unconcern; or even, per⯑haps, with a thoughtleſs appearance of brutal ſatisfaction!

The poor wretch being at length ſufficiently recovered to ſtand on his legs, he begged to ſhake hands with the gentle⯑man; and acknowledged he was ſorry that he had ill-treated a better man than himſelf. The tears guſhed from the gen⯑tleman's eyes, at hearing this manly confeſſion: he gave the poor fellow his hand, and with it a guinea; telling his com⯑panions, at the ſame time, that they all deſerved chaſtiſement, but that he hoped they would profit by what they had ſeen, without the experience of a ſimilar fate, which muſt doubtleſs ſome time or other attend all who purſue ſuch diſgraceful prac⯑tices. They then ſeverally proteſted that they were ſorry for what they had done: and, though they evidently did not deſerve any reward, he generouſly gave half a crown among them, which they declared they would ſpend in drinking his honour's health; and I dare venture to add, that they moſt religiouſly kept their word.

It happened, ſome time after, that the ſame gentle⯑man—whoſe extreme neatneſs was very apt to give the filthy ſuch offence as his ſize and appearance were not calculated to prevent them from reſenting in their way—was paſſing down Fiſh-Street Hill, when a tall chimney-ſweeper, with his two lads, literally bruſhed by him on each ſide, and ſoiled his coat moſt egregiouſly. This was an inſult not to be borne; he ſeized [80]the biggeſt immediately, and complimented him with juſt ſuch another blow as he had formerly given the ſcavenger. The fel⯑low roſe, pretended the injury was quite accidental, and inſiſted on receiving ſome ſatisfaction for the aſſault. A crowd gathered round; and the gentleman, as before, offered the aggreſſor battle. The challenge was accepted, and the ſweep ſtripped in what is called buff, but which did not, in this caſe at leaſt, give any great idea of that colour. The ring was now formed, and the com⯑bat was about to commence; when a fellow ruſhed in, ſtripped for the fight, ſwearing heartily that the gentleman ſhould not leſſen himſelf by engaging in ſuch a conteſt, for that he him⯑ſelf would fight any man who offended him. He gave no time for parley; but inſtantly attacked the chimney-ſweeper, and to it they went thoroughly in earneſt. In a few mi⯑nutes, Victory declared herſelf againſt the chimney-ſweeper, whoſe eyes were in a fair way for emulating the colour of his cloth; and the gentleman ſoon recognized, in his preſent cham⯑pion, the ſcavenger whom he had a few months before ſo ſeverely drubbed.

"There, you dog!" cried the exulting victor, to the diſcom⯑fited ſweep, "down on your marrow-bones, and thank me for your life! By the Lord Harry, if you had fought with that gentleman, you would now have been in the other country: for he licked me, a little while ago, twice as much as I have beat you. So, you dog, I have ſaved your bacon, and you ought at leaſt to give me a guinea."

"Well," cried the gentleman, "my old friend, you are fairly entitled to the guinea, and you ſhall have it."

He accordingly gave him that ſum, deſiring him to afford the poor devil he had beaten a draught of beer out of it: and away the combatants jogged cordially together, to the next publick-houſe; where they related pretty fairly what had happened— to the great edification of many of their aſſembled brethren, who have ſince been conſiderably more cautious of wantonly giving offence to gentlemen, though ſome of the moſt mean and daſtardly ſtill occaſionally gratify the native malevolence of their diſpoſitions by making their dirty attacks on ladies. However, as no perſon who deſerves the name of a gentleman —or, indeed, of a man—can tamely ſee any female thus inſulted, it is hoped that ſuch practices, as we become more poliſhed and accompliſhed, will ſoon totally decline, and render unneceſſary the adminiſtration of a remedy which, though rough, is not ſo dangerous as the timid are apt to ſuppoſe, and which, when pro⯑perly applied, never fails to give at leaſt a temporary relief, and ſeldom to effect a compleat and laſting cure, in that ſtrange malady, ſo peculiar to the vulgar—a loathing of decency in dreſs.

PROPOSED HOSPITAL FOR DECAYED AUTHORS.

I Sit down to write in behalf of a ſet of gentlemen in this town, called Authors; whoſe appearance in publick, for many prudent reaſons, being ſeldom, and their habitations far above the common level with the reſt of mankind, they paſs unnoticed by the generality of the world, and are looked upon by others as a name without a being,

From whence this want of reſpect for ſo conſiderable a body of men proceeds, I will not take upon me to ſay; but, certain it is, that many worthy wits by profeſſion are ſtarving in gar⯑rets, while the gravitation of dulneſs daily brings hundreds to and from the Exchange, and the neighbouring alleys, in their chariots.

What a ſad reflection it is, that the moſt beautiful ode in Horace will not raiſe ſixpence in the city, when an ordinary [100]knowledge of the multiplication-table will accumulate eſtates I This unaccountable humour in the nation, of preferring the writings of the Bank directors to thoſe of the ſons of Parnaſſus, has reduced many a fine poetical genius to darn his own ſtock⯑ings.

A friend of mine, who accidentally became acquainted with two or three of theſe great men, who nobly defy poverty for the ſake of exhibiting their extraordinary talents, took me one day to viſit them in their occupation. We were led by the maſter of the houſe where they lodged, a bookſeller by trade, up a very handſome pair of ſtairs, where I imagined we ſhould have been introduced to the literati on the firſt floor; but, how great was my ſurprize, to be conducted up two or three ſtories more, and then up a ladder into a cock-loft! where eight or nine of theſe illuſtrious ſpirits were amuſing themſelves with compoſitions of various ſorts: not, as our guide ſeemed to inſinuate, for the lucre of porter and pudding, but from the noble motive of benefiting mankind by their lucubrations. I muſt own, their unſuitable ſituation made me feel ſome concern for them, though they ſeemed to have very little for themſelves. But my attention to their deplorable circumſtances was inter⯑rupted by a miſtake, that my ignorance of their trade led me into; for, after the firſt introductory ſalutations were over, they fell again to their former employments, without taking any farther notice of us; and, as I was very attentive, out of curioſity, I heard one of them call ſoftly acroſs the table to an⯑other who ſat oppoſite to him—"Pr'ythee, Matt. Prior, lend me thy ſimile of the bird's-neſt."

On my expreſſing ſome ſurprize at the name of Matt. Prior, my friend whiſpered me, that every one of the gentlemen per⯑ſonated ſome poet of note, and imitated, as well as they were able, his ſtile; and that ſuch compoſitions were publiſhed under the titles of Remains, Poſthumous Works, &c. I can⯑not ſay, but my indignation began to be kindled at a proceed⯑ing ſo injurious to the deceaſed, had not an object of a different nature excited my laughter; for while theſe deputy harmoniſts were coupling their rhimes together, an old woman of a ve⯑nerable aſpect mounted the ladder, and informed the company that the milk-porridge was ready: the pens were inſtantly ſluck behind their ears, the ink remained in peace, and the ſound of beams, purling ſtreams, loves, doves, and groves, was heard no more.

I imagined, as ſoon as the viſit was over, that my acquaint⯑ance with theſe ſons of the Muſes would be ſo too: but I very ſoon after found my error; for, as I was walking in St. James's Park the next Sunday, I obſerved three gentlemen in ruſty phi⯑loſophical [101]black coats, braſs-hilted ſwords, and tye-wigs, riſing up from one of the benches to meet me. When they were come a little nearer, I perceived one of them to be my old friend the ſimile-lender, the worthy repreſentative of Matt. Prior, who accoſted me with the moſt obliging condeſcenſion.

As our converſation, during my ſtay in the Park, was pretty long, I ſhall not trouble you with a particular account of it, any farther than to acquaint you that it began with animad⯑verting on the damned taſte of the town, as they called it; and concluded with their borrowing half a crown apiece of me. Such is the condition of many a great ſoul in this kingdom; who, magnanimouſly ſcorning to engroſs, to pound in a mor⯑tar, or live like any other vile mechanick, has rather choſe to confine himſelf ſix days in ſeven, feeling the inward call of a poetical ſpirit, than breathe the ſame air with the illiterate mul⯑titude! As many hundreds, therefore, are led into great in⯑conveniences, not by their own faults, but by this writing devil that poſſeſſes them, I think it would be a charity altogether worthy of the preſent publick ſpirit, to found an hoſpital for neceſſitous authors; ſuch, I mean, as are not quite furious; for thoſe, of courſe, will be admitted into that founded by the late Dean of St. Patrick's for lunaticks; and, as no ſcheme of this ſort has hitherto been laid before the publick, I beg leave to inſert the following in your Miſeellany.

The firſt thing to be conſidered is a proper ſpot to build an hoſpital on; for which I think Tothill Fields would be very convenient, as they lie contiguous to the banks of the fertile Thames, whoſe ſtreams have been the ſubject of ſo many fine compoſitions, and may ſerve to recal, even in old age, the ideas of their former rapture. The ſtructure ſhould be of the old Gothick collegiate architecture, containing about two hun⯑dred apartments; not regular and uniform, but of different ſizes, &c. according to the different geniuſes and diſpoſitions of thoſe that are to be admitted.

In this point, too, the ſituation of the chambers ought to be obſerved; for inſtance, the compilers of vade-mecums, abridgement-makers, &c. ſhould be ſtationed in the cellars under-ground; the ode-writers, next to the ſky-light; the tranſlators, on the ground-floor; and the epick and dramatick authors, on the firſt and ſecond ſtories. In the midſt of the whole I would have a large hall, where the whole ſociety ſhould meet three times a day, to be provided at every meal with diſhes adapted to their conſtitutions; for care muſt be had, that the gentlemen who ſoar "above the viſible diurnal ſphere," do not eat of beef, or any other meat that is ſubject to clog the intellects; but be fed, as Pindar and the bards of old were, with food that elates and puts the fancy on the wing.

[102]This college ſhould be governed by a preſident and twelve directors; all of whom ſhould have been bookſellers in London for the ſpace of ſeven years before the time they are elected ſuch, that they may be thereby qualified to judge properly of the pretenſions of the candidates to this charity. Every can⯑didate muſt have the recommendation of one or more of the di⯑rectors, and a certificate under the hands and ſeals of four of the company of Stationers, that he has been muſe-rid for ten years, in ſuch a manner as to be entirely incapacitated for any other vocation in life. If theſe things ſeem clear, the perſon ſhall be admitted without farther trouble, except he is proved to be worth money; for a rich man muſt be as incapable to enter this hoſpital "as the kingdom of heaven."

We next come to the choice of proper ſervants and attend⯑ants. Now, as there are in the three kingdoms innumerable footmen and chambermaids, who ſpend beſt part of their time with Lee and Otway, and daily condemn Fate for having placed people of their uncommon talents in ſuch a ſituation, as to be ſubject to be called every moment from the heroick com⯑pany of Alexander and Roxana, and ſent to converſe, much againſt their inclination, with the dregs of the people; I would have ſuch as are diſpoſed to live retired, and to have frequent opportunities of converſing not only with dead poets, but living wits, come and offer their ſervice to the hoſpital, where they ſhall be furniſhed with every thing neceſſary for life, and be allowed, after the little labour that ſhall be required of them is over, ſtated hours for their favourite ſtudies.

When theſe things are all ſettled, and a handſome ſubſcrip⯑tion is opened, the legiſlature, no doubt, will give encourage⯑ment to ſo noble, uſeful, and charitable a foundation, by eſta⯑bliſhing the lands and funds raiſed for it's ſupport by parlia⯑mentary authority; and, if it would not be looked on as pre⯑ſumption to give a hint to ſo wiſe and auguſt an aſſembly, a tax might be laid, which would bring in vaſt ſums annually, and at the ſame time be no burden to the induſtrious ſubject, but tend, on the contrary, to promote every branch of trade in the nation.

The tax I mean, ſhould be laid on that unprofitable commo⯑dity which abounds ſo much in theſe kingdoms, commonly called Scribbling. There ſhould be in every pariſh an inſpec⯑tor into this manufactory—the parſon, for inſtance—who ſhould take his rounds once a week, like the exciſeman, to vi⯑ſit thoſe who are dealers, and receive the limited duty: and, in order to obviate any fraud, very large penalties might be laid on all ſuch as ſhould clandeſtinely make verſe or proſe, or a mixture of both, which I think is moſt in requeſt at preſent, [103]without previouſly acquainting the eccleſiaſtical officer, or at leaſt informing him immediately after. This expence would hinder many an attorney's clerk and apprentice from Philising away his time, and keep him from being reduced at laſt to the hoſpital.

Should it be objected by the proprietors of other periodical miſcellanies, that ſuch tax would deprive them of many inge⯑nious performances, both in verſe and proſe; the grievances may be redreſſed by applying to the directors, and compound⯑ing with them at ſo much a year for all their authors in a lump, as thoſe people do with commiſſioners of turnpikes who live near the gate.

Having thrown together theſe looſe thoughts, I leave the publick to improve my project, and ſhall be happy to ſubſcribe my mite for the eſtabliſhment of ſo neceſſary an inſtitution.

THE CHOICE SPIRIT.

THAT a tradeſman has no buſineſs with humour, unleſs, perhaps, in the way of his dealing, or with writing, un⯑leſs in his ſhop-book, is a truth which I believe nobody will diſpute with me. I am ſo unfortunate, however, as to have a nephew who, not contented with being a grocer, is in dan⯑ger of abſolute ruin by his ambition of being a Wit; and hav⯑ing forſaken his counter for Comus's Court, and dignified him⯑ſelf with the appellation of a Choice Spirit, is on the point of becoming a bankrupt. Inſtead of diſtributing his ſhop⯑bills as he ought, he wa [...]tes a dozen in the morning, by ſcrib⯑bling ſhreds of his nonſenſe on the backs of them; and, a few days ſince, affronted an alderman, his beſt cuſtomer, by ſend⯑ing him a pound of prunes wrapped up in a ballad he had juſt written, called, The Citizen outwitted, or a Bob for the Man⯑ſion-houſe.

He is, likewiſe, a regular frequenter of the play-houſes; and, being acquainted with every underling of each theatre, is at an annual expence of ten pounds in tickets for their re⯑ſpective benefits. They generally adjourn together from the play to the tavern; and there is hardly a watchman, within a mile of Covent Garden, but has had his head, or his lantern, broke by one or other of the ingenious fraternity.

I turned into his ſhop this morning, and had no ſooner ſet my foot on the threſhold, than he leaped over the counter, threw himſelf into an attitude, as he calls it; and aſked me, in the words of ſome play that I remember to have ſeen formerly, whether I was a ſpirit of health, or a goblin damn'd? I told him he was an undutiful young dog, for daring to accoſt his [104]uncle in that irreverent manner; and bade him ſpeak like a Chriſtian, and a reaſonable perſon. Inſtead of being ſenſible of my rebuke, he took off his wig; and, having very delibe⯑rately given it two or three twirls on his fiſt, and pitching it on his head again, ſaid, I was a dry old quiz, and ſhould cer⯑tainly afford them much entertainment at the club, to which he had the impudence to invite me: at the ſame time, he thruſt a card into my hand, containing a bill of fare for the evening's entertainment; and, as a farther inducement, aſſured me that Mr. Twiſter himſelf would be in the chair; that he was a wonderful creature, and ſo prodigiouſly droll, that though he had heard him ſing the ſame ſongs, and repeat the ſame ſtories, a thouſand times, he could ſtill attend to him with as much pleaſure as at firſt. I caſt my eye over the liſt, and can re⯑collect the following items— ‘"To all true Lovers of Fun and Jocularity.’

"Mr. Twiſter will this evening take off a cat worried by two bull-dogs; ditto, making love in a gutter; the knife-grinder and his wheel; High-Dutch ſquabble; and a hog in a ſlaughter-houſe."

I aſſured him that, ſo far from having any reliſh for theſe deteſtable noiſes, the more they reſembled the originals, the leſs I ſhould like them: and, if I could ever be fool enough to go, ſhould at leaſt be wiſe enough to ſtop my ears till I came out again.

Having lamented my deplorable want of taſte, by the eleva⯑tion of his eye-brows, and a ſignificant ſhrug of his ſhoulders, he thruſt his fore-finger againſt the inſide of his cheek, and plucking it out of his mouth with a jerk, made a noiſe that very much reſembled the drawing of a cork. I found that, by this ſignal, he meant to aſk me if I choſe a whet? I gave my conſent, by a ſulky kind of nod, and walked into the back room, as much aſhamed of my nephew as he ought to have been of himſelf. While he was gone to fetch a pint of Moun⯑tain from the other ſide of the ſtreet, I had an opportunity to minute down a few of the articles of which the litter of his apartment conſiſted; and have ſelected theſe, as the moſt material, from among them—

On one of the ſconces by the chimney, a ſmart grizzle bob⯑wig, well oiled and powdered, feather topped, and bag-fronted.

On the oppoſite ſconce, a ſcratch.

On the window-ſeat, a Nankin waiſtcoat, bound with ſilver-twiſt, [105]without ſkirts or pockets, ſtained with red wine, and pretty much ſhrunk.

Item, A pair of buckſkin breeches, in one pocket a cat-call, in the other the mouth of a quart-bottle, chipped and ground into a ſmooth ring, very fit to be uſed as a ſpying-glaſs by thoſe who never want one.

Item, A red pluſh frock lappelled with ditto, one pocket ſtuffed with orange-peel, and the other with ſquare bits of white paper ready cut and dried for a ſhower.

In the corner, a walking-ſtaff, about eighteen inches long.

Item, A ſmall ſwitch.

On the head of the bureau, a letter-caſe, containing a play⯑bill, and a quack-bill; a copy of verſes, being an enco⯑mium on Mr. Twiſter; another of four lines, which he calls a diſtich; and a third, very much blotted and ſcratch⯑ed, and yet not finiſhed, entitled, An Extempore Epigram.

Having taken this inventory of his goods and furniture, I ſat down before the fire, to deviſe, if poſſible, ſome expedient to reclaim him; when, on a ſudden, a ſound like the braying of an aſs, at my elbow, alarmed me to ſuch a degree, that I ſtarted from my ſeat in an inſtant; and, to my farther aſtoniſh⯑ment, beheld my nephew, almoſt black in the face, covering his eat with the hollow of his hand, and exerting the whole force of his lungs in imitating that reſpectable animal. I was ſo exaſperated at this freſh inſtance of his folly, that I told him haſtily, he might drink his wine alone, and that I would never ſee his face again, till he ſhould think proper to appear in a character worthy himſelf and family. He followed me to the door without making any reply; and, having advanced into the middle of the ſtreet, [...]ell to clapping his ſides, and crowing like a cock with the utmoſt vehemence, and continued his tri⯑umphant ejaculations till I was fairly out of hearing.

Having reached my lodgings, I immediately reſolved to ſend you an account of his abſurdities, and ſhall take this oppor⯑tunity to inform him, that as he is bleſſed with ſuch a variety of uſeful talents; and ſo compleatly accompliſhed as a Choice Spirit, I ſhall not do him the injury to conſider him as a tradeſ⯑man, or mortify him hereafter by endeavouring to give him any aſſiſtance in his buſineſs.

THE WOODEN SWORD. A POPISH MIRACLE.

WHEN Naples was once cloſely beſieged, the viceroy iſ⯑ſued a ſevere order, that no man, above or under ſuch an age, ſhould appear in the ſtreets without a ſword, on pain of death. That he might be ſure this order was ſtrictly obey⯑ed, he and his officers rode up and down the city to ſee that none offended. During their progreſs, they perceived a gen⯑tleman without his ſword; who, being brought to the viceroy, was immediately condemned to be hanged on the next ſign⯑poſt. The gentleman pleaded hard for his life, but to no pur⯑poſe. He then entreated that, at leaſt, he might not ſuffer ſo ignominious a death, but die like a gentleman as he was; humbly deſiring that the next gentleman who came by with a ſword, might be permitted to run him through the body, [109]This being granted, preſently came along one who had juſt quitted a gaming-houſe, where he had loſt all, even to the very blade of his ſword, which was of choice Spaniſh ſteel, and durſt not go home till he had got a wooden one fitted to the hilt and ſcabbard. Being now ſtopped, he was told the caſe, and what office he was appointed to perform. Conſci⯑ous of his own inſufficiency to execute the buſineſs, he was ſo confounded, that he ſcarcely knew how to reply. "What!" exclaimed he, "would you make a common executioner of me! Alas, ſhall I ſtain my blood to eternity! Heaven de⯑fend my honour from ſuch baſeneſs!" All his remonſtrances, however, proving quite fruitleſs, he prepared himſelf for the work; and, keeling down, prayed—" O Juſt and Almighty Ruler of Heaven, if this man ought not to die, convert this my faithful ſword into wood!" Then, plucking it out, and it appearing plainly to be a wooden blade, the condemned gentle⯑man was immediately releaſed with abundance of joy; and the ſword was carried with great ſolemnity to the cathedral church, where it was hung up as a true link to the chain of Popiſh miracles.

LEGAL INTERPRETATION OF A WILL.

THE "glorious uncertainty of the law," extends itſelf over every ſtate where any regulated code exiſts. In⯑genuity of counſel in the explanation of periods and interpre⯑tation of meanings, is exerciſed with as much ſucceſs in the courts of our Gallick neighbours, as in thoſe of our own coun⯑try. Some time before the abolition of the Jeſuits, a gentle⯑man of Paris died, and left all his eſtate from an only ſon, then abroad, to that body of religious men, on condition that, on his return, the worthy fathers ſhould give him "la partie qui leur plairoit;"—whatever they choſe. When the ſon came home, he went to the convent, and received but a very ſmall ſhare indeed; the wiſe ſons of Loyola chaſing to keep the greateſt part to themſelves. The young gentleman conſulted his friends, and all agreed that he was without remedy. At laſt a barriſter, to whom he happened to mention his caſe, ad⯑viſed him to ſue the convent, and promiſed to gain him his cauſe. The gentleman followed his advice, and the ſuit ter⯑minated in his favour, through the management of the advo⯑cate, who grounded his plea on this reaſoning—' The tella⯑tor," ſaid the ingenious barriſter, "has left his ſon that ſhare of the eſtate which the fathers ſhould chuſe; "la partie qui leur plairoit," are the expreſs words of the will. Now it is plain [110]what part they have choſe, by what they keep to themſelves. My client, then, ſtands on the words of the will: Let me have," ſays he, "the part they choſe, and I am ſatisfied." It was accordingly awarded to him, without heſitation.

SCHEME FOR A WHISTLING ACADEMY.

WE have often compaſſionated the great uneaſineſs num⯑bers of young gentlemen at this day labour under, for want of knowing how to ſpend their time; which ſeems to hang heavy on their hands, being deſtitute of a proper employ⯑ment. To ſee ſo many diſtreſſed mortals ſauntering about from coffee-houſe to coffee-houſe, or from ale-houſe to ale⯑houſe, tiring themſelves, and thoſe about them, muſt certainly [125]afford a melancholy proſpect to every good natured man living. Read, they cannot; to think, is a taſk more difficult. Unable, therefore, to be one moment alone, they run into any ſort of company that firſt occurs; talking, without ſenſe; laughing, without wit; and by this means become the ridicule of all their acquaintance. In this wretched ſtate, deſpiſed by men, and made the laughing-ſtock of women, they have recourſe to the bottle. With this they regale; and in a ſhort time be⯑come the moſt whimſical, impertinen [...], and rattle-headed, fel⯑lows in the world.

If this ſpecies of mortals did not think themſelves too wiſe, and too happy, to ſtand in need of advice, or to wiſh a change in their condition, it would certainly be worth while to con⯑ſider, if ſome eaſy accompliſhment, ſuited to their capacities, might not be found out; the learning and practice of which might ſerve to render them ſupportable to themſelves, and not altogether inſupportable to thoſe who are ſo unhappy as to fall into their bad company.

To anſwer both theſe good purpoſes, I can think of nothing ſo likely as their learning to whiſtle. It is an attainment per⯑fectly ſuited to their genius; equal to their abilities; and, in all likelihood, ſuperior to any of their accompliſhments. I would, therefore, teach theſe untutored gentlemen to apply themſelves inſtantly to the making at leaſt one acquiſition, that may raiſe them to a level with ſomething in the animal creation. If they could but whiſtle w [...]ll, they might be able to converſe with the blackbird and thruſh, almoſt on an equality: an advantage they ſeldom enjoy in human converſation; unleſs a proſtitute, a horſe, or the cut of a coat, &c. happen to be the ſubject. Beſides their endeavouring to attain an accompliſhent, that may ſerve as an innocent amuſement, in the midſt of a world where ſo many pernicious ones abound, will be an inſtance of their ſingular virtue, and ſupply the want of thought, which want they ſeem to labour under, in the moſt eaſy or natural way.

How happy had it been for young Hazard, if inſtead of at⯑tempting what he is by no means equal to, namely, the art of gaming, he had applied himſelf to the attainment of this amuſing ſcience! He might then, with a merry heart, have been whiſtling for his diverſion; whereas now, he may, in bitter⯑neſs of ſoul, go whiſtle for his eſtate!

If ſome of thoſe creatures, alſo, who call themſelves poets, were wiſe enough to apply their talents to whiſtling, they might fairly pretend to ſome ſort of harmony; but now they are not only deſtitute of that, but of every thing elſe that might atone for the want of it.

[126]The deſcription of Cymon, in that beautiful tale of Mr. Dryden, has ever been eſteemed a natural and agreeable pic⯑ture. There is ſomething in him ſo undeſigning, that one is aſ⯑ſured he muſt be poſſeſſed of an honeſt heart; and cannot help conceiving an affection for him, merely in ſeeing him walk, and hearing him whiſtle—

How harmleſs is his employment! how inoffenſive his be⯑haviour! Now, I ſhould be heartily glad to ſee any of our ſauntering fellows make ſo unexceptionable a figure as this ho⯑neſt clown. But theſe gentlemen's want of thought generally leads them into a thouſand impertinences; and, inſtead of learning to whiſtle, they are frequently making ridiculous pre⯑tenſions to taſte, learning, or politicks: and there is not a coffee⯑houſe in London but will furniſh us with melancholy inſtances of this ſtrange miſapplication of talents.

To prevent ſuch fatal miſtakes for the future, I humbly pro⯑poſe that a WHISTLING ACADEMY be founded, for the uſe of ſuch gentry, &c. whether young or old, as ſhall be judged pro⯑perly qualified to be admitted members of this new muſical ſo⯑ciety; contributions for which will no doubt be chearfully and liberally made by the innumerable perſons of reſpectability who are at preſent continually peſtered by the impertinence of ſuch coxcombs.

INFALLIBLE PRESERVATIVE AGAINST DUELLING.

THE practice of duelling has of late become ſo frequent, that moſt perſons who have any brains to loſe, think it not at all unlikely, if they mix much in what is called polite [129]life, that they may ſome day or other be deprived of them by a piſtol-bullet.

For my own part, I am one of thoſe old-faſhioned mortals who, being convinced that they have none to ſpare, are deſirous of preſerving what they have as long as poſſible: and this diſ⯑poſition, as my inclinations lead me a good deal into com⯑pany, has ſometimes ſubjected me to conſiderable difficulties. However, as I have hitherto continued to "ſleep in a whole ſkin," and am now ne [...]rly arrived at my firſt grand climac⯑terick —an age when it may be ſuppoſed I need not be under any great apprehenſione of being called out—a ſketch of the manner in which I have ſo long preſerved myſelf alike un⯑wounded in perſon and eputation—I mean; reputation for cou⯑rage, all other kinds of reputa ion being foreign to the preſent ſubject—may not be unſerviceable to thoſe who, from mo⯑tives ſimilar to my own, are led to mingle with ſociety, but who may occaſionally feel themſelves under ſome degree of conſtraint.

A few years ago, when duelling was much leſs faſhionable than at preſent, I happened to be at a coffee-houſe, where two young fellows, both enſigns in the army, ſat diſcourſing of their preced⯑ing night's pretended amours, in a ſtile of ſuch groſſneſs, and in tones of ſuch vociferation, that the company in general was greatly ſcandalized; and a very decent young woman, in par⯑ticular, who officiated in the bar, and for whoſe ear it was evi⯑dent their looſe converſation was peculiarly intended, bluſhed ſo immoderately, and was ſo greatly confuſed, that her ſituation pained me more than I can eaſily deſcribe. I waited a ſhort time, in expectation that ſome man of ſpirit would interfere, for I am myſelf naturally averſe to quarrelling; but, to my ſurprize, though I could perceive the eye, of the whole room were occaſion⯑ally on the two ſtriplings, and moſt of them with looks of diſ⯑guſt, when either of the obnoxious parties looked round for ap⯑plauſe, which they very often ſeemed to do, many of the company were mean enough to aſſume a ſort of grin of approcation, and the reſt, to a man, haſtily turned away their heads. This uni⯑verſal cowardice arouzed me. I felt myſelf bold, and a glow of conſcious ſuperiority animated my cheek. I roſe from my ſeat, and took my ſtation at the fire; facing about to the youths who ſat oppoſite, and eyeing them with contempt. The in⯑creaſed ſternneſs of my viſage ſoon attracted their attention; it had, probably, not pleaſed them before: and one of them, after whiſpering the other, had the audacity to addreſs me with —"Sir, I ſhall look as ſulky as you do, if you continue to ſtand before the fire."—"Sir," replied I, "you are an imper⯑tinent ſcoundrel! and, having groſsly infulted the whole room [130]with impunity, you are, I ſuppoſe, beginning to offend every one individually."

In an inſtant the heroes were both on their legs; and a ſcene of confuſion and altercation enfued, eaſy to conceive, but impoſſible to be expreſſed.

It was inſiſted by the companion of him who had affronted me, that I ſhould ſubmit to aſk pardon of the gentleman whom I had denominated a ſcoundrel, or meet him the next day in Hyde Park. He appealed, with great vehemence, to the com⯑pany, if the word ſcoundrel was proper to be uſed by a gentle⯑man, or if any man of honour could tamely put up with the application of it to himſelf. The extorted anſwer was almoſt univerſally—"Certainly not!" And it ſeemed the general opinion that the difference could only be accommodated in one of the ways propoſed.

Elated with his ſucceſs, he turned to me with great ſerocity, and demanded to know whether I choſe to make the neceſſary conceſſions, or to meet his friend in the field.

"I alike deſpiſe," haſtily returned I, "your friend, and yourſelf: and ſo far am I from acceding to your propoſals, or being convinced that I have beſtowed an improper appellation on your infamous companion, that I repeat, he is a baſe ſcoun⯑drel, and that you are as ſhabby a raſcal as himſelf!"

His ſword was now out in a moment: and, though I was unarmed, the daſtardly villain actually made a lunge at me; ſwearing bitterly that he would run me through the body, if I did not immediately entreat his forgiveneſs. But I ſnatched, inſtantaneouſly, the poker from the fire, and with a ſingle ſtroke ſhivered his ſword: at the ſame moment driving him to the wall, by thruſting the red-hot weapon cloſe to his face, which appeared evidently pale with fear, notwithſtanding the rubicund reflection of the poker. In the mean time, his com⯑panion was not idle: but, having likewiſe drawn, he was ad⯑vancing to ſalute me à poſteriori; when the company, per⯑ceiving I was more likely to quiet the young ſparks than they had at firſt dared to hope, very manfully interpoſed, and pre⯑vented the attack in my rear.

Having obliged the young gentleman to aſk my pardon, in⯑ſtend of my aſking his, under pain of a more intimate acquain⯑tance with the ſtill red poker, I turned to the other, who had by this time been compelled to deliver up his weapon, and ex⯑acted from him a ſimilar apology. He, however, continued obſtinately to refuſe, though every body was now clamorous againſt him, till a ſlight application of the poker to his chin convinced him that I was not to be trifled with, and he alſo acknowledged the impropriety of his behaviour.

As I was diſguſted with the profuſion of compliments which [131]were now beſtowed on my ſpirited conduct by the company, I ſoon quitted the room: and was the next day informed, by a friend, who happened to ſtep in a ſhort time after my depar⯑eure, that the diſcomfited champions, and all the company, joined very cordially together in cenſuring the groſſneſs of my behaviour, particularly my total diſregard to good manners in the choice of my expreſſions.

Thus ended a buſineſs, which ſeemed to threaten ſomething more ſerious; for though the young gentlemen proteſted ve⯑hemently that they would have their revenge whenever they ſhould meet with me, they took great care to avoid viſiting every place where it was likely I might be found. Yet theſe youths were ſaid to have actually ſeen ſervice, and to have each killed his man; certain it is, that they had for a long time over-awed the company which uſually frequented the coffee-houſe where I accidentally encountered them, and had totally driven away no inconſiderable number of cuſtomers.

It would fill a volume of no contemptible ſize, to recount minutely the various ſkirmiſhes in which I have at different times been engaged; and yet, if I know myſelf, I am as much diſpoſed to treat every one with civility, and as ſtudious in avoiding all occaſions of offence, as any perſon living.

Indeed, I am not unwilling to believe that I am conſtitu⯑tionally what the world calls a coward: for I really have never been able to diſcover in myſelf the pleaſing ſenſation which ſome men of ſpirit ſeem to feel in taking a waiter by the noſe or ears, or kicking a footman's poſterios, for accidentally treading on my toes, running againſt me on entering or quit⯑ting a room, when I have chanced to ſtand in their way, or any ſimilar offence. I may, on ſuch occaſions, have been prompted to uſe very intemperate language; but I have uſually been afterwards weak enough to think, that my reſentment was even then more than adequate to the crime.

But, it will be ſaid—"What has this to do with duelling? There is no danger, at leaſt for the preſent, of being challenged by a waiter or footman!" I am afraid, however, that the ſame iraſcible ſpirit which leads a gentleman to delight in tweaking the noſe of the former, or kicking the breech of the latter, will ſometimes make him ſo far forget himſelf as to take a "wrong pig by the ear."

The inference is plain: A man of ſpirit—that is, one who has long enjoyed the ſupreme felicity of ſeeing every one ap⯑proach him with fear and trembling—ſuddenly finding a ſtrong oppoſition to his high beheſts, ventures to try the force of per⯑ſonal threats: he challenges his antagoniſt; and, borne up by that enthuſiaſm which is always denominated courage, though it ſhould ſometimes have a very different appellation, he goes [132]to the field, where he pronably leaves an exiſtence which has too long been offenſive to ſociety.

So far duelling may be ſaid to be rather ſerviceable than pre⯑judicial to mankind; and, if it always happened that the ag⯑greſſor was not the ſurvivor, the practice would be much leſs liable to objection. But for this material property, I believe, it's warmeſt advocates have not attempted to contend.

I ſhall, however, avoid entering into the rationality of the cuſtom; of that, every one who has common underſtanding is perhaps full as able to judge as myſelf, and any arguments would be thrown away on perſons of inferior capacity.

I have already given ſome reaſons for the ſuſpicion I have ever entertained, that I am myſelf naturally a coward: I really never enjoyed perſonal conteſts; for though, when a lad, I had now and then manual ſtruggles for ſupetiority, and was always for⯑tunate enough to prove the victor, I never engaged but with reluctance.

This antipathy, however, to deciſions by combat, has never prevented me from giving my ſentiments freely on any ſubject, in whatever company I have fallen; and, though I am not wholly unacquainted with [...]he art of verbal retreat, it is perhaps the only ſpecies of defence I have ever been afraid of adopt⯑ing.

That I have, from the various diſputations in which I have been engaged, received at leaſt twenty challenges, and more than twice as many menaces, will not be greatly wondered at by thoſe who know life, when I inform them, that I have now and then ſat for a whole hour together with young ſunaltern offi [...]ers, both of the army and navy; gameſters of all the diffe⯑rent ſpecies; fortune-hunters; men of gallantry; great wits; led captains; and politicians. Indeed, I doubt not, that many young men of the town, who aſſociate conſtantly with ſuch companions, have at half my age had at leaſt double the num⯑ber.

In extricating myſelf from theſe difficulties, I have never once had occaſion to apply for redreſs to the laws of my coun⯑try; though, as they certainly are as well calculated to pre⯑ſerve the weak, the infirm, the aged, and the meek, from the perſonal inſults of the ſtouter, the younger, and more turbulent, as human ſagacity can poſſibly contrive, I ſhould by no means have felt myſelf degraded by appealing to thoſe inſtitutions, which were planned by our progenitors when national bravery was not at it's loweſt ebb, with much leſs folly and abſurdity than ſeems to be generally imagined by their abundantly wiſe ſucceſſors, had no quicker and equally efficacious remedies pre⯑ſented themſelves.

[133]I have conſtantly found, that the moſt boiſterous heroes have been ſoon tranquilized, when they were once thoroughly convinced that a man would not fight fair: for though, after poſitively refuſing a challenge. I have been often violently threatened with perſonal chaſtiſement, on my giving the parties to underſtand that I was not very delicate in my choice of weapons, their menaces, which I always treated with the moſt reſolute defiance, were ſeldom attempted to be put in execu⯑tion. Once, indeed, a young Hibernian raiſed his cane, which was intended to ſalute my head or ſhoulders; but, on my ſeiz⯑ing a candleſtick which ſtood before me, he thought proper to defer the diſcharge of his anger, till he met with one who was leſs diſpoſed to make him a ſuitable return.

If this method be invariably purſued, with becoming reſolu⯑tion, it will, I apprehend, prove to others, as it has long done to me, an infallible preſervative againſt duelling.

THE MODERN MAN OF HONOUR.

THOSE who attack the fundamental laws of virtue and morality, urge the uncertainty of them, and alledge their variations in different countries, and even in different ages in the ſame countries. "Morality," ſay they, "is local, and conſequently an imaginary thing; ſince what is rejected in one climate as a vice, is practiſed in another as a virtue." And, according to them, the voice of nature ſpeaks as many different languages as there are nations in the world.

The dangers and ill conſequences of this doctrine are ob⯑vious; but, ſurely, the falſity of it is not leſs ſo: and the moſt charitable opinion one can entertain of thoſe who propagate it is, that they miſtake faſhion and cuſtom for nature and reaſon. The invariable laws of juſtice and morality are the firſt and univerſal emanations of human reaſon, while unprejudiced and uncorrupted; and we may as well ſay that ſickneſs is the na⯑tural ſtate of the body, as that injuſtice and immorality are the natural ſituation of the mind. We contract moſt of the diſ⯑tempers of the one by the irregularity of our appetites, and of the other by yielding to the impetuoſity of our paſſions; but, in both caſes, reaſon, when conſulted, ſpeaks a different lan⯑guage.

I admit, that the prevailing cuſtoms and faſhions of moſt countries are not founded on reaſon; and, on the contrary, are too frequently repugnant to it: but then the reaſonable people of thoſe countries contemn and abhor them, though it may be they too wittingly comply with, or at leaſt have not courage openly enough to oppoſe them.

The people of rank and diſtinction, in every country, are properly called the people of faſhion; becauſe, in truth, they ſettle the faſhion. Inſtead of ſubjecting themſelves to the laws, they take meaſure of their own appetites and paſſions, and then make laws to fit them; which laws, though neither ſounded in juſtice, nor enacted by a legal authority, too often prevail over and inſult both juſtice and authority. This is faſhion!

In this light I have often conſidered the word Honour in it's faſhionable acceptation in this country; and muſt confeſs, that, were that the univerſal meaning of it throughout this kingdom, it would very much confirm the doctrine I endea⯑vour to confute; and would be ſo contrary to that honour which reaſon, juſtice, and common-ſenſe, point out, that I ſhould not wonder if it inclined people to call in queſtion the very exiſtence of honour itſelf.

The character of a Man of Honour, as received in the beau monde, is ſomething ſo very ſingular, that it deſerves a particu⯑lar [148]examination; and, though eaſier obſerved than deſcribed, I ſhall endeavour to give my readers a deſcription of it, illuſ⯑trated with ſome original pieces, which have luckily fallen into my hands.

A Man of Honour is one who peremptorily affirms himſelf to be ſo; and who will cut any body's throat that queſtions it, though on the beſt grounds: he is infinitely above the reſtraints which the laws of God or man lay on vulgar minds, and knows no other ties than thoſe of Honour; of which word he is to be the ſole expounder. He muſt ſtrictly adhere to a party denomination, though he may be utterly regardleſs of it's principles. His expence ſhould exceed his income conſide⯑rably; not for the neceſſaries, but for the ſuperfluities of life; that the debts he contracts may do him Honour. There ſhould be a haughtineſs and inſolence in his deportment, which is ſup⯑poſed to reſult from conſcious Honour. If he be cholerick, and wrong-headed into the bargain, with a good deal of animal courage, he acquires the glorious character of a man of nice and jealous Honour: and, if all theſe qualifications are duly ſeaſoned with the genteeleſt vices, the Man of Honour is compleat; any thing his wife, children, ſervants, or tradeſmen, may think to the contrary, notwithſtanding.

Belville is allowed to be a man of the moſt conſummate Ho⯑nour that this or any other age ever produced. The men are proud of his acquaintance, and the women of his protection; his party glories in being countenanced by him, and his Ho⯑nour is frequently quoted as a ſanction for their conduct. But ſome original letters, which I ſhall give my readers, will let them more intimately into the particulars of ſo ſhining a cha⯑racter, than mere deſcription would do.

He had run out a conſiderable fortune by a life of pleaſure, particularly by gaming; and, being delicately ſcrupulous in points of Honour, he writ the following letter to his attorney, after an ill run at play—

[149]But, leſt the endeavours of Mr. Gooſetree ſhould prove in⯑effectual, Belville, from the ſame principle of Honour, re⯑ſolved, at all events, to ſecure that ſum collaterally; and therefore wrote the following letter to the Firſt Miniſter—

I find another letter of the ſame date, to a lady, who appears to be the wife of his moſt intimate friend—

The fourth and laſt letter is to a friend, who had, probably, as high notions of Honour as himſelf, by the nature of the affair in which he requires his aſſiſtance—

It appears, from theſe authentick pieces, that Mr. Belville, filled with the nobleſt ſentiments of Honour, paid all debts but his juſt ones, kept his word ſcrupulouſly in the flagitious ſale of his conſcience to a miniſter; was ready to protect, at the expence of his friend's life, his friend's wife, whom, by the op⯑portunities that friendſhip had given him, he had corrupted: and puniſhed truth with death, when it intimated, however juſtly, the want of it in himſelf.

This perſon of refined Honour, conſcious of his own merit and virtue, is a moſt unmerciful cenſor of the leſſer vices and failings of others; and laviſhly beſtows the epithets of Scoun⯑drel and Raſcal on all thoſe who, in a ſubordinate rank of life, ſeem to aſpire to any genteel degree of immorality. An auk⯑ward country gentleman, who ſells his ſilent vote cheap, is with him a ſad dog. The induſtrious tradeſmen are a pack of cheating raſcals, who ſhould be better regulated, and not ſuffered to impoſe on people of condition; and ſervants are a parcel of idle ſcoundrels, that ought to be uſed ill, and not paid their wages, in order to check their inſolence.

It is not to be imagined how pernicious the example of ſuch a creature is to ſociety: he is admired, and conſequently imi⯑tated; he not only immediately corrupts his own circle of ac⯑quaintance, but the contagion ſpreads itſelf to infinity; as circles in water produce one another, though gradually leſs marked out, in proportion as they are remoter from the cauſe of the firſt.

To ſuch practice, and ſuch examples in higher life, may juſtly be imputed the general corruption and immorality which prevail through this kingdom; but when ſuch is the force of faſhion, and when the examples of people of the firſt rank in a country are ſo prevalent as to dignify vice and immorality, in ſpite of all laws, divine and human, how popular might they make virtue, if they would exert their power in it's cauſe? And how muſt they, in their cooler moments, reproach them⯑ſelves, when they come to reflect that, by their fatal examples, they have beggared, corrupted, and, it may be, enſlaved, a whole nation!

SPOILED CHILDREN. A MIRROR FOR MOTHERS.

I Am engaged in a viſit at a friend's houſe in the country, where I promiſed myſelf much ſatisfaction. I have, how⯑ever, been greatly diſappointed in my expectations; for, on my arrival, I found a houſe full of children, who are humoured beyond meaſure, and indeed abſolutely ſpoiled, by the ridicu⯑lous [152]indulgence of a fond mother. This unlucky circum⯑ſtance has ſubjected me to many inconveniences; and, as I am a man of a grave reſerved diſpoſition, has been a perpetual ſource of embarraſſment and perplexity.

The ſecond day of my viſit, in the midſt of dinner, the eldeſt boy, who is eight years old, whipped off my perriwig with great dexterity, and received the applauſe of the table for his humour and ſpirit. This lad, when he has reached his four⯑teenth year, and is big enough to lie without the maid, is to be ſent to a ſchool in the neighbourhood, which has no other merit than that of being but ſeven miles off. Six of the chil⯑dren are permitted to ſit at table, who entirely monopolize the wings of fowls, and the moſt delicate morſels of every diſh, becauſe the mother has diſcovered that her children have not ſtrong ſtomachs.

In the morning, before my friend is up, I generally take a turn on the gravel-walk, where I could wiſh to enjoy my own thoughts without interruption; but I am here inſtantly at⯑tended by my little tormentors, who follow me backwards and forwards; and play at what they call Running after the Gentle⯑man. My whip, which was a preſent from an old friend, has been laſhed to pieces by one of the boys who is fond of horſes, and the handle is turned into a hobby-horſe. The main-ſpring of my repeating-watch has been broke in the nurſery; which, at the mother's requeſt, I had lent to the youngeſt boy, who was juſt breeched, and who cried to wear it.

The mother's attention to the children entirely deſtroys all converſation: and once, as an amuſement for the evenings, we attempted to begin reading Tom Jones; but were interrupted, in the ſecond page, by little Sammy, who is ſuffered to whip his top in the parlour. I am known to be troubled with vio⯑lent head-aches; notwithſtanding which, another of the boys, without notice given, or any regard paid to the company, is permitted to break out into the brayings of an aſs, for which the ſtrength of his lungs is commended; and a little miſs, at breakfaſt, is allowed to drink up all the cream, and put her ſingers into the ſugar-diſh, becauſe ſhe was once ſickly. I am teazed with familiarities, which I can only repay with a frown; and peſtered with the petulance of ludicrous prattle, in which I am unqualified to join. It is whiſpered in the family, that I am a mighty good ſort of a man, but that I cannot talk to children. Nor am I the only perſon who ſuffers from this folly: a neighbouring clergyman, of great merit and modeſty, and much acquainted in the family, has received hints to for⯑bear coming to the houſe, becauſe little Sukey always cries [153]when ſhe ſees him, and has told her mamma, ſhe can't bear that ugly parſon.

Mrs. Qualm, my friend's wife, the mother of this hopeful offspring, is perpetually breeding; or rather her whole exiſtence is ſpent in a ſeries of great-bellies, lyings-in, viſitings, church⯑ings, and chriſtenings. Every tranſaction of her life is dated from her ſeveral pregnancies. The grandmother, and the man-midwife, a ſerious, ſenſible man, conſtantly reſide in the houſe, to be always ready on theſe ſolemn occaſions. She boaſts, that no family has ever ſent out more numerous adver⯑tiſements for nurſes with a fine breaſt of milk. As her long⯑ings have of late been in the vegetable way, the garden is cultivated for this purpoſe alone, and totally filled with forward peas, and melon-glaſſes, in hopes that ſhe may luckily long for what is at hand. She preſerves, to the utmoſt the preroga⯑tive of frequent pregnancy; and, conſcious of the dignity and importance of being often big, exerts an abſolute authority over her huſband. He was once a keen fox-hunter, but has long ago dropped his hounds; his wife having remonſtrated, that his early riſing diſturbed the family unſeaſonably, and having dreamed that he broke his leg in leaping a ditch.

I revere Mrs. Qualm as the mother, and only wiſh I could recommend her as the manager, of children. I hope this letter may fall into her hands, to convince her how abſurd it is to ſuppoſe, that others can be as much intereſted in her own children as herſelf. I would teach her, that what I complain of as matter of inconvenience, may one day prove to her a ſe⯑vere trial; and that early licentiouſneſs will, at laſt, mock that parental affection from whoſe miſtaken indulgence it aroſe.

THE ART OF EAR-TICKLING.

HUMAN nature, though every where the ſame, is ſo ſeem⯑ingly diverſified by the various habits and cuſtoms of dif⯑ferent countries, and ſo blended with the early impreſſions we receive from our education, that they are often confounded to⯑gether, and miſtaken for one another. This makes us look with aſtoniſhment upon all cuſtoms that are extremely different from our own, and hardly allow thoſe nations to be of the ſame nature with ourſelves, if they are unlike us in their man⯑ners; whereas, all human actions may be traced up to theſe two great motives, the purſuit of pleaſure and the avoidance of pain; and, upon a ſtrict examination, we ſhall often find that thoſe cuſtoms which at firſt view ſeem the moſt different from our own, have in reality a great analogy with them.

What more particularly ſuggeſted this thought to me, was an account which a gentleman, who was lately returned from China, gave, in a company where I happened to be preſent, of a pleaſure held in high eſteem, and extremely practiſed by that luxurious nation. He told us that the Tickling of the Ears was one of the moſt exquiſite ſenſations known in China; and that the delight adminiſtered to the whole frame, through this organ, could by an able and ſkilful Tickler be raiſed to whatever degree of extaſy the patient ſhould deſire.

The company, ſtruck with this novelty, expreſſed their ſur⯑prize, as is uſual on ſuch occaſions, firſt by a ſilly ſilence, and then by many ſilly queſtions. The account, too, coming ſo far as from China, raiſed both their wonder and their curioſity, much more than if it had come from any European country, and opened a larger field for pertinent queſtions. Among others, the gentleman was aſked, whether the Chineſe ears and fingers had the leaſt reſemblance to ours; to which having anſwered in the affirmative, he went on thus: "I peceive I have excited your curioſity ſo much by mentioning a cuſtom unknown to you here, that I believe it will not be diſagreeable if I give you a particular account of it.

"This pleaſure, ſtrange as it may ſeem to you, is in China reckoned almoſt equal to any that the ſenſes afford. There is not an ear in the whole country untickled; and the Ticklers have, in their turn, others who tickle them; inſomuch that there is a circulation of Tickling throughout that vaſt empire. And if by chance there be ſome few unhappy enough not to find Ticklers, or ſome Ticklers clumſy enough not to find buſineſs, they comfort themſelves at leaſt with ſelf-titillation.

"This profeſſion is one of the moſt lucrative and conſider⯑able ones in China, the moſt eminent performers being either [172]handſomely requited in money, or ſtill better rewarded by the credit and influence it gives them with the party tickled; inſomuch that a man's fortune is made as ſoon as he gets to be Tickler to any conſiderable Mandarine.

"The Emperor, as in juſtice he ought, enjoys this plea⯑ſure in it's higheſt perfection; and all the conſiderable people contend for the honour and advantage of this employment, the perſon who ſucceeds the beſt in it being always the firſt favourite and chief diſpenſer of his imperial power. The principal Mandarines are allowed to try their hands upon his Majeſty's ſacred ears; and, according to their dexterity and agility, com⯑monly riſe to the poſts of firſt miniſters. His wives, too, are admitted to try their ſkill; and ſhe, among them, who holds him by the ear, is teckoned to have the ſureſt and moſt laſting hold. His preſent imperial Majeſty's ears, as I am informed, are by no means of a delicate texture, and conſequently not quick of ſenſation; ſo that it has proved extremely difficult to nick the tone of them: the lighteſt and fineſt hands have urterly failed; and many have miſcarried who, from either fear or reſpect, did not treat the royal ears ſo roughly as was neceſſary. He began his reign under the hands of a bungling operator, who for his clumſineſs he ſoon diſmiffed; he was afterwards attempted by a more ſkilful Tickler, but he ſometimes failed too; and, not being able to hit the humour of his majeſty's ears, his own have often ſuffered for it.

"In this publick diſtreſs, and while majeſty laboured under the privation of auricular joys, the Empreſs, who by long ac⯑quaintance, and frequent little trials, judged pretty well of the texture of the royal ear, reſolved to undertake it; and ſuc⯑ceeded perfectly, by means of a much ſtronger friction than others durſt either attempt or could imagine would pleaſe.

"In the mean time, the ſkilful Mandarine, far from being diſcouraged by the ill ſucceſs he had ſometimes met with in his attempts upon the Emperor's ears, reſolved to make himſelf amends upon his imperial conſort's: he tried, and he pre⯑vailed; he tickled her majeſty's ear with ſuch perfection, that as the Emperor would truſt his ear to none but the Empreſs, ſhe would truſt her's to none but this light-fingered Mandarine, who by theſe means attained to unbounded and uncontrouled power, and governed ear by ear.

"But as all the Mandarines have their Ear-Ticklers too, with the ſame degree of influence over them, and as this Man⯑darine was particularly remarkable for his extreme ſenſibility in thoſe parts, it is hard to ſay from what original titillation the imperial power now flows."

The concluſion of the gentleman's ſtory was attended with [173]the uſual interjections of wonder and ſurprize from the com⯑pany: ſome called it ſtrange, ſome odd, and ſome very comi⯑cal; and thoſe who thought it the moſt improbable, I found by their queſtions were the moſt deſirous to believe it. I ob⯑ſerved, too, that while the ſtory laſted, they were moſt of them trying the experiment upon their own ears, but without any viſible effect that I could perceive.

Soon afterwards, the company broke up, and I went home; where I could not help reflecting, with ſome degree of wonder, on the wonder of the reſt; becauſe I could ſee nothing extra⯑ordinary in the power which the ear exerciſed in China, when I conſidered the extenſive influence of that important organ in Europe. Here, as in China, it is the ſource of both pleaſure and power; the manner of applying it is only different. Here the titillation is vocal; there it is manual: but the effects are the ſame; and, by the bye, European ears are not always un⯑acquainted, neither, with manual applications.

To make out the analogy I hinted at, between the Chineſe and ourſelves in this particular, I will offer to my readers ſome inſtances of the ſenſibility and prevalency of the ears of Great Britain.

The Britiſh ears ſeem to be as greedy and ſenſible of titil⯑lation, as the Chineſe can poſſibly be; nor is the profeſſion of an Ear-Tickler here any ways inferior or leſs lucrative. There are three ſorts: the Private Tickler, the Publick Tickler, and the Self-Tickler.

Flatrery is of of all methods the ſureſt to produce that vi⯑bration of the air which affects the auditory nerves with the moſt exquiſite titillation: and, according to the thinner or thicker texture of thoſe organs, the flattery muſt be more or leſs ſtrong. This is the immediate province of the Private Tickler, and his great ſkill conſiſts in tuning his flattery to the ear of his patient: it were endleſs to give inſtances of the in⯑fluence and advantages of thoſe artiſts who excel in this way.

The buſineſs of a Publick Tickler is to modulate his voice, diſpoſe his matter, and enforce his arguments, in ſuch a man⯑ner as to excite a pleaſing ſenſation in the ears of a number or aſſembly of people: this is the moſt difficult branch of the profeſſion, and that in which the feweſt excel; but to the few who do, it is the moſt lucrative, and the moſt conſiderable. The bar has at preſent few proficients of this ſort; the pulpit none: the ladder, alone, ſeems not to decline.

The Self-Tickler is as unhappy as contemptible: for, hav⯑ing none of the talents neceſſary for tickling of others, and conſequently not worth being tickled by others neither, he is reduced to tickle himſelf; his own ears alone receive any titil⯑lation [174]from his own efforts. I know an eminent performer of this kind, who, by being nearly related to a ſkilful publick Tickler, would fain ſet up for the buſineſs himſelf; but has met with ſuch repeated diſcouragements, that he is reduced to the mortifying reſource of ſelf-titillation, in which he commit [...] the moſt horrid exceſſes.

Beſides the proofs above-mentioned of the influence of the ear in this country, many of our moſt common phraſes and ex⯑preſſions —from whence the genius of a people may always be collected—demonſtrate, that the ear is reckoned the principal and moſt predominant part of our whole mechaniſm. To have the ear of one's prince, is underſtood by every body, to mean the having a good ſhare of his authority, if not the whole; which plainly hints how that influence is acquired.

To have the ear of the firſt miniſter, is the next, if not an equal, advantage; I am therefore not ſurprized, that ſo con⯑ſiderable a poſſeſſion ſhould be ſo frequently attempted, and ſo eagerly ſolicited, as we may always obſerve it is. But I muſt caution the perſon who would make his fortune in this way, to confine his attempt ſtrictly to the ear in the ſingular number; a deſign upon the ears, in the plural, of a firſt miniſter, being for the moſt part rather difficult and dangerous, however juſt.

To give ear to a perſon, implies giving credit, being con⯑vinced, and being guided by that perſon; and all this by the ſucceſs of his endeavours upon that prevailing organ.

To lend an ear is ſomething leſs, but ſtill intimates a will⯑ingneſs and tendency in the lender to be prevailed upon by a little more tickling of that part. Thus, the lending of an ear is a ſure preſage of ſucceſs to a ſkilful Tickler. For example, a perſon who lends an ear to a miniſter ſeldom fails of putting them both in his power ſoon afterwards; and when a fine wo⯑man lends an ear to a lover, ſhe ſhews a diſpoſition at leaſt to farther and future titillation.

To be deaf and ſtop one's ears, are common and known ex⯑preſſions to ſignify a total refuſal and rejection of a perſon or propoſition; in which caſe I have often obſerved the manual application to ſucceed by a ſtrong vellication or vigorous per⯑cuſſion of the outward membranes of the ear.

There cannot be a ſtronger inſtance of the great value that has always been ſet upon theſe parts, than the conſtant manner of expreſſing the utmoſt and moſt ardent deſire people can have for any thing, by ſaying they would give their ears for it: a price ſo great, that it is ſeldom either paid or required; wit⯑neſs the numbers of people actually wearing their ears ſtill, who in juſtice have long ſince forfeited them.

Over head and ears, would be a manifeſt pleonaſmus, the head being higher than the ears, were not the ears reckoned [175]ſo much more valuable than all the reſt of the head, as to make it a true climax.

It were unneceſſary to mention, as farther proofs of the im⯑portance and dignity of thoſe organs, that pulling, boxing, or cutting off the ears, are the higheſt inſults that cholerick men of honour can either give or receive: which ſhews that the ear is the ſeat of honour, as well as of pleaſure.

The anatomiſts have diſcovered that there is an intimate correſpondence between the palm of the hand and the ear, and that a previous application to the hand communicates itſelf in⯑ſtantly, by the force and velocity of attraction, to the ear, and agreeably prepares that part to receive and admit of titillation. I muſt ſay, too, that I have known this practiſed with ſucceſs upon very conſiderable perſons of both ſexes.

Having thus demonſtrated, by many inſtances, that the ear is the moſt material part in the whole mechaniſm of our ſtruc⯑ture, and that it is both the ſeat and ſource of honour, power, pleaſure, and pain; I cannot conclude without an earneſt ex⯑hortation to all my country-folks, of whatſoever rank or ſex, to take the utmoſt care of their ears. Guard your ears, O ye princes, for your power is lodged in your ears!—Guard your ears, ye nobles, for your honour lies in your ears!—Guard your ears, ye fair, if you would guard your virtue!—And guard your ears, all my fellow-ſubjects, if you would guard your liberties and properties!

THE NINE LIVES OF A CAT.

"HE has as many Lives as a Cat," ſaid a gentleman the other day in company, ſpeaking of his friend, who had run through a perpetual courſe of riot and debauchery, and had juſt recovered from a violent fever occaſioned by his intem⯑perance. The thought ſtruck me, that too many, indeed, ſeem to be as regardleſs of their preſent exiſtence as if they imagined they could die more than once. I purſued my thought ſtill farther; and concluded, that the greateſt part of mankind, were they even poſſeſſed of as many Lives, we will ſay, as a Cat, would be indifferent to them all; at leaſt, they would wantonly throw away the eight, however careful and ſtudious ſome of them might be to preſerve the laſt.

Suppoſe a man, then, to have as many Lives as a Cat: let us ſee what glorious uſe he would make of this extraordinary privilege. Muſt it not be a great incitement to him to ha⯑zard them repeatedly upon honourable and virtuous occaſions? I grant it: and it muſt likewiſe be granted to me, that they [176]would equally be laviſhed away upon trivial, diſhonourable, and wicked occaſions.

Alexander, had he had nine times Nine Lives to loſe, would have riſqued every jot of them to conquer as many worlds. Let me aſk, whether the King of Pruſſia, or the Marquis of Granby, would not as chearfully run the ſame hazard? But would— and — (O that Engliſhmen could not fill the blanks up!) have done the ſame? Perhaps they might have ventured ſome portion of their precious Lives; perhaps they might have poured out ſome part of the vapid mixture, drop by drop, ſtill careful of the laſt dregs: they, perhaps, like the miſer who plays for gain, might have been tempted to ſtake a little of their fortune; but could never have been prevailed on, like the bold and generous gameſter, to throw for, the whole. They, in fine, would ſcarcely have ſet (to borrow an expreſſion of Shakeſpeare) "even one of their Nine Lives on the hazard of the die."

On the other ſide, let us take a view of theſe brethren of the blade, to whom the one Life, which is ſparingly beſtowed on us mortals, ſeems ſcarce worth the having. I ſuppoſe it to appear ſo to them, from their readineſs to reſign it themſelves, or to take it away from others, upon any occaſion; or, if you will, (in the Hibernian phraſe) upon no occaſion at all. One inſtance ſhall ſerve for all. Suppoſe there are eighteen Lives between us: I tread upon your toe; ſatisfaction is demanded, and is honourably given by your firing at my brains, which are miſſed. We have Lives enough to ſpare; and you have a noſe leſt for me to pull: I handle it; in conſequence, I fire at your brains, and cannot hit them. What, then, is to be done? Why, nothing is to be done: only you are to kick me; that is all. I turn about, draw my ſword; and, like men of ho⯑nour, we muſt each of us loſe one of our Nine Lives before we part friends. I am, indeed, ſenſible, that the punctilios of nice honour would induce the profeſſors of it to aſk this gen⯑man-like queſtion before the engagement—"Pray, Sir, how many Lives have you to loſe?" And there is no doubt, upon a diſparity, that the ſeconds would take care that the princi⯑pals ſhould be ſo far upon an equality, that the longeſt-to-be-liver ſhould be firſt put to death, as often as was ne⯑ceſſary, till the combatants were in that reſpect at par.

It muſt, undoubtedly, be allowed me, where the antago⯑niſts are equal, or made equal by the foregoing method, that one or other of the parties would Nine times kill, or Nine times be killed, provided he has reaſon to cry out, with Othello—

[177]The bravery of a man fighting a duel with himſelf, without ſecond or antagoniſt, vulgarly called ſelf-murder, is frequently manifeſted even in our preſent ſtate of exiſtence, where we have but one Life to loſe. It muſt therefore be granted, on the ſuppoſition of our Lives being multiplied to Nine, that ſui⯑cide would become a general faſhion among us; though, in eight inſtances out of Nine, it would betray a meanneſs of ſpirit. We ſhould never be induced to believe a man was tired of himſelf in real earneſt, though he had got rid of himſelf ever ſo often, except he fairly ſent himſelf out of the world for the Ninth and laſt time.

Let us ſuppoſe, for inſtance, that a man of quality has [...]ad a run of ill-luck at the hazard-table, to be ſure he would ſhoot himſelf through the head directly. Upon his reviving, he tries his fortune a ſecond time; and is reduced to the neceſſity of running himſelf through the heart. After his recovery, he is obliged repeatedly to make uſe of the ſame, or other methods, that the loſſes of his Lives may be even with the loſſes of his eſtate. Would not this unhaſty behaviour ſhew a love for his precious Lives, ſince he would not put an end to all Nine of them directly, one after another?

To prove ſuch behaviour to be quite mean and vulgar, let us farther ſuppoſe that a cobler jerks his awl up between the third and fourth rib—(I kill my heroes with the ſame preciſion as is uſed by Homer)—a barber takes a clean ſtroke juſt under the chin; a taylor "makes his quietus with a bare bodkin:" I ſhall have my ſhoes heel-pieced, my beard ſhaved, and my doublet mended, notwithſtanding. The alluſion is too obvi⯑ous about the end and the laſt: but I hope to be indulged on this ſubject in conſidering my taylor, not without propriety, as only the Ninth part of a man.

Many, many inſtances, might be thought of, to evince that a man, endowed with the Lives of a Cat, would get quit of the incumbrance of ſupernumerary ones as faſt as poſſible. Take a lover, for example: without a metaphor, he would be ſo much enamoured as, literally, to die many times for the ſame or ſome other miſtreſs. We will ſuppoſe (what is mere ſuppoſition) a conſtant enamorato—upon the leaſt flight or in⯑difference, ſuch as a frown, or a box on the ear, my ſwain hur⯑ries away to Roſamond's Pond: after drowning, he riſes up to⯑lerably cooled. On another occaſion, he ſurveys the trees in the Dark Walk at Vauxhall, picks out a ſtout branch, and with the leiſure of your true lover's melancholy unties his garters; at the laſt he tucks himſelf up, and dangles till a hap⯑py pair comes in his way, and he is cut down. The lady, after all this proof of his affection, is ſtill ſtony hearted. He dies, [178]and dies on, for her; and, having put himſelf out of eight of his exiſtences, can he be blamed if he reſerves the precious one ſtill remaining for a beauty, or a fortune, or a woman of quality—or his maid?

Suppoſe again, (for there can be no end of ſuch-like ſuppo⯑ſitions) that I am an author: my works, indeed, I flatter my⯑ſelf, will live after me; but, though I had all the Lives of a Cat, through each of them I might lead the life of a dog. My garret (we will ſay) has inſpired me to ſoar ſo high as to attempt a ſublime ode, or epick poem. I am let down by it's want of ſale. The beam acroſs my chamber is very inviting; and, at leaſt, the bed-cords are remaining. I am afterwards lowered to humble proſe. My publiſher will not afford me ſmall-beer; and I chuſe to have my fill of water by a plunge into the River Thames. After ſinking and ſoaring for eight times alternate⯑ly, I at laſt ſit down contented in a gaol, to ſupply copy, ſcrap by ſcrap, as the printer's little imp calls for it; ſince, as the proverb has it, "he muſt needs go whom the Devil drives."

I ſhall ſay very little of the bold methods which bucks and bloods would take delight in to ſhorten their Lives, were they ever ſo many; for theſe are obvious, and continually practiſed, even in the preſent narrow ſpace of their exiſtence. How often would a choice ſpirit, for example, be literally dead drunk; Would he ſcruple to lay his Lives down one after the other, under the table, as long as he could be certain he ſhould riſe up, and ſtand upon his legs again? The debauchee of every character would, doubtleſs, be as haſty to get rid of his load of Lives, as he is at preſent neglectful in preſerving his ſingle one.

Upon this principle of each individual enjoying a multipli⯑city of Lives, let us farther conſider, how a nation, or ſociety, or community of them, might exiſt. It may, I know, be urged, that Fielding himſelf, and all the ſitting aldermen put together, would not be ſufficient to ſupport the police. A man, you will ſay, would riſque being hanged eight different times for eight different capital offences, reſolving to be very honeſt afterwards for the remainder of his Lives. Granted. But in ſuch a caſe, it is moſt probable, that the wiſdom of the legiſla⯑ture would direct that a convict ſhould be ſentenced to be hanged, like a Cat, till he were dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead!

I went to bed, after having written thus far, reflecting, that no man ſhould be entitled to a ſecond exiſtence—I mean in our mortal ſtate—without having made a proper uſe of the firſt. This reflection was ſo ſtrongly impreſſed upon my [179]mind, that T'was able to employ the ſucceeding morning in ſet⯑ting down the particulars of a dream occaſioned by it.

I imagined that every one was indulged with a privilege, after death, of having his exiſtence renewed; but with this reſtriction, that he could prove that he had not forfeited his former Life by not ſetting a proper value on it. I accordingly conceived myſelf in a ſort of court of claims; where a number of us were brought by Death, in order to be examined about our pretenſions to be revivified. The ſight of the crowd ſtruck me with horror: ſome appeared to be covered with blains and blotches; ſome quite emaciated; and ſome with bloated carcaſes. One bore the marks of a tight knot under the left ear; another had his ſcull ſhattered to pieces; and an⯑other had a great gaſh in his ſide. Milton's deſcription of a lazar-houſe falls far ſhort of what I then thought I ſaw.

Truth and Juſtice were the examinants; and the candidates for a new life underwent a ſtrict ſcrutiny. The firſt that I ob⯑ſerved was called before them, ſtepped up with a bold air, and claimed a new exiſtence on account of his having died for his country. The plea was not approved of; for a common ſol⯑dier, who had fallen in the ſame battle, depoſed that he him⯑ſelf ſhot him in an engagement where the enemy was inferior, at the inſtant that this commander had ordered a retreat. The ſoldier was directly reinſtated into Life.

A jolly perſonage was next examined; and he pretended that he was accidentally choaked by a turtle-fin; though the newſ⯑papers had falſely attributed his death to an apoplectick ſit. It being proved upon him that he had dined the day before, and eat heartily upon turbot and veniſon, and that he had drank plentifully of old hock and claret, the court [...]ecreed that he died of a ſurfeit, and refuſed to indulge him in any more good living.

A mere ſkeleton crawled up next, and declared that he only wiſhed to be made alive again for the ſervice of the fair ſex. From his examination it was manifeſt that he had ſpent his life in and about Covent-Garden. He was adjudged, upon his own plea, unfit to exiſt again.

The next was an old decrepid figure, ſeemingly worn down with age and cares. His [...]uit for the renewal of his Life was, in compaſſion to him, rejected; becauſe it plainly appeared that he had already dragged out a moſt miſerable one, and had actually died of want in the midſt of abundance. His ſon put in a petition for his re-exiſtence at the very ſame time; ſetting forth, that he was reduced, by the mean ſpirit of his father, to die an untimely death at Tyburn. The compaſſion of the court in not ſuffering him to live again was alſo extended to [180]the young gentleman, on account of his tender years; there being little doubt but that he would come to the ſame untimely end, let his Lives be renewed ever ſo often.

A blunt young fellow, not leſs than ſix feet high, next in⯑ſiſted upon being reſtored to Life. Another of the ſame make, and for the ſame reaſon, inſiſted upon the like. They had each of them, in the honourable way, put each other to death. It was determined, upon hearing both parties ſeparately, that neither of them ſhould run the riſque of being put to death again, as neither of them would allow that the other deſerved to live.

A horrid ſpectacle next preſented itſelf: he moſt earneſtly requeſted to enjoy again that being which, he confeſſed, he had raſhly and deſperately got rid of. His requeſt was not grant⯑ed; becauſe it was certain that the ſame would be repeated upon the ſlighteſt occaſion.

I obſerved, in imagination, even ſome ladies of quality, who wiſhed to have their beauty renewed, together with their Lives: moſt of them had died at publick places, where they went for the recovery of their health.

My dream was put an end to all of a ſudden, by being my⯑ſelf ſummoned up to give a reaſon why I ſhould be glad to exiſt again. I pleaded guilty; and awaked, upon ſentence being pro⯑nounced, that I ſhould ſtarve again as an author.

A MODERN JUSTICE OF PEACE. DRAWN FROM THE LIFE.

MY motto is a true and genuine ſpecimen of the profound learning of a modern Juſtice; and to whom Shak⯑ſpeare's Shallow was not fit to hold a candle: it was an order from one of that learned body to his bookſeller, to ſend him the acts relating to a Juſtice of Peace; and doth ſufficiently diſplay his capacity of judging of the laws, and deciding the diffe⯑rences and diſputes among his Majeſty's good ſubjects. And there can be, I think, no doubt, but as ſoon as he got the Ax, he hewed the laws with wonderful ſkill and ability. How many ſuch worſhipful magiſtrates there are in the kingdom, I can⯑not pretend to ſay; but whoever will look back for thirty years paſt, will confeſs, that there hath, within that time, been a very extraordinary alteration in the general juſticeſhip of this kingdom.

Gentlemen of honour and fortune, in their ſeveral counties, uſed to be appointed, and thought it no diſgrace to act as [181]Juſtices: but ſince faction hath ſhed it's baneful inflúence, and every thing hath been carried by the current of corruption; ſince party-zeal, and a ready ſubſerviency to miniſterial mea⯑ſures, have been thought the moſt neceſſary qualifications for a magiſtrate; and ſince a lower ſet of people, as being pro⯑pereſt for ſuch ſiniſter purpoſes, have been advanced to the ſeat of juſtice, gentlemen of honour and fortune have, in general, not caring for ſuch work, or ſuch company, declined acting. And it is very remarkable that, as within that period the general adminiſtration of Juſtice throughout the kingdom hath ſunk into the hands of a lower claſs of people; ſo, within that time alſo, the power of a Juſtice hath roſe and been pro⯑portionably increaſed.

Great power being, on ſuch principles, and for ſuch pur⯑poſes, thus lodged in little minds, is it to be wondered at, if many of them ſhould turn Juſtice into a trade; or if ſome of them ſhould be ſo illiterate as not to be able to read? What a droll ſcene it muſt be, and what a fund of mirth it muſt afford, to ſee his worſhip, Auguſtus Peas, ſitting in the chair of ma⯑giſtracy, and hear him learnedly diſcuſſing the laws, and de⯑ciding Juſtice! While I was conſidering what a comical farce it would make, and was muſing on the drollery of the ſcene, I inſenſibly fell aſleep; when mimick Fancy, ever buſy, purſued the ſubject, and preſented to me the following ſarce.

Methought I ſaw his worſhip, Auguſtus Peas, ſitting in an elbow-chair, at the head of a long table, with a book, pen, ink, and paper, thereon; and a group of people, men and women, attending at the lower end thereof; when his worſhip bade a boy ſtep to the ſtable, and tell John Scrub to come im⯑mediately: John, with his ſhort cropt hair and dirty frock, preſently came in, took his ſeat by his worſhip, and laid hold of the pen and ink. Then Mr. Auguſtus, with great ſolem⯑nity, ſaid—"Maſter Conſtable, what defence hath been com⯑mitted? What crime hath been diſturbed? And how hath his Majeſty's peas been broke and vindicated?"

An pleaſe your honour's worſhip, here is one Mary Blabtruth hath loſt a ſmock; and ſays that Dorothy Lightfinger hath ſtolen it: an ſo, an pleaſe you, I have brought them both before your worſhip.

A ſmock ſtolen! Why, that's down⯑right forjury by law. Bring the complainant, Dorothy Light⯑finger, before me.

This is the woman, an pleaſe your worſhip.

Huſſy! how came you to have the ſire of God before your eyes, and ſteal the woman's ſmock? You are an equitous baggage, and will be hanged!"

An pleaſe your worſhip, I did not ſteal her ſmock.

Why, how now! here's the woman con⯑feſſes ſhe did not ſteal the ſmock. Where's the defendant, Mary Blabtruth?

Here ſhe is, an pleaſe your worſhip.

How came you to diſcharge Dorothy Lightfinger with ſtealing your ſmock? for ſhe denies her in⯑nocence of it.

An pleaſe your worſhip, my ſmock was hanging on a gooſeberry-buſh in the garden, and I ſaw Do⯑rothy Lightfinger take it off with my own eyes."

An pleaſe your worſhip, there's no belief in what ſhe ſays; for—

Peas, woman! peas! I forbid you to hold your tongue!

Indeed, an pleaſe your worſhip, what I ſay is true: I looked through the kitchen-window, and ſaw her take it; for I was, at that very time, frying bacon for my huſband's dinner.

Frying bacon, woman! Was you frying bacon.

Yes, an pleaſe your worſhip, and ſome cabbage, for my huſband's dinner; he deſired me.

Where is this woman's huſband?

Here, an pleaſe your worſhip.

Did you deſire your wife to fry bacon for your dinner?

Yes, an pleaſe your worſhip, with ſome cabbage.

Here's a plot found out! Here's a miſ⯑covery! Why, frying bacon is a high miſdammer by law; and you ſhall both go to the girlhouſe, and be hanged!—Maſter Conſtable, take them into curſetoday.—And do you, John Scrub, make out their mittamouſe; for they ſhall go to goal this inſtance!

What would your worſhip pleaſe to have done with Dorothy Lightfinger?

O charge her, and let her go about her baſeneſs.

Methought John made out the mittimus, and the conſtable carried off the bacon-friers, and the reſt of the company were ſent away; and while I was wondering what his worſhip could mean by committing the man and his wife for frying bacon, the ſcene changed, and a court of judicature, with all it's for⯑malities, preſented itſelf: the judge was ſitting on the bench, [183]and a numerous body of black gowns, and others, attending; and Mr. Auguſtus Peas came into court, and ſeated himſelf not far from his Lordſhip; when the trial of Thomas and Mary Blabtruth, for frying bacon, was called. "For frying bacon!" quoth the judge. "What is the meaning of this? I never heard that frying bacon was a crime, or againſt law, before! Who committed theſe perſons?"

I committed them, my lord; it is againſt law, and a high miſdammer.

Pray, Mr. Juſtice, ſhew me that law; for I never heard of ſuch a one in all my life.

Here is the book, my lord, and here is the place! Giving the book to his lordſhip.

The Judge, having caſt his eye upon the page, burſt out into a loud laugh; and, with much ado for laughing, acquainted the court, that the law, which Mr. Auguſtus had taken to be againſt frying bacon, was that againſt firing a beacon; which put the whole court into ſuch a loud "Ha, ha!" as awaked me.

CURIOUS INVESTIGATION OF THE RIGHT TO EAT. FOUNDED ON PAINE'S RIGHTS OF MAN.

WHETHER from timidity or prudence, the author of "Rights of Man" has not carried his principles to their fair extent. He has left untouched a thouſand rights neceſſa⯑rily flowing from the impreſcriptible and unalienable equality of man in ſociety. The right to eat, for example, is at leaſt as natural and impreſcriptible as the right to legiſlate; it is ſomewhat more neceſſary, and of as ancient and divine origi⯑nal; and when dreſſed out in a philoſophical uniform, makes, in my opinion, juſt as good a figure. Man is an organized entity whoſe vitality conſiſts in the action and re-action of ſolid and fluid parts according to the laws of animal motion, which re⯑quire to be frequently ſupplied and renewed by the adſcitition of elements taken into the mouth, maſticated by the teeth, in⯑gurgitated by the gullet, received into the ſtomach; and there, by trituration, fermentation, and the reſt of the chemico-me⯑chanical proceſs of digeſtion, prepared and aſſimilated for the purpoſe of continuing animality; and without which, by the natural and impreſcriptible laws of animation, life muſt ceaſe; the right therefore to eat is "one of thoſe natural rights which appertain to man in right of his exiſtance;" "one of thoſe [184]which he muſt retain in ſociety, becauſe the power to execute it is as perfect in the individual as the right itſelf. It is alſo as ancient and of as divine original as that greateſt of all truths the unity or equality of man," and certainly as "advan⯑tageous to cultivate."—"And God ſaid, Behold I have given you every herb bearing ſeed which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree on the which there is the fruit of a tree yielding ſeed: to you it ſhall be for meat."—" Here we are got at the origin of man, and the origin of his rights: how the world has been governed from that day to this is no concern of ours; every civil right grows out of a natural right, and can⯑not invade thoſe natural rights in which the power to execute is as perfect as the right itſelf." Hence it follows, that the man who appropriates to himſelf a greater quantity of the food given by God equally to all, than is neceſſary for his own conſump⯑tion, acts in defiance of the natural impreſcriptible equal rights of man; and that he who goes into the kitchen or larder of this invader of his natural rights, and ſeizes upon what he wants, acts in ſtrict conformity to thoſe rights which ſociety cannot invade; and as to the laws againſt theft or burglary, they are not only in contradiction with the unalienable equal rights of man, but were made by men who having ceaſed to be, have no longer any authority in directing how the government of the world ſhall be organized or adminiſtered. It is the liv⯑ing and not the dead that are to be accomodated; the rights of the living cannot be willed away by the manuſcript authority of the dead!

THE ART OF KICKING.

WHEN I took on me the province of a publick writer, I was reſolved, to the beſt of my poor capacity, to make my works entertaining as well as inſtructive to my readers; in order to which, I judged it would be abſolutely neceſſary not to dwell too long on the ſubject. Man, as well as woman, delights in variety; and the mind, as well as the palate, muſt have change of diet. The "quicquid agunt homines," is, in⯑deed, a large field for wit and ſatire to exerciſe themſelves on; but often, of late, when I had choſen my ſubject, and ſat down with a deſign of communicating my thoughts on it, I found, on recollection, that I had been anticipated by ſome other au⯑thors who had lived before me.

The Spectator, of moral and facetious memory, reformed the periwigs, the canes, and the ſword-knots, of the fops; no [...], he tripped up their red heels, if I may be allowed that expreſ⯑ſion. As to the fair-ſex, he handled them from head to foot; not a part about a fine lady was left untouched. In a word, whenever I take up the Spectator, I am ready every minute to break out into the ſame exclamation that a poet of Gaſ [...]oigny uttered on reading over a beautiful ode of Horace. "D—n [219]theſe ancients!" ſays he, "they have ſtolen all my fine thoughts!"

Writers of ſuch univerſal talents may draw ſomething that is uſeful and entertaining from the moſt barren ſubject in na⯑ture. The Spectator, before-mentioned, has been very learned on dancing. We have had writers, of but a ſecond or third claſs in fame, who have had their excellence: a Baronet of North Britain has publiſhed a large quarto on the Art of Fencing; and a Baronet of Worceſterſhire has obliged the world with a treatiſe of immenſe erudition on the Gymnaſtick Science, or the Art of Wreſtling.

But no people come up to the Germans in their indefatigable induſtry for ſearching antiquity. What immenſe volumes of ancient learning have they reſcued from the cobwebs and ob⯑livion! How have they worked through the ruſt, of time, to make diſcoveries for the improvement of mankind! And with what infinite labour have they collected the valuable fragments ſcattered in different authors, on ſubjects of high importance to the learned world!

I have myſelf ſeen a hiſtory written by one of the German literati, entitled—"De Veterum Lucernis et Candelabris—Of the Lamps and Candleſticks of the Ancients." It is certain, we ſhould be groping in the dark in ſearch of many things be⯑longing to antiquity, had they not held lights to us. Another, who was as bright a genius as the former, was twenty years in compiling a treatiſe—"De Chirothecis et Ocreis—On Gloves and Boots."

I have been credibly informed by travellers, that there is a large folio manuſcript in the Elector Palatine's library—"De Miſeriis Ambulantium—On the Miſery of Walking on Foot;" in which there is a phyſical diſſertation on Corns. There are ſeveral volumes—"De Veterum Cultellis et Furcis—Of the Knives and Forks of the Ancients," written by one Vander⯑hackle, enriched with cuts; an art that has contributed very much to illuſtrate German wit. What need I mention the great Bamboozlebergius, who has made a collection—"De Mendaciis Antiquorum—Of the Lies of the Ancients?" which work, we hear, is ſhortly to be printed in Engliſh, for the im⯑provement and edification of the youth of this kingdom, a cer⯑tain great man having taken upon him to patronize it; ſo that I hope every perſon in employment will be obliged to ſubſcribe, under pain of being caſhiered.

I have likewiſe been informed, that there has been for ſeveral years, in the publick library at Ratiſbon, a moſt curious ma⯑nuſcript—"De Colophis et Caleationibus Veterum—Of the Kicks and Cuffs of the Ancients," written by the learned [220]Vanhoofius; and that a copy of this work was ſome years ago tranſmitted into England, to be laid up in the Royal Library of St. James's: that it was carefully reviſed and collated by the late learned Doctor Bentley, who has amended an error in the title; for he has proved, that the ſubſtantive Colophis muſt have been an interpolation of the tranſcriber; and, of conſe⯑quence, the true reading is—"De Calcationibus Veterum;" which he tranſlates thus—"Of the Kicks on the Arſe of the Ancients." This ſhews how learning muſt have ſuffered through the ignorance of tranſcribers, were it not for the ac⯑curacy of ſuch judicious criticks.

To confeſs the plain truth, I had a deſign of writing ſome⯑thing on this ſubject myſelf; and have already been at no ſmall pains in looking over the Cotton and Bodleian libraries. I do not know but it will be very well worth while to take a jour⯑ney to Rome, on purpoſe to conſult that of the Vatican: but I am a little too much confined at preſent; I therefore beg the aſſiſtance of the learned of both our univerſities, and I hope they will be ſo good as to communicate whatever diſcoveries they may have made on this ſubject in the courſe of their read⯑ing; and, as I ſhould be glad to enrich this work with the choiceſt flowers of antiquity, I intend to publiſh them here. It is a ſubject, if well handled, that muſt give great ſatisfaction to the curious; nay, I could wiſh the world was but well in⯑formed of ſome late truths concerning Kicking: I fancy it would contribute towards curing the ſpleen of the whole na⯑tion.

The ſtage is the repreſentation of the world; and, certainly, a man may know the humours and inclinations of the people by what is liked or diſliked on the ſtage; and I have often ob⯑ſerved a Kicking to be the moſt diverting ſcene in a modern comedy. We have had ſeveral poets of our own nation who have ſucceeded very well this way. There is a Kicking be⯑twixt Sir Harry Wildair and Alderman Smuggler, in the comedy called the Trip to the Jubilee; which is allowed by the ableſt criticks to be a maſter-piece of good writing: there is alſo a Kicking in the old Old Batchelor, and another in the Squire of Alſatia, which are excellently well penned.

Hitherto, indeed, theſe Kickings have been only the ſupport and ornament of the comick ſcene: I wiſh, with all my heart, ſome poet of a ſublime genius would venture to write a Kick⯑ing in a tragedy. I am well perſuaded, if an author were to introduce a king Kicking the firſt-miniſter, it would have a very good effect: ſuch an incident muſt certainly give great pleaſure to the audience, and contribute very much to the ſuc⯑ceſs of the play.

[221]But, to come nearer to my preſent purpoſe: I have taken no ſmall pains in examining authors, to find out when this cuſtom of Kicking firſt began in the world. I am ſorry that the writers of hiſtory have not been a little more particular in a matter of ſo great importance to mankind.

Some of the Roman Emperors—ſuch as Nero, Domitian, and Caligula—were given to Kicking: ſo, indeed, was our Harry the Eighth; he made nothing of Kicking the Houſe of Commons. There is a box on the ear recorded of Queen Elizabeth: it was a ſudden ſally of jealous love; it was but a kind of aigre douceur; and it does not appear that it was the faſhion of her court. The action of Kicking might be thought a little too robuſt for the delicacy of her ſex; it might have ex⯑poſed the royal legs, et coetera, to the ſneers of the young fel⯑lows of the court; therefore, ſhe modeſtly turned it into a box on the ear.

As no man can account how faſhions riſe and fall, who knows but the practice of Kicking on every trifling occaſion may be⯑come a faſhion in this kingdom? One of the greateſt wits of our nation has placed the ſeat of honour in a certain part of the body that I do not well know how to deſcribe. It is the part which we muſt not name in well-bred company; yet happy is the fair maid who ſhall riſe with that part uppermoſt in a morn⯑ing; good luck ſhall attend her; her lover ſhall be kind, and all the wiſhes of that day ſhall be crowned with ſucceſs: but, if I muſt deſcribe it ſtill plainer, it is the part where ſchool⯑boys are puniſhed for falſe concords, and for playing truant. If it ſhould, I ſay, become a faſhion, you would ſee a fellow at court, who had juſt received a moſt gracious Kick on that part, return as proud as a citizen from being knighted: and why may not the honour of knighthood be conferred this way, as well as by the ſword? And, indeed, why might not all titles be conferred this way?

Again, if you ſhould happen to ſee a crowd of ſlaves runn⯑ing to the levee of ſome court favourite in a morning, and any body ſhould aſk, how comes this man to be ſo courted, or ſo followed; the natural anſwer in this caſe would be—"He has been lately Kicked into preferment."

It might be turned to excellent uſe towards carrying on the deſigns of miniſters of ſtate, in caſe they ſhould happen to be purſuing meaſures apparently deſtructive to the liberties of their country; for, in this caſe, they muſt, for their own ſafety, be obliged to bribe the repreſentatives of the people; and, as they would certainly bribe with the people's money, not with their own, and as I ſhould think it a very right thing to ſave the publick money, I ſhould for that reaſon humbly propoſe, that [222]Kicking might be introduced into publick buſineſs, inſtead of bribing. I do not doubt that it might anſwer the ſame pur⯑poſes; for I am firmly of opinion, that whoever will take a bribe, will take a Kicking.

I believe, ſome examples may be brought where it has been made uſe of with ſucceſs: men, I ſay, have been Kicked as well as bribed into meaſures againſt their country; and, there⯑fore, it is not at all improbable but it may, ſome time or other, become a method of carrying on ſtate-affairs. If we ſhould live to ſee that day, young princes, inſtead of riding, fencing, and dancing, would have proper maſters provided to inſtruct them in Kicking; and, as he that undertook to eat a ſword began by eating a dagger, ſo a young adept ſhould begin by Kicking his hat, before he was put to Kick a man.

As to the young nobility and gentry, inſtead of waſting their youth in ſtudying to underſtand Horace and Virgil, they might be inſtructed to take a Kicking with a good grace; by which means you would ſee a polite nobility, a valiant gentry, a moſt pious dignified clergy, and a court that would be a conſtellation of the moſt illuſtrious perſonages of the kingdom.

There is a court of honour in all the countries of Europe. In France, the mareſchals or generals preſide in it. In Eng⯑land, the judge of the court of honour is hereditary in the fa⯑mily of the firſt duke of the kingdom. I ſhould think that the ceremonial of Kicking a man into a title, or a great employ⯑ment, might be ſettled by the judges of theſe courts of honour. If I might be worthy of adviſing in matters of ſo high a nature, I ſhould think it would be too great a fatigue for the prince himſelf to Kick the whole court, eſpecially in countries where the court is numerous. I am therefore of opinion, that no⯑body ſhould have the honour of being Kicked by the ſovereign, except the firſt miniſter, the principal ſecretaries of ſtate, the preſident of his councils, and ſome few others the great officers of the crown; but theſe might Kick thoſe next in employment under them, who might Kick the next; and ſo it might gra⯑dually deſcend, till there ſhould not be a man in any employ⯑ment in the kingdom but what might be Kicked.

It is not yet, indeed, become a cuſtom in any part of Eu⯑rope; the more is the pity! for I think it would be a truly royal exerciſe for a prince to divert himſelf with Kicking two or three of his miniſters every morning: it would contribute to the preſervation of his own health, as well as to mending the manners of his court; and I believe it would have become a faſhion ſome where or other, were it not that the young no⯑bility of all nations travel to France, and are apt to retain im⯑preſſions of what they ſee there. The barbarity of a French [223]education will not ſuffer a gentleman to take a Kick from any perſon, be he ever ſo great, without ſome terrible conſe⯑quences: but I hope that, in this nation, we may live to get the better of thoſe prejudices; which may have this good con⯑ſequence, it may introduce an elegance and politeneſs of man⯑ners not known in the world, except among the ancient Goths and modern Hottentots.

I may ſay, without vanity, that we are not ſuch barbarians, but there may be found among us ſome great men who can pocket up a Kick or a cuff with as good an air as they could a bribe; and as to thoſe ſplendid agitations of choler, which are apt to break out into "Rogue!" and "Raſcal!" I am cre⯑dibly informed, ſome very ſtately perſons are ſo uſed to them, that they receive them with the ſame countenance as—"Sir, I kiſs your hands!" This ſhews we are well diſpoſed for a re⯑formation of manners; yet I fear it will not grow into general imitation, unleſs the court ſhould ſet the example, which I am afraid will not happen: but if we ſhould live to ſee that day, the placemen muſt of courſe all fall into it; and I think it would be pleaſant enough, when a great employment became vacant, to ſee a parcel of impudent fellows, in lace and embroi⯑dery, preſſing and elbowing to be Kicked.

If the common people, who are not fond of new faſhions at their firſt riſe, ſhould diſcover any diſlike of coming into it, why might not a Standing Army be employed to Kick the whole nation?

CONJUGAL CASE OF A COUNTRY PHYSICIAN; OR, CAUTIONS TO OLD BATCHELORS.

I Am a phyſician; and as my caſe is very extraordinary, I mean to publiſh it for the benefit of the publick. When a man lives, as I did, unmarried till he is ſixty-one, he had better never marry at all. There are more ways by which a woman may torment her huſband beſides being jealous of him. To give you ſome idea of my ſituation, take the general outlines of my hiſtory. The earlieſt part of my life I ſpent at college in the ſtudy of phyſick; and, I don't know why, acquired the character of an odd learned fellow. When I arrived at the age of forty, a vacancy happened in the neighbourhood of my birth, and I was invited by my uncle to take upon me the infirmities of all the folks within the circle of twenty miles. Before I ſet out, I ordered the college-barber to make me what the wags called a Lion, or a Pomp [...]y; literally, nothing more than a good phyſical wig; under the ſhadow of which, by the aſſiſt⯑ance of a handſome cane, properly applied to the immoveable muſcles of my face, and a few very ſignificant ſhrugs and ſolemn nods, I ſoon acquired the reputation of an eminent phyſician. Fees came in apace; ſo that, in the courſe of twenty years, I had ſaved up more money than I really knew what to do with. Whether it was my learning, my perſon, or my money, I can't ſay; but a lady of the neighbourhood took a vaſt liking to ſomething belonging to me. I was not ſo blind but I ſaw the conqueſt; for ſhe would often come and ſpend a week to⯑gether with me: in ſhort, I married her—I was paſt the years of diſcretion, and ſo I married her. O what a condeſcenſion! A lady of her rank, family, and faſhion in life! As for age, indeed, ſhe was but ſix years younger than myſelf; and for for⯑tune, if ſhe ever had any, ſhe had ſpent it; and yet I was ſuch a fool, as to be convinced ſhe was conferring the greateſt obli⯑gation in the world upon me.

No ſooner did [...]e take upon her the management of my fa⯑mily, than adieu for [...]ver to all order, peace, and comfort. She began with diſcharging poor Jonas, becauſe he made ſo queer a figure in a long qu [...] and white ſtockings, which ſhe in⯑ſiſted upon his wearing, though the poor follow could not but laugh at himſelf. The ſame day, with Jonas, my old wig was diſcarded: it muſt be confeſſed it rather grew the worſe for wear. From long acquaintance, it had contracted ſuch a con⯑nection and familiarity, that it no longer kept that re [...]al diſtance from each ſide of my face which had at firſt ſo much diſtinguiſned it; I had, however, ſtill contiued it in ſer⯑vi [...]e. purely from this reflection, that the older it grew, the loſs [226]occaſion it had for combing. A new wig has been immedi⯑ately put on the ſhocks, with a feathered top and forked tail; ſince the arrival of which, I am never ſuffered to ſtir out, let the occaſion be ever ſo preſſing, before it is combed and pow⯑dered. Our prig of a new footman is ſo long in twiſting, and turning, and tickling it up, that a ſcore of patients have ex⯑pired, and the fees have been loſt, ere I was able to ſet out to re⯑lieve them

My ſnuff-coloured ſuit had been reinſtated every other year from a pattern that was left in the hands of an honeſt taylor on the neighbouring heath. He, poor fellow, was likewiſe forbid the houſe; becauſe, according to my directions, he made my cloaths eaſy. A more faſhionable operator was charged with preparing a new ſuit with gold button-holes: he made them to ſit ſo exactly, that I dare not bring my hands to meet before me, for fear of laying open my ſpinal bone.

My hat is not to be ſlapped any more, even though the ſun ſhine full in my face.

I am no longer ſuffered to waſh my face, according to cuſtom, every morning, at the pump in my back-yard, though nothing was more refreſhing; nor any thing more handy than the towel, which revolved on a roller at the back of the kitchen⯑door.

On my return home the other day from viſiting a patient, I found the maid had ſet my ſtudy to rights, as ſhe called it; but the conſuſion which the regularity has occaſioned is almoſt in⯑conceivable. My toe-pin, my ſhoeing-horn, and tobacco-ſtopper, are loſt for ever; my papers are diſpoſed in ſuch or⯑der, that I know not where to recur to any thing I want

Two pair of old Mancheſter velvet breeches, which I left on the back of a chair, have diſappeared; and inſtead of the eaſy ſlippers which I had made out of an old pair of ſhoes, by cutting the ſtraps off, I found a new pair of red leather, adorned with white ſtitches round the edges, and made ſo neat that, I can't bear to walk in them

My woollen night-cap is condemned, in company with my brown hoſe, to the vile purpoſe of rubbing the grates and ſenders; and my wife inſiſts that I wear one of linen, flounced on all ſides, adorned with a black ribband which, tying toge⯑ther the aperture within an inch and a half of the top, care⯑leſsly ſlows down on the ſide. I took ſuch a violent cold the firſt night, that it brought a defluxion of humours into my right eye, which very nearly deprived me of ſight

The ſtair-caſe and floors are all waxed: it ſaves the expence of mops, indeed; but I have ſuch falls, that I have almoſt diſlo⯑cated every joint about me.

[227]My neck is ſtretched out in ſuch a manner, that I am appre⯑henſive of having my throat out with the paſteboard.

When I remonſtrate on any of thoſe articles, ſhe ſtops my mouth by a kiſs, and ſays—"My dear angel! we muſt have ſome little regard to appearances."

She is, as I told you, but ſix years younger than myſelf; yet ſhe dreſſes, dances, and drives about, as if ſhe was but five-and-twenty.

This, however, and much more, I could bear; I deſerve it: I am contented ſhe ſhall conſume ſix-and-thirty yards more than my old maid Heſter in the ſpinning of her gown; ſhe may play a ſhilling a fiſh at quadrille; ſhe may do—aye, ſhe may do what ſhe pleaſes, let me have but my ſtudy to myſelf; let my night-cap and ſlippers he reſtored, and I will ſubmit to wear the new coat and the wig every Sunday.

P. S. I long to take poor Jonas again: he uſed always to ride before me; and, drunk or ſober, he knew the ſhorteſt way all over the country. What ſignifies whether one's foot⯑man wears a wig or his own hair? 'Tis true, he never blacked either my boots or his own.

ADVICE TO A YOUNG LADY, RESPECTING THE O [...]CONOMY OF HER HOUSE.

AS you are now tenant at will in a very handſome HOUSE, are capable of furniſhing it in the politeſt manner, and of ruling it by the ſtricteſt maxims of oeconomy and decorum, permit a friend to give a few curſory hints, in an affair of ſo much importance.

The Building, as you muſt be convinced, is compoſed of ſome of the fineſt materials that were ever beheld; and is of courſe extremely liable to diſcover every ſ [...] and ſpot that may affect it. It is erected of a proper beight, of a juſt [...], and on a regular plan, and finiſhed with the moſe [...]currat [...] pro⯑portions.

On the top ſtands an eminent Turret, furniſhed with a Room of a globular form; which, I obſerve, has two [...]yſial Windows in the front. Theſe are ſo conſtructed, and to be ex⯑ceedingly uſeful: they command an extenſive proſpect; and if always kept clean and bright, will prove a very great [...] to your Houſe. I adviſe you not to look through [...] object that paſſes by; to ſhut them ſoon [...] the, and to open them as early as poſſible in the morning. On each [...] of the Turret, I obſerve that there is a ſmall For [...] [...] com⯑pany; but take particular care that theſe wo [...]e [...] are guarded [228]by a proper centinel, and by no means ſuffered to ſtand open; as you will otherwiſe be perpetually crouded with Viſitors, and perhaps with many diſagreable ones. However, let theſe uſeful Portals never be ſhut againſt the adviſing Friend, the inſtructing Parent, or the ſupplicating Orphan. There is a ſingle Gate in the front, by which all your company is diſ⯑miſſed, and this ſhould in general be barred cloſe: it, is, indeed, ſo very publick, that you can hardly let out any Viſitor pri⯑vately; and you muſt be very careful that no ſuſpicious cha⯑racter be ſeen to quit it, leſt you draw a ſcandal on your Houſe. Whatever Company, therefore, may have forced their way into the Side-Portals, it will be neceſſary to lay the ſtrict⯑eſt injunctions of vigilance on the Two able Porters, who ſtand conſtantly before the ivory Palliſadoes, in a livery of the deepeſt ſcarlet. I have ſeen ſome Ladies paint the Two Pan⯑nels, juſt below the Windows of their Houſes; but I adviſe you to avoid that cuſtom, as the natural colours far exceed every decoration of art.

This part of the Edifice is ſupported by a Pillar of Corinthian Marble, the baſe of which is ornamented with a pair of Ala⯑baſter Semi-Globes; and over theſe it will be very proper to draw a fine lawn curtain.

Beneath theſe is the Great Hall, in which you have a ſmall Cloſet of exquiſite workmanſhip: this, I ſuppoſe, is the place of your ſecret retirement, open to none but yourſelf, and ſome approved friends: I adviſe you to keep this always clean; to furniſh it well; to make it a little library of the beſt practical authors; and to viſit it frequently, eſpecially when you return from church, or leave a circle of acquaintance whom you have met at the tea-table.

Let the outſide of your Hall not appear like a horſe hung round with [...]ſeutcheons, nor be like a coach of ſtate da [...]bed over with tinſel and colourings; but let it be plain and near, to convince the world that it is kept more for uſe than or⯑nament.

You are ſenſible, Miſs, that Time effaces the beauty, and demoliſhes the ſtrength, of the nobleſt ſtructures; and, there⯑fore, do not be alarmed on finding yours ſubject to the like change. Doubtleſs, it has often wanted repairs, though you have lived in it no longer; which is a plain intimation that the Houſe muſt in a few years fall. You may, indeed, ſoon be turned out; the Landlord may give you warning, or he may not; and, as all this is quite uncertain, be perpetually pre⯑pared, and then you need never be afraid of quitting it.

One thing I muſt not forget to obſerve: when you have once left your Houſe, no other human being will ever inhabit [229]it, but it will be waſte and in ruins; yet the Proprietor has pro⯑miſed ſome time or other to rebuild it, for your reception, in a more durable manner. But though it will then be conſtructed with the ſame materials, they are to be ſo refined and modified by the Great Architect, that the edifice will not be in future liable to any accident or decay; and, as it is abſolutely neceſ⯑ſary that your Habitation be reared in ſome other place, I hear⯑tily wiſh it may be ſituated in a finer country, under a milder climate, and on a ſpot not expoſed to thoſe pitileſs ſtorms, which injure, and too often deſtroy, the beſt contrived Build⯑ings in this ſublunary abode—ſince you muſt then take it for a term which will never expire!