MEMOIRS OF Mrs. PILKINGTON.

SO being entered on a new Scene, I proceed: I got as far as Cheſter; but, as it was Winter, the Stage Coach ſet out but once a Week, namely on Mon⯑day; and as I did not land till Tueſday, I had near a Week to ſtay at an Inn, an Expence my poor Pocket could not well afford. But Providence ſent me a timely Relief; for as I was ſitting with my Land⯑lady, by her Kitchen Fire, a Gentleman came in, who knew me; he was going to Ireland, and the Wind proving contrary, [2] he was a Fellow Priſoner, as I may call it, with me; and a very agreeable one he proved, for he never permitted me to pay a Farthing. My Landlady, who was really a Gentlewoman, and he, and I, di⯑verted away the Time with Ombre, Read⯑ing, and Pratling, very tolerably: And as the Gentleman knew my Misfortunes, and had known all my Family, he very gene⯑rouſly, and not without many Apologies, gave me three Guineas; a very ſeaſonable Aſſiſtance: Thus we may ſee, that

By this I was enabled to travel. I learned with great Pleaſure, that a Member of Par⯑liament and two Gentlemen of the Law, had taken Places in the Coach, and hoped for an agreeable Journey; but ſadly diſ⯑appointed I was, for certainly three ſuch Brutes I never ſaw; they affronted me every Moment, becauſe I was born in Ire⯑land; and I believe they had not the Cho⯑lick, for they made themſelves very eaſy: [3] But the worſt Circumſtance of all was, that they uſed to ſit up drinking all Night, and forced me to pay my Club for their Wine, though I never even ſaw it.

They were great Walpolians, and many a Trick in the Elections did they relate before me, taking it for granted that I was a Fool: At laſt, they very civilly de⯑manded of me, what Buſineſs I had to Lon⯑don? So, reſolving to divert myſelf, I told them, I was going there in hopes Sir Robert would marry me; this made them very merry, they laughed at my Folly, and I at theirs. At length we picked up a Welch Parſon, of whom I had the Ho⯑nour of making a Conqueſt, which afford⯑ed us great Entertainment, for about fifty Miles. I always permitted him to pay my Club; but, like a true Levite, he began to offer a little more of his Civility than I was willing to accept of; ſo, finding that would not do, he made me a Preſent of a Ginger-bread-nut, curiouſly wrapt up in white Paper, and after making me give him a Promiſe to write to him, he left us.

[4]As my Fellow-Travellers had obſerved his amorous Behaviour, and ſaw him de⯑liver his Preſent, they earneſtly requeſted to know what it was; ſo to oblige them, I ſhewed it. When we came to St. Al⯑bans, we were met by a Gentleman in a Coach and Six, whom they ſtiled the great Mr. Mid—ton, of Chirk-Caſtle in Denbigh⯑ſhire, who was related to them all; ſo they went into his Coach, and I got two Fe⯑male Companions. However, we all baited at the ſame Inn at Barnet, and this prodigious Man inſiſted on having the Ladies for his Gueſts; and, laying hold of my Hand, he ſwore that little Hibernian Nymph ſhould dine with him; ſo up Stairs we all went, where he entertained us with an Account of his ample Eſtate, ſaying, it was much larger than the Duke of Bedford's; but how unworthy he was to poſſeſs it, the Sequel will ſhew.

My Adventures with the Welch Parſon made him laugh very heartily; and he in⯑ſiſted on my keeping my Promiſe in writ⯑ing to him, aſſuring me he would take care [5] the Letter ſhould go ſafe. So, by way of Amuſement, I ſcribbled as follows:

[6]Mr. Mid—ton ſaid, he thought I could read Men as well as Sir Robert. But now

For our Grandee made us pay our Club! 'tis true, indeed, he writ ſomething to make me amends, which was this:

But really I never did, ſo we parted, and I never ſaw him more. The Sample he had given of the Narrowneſs of his Heart was ſufficient to diſguſt me; and tho' I am not fond of making national Reflections, yet I would of all things [7] never truſt a Welchman, leſt, as Falſtaff ſays of the Welch Fairy, he ſhould trans⯑form me into a Piece of toaſted Cheeſe.

At length I got to London, where, after having paid all Demands, I had three Guineas left, with which the next Day I took a Lodging in Berry-Street, St. James's.

I wrote to Ireland to no purpoſe it ſeemed; for I never got any Anſwer; ſo in a very ſhort Time I was in great Diſ⯑treſs, and knew not what to do. Having heard Mr. Ed—d W—p—le was a very humane Gentleman, I wrote to him, and he ſent me a Letter in return, wherein he promiſed to wait on me the next Evening, and accordingly came; nay, and ſate with me three Hours; at the End of which Time he told me, he did not know how he could poſſibly be of any Service to me. I told him I had ſome Poems, which I intended to print by Sub⯑ſcription, and if he would do me the Ho⯑nour of promoting it, it was all the Fa⯑vour I deſired.—He anſwered, if he undertook it, he ſhould certainly neglect [8] it; but however he would give me ſome Money; ſo he pulled out his Purſe, and took out five Guineas: Would not any Perſon have then thought themſelves ſure of them? but according to the old Pro⯑verb, Many a thing falls out between the Lip and the Cup; the Gentleman took a ſecond Thought, and put the Guineas in his Purſe again, aſſuring me, it was not convenient for him to part with them.

And, indeed, I believe he is a Beaſt without a Heart; for this is his conſtant Anſwer to every Perſon, as I have fre⯑quently obſerved, when thoſe whom he choſe for Friends and Companions wanted but the ſmalleſt Aſſiſtance from him. So he

On this I aroſe, and told him, as I perceived it was not in his Inclination to do [9] me any Service, I would no longer take up his important Time, and civilly diſ⯑miſſed him.

Mr. Dodſley ventured to print THE TRIAL OF CONSTANCY, by which I got about five Guineas, and a much greater Happineſs, the Favour and Friendſhip of the POET LAUREAT. I was adviſed to encloſe one of them to him, which I did, in as genteel a Letter as I knew how to write: The good Gentleman came to viſit me, and did me every Act of Friendſhip in his Power; it is to his un⯑wearied Zeal in my Behalf, that I owe that I yet live to thank him; for,

I muſt not here omit, that when the Poem was publiſhed, I encloſed two of them to Mr. W—lp—le, who wrote me a Letter of Thanks, and that was all: Mem. he owes me Two Shillings.

As I wanted to make Intereſt with the Great, I took a Lodging in St. James's [10] Street, exactly oppoſite to White's Choco⯑late-houſe, where happening to ſee Capt. Meade go in, I wrote over to him, and he was ſo kind to give me an Invitation to his Houſe, which was within a ſmall Mile from Hampton-Court, a delightful Walk through Buſhy-Park leading to it: This ſaved me a great deal of Expence: for as the Parliament was now broke up, London was quite empty, and Mr. Cibber being gone to Tunbridge, I could not, 'till the Return of Winter, hope to gain any Sub⯑ſcribers, ſo I went into the Country with great Pleaſure.

The Captain had a very ſweet Dwelling, a pretty Wife, and four lovely Children. We went to Church the following Sunday: Dr. Hales was Miniſter of the Pariſh, and it was cuſtomary with him, whenever he ſaw a Stranger in his Congregation, to pay them a Viſit; ſo, after Evening Prayer, we were honoured with his Company. Capt. Meade told him, I was his Siſter Parſon and Siſter Writer; a merry Sort of an Introduction. The Doctor aſked me, what I wrote? and the Captain an⯑ſwered [11] for me, that I was going to pub⯑liſh a Volume of Poems by Subſcription. I told the Doctor, my Writings might amuſe, but his made the World the wiſer and the better, as I had had the Pleaſure of reading them. I turned the Diſcourſe to Natural Philoſphy, on which the Doctor gave us an Invitation to a Courſe of Ex⯑periments the next Day. Tho' nothing I then ſaw was new to me, yet his Reflec⯑tions on every Object were, as by them he demonſtrated the Divinity; and, wrapt in holy Extaſy, he ſoared above this little terrene Spot, and, like a true High Prieſt, led his Auditors up to the Holieſt of Holies.

After this ſacred Banquet, with which my Soul was ſo elevated, that I could not avoid paying him my Acknowledgments in, I believe, an enthuſiaſtic Strain, we walked into the Garden, where we were entertained with ſome fine Fruit, Cream, Wine, &c. a rural Collation.

The Doctor aſked me, if I had any printed Propoſals for my Poems, to which he promiſed not only to ſubſcribe himſelf, but alſo to uſe his Intereſt for me; I told [12] him I had, and that I would give him ſome when I came to Prayers the next Morning.

But I could not ſleep all Night, ſo at Day-break I aroſe, and walked into Buſhy-Park; I ſat down by the Side of a fine Caſcade, and liſtened to the tunefully-fall⯑ling Waters ſo long, that methought they became vocal, and uttered articulate Sounds; 'till, lulled by them, I fell in⯑ſenſibly aſleep, when ſuddenly I imagined the Water-Nymph, to whom this Spring belonged, aroſe before me with a lovely Countenance, and a tranſparent azure Robe, and putting a Paper into my Hand, diſappeared. I thought I read it; and as I preſently awoke, I remembered all the Lines; ſo, having a Pencil and Sheet of Paper in my Pocket, I wrote them down.

After this pleaſing Reverie, I returned home, and had ſufficient Time to tranſ⯑cribe the Lines fair, and dreſs myſelf ere the Bell rung for Morning Prayer. As we were coming out of Church, I gave the Poem and ſome Propoſals, made up in a Pacquet, to the Doctor; who came in the Evening to viſit us, and brought an⯑other Clergyman with him, who was the Miniſter of Henley upon Thames; they both ſubſcribed to me, and took a good many of the Propoſals, which they diſpoſed of to Perſons of Diſtinction.

[17]So having got a little Money, and Capt. Meade being commanded on Duty to the Tower for ſix Months, we all came to London; where finding my Lodging emp⯑ty, I once more returned to St. James's.

My good Friend Mr. Cibber was my firſt Viſitor: He had got about four Gui⯑neas for me; and told me, he was aſſured, by a Gentleman of Ireland, who frequented White's, that my Huſband was a Poet, and that all I had to publiſh were only ſome Trifles I had ſtolen from him, which had greatly injured me: ‘"But (ſaid he) to ſet that Right, you muſt take ſome Subject, that has never yet been touched upon, dreſs it poetically, and ſend the Lines to White's."’ This was really a hard Taſk; but as my Credit was now at Stake, I was obliged to exert myſelf, and the next Day ſent him the following Lines.

This met with a very favourable Recep⯑tion, and Mr. Cibber ſhewed it to all the [21] Noblemen at White's, as a Means to engage them to ſubſcribe to me, which, to oblige him, many of them did; and, to make it public, Mr. Cibber inſerted it in a Pam⯑phlet of his own called the Egotiſt, or Colley upon Cibber.

The next Day a pleaſant droll Gentleman, who was ſo old that he had been Page to King James when he was Duke of York, inſiſted on Mr. Cibber's introducing him to me, which accordingly he did. This Gentleman, who was a Colonel in the firſt Regiment of Foot Guards, had by Nature all that Education gives to others; neither had his Years in the leaſt depreſt the Vi⯑vacity or Gallantry of his Spirit. He ſaid a thouſand witty Things in half an Hour, and at laſt, with as great Gravity as his comic Face would admit of, ſaid, that he wiſhed I would take him into Keep⯑ing. I anſwered, I had really never ſeen any Perſon with whom I was better enter⯑tained, and, therefore, if he would make over all his real and perſonal Eſtate to me, and diſpoſe of his Regiment, and give me the Money, I would keep him—[22] out of it. He ſwore a good Oath, he be⯑lieved me, and liked me for my Sinceri⯑ty.—I could relate a Number of pleaſant Stories of this old Gentleman; but as his Wit generally bordered on Indecen⯑cy, and ſometimes on Prophaneneſs, they are not proper for a female Pen.

He uſed to hire me to write Love Let⯑ters to him, which, as a Proof of his being a young Man, he ſhewed at White's; Lord W—m—th was curious to ſee the Writer; upon which he brought his Lordſhip, and Lord Aug—ſtus F—tz R—y, ſince dead, to viſit me. They bantered me on my Taſte, in writing ſo many fine Things to an old Fellow, when ſo many young ones, themſelves in particular, would be proud of them—I aſſured their Lordſhips, I would oblige them on the ſame Terms I did the Colonel, who always paid me hand⯑ſomely for my Compliments.

This turned all their Raillery on the Co⯑lonel, who with great good Humour con⯑feſſed the Truth. ‘"Why Colonel, ſaid Lord F—z R—y, you told us you ſup⯑ported [23] this Lady."—’ ‘"Ay, returned he, but you know I am an old Lyar."’

The Noblemen inſiſted on my telling them how much a piece the Colonel gave me for writing Billetdoux to him. The Colonel anſwered, that his Money had been fatal to my Family; for that he had lent my Uncle Colonel Mead twenty Guineas one Night at the Groom Porters, who died the next Morning of an Apoplectic Fit; and ſo, ſaid he, ‘"out of pure Af⯑fection to my dear little one here, I am very cautious how I give her any; be⯑ſides, added he, very archly, I could not be convinced of the Sincerity of her Paſſion for me, if ſhe made any De⯑mands on my Pocket."’

Lord W—m—th aſked me, how I approved of this Doctrine? I anſwered, the Colonel, had ſo genteel and witty a manner of excuſing his Avarice, that ſhould he ever grow generous, we ſhould loſe a thouſand Pleaſantries.

Each of the Noblemen gave me a Guinea, by way of Subſcription to my Poems; they preſſed hard on the Colonel [24] for his Contribution, which, for the Rea⯑ſons aforeſaid, he abſolutely refuſed.

This gave Occaſion to the following Lines; which, leſt the Colonel ſhould not communicate, I incloſed to Lord F—z-R—y.

[26]Lord A—ſtus did not fail to ſhew the Lines to all the Noblemen at White's, who heartily bantered the Colonel on his Gene⯑roſity to his Miſtreſs.

The next Day, as I was ſprinkling ſome Flower-pots, which ſtood on very broad Leads, under the Dining-room Window, Colonel D—nc—be, the Duke of B—lt—n, and the Earl of W—nch—ea ſtood filling out Wine, and drinking to me: So I took up the Pen and Ink, full in their View; and, as I was not acquainted with any of them, except the Colonel, I ſent over to him theſe Lines:

[27]Lord W—nch—ea bid the Colonel ſend me all the Wine in the Houſe: ‘"Ah! (ſaid the Colonel) that might in⯑jure her Health, but I will ſend her one Bottle of Burgundy, to chear her Spirits."’ Accordingly the Waiter brought it; the Noblemen all gathered to the Window, ſo he filled me out a Glaſs, which, mak⯑ing them a low Reverence, I drank, and retired.

But the Colonel, reſolving to have Share, quickly followed his Bottle; he came in a deſperate ill Temper; curſed the K—g, D— of C—l—d, the whole M—y, and me into the Bargain. I aſked him, whether giving me a Bottle of Wine had grieved him ſo much? He ſaid, No; but that he had been fifty Years in the Army, and was but Lieute⯑nant-Colonel; and that the D— of C—l—d had put a young Fellow over his Head. He pulled down his Stocking, and ſhewed me where he had been ſhot through the Leg at the Siege of Liſle; then he opened his Boſom, on [28] which he had ſeveral honourable Scars, and ſwore heartily, that, were it not in a Time of War, he would throw up his Commiſſion. I could not but agree, that his Reſentment had but too juſt a Foun⯑dation; ‘"But, dear Sir, I had no hand in all this."’ ‘"No; (ſaid he) but I did not know any Perſon, to whom I could ſpeak my Mind freely, or who would bear my Peeviſhneſs, but you."’ ‘"Well, Sir, (ſaid I) an you were as pee⯑viſh as an Emperor, I'll bear it all, ſince you pleaſe to beſtow it on me.—But I believe we had as good drink our Burgundy, and we will new model the Government according to our Fancies."’ He ſat very penſive, ſaid his Head aked, then roſe in a ſurly Sort of a manner, and went over to White's.

Whether any thing he had met with there pleaſed him, I know not, but about Nine at Night, as I ſat writing, I heard his Voice on the Stairs, crying, ‘"Poke after me, my Lord, poke after me."’ So I bid my Maid, light the Colonel up: He brought with him his Grace of [29] M—lb—gh, a lovely Gentleman; he preſented him to me, by his Title, which was honoured by his wearing it. The D— ſaluted me; but what ſhall I now ſay! I think my boaſted Conſtancy of Mind quite forſook me; I trembled at his Touch, and, though I knew not why, was more diſordered at Sight of him, than ever I had been before in my Life. The Colonel aſked me, what was the Matter? I ſaid, I believed I had drank too much Tea, which, joined to the unex⯑pected Honour he had now conferred on me, put me into a little Flutter.

His Grace laid hold of my Hand, and kiſſed it, ſaying, it was the ſweeteſt Thing in Nature, to put a Lady into a little Hurry of Spirits, ‘"and ſo, ſaid he, Colonel, I ſhall meet you at White's, either to-night or to-morrow Morn⯑ing; for I have a mind to have a little Chat with this Lady alone."’ The Colonel knew his Duty too well to diſobey a M—lb—gh, and left us, wiſhing his Grace Succeſs.

[30]Now, indeed, for the firſt Time, I was afraid of myſelf; but was infinitely more ſo, when his Grace told me, he had learned from the Colonel, that I was in ſome Diſtreſs, and, opening his Pocket-Book, preſented me with a Bank Note on Sir Francis Child for Fifty Pounds.

This was the Ordeal, or fiery Trial; Youth, Beauty, Nobility of Birth, and unſought Generoſity, attacking at once the moſt deſolate Perſon in the World. His Grace, I believe, gueſſed at my Ap⯑prehenſions, by the Concern which was but too viſible in my Countenance, and generouſly aſſured me, that he was above making any hard Conditions, that I might look up with Chearfulneſs, and not rivet my Eyes to the Floor, but conſider him as a ſincere and diſintereſted Friend.

This quite revived me, and gave me an unuſual Flow of Spirits, which highly pleaſed my illuſtrious Benefactor: He de⯑ſired I would write ſomething merry to the Colonel, who, at his Departure, charged me not to wrong his Bed. So to pleaſe his Grace, and alſo to convince him I [31] could write, I gave him, in about ten Minutes, the following Lines.

His Grace was very well pleaſed with my Gaity, and undertook to deliver the Letter himſelf; ſo we parted, each of us, I believe, ſatisfied with ourſelves, and our own Conduct.

I know at leaſt I was; for upon calling my Heart to account for the Trouble it had given me, I found by the Symptoms, there was ſomething very like Love had ſeized it.

The Colonel came in the Morning, and brought with him Mr. Tr—v—r, Brother to the D—ſs of M—lb—gh, whom he introduced to me, and then merrily aſked me, if I was going to re⯑ward his conſtant tender Flame, with a [33] great ſtaring Pair of Horns? I told him he deſerved them for his ill Temper; but, however, as he made me full amends by the Honour of making me known to ſo great and good a Man as he had recom⯑mended me to, I would take ſome Time to conſider of the Matter.

Mr. Tr—v—r deſired to know which of the Sp—n—r's it was, I threatned the Colonel with? I told him, I wrote any thing by way of Amuſement; but either of them would ſerve my Turn.

The Colonel called me a merry Madcap; Mr. Tr—v—r aſſured me, he was at my Service, and would horniſy the Colonel whenever I pleaſed. I told him, I was ob⯑liged to him for his kind Offer, and would certainly apply to him, if I found myſelf in any Diſtreſs; and in the mean Time, I hoped, as an earneſt of his future Favour, he would be ſo kind as to ſubſcribe to my Poems, which accordingly he did.

My Readers may now imagine, I was in a fair Way of growing rich; but, in⯑deed, it was far otherwiſe, as I paid a Gui⯑nea a Week for my Lodging, kept a Ser⯑vant, [34] was under a Neceſſity of being always dreſſed, and had beſides ſo many diſtreſſed Perſons of my own Country, who did me the Honour to take a Dinner with me, and, in return for my Eaſineſs, ſaid every thing of me which they thought could injure, or expoſe me; that being naturally liberal, and, till I heartily ſuffered for my Folly, no very great Oeconomiſt, I rather ran out than ſaved.

And, as I have thrown ſome Sort of Reflection on the Engliſh, I muſt beg leave to be equally free with my own Country Folks. Take Notice, I except the Nobility and Gentry of each Kingdom, who, I real⯑ly believe, in Honour, Valour, or Genero⯑ſity of Spirit, are not be matched in any Part of the habitable Globe. Yet, partial as I may be to my native Country, the Engliſh and Iriſh ſeem to have different Characteriſtics: The lower Part of the People of England are blunt and honeſt; the lower Part of the People of Ireland, civil and deceitful: Nor did I ever ſuffer in England, either in point of Fortune or [35] Reputation, but either by the Thefts, or the Tongues of the Iriſh.

My Landlady came up one Morning very chearful, and told me her Daughter's Huſband, Dr. T—rn—ll, who had not been to ſee her for two Years, on account of ſome Difference they had, told her he would, as he was to preach at St. James's Chapel next Day, (being one of the Chap⯑lains to his Royal Highneſs the Prince of Wales) take up his Lodging in her Houſe that Night. I congratulated hereupon it; but obſerving by her Looks that ſhe was under ſome Uneaſineſs, I aſked her the Cauſe of it; after ſome Heſitation, and a Number of Apologies, ſhe told me, ſhe had no Accommodation for him, but by giving him her own Bed, and begged I would, for a Night, give her leave to ſleep with me and my Maid, to which I readily con⯑ſented; but recollecting what a miſerable Bed ſhe had, in a dark Cloſet, very unfit for a Gentleman to lie in, I told her, I would, with great Pleaſure, leave my A⯑partment for the Doctor, which was, as may be preſumed by the Price, a genteel [36] one, and for a Night take up my Reſi⯑dence with her. She ſeemed overjoyed at the Propoſal, and as I had ſome little Trifle to buy, I went out, and did not return till about Six in the Evening; ſo not meeting any body in the Way below Stairs, I went up to my own Apartment, where I found the Doctor reading, and the old Gentle⯑woman faſt aſleep.

I begged pardon for my Intruſion, and the old Dame told him how much he was indebted to my Complaiſance in quitting my Apartment to oblige him with it. I could have wiſhed, ſhe had been ſilent in this particular; for as ſhe had not apprized him of it before, he was too polite to ſuffer it, nor could any Entreaties of mine prevail on him to accept my Offer.

Preſently after, being gone down Stairs, he ſent his Compliments up, and begged I would lend him a Book to amuſe him⯑ſelf till Bed-time, ſo being willing to cul⯑tivate the good Opinion he ſeemed to have conceived of me, I ſent him my own Po⯑ems in Manuſcript, which, pardon my Vanity, did not fail to confirm it.

[37]The next Day, which was Sunday, as ſoon as Afternoon Service was over, he very kindly paid me a Viſit, and ſeemed ſo well pleaſed with my Prattle, that it was Midnight before either of us thought of Repoſe: But I do aſſure my Readers his Mother-in-law kept us Company.

He entertained me with an Account of whatever he had met with curious in his Travels: His Remarks on every Subject were delivered with Modeſty and Judgment, in a flowing and elegant Style. He was ſo kind to promiſe me the Favour of taking a Diſh of Coffee with me in the Morning, which produced a merry Adventure.

The Noblemen at White's, having heard that I was married to a Clergyman, and ſeeing one walking to and fro in my Din⯑ing-room, ſuppoſed it muſt be the very identical Parſon, and that he was come to make up Matters with me; ſo none of them would venture over, leſt it ſhould incur his Diſpleaſure againſt me; but Colonel D—nc—be, whoſe Curioſity was up, re⯑ſolved at a Diſtance to reconnoitre the [38] Ground, and bring them a faithful Account of the Enemy's Situation, for ſo he ſtiled the Parſon.

There was a very grand Milliner's Shop next Door to my Lodging, from whence I received a Meſſage, that a Lady, juſt come from Ireland, deſired to ſpeak with me; upon which I immediately went, full of Hope to receive ſome Account of my Children: I there found the Colonel, who told me, he was the Lady; and, with his uſual Gaity, added, that if I queſtioned his Sex, I need but permit him to be my Bedfellow for a Week, and I ſhould never know any thing to the contrary.

I anſwered, I really believed him; in⯑aſmuch as I had known a Gentleman, young enough to be his Grandſon, who had lived with me in all the peacable Innocence of a Man of Threeſcore, like a civil careleſs Huſband, as he was.

As the Colonel was acquainted with my Hiſtory, he laughed heartily, and ſaid, ‘"He muſt be ſome damned Parſon, for nobody (ſaid he) but one belonging to [39] the Church could have had half that Continency. But, my dear little one, (for that was the Name he always called me), I have ſome News to tell you; I deſire you may bruſh up your Counte⯑nance, your Fire, and yourſelf, becauſe you are likely to have ſome very grand Viſitors to-morrow; no leſs than Mr. St—h—e, the Earl of W—nch—ea, and his Brother Mr. F—ch."’

The Colonel then told me the Reaſon of his ſending for me in that manner was, that he had obſerved a Paſon walking in my Room; and aſked, who it was? I told him, it was Dr. T—bull, no way re⯑lated to me.

As this Adventure with the Clergyman afforded great Matter of Diverſion at White's, I cannot help here relating ano⯑ther. I was in very great Diſtreſs, and was adviſed to apply to the then Lord Archbiſhop of York, now, by the Grace of God, Lord Archbiſhop of Canterbury; I ſay, by the Grace of God, becauſe I be⯑lieve he never was yet excelled by any of the primitive Biſhops; a Perſon, in whom [40] the Beauty of Holineſs fully appears. I went to his Houſe, in Kenſington-ſquare, and, to my infinite Surprize, had free Ac⯑ceſs to his Grace, without even a Queſtion being aſked: I preſented him with the fol⯑lowing Lines.

This Poem was written juſt at the Begin⯑ning of the Rebellion, in which his Grace, like a true Son of the Church militant, had nobly taken up Arms in the Defence of Liberty, Property, and the Proteſtant Reli⯑gion.

Having been obliged to the Right Ho⯑nourable Henry Pelham, I thought it not improper to include two ſuch great and eminent Perſons in one Poem, which was as follows:

I told the Servant, when I delivered them, it was not a Petition: He ſaid, if it were, his Grace never refuſed one; and ſhewed me into a handſome Drawing-Room. In a few Minutes, his Grace en⯑tered, with a ſweet and placid Air; but looked ſo young, that I never once ima⯑gined him to be the Archbiſhop, having joined the aſſociate Idea of Wrinkles, Ava⯑rice, and Pride, to that Title,—in which I found myſelf, happily for once, miſta⯑ken. As it was early in the Morning, he [45] ſaid, he was ſure I had not breakfaſted, and bid one of the Servants bring ſome Tea, and deſire his Couſin to come, and keep the Lady Company: As it was near half an Hour before I ſaw her, his Grace aſked me, who I was? I anſwered, which was Truth, I was a Gentleman's Daugh⯑ter, of the Kingdom of Ireland; that I had, when I was very young, been married to a Clergyman; that I had three Children living. His Grace, taking it for granted, that I was a Widow, which Miſtake it was, by no Means, my Intereſt to clear up, demanded of me, what I had to ſup⯑port us? I anſwered, Nothing but Po⯑etry. He ſaid, that was a Pity; becauſe, let it be ever ſo excellent, Genius was ſel⯑dom rewarded, or encouraged; I very gayly repeated the Dean's Lines:

[46] His Grace could not avoid ſmiling, as he plainly perceived by the Chearfulneſs, and Freedom of my Behaviour, and by my only ſaying, Sir, to him, that I was igno⯑rant of his Dignity. But the Entrance of his Relation, a well-bred Lady, of about fifty Years of Age, who, as his Grace is a Batchelor, managed his domeſtic Affairs, threw me into inconceivable Confuſion, as I then plainly perceived I had been very familiarly chatting with ſo great a Man.

I made my Apology in the beſt Man⯑ner I could; and, as he was truly ſenſible that I neither intended or meant Diſre⯑ſpect to him, he eaſily pardoned me: But, as we drank Tea, ſaid, he wiſhed my Miſtake had but continued a little longer, that he might have had the Pleaſure of hearing me unawed and uncontrolled. I own I was quite abaſhed at ſo odd a Cir⯑cumſtance, for while I imagined his Grace to be perhaps a Chaplain to the Lord Archbiſhop of York, I ſaid any thing without Reſerve; but, of a ſudden, found my Spirits fail, which brought Shakeſpear's Lines into my Mind:

His Grace was ſo humane, to make me a handſome Preſent at my Departure, and aſſured me, he would always be a Friend to me.

However, I did not make a ſecond Ap⯑plication to him, 'till ſuch Time as the Royal Bounty is to be petitioned for, [48] is at Chriſtmas, though it is not diſtributed 'till Eaſter. As I knew, at that Seaſon of the Year, it was impoſſible for me to be at Kenſington, e'er his Grace would be at Weſtminſter, I waited at the Door of the Robing-Room, 'till I was almoſt frozen, holding a Petition, incloſed in a Letter, in my Hand; a Gentleman, who is Door-keeper to the Houſe of Lords, taking Compaſſion on me, told me, I had better come into the Lobby, an Offer I readily accepted of, and ſat down in a Window: There were ſeveral Noblemen, moſt of whom knew me by Sight, walking in it, as the Houſe was not yet met. The firſt Prelate who entered, was the Lord Biſhop of Norwich, a venerable Gentleman, whoſe graceful grey Hairs the Hand of Time had ſilvered: As he paſt by, I made him a Courteſy, on which he ſtopt, and, with great Civility, aſked me if that Letter was for him; I anſwered, it was for his Grace of York; on which, he very kindly wiſhed me Succeſs. His Grace next entered, and with his wonted Goodneſs aſked me, where I had been? Adding, that it had [49] been a great Loſs to me, that he did not know where to find me; and accepting of my Letter, ſaid, he hoped I had there given him a proper Direction; ſo bowing, as faſt as I courteſied, he went to take his Seat at the Right Hand of that Power he had ſo nobly ſupported; and, no doubt, will, at the laſt great Day, having truly approved himſelf Chriſt's faithful Soldier and Champion, fighting under the ſacred Banners of the Captain of his Salvation, hear thoſe comfortable Words, Well done, thou good and faithful Servant, enter thou into the Joy of thy Lord.

As the Earl of Ch—ſter—ld heard every Word his Grace ſpoke to me, he made himſelf very merry at White's, telling Mr. Cibber, and Colonel D—nc—be, that I was true to the Gown, and delivered a Billet-doux to the handſomeſt, politeſt, and braveſt Prelate in Europe; that I had given him a Direction where to find me, and highly applauded my Choice.

But no Virtue is above the Reach of a little pleaſant Raillery; and as ſome of the Noblemen demanded an Explanation [50] of this Affair, I with my uſual Sincerity, told them the Truth; on which they all agreed in praiſing his Beneficence and Af⯑fability, and the handſome Manner in which he beſtowed his Bounties.

I hope, if theſe Memoirs ſhould ever fall into his Grace's Hands, who is an uni⯑verſal Reader, he will pardon me for uſing his Name, which I ſhall never do, but with the utmoſt Reſpect and Gratitude.

As I had imagined his Grace to be Lord High Almoner, I addreſſed him as ſuch, and waited on him again at Weſt⯑minſter; his Grace told me, the B—p of S—y had been ſo kind to accept of my Petition, and that I muſt wait on him the next Morning, at his Houſe in the Temple: So accordingly, I went, in full Spirits, imagining, on the Recommenda⯑tion of ſo excellent a Perſon, I ſhould both have a civil Reception, and alſo my Deſire anſwered.

It ſnowed very faſt, and I knocked ſe⯑veral Times, e'er I could gain Admiſ⯑ſion; at length, an old Porter ventured to turn the unoiled Hinges a little, which [51] grated very harſhly, and ſeemed to par⯑take of the Spirit of their unhoſpitable Maſter, who, according to my Country⯑man's Bull, opened the Door to keep the People out, for this was fully verified here; he aſked me, what I knocked ſo often for? and being, I ſuppoſe, doubtful that I might ſteal one of the Oak Chairs in the Hall, ſhut it again in my Face; the Inclemency of the Air, and the Vexa⯑tion of my Mind, made me give a thun⯑dering Rap, the Door was once more opened, and I aſſured the Porter, if he would be ſo kind as to deliver that Letter for me to his Lord, to whom I was re⯑commended by his Grace of York, I would give him Half a Crown, which Promiſe of a Perquiſite ſoftened him into Conſent, for, as Mr. Gay obſerves,

He took the Letter into the Parlour, when preſently an old Man, with a moſt unprelatical Countenance, for it was full of Carbunckles, and Knobs, and Flames of [52] Fire, came out, with my Letter in his Hand, and, with an imperious Voice, de⯑manded of me, whether I wrote it? As the Times were full of Violence and Blood, it being, as I obſerved, at the Beginning of the late Rebellion, I ſtood confounded, and knew not what Anſwer to make; which he obſerving, aſked me, was my Name Meade? To which, an⯑ſwering in the affirmative, he cried, ‘"Yow are a Foreigner, and we have Beggars enow of our own:"’ ‘"No, my Lord, returned I, I was born in Ireland, which is not a foreign Country, but equally a Part of his Majeſty's Dominions with Great-Britain:"’ ‘"Why, ſaid he very politely, you lye; but as you ſay yow are in Diſtreſs, there's Half a Crown for yow:"’ I thanked his Lordſhip, and turning to the Porter told him, as I had given him ſome Trouble, I hoped he would accept of that Part of the Royal Bounty, which had been promiſed to me; his Lordſhip was pleaſed to tell me, I was a ſaucy, proud, impertinent Perſon; which, [53] having neither any farther Hopes or Fears about him, I little regarded.

All the Way Home, as cold as it was, and as much vexed as I was at the old Br—te's Behaviour, I could not avoid laughing at his odd Figure, ſo much re⯑ſembling that of the Spaniſh Friar, where ‘His great Belly ſwaggered in State before him, and his little gouty Legs came limping after; oh, he is a huge Tun of Divinity! and were he any way given to Holineſs, I would ſwear by his Face; my Oath ſhould be, By this Fire; but he is indeed, but for the Fire in his Face, the Son of utter Dark⯑neſs; oh! he is a perpetual Triumph, an everlaſting Bonſire!’

Then again I thought of Dr. Swift's Lines:

[54]I hope the Reader will pardon me, for inſerting Oaths, as I have ſo great an Au⯑thority to quote for them.

As the Parliament did not ſit during the Holydays, I waited on his Grace of York, who immediately gave me Audience: He aſked me, what Succeſs I had with the Lord Almoner; and as I had ſped mar⯑vellous ill-favouredly, I related every Cir⯑cumſtance, as near as I could remember of our Converſation; One, in particu⯑lar, which I before omitted, and was, that he ſaid, ‘"Would the Lord Arch⯑biſhop of York ſpeak to yow, Woman?"’ His Grace ſmiled, and ſaid, ‘"It was the firſt Time he ever learned it was beneath the Dignity of a Biſhop to ſpeak, even to a Beggar; as Humliity was their beſt Orna⯑ment:—Well, What more?"’ ‘"Not much, my Lord, only he demanded, If I knew no other Perſon, beſides your Grace, to recommend me to him? And as I really was convinced, I had brought him my Credentials from the higheſt, I did not uſe any other Name:"’ [55] By this Time the Lady before-mentioned came to Breakfaſt, and I was obliged to relate the Story to her; they both laughed,—and his Grace aſſured me, the B—p of S—y was a very honeſt Man;—I told him, ‘"I did not ſuſpect him to be a Pick-pocket; but that I looked on that to be but a very moderate Praiſe, where every other ſocial and Chriſtian Virtue was required:"’ He ſaid, I made nice Diſ⯑tinctions; but he himſelf would take Care of the Affair, and ſo he put a couple of Guineas into my Hand, on which, I ſaid, ‘"God Almighty bleſs your Grace;"’ which again made him ſmile, and myſelf alſo, on Reflection, that, inſtead of im⯑ploring his Bleſſing, I had given him mine. I returned to London, as I ought alſo from this long Digreſſion, to relate what paſſed between me, and the Noble⯑men, whom Colonel D—nc—be ſaid would come and viſit me.

When I expected three, but one came, a very old gouty Gentleman, whoſe Name I do not think proper to inſert; the reſt [56] had intended me the ſame Favour; but he inſiſted, it ſeems, on coming alone, which, after a little Raillery, they per⯑mitted him to do; but proteſted, that if he ſtayed long, they would follow him;—though our Converſation was entirely about indifferent Matters, during an Hour he ſtayed with me, yet he and I were as heartily b [...]tered, and I had as many Ex⯑minations about his Behaviour to me, as if he had been a young, gay, gallant Gen⯑tleman; the Reaſon of which was, that he uſed to reprove others for their In⯑temperance, or Indecency: So they took it into their Heads he was a ſly Sinner, and would have bribed me highly to tell a Lye of him; I aſſured them, provided they would but give me leave to inform him of it, I would ſay what they pleaſed; for I was fully of Opinion, that, if a Lye would do me Grace, he would permit me to gild it with the happieſt Terms I had.

They told my Story to the good old Gentleman, who kindly ſent me over three Guineas, by the Hand of my honoured Benefactor Mr. Cibber.

[57]I was at this Time applied to, by Mr. V—ct—r, to write an Ode on the Princeſs of Wales's Birth Day, which, as he kept a Tea-Warehouſe in Pall-Mall, near her Court, would, he ſaid, at leaſt, gain him her Royal Highneſs's Cuſtom; ſo to ob⯑lige him, as I had really done when he was in very low Circumſtances in Ireland, ſome Years before, I wrote as follows:

What Succeſs this met, I know not; but Mr. V—ct—r ſoon after applied to me for a Lilliputian Ode, on the Birth⯑day [60] of his Royal Highneſs Prince GEORGE, which I gave him as follows:

I know not what Reward the Gentle⯑man got for theſe, but he gave me five Shillings; and as ſince my Return to Ire⯑land, he was twice ſo civil to write me [62] Word, I was a Fool; I muſt inſiſt on it, he was a much greater, to apply to a Fool for Wit.

And, if he diſputes theſe Facts, let him but finiſh the Comedy of Le Païſan Parvenu in the ſame Stile I wrote the firſt Act for him, and I will own myſelf to be the Dunce, he ſo freely calls me.

I muſt here obſerve, that the following Poem, written when I firſt went to Lon⯑don, which he undertook to have printed for me, he very modeſtly aſſured every Perſon was of his own Compoſition.

And ſince, from the Great, I have di⯑greſſed to the Vulgar; I cannot forget Dr. Ow—ns, whom, at the End of my Firſt Volume, I promiſed to record, and ſcorn to deal in Lyes, as he did. This pious Divine, who was an intimate Ac⯑quaintance of my Father's, gave himſelf the Trouble of coming to my Landlord, Mr. R—ly, an Officer of Mace, in Mi⯑chael's-Lane, a little while after I was parted from my Huſband, together with his Curate, Mr. R—b—nſ—n, and, with great Humanity, inſiſted on his turning me out of the Houſe, otherwiſe they would preſent it: Tne Landlord aſked, what I had done? They anſwered, I was an ex⯑communicated Perſon,—(a Lye;) that I had run away from my Huſband, (another Lye;)—that ſince I had left him, I had ſeven Baſtards,—which was pretty quick, as we had been but ſeven Months aſunder,—[77] (another Lye;)—but when a Churchman is in for it, he will out-lye the Devil; at length, theſe Parſons deſcended ſo low, as to threaten to inform, that my Landlord's Wife was a Roman, which I believe, was another Lye; but, whether true, or falſe, it was very unbecoming their Characters, either as Gentlemen, or Chriſtians, to ſay.

But I was to be inſulted at any Rate; for the Clergy hang together; and if ſome did, it would be no great Loſs.

For when a ſwinging Sin is to be com⯑mitted, there is nothing like a Gown and a Caſſock to cover it.

But once more to return to Albion. I had laid out a Couple of Guineas on a little curious Picture, which I bought to ſell again, but was adviſed to preſent it to the Lord Almoner, who, they ſaid, had a Taſte for Painting? He generouſly ac⯑ceepted of my Favour, but neither made me any Return from his own Bounty, nor his Majeſty's; ſo I had no great Reaſon to ſay, he deſerved the Character of an honeſt Man.

[78]On the Change of the Miniſtry, I wrote the following Lines:

I ſhewed theſe Lines to Mr. Cibber, who liked them ſo well, that he undertook to deliver them for me.

The next Morning, early, he did ſo, and then call'd upon me, and, giving me five Guineas, aſked me, whether I thought them a ſufficient Reward for my Poetry? I told him, I readily did: Well then, ſaid he, Mr. Pelham diſtinguiſhed thus: ‘"There are Five Guineas, for the Lady's Numbers; and Five more, for the good Advice they contain; and tell her, I hope God will always give me Grace to follow it."’

Not ſeeing Mr. Cibber for a Fortnight after this Inſtance of his Friendſhip and Humanity, I wrote to him the following Lines:

Mr. Cibber ſent me Word, he was going to the Maſquerade; but would ſee me next Day, which gave riſe to the follow⯑ing Lines:

Mr. Cibber received theſe Lines with his uſual Partiality to me and my Per⯑formances.

[82]And here, it may not be amiſs to give a particular Character of this Gentleman, as no Man has ever been more ſatyrized, or leſs deſerved it.

And, I think, I cannot do it, in a bet⯑ter Manner, than I have uſed in deſcribing Dr. Swift;—that is, to give him to my Readers in his Words, and Actions, as near as I can recollect them, during the Time I had the Honour of being known to him: And if the petty Scribblers ſhould ſay, that I never knew him, any more than I did the Dean of St. Patrick's;—why they only take away Merit from me with one Hand, to give it to me with the other; and muſt, at leaſt, afford me the Praiſe of inventing with Probability: that I have not

But am uniform in my Characters, and

[83]As I have mentioned a poetical Intro⯑duction to this Gentleman's Favour, I muſt give a particular Account of his firſt Viſit: He ran up Stairs with the Vivacity of a Youth of Fifteen, and, making me a courtly Bow, ſaid, he was ſure I did not known him; I anſwered,

‘"And, prithee, ſaid he, why did not you come to my Houſe the Moment you came to London?"’ ‘"Upon my Word, Sir, that would have been a modeſt Proof of Iriſh Aſſurance; how could I hope for a Reception?"’ ‘"Pſhaw, ſaid he, Merit is a ſufficient Recommendation to me."’ I cour⯑teſied, and, as we both ſtood, ‘"Sit down, ſaid he, be leſs ceremonious to be better bred; come, ſhew me your Writings."’ I obeyed; and, upon his reading the Poem, called Sorrow, he burſt into Tears, and was not aſſumed to give the flowing Virtue manly Way; he deſired a Copy of it,—which I gave him; [84] and now his Curioſity was raiſed, to know who I was? I told him, mine was a long, and mournful Story, unfit for a Soul ſo humanized as his,

Mr. Cibber aſſured me, my fine Compli⯑ment ſhould not excuſe me; for he was fully determined to have my Hiſtory from my own Lips; and deſired I might come and breakfaſt with him next Morn⯑ing, and begin.

Accordingly, I waited on him, and wonderfully was he delighted with my Account of Dr. Swift; he had the Patience to liſten to me three Hours, without ever once interrupting me; a moſt uncommon Inſtance of good Breeding, eſ⯑pecially from a Perſon of his Years, who [85] uſually dictate to the Company, and en⯑groſs all the Talk to themſelves: For, as Dr. Young obſerves,

And I do aſſure my Readers, the Gentle⯑man neither yawned, ſcratched his Head, beat Tatoo with his Foot, nor uſed any ſuch ambiguous Giving-out, to note that he was weary.

So far from it, that tho' he was engaged to dine with the Duke of Gr—ft—n, he had forgot it, 'till his Ser⯑vant came in, to dreſs him; he ſtrictly charged me to come to him the next Morning, and ſet my Spout a going, for ſo he merrily called my Mouth.

I obeyed his moſt kind Command; and, by way of Introduction, told him a [86] Story Dr. Swift related to me, which was as follows:

A Gentleman met a Friend in the Street, whom he had not ſeen for ſome Years; he began to give him an Account of what had befallen him, ſince their Se⯑paration from each other; a Care happened to intervene, upon which, they took diffe⯑rent Streets; ſeven Years paſt, and it ſo befel, they met juſt in the ſame Place, when, without the leaſt Ceremony, he proceeded in his Story, "And, as I was telling you, ſaid he," &c.

I was going to proceed, when Mr. Cibber interrupted me. I was, ſaid he, at the Duke of R—chm—nd's laſt. Sum⯑mer, when his Daughter, a moſt accom⯑pliſhed young Lady, and a very early Ri⯑ſer, ſat reading in a beautiful Portico, about Six in the Morning; I accoſted the fair Creature, and aſked her the Subject of her Contemplation? So in a moſt ele⯑gant, and agreeable Stile, ſhe related to me Part of a very entertaining Novel, ſhe held in her Hand, and, I believe, in bet⯑ter Words than the Author wrote it. A [87] Summons to Breakfaſt broke off her moſt agreeable Narration.

The next Morning I ſaw the Charmer in the ſame Portico, who took up the Story at the very Word ſhe had broke off, and concluded it.

As Ireland is now graced with this illuſ⯑trious Fair One, in whom Virtue, Beauty, Modeſty, Taſte, and every Excellence unite, I hope for her Pardon, for preſu⯑ming to mention her.

And tho', as ſhe will ſoon ſee her no⯑ble Father was a beneficent Patron to me; I hate Flattery ſo much, that I would not, on that Account, pay her a Compliment beyond what was due to her elevated Sta⯑tion, did not her ſuperior Virtues command it.

Never yet were ſeen a more tender, or a more lovely Pair than the Duke and Dutcheſs of Richmond, with their bloom⯑ing Progeny, like new-blown Roſes, ſmi⯑ling around them; an Inſtance, Wedlock may be happy, even among the Great, when mutual Love, and mutual Honour join.

And, it is with infinite Pleaſure I learn, that Lord and Lady Kildare are as great an Example in conjugal Fidelity, Piety, and Generoſity, as their noble Parents.

This Digreſſion, I am certain, will be excuſed.

I went on with my Story to Mr. Cibber, who, at laſt, in flowing Spirits, cried, ‘"Z—ds! write it out, juſt as you re⯑late it, and, I'll engage it will fell."’

Every Poem, as I occaſionally introdu⯑ced them, he made me give him a Copy of, and communicated them to the Earl of Cheſterfield, who poſitively inſiſted on it, that I muſt underſtand Greek, and Latin, otherwiſe I never could write Engliſh ſo well. Mr. Cibber ſaid, he had not enquired, but that he would that Mo⯑ment: And, accordingly, came, and told [89] me, what my Lord had ſaid; I aſſured him, I was ignorant of every Language, except my Mother-tongue; but that if he would be ſo kind to preſent my Reſpects to his Lordſhip, and let him know, that Dr. Swift had taught me Engliſh, I was certain, he would allow, I had an excel⯑lent Tutor; to which his Lordſhip readily acquieſced.

But, alas! though my Honours were very great, my Profits were very ſmall. The diſmal Return of Summer, for ſo it was to me, robbed me of every Friend; and, as I could not take up with mean Company, I was as ſolitary in London as the Pelican in the Wilderneſs. I acquainted Dr. T—rnbull with my melancholy Situ⯑ation, and prevailed on him to write to Mr. P—n, to remit to me what was due, on the Agreement between us. About ten Days after, the Poſt-man brought a Letter, marked from Dublin, to the Doctor; he happened to be at Ken⯑ſington, ſo I paid for it; and knowing he had no Acquaintance in Ireland, I ven⯑tured [90] to open it; it was wrote in a Text-Hand, the Contents of it were as follow:

[91]Could one believe that any thing leſs than infernal Malice could have forged ſuch an Accuſation againſt an innocent Perſon? My very Blood thrilled with Horror, to think there could be ſuch a Monſter of my Species; I am ſure he

Tho' I was far from the leaſt Appre⯑ſion that the evil Facts I was charged with, as to killing all my Family, would meet with any Credit; yet Mr. P—n's denying me to be his Wife, and the De⯑claration that I was not intitled to any thing from him might hurt mine; I ſup⯑preſſed the Letter for a Day or two, 'till learning, by Accident, that the Lord Bi⯑ſhop of Kilmore, now Lord Archbiſhop of [92] Tuam (to whoſe Family my Father had the Honour of being Phyſician, and to whoſe Humanity I am infinitely indebted, which, with the utmoſt Reſpect, and Gratitude, I take this public Opportunity of acknow⯑ledging) was in London; I took the Li⯑berty of addreſſing myſelf to him, as the Daughter of a Gentleman, whom I was ſenſible his Lordſhip regarded; my Ap⯑plication was not in vain, for though he that Day ſet out for Ireland, he not only ſent me a handſome Preſent, but gave it in ſo genteel, ſo polite a Manner, with his Compliments, that it added tenfold Weight to his Favour.

When my Lord's Gentleman came to me, Providence ſo ordered, that Dr. T—bull was drinking Coffee with me, and upon this Encouragement of a Prelate's taking Compaſſion on my loſt Eſtate; I ventured to communicate to him Mr. Walſh's Letter; the Doctor lifted up his Hands and Eyes to Heaven, and ſeemed as much ſhocked at the Perfidiouſneſs of the Wretch, as I had been; for whoever wrote the Letter, it was certainly done by [93] Mr. P—n's Direction; but no Won⯑der, when he had ſworn I was dead, and was actually married to another, he tried every Method to deſtroy me. And, to convince the World, I do not wrong him, I here preſent them with a Letter I re⯑ceived from Ireland, and communicated to the preſent Primate, who knows it was not a forged, but a genuine One.

[95]I anſwered this Letter the Moment I re⯑ceived it, which was three Weeks after the Date, and never heard of the Gentle⯑man more, nor know I whether he exiſts, or not.

And as Mr. P—n has, ſince my Return to Ireland, accuſed me of at⯑tempting to injure him with the Primates, as he ſtiles them; I fairly own I ſent Mr. Walſh's Letter to the late Lord Primate Hoadly, and Mr. Lambert's Letter to the preſent Lord Primate, (who, as he ſays in his moſt ſtupid Epiſtle, ſcorned to counte⯑nance me;) and gave him my Letter, and my Liſt of Subſcribers alſo, with full Power to do to them what he pleaſed: And, truly Mr. Parſon, ſo do I; but if nei⯑ther the Lord Lieutenant, nor any of the principal Perſons of Diſtinction in this Kingdom, who have honoured me with their Regard, ſhould be willing to bear an Inſult from you, how can you help your⯑ſelf? Why, Man, we are in a Proteſtant Country, and diſdain to be Prieſt-ridden.

Finding myſelf unable to pay ſo high a Rent as I ſtood at, I diſcharged my [96] Lodging and Servant, and went to board and lodge at a very genteel Houſe in Green-ſtreet, Groſvenor-Square; my Land⯑lord was Valet de Chambre to the Earl of Stair, and his Wife a top Laundreſs, which, in London, is a very profitable Employment.

As ſhe waſhed for ſeveral Perſons of Diſtinction, ſhe uſed, on a Sunday, to in⯑vite the Head-Servants of Noblemen's Fa⯑milies to Dinner, at which, I never took Umbrage; for you are ſure from them to learn every Circumſtance relating to their Lords and Ladies; and many entertaining Stories of their particular Humours and Gallantries, did I learn; ſo true is it, that either good or evil Fame proceeds from our Domeſtics; and no Wonder, as they have a better Opportunity than the reſt of the World, to watch our unguarded Hours, and comment on our Frailties.

Amongſt others, Sir John Ligonier's Gentleman, as they ſtiled him, which Name, his generous Maſter ſoon after en⯑titled him to, by giving him a Commiſ⯑ſion, dined with us; he looked very at⯑tentively [97] at me, and put me into Confu⯑ſion, by telling my Landlady, ſhe had, to his Knowledge, a Gentlewoman Lodger.

After Dinner, my Landlord brought in a large Bowl of Punch, Pipes and Tobacco, upon which I made my Exit.

I had not long been in my Dreſſing-Room, which opened into a very ſweet Garden, when Mr. Parkinſon, for ſo was this Perſon called, followed me. He told me, he hated Drink and Tobacco, and would be infinitely obliged to me for a Diſh of Tea, which, as my Curioſity was raiſed by the Words he had let drop at Din⯑ner, I readily conſented to give him.

He had, he told me, frequently ſeen me in Stephen's-Green, and was in Dublin at the Time of my Separation from my Huſband, and that Numbers of People la⯑mented my hard Fate. I told him I had not found it ſo, for that I could not even get what was due to me from thence, nor an Anſwer to any Letter I ever wrote.

He then aſked me, how I got any Sup⯑port; eſpecially, as he had learned from the Family, that I lived very retired; I in⯑genuouſly [98] told him, I had no other For⯑tune than my Pen, and, at his Requeſt, ſhewed him ſome of my Writings; he told me his Maſter delighted in Poetry, and was one of the moſt generous Gentle⯑men living, and that he was certain, if I applied to him, he would be a Friend to me: I was eaſily prevailed on to write to him, to beg he would do me the Honour of ſubſcribing to me, and ſent him ſuch of my Rhymes as I myſelf had the beſt Opinion of. The General wrote me a very polite Anſwer, and, as he lived but a few Doors from my Lodging, gave me, the next Evening, the Honour of a Viſit.

This Gentleman is ſo univerſally known, beloved, honoured, and eſteemed, that I dare not attempt his Character, being aſ⯑ſured my beſt Painting would fall infi⯑nitely ſhort of the excellent Original. Nor was I at all ſurprized that he ſhould be a Fa⯑vourite of the Fair, who was adorned with Honour, Generoſity, Valour, and yet even Female Softneſs, and Complacency, added to the Charms of a moſt graceful and majeſtic Perſon.

[99]And if in an advanced Age he ſhone ſo brightly, what muſt he have done in his firſt Bloom, when

I dare ſay, half the Ladies would have cried out with Phoedra.

This worthy Gentleman ſubſcribed to me for Twelve Books, and alſo engaged the late Duke of Argyle, the Earl of Stair, the Lord Cobham, and ſeveral other Eng⯑liſh Noblemen, to do me the ſame Ho⯑nour.

So the Almighty raiſed me Friends, even in a ſtrange Land; and proved my Huſband, tho' a Prieſt, no Prophet, who [100] declared I ſhould ſtarve; to which, indeed, his beſt Endeavours have not been wanting.

But, he ſhould have remembered the Words of holy David: I have been young, and now am old, yet never ſaw I the Righ⯑teous Man forſaken, nor his Seed begging their Bread.

My dear Father had, by his many good Works, entailed a Bleſſing on my honeſt Endeavours; and as Mr. Cibber uſed to ſay, when I wrote any thing that pleaſed him, ‘"The Gift of the great God to you, preſerves you;"’ which, as I never ſold, nor proſtituted it to unworthy Ends, I humbly hope his Mercy will afford to me, as long as I have any Being.

This timely Aſſiſtance enabled me not only to live, but to purſue my writing, which no Perſon can ever do well, while their Minds are, like Martha's, troubled with many Things.

A few Days after this, a very genteel pretty Woman, took a Lodging in the ſame Houſe with me: She was with Child, and her Huſband was, as ſhe ſaid, a Lawyer, and was gone the Circuit; ſo [101] finding the City not agree with her, ſhe moved to better Air. As ſhe had very good Furniture, my Landlady made no Scruple to accept of her without farther Enquiry; and I was well pleaſed to think, I ſhould have an agreeable Companion.

Her Manner of Life greatly ſurprized me; for, in two Months Time, ſhe never once went abroad, nor did any human Creature come to viſit her.

At length, about two o'Clock one Morning, a Gentleman came, who, ſhe ſhe ſaid, was her Huſband; ſhe let him in herſelf, and he left her early in the Morning, ſo that none of the Family ſaw him; he repeated his nocturnal Viſits ſeve⯑ral Times, after the ſame Manner, in the Dead ſtill, and Middle of the Night, which appeared to me rather to wear the Face of an Amour, than lawful Matri⯑mony.

At length, the Gentleman failed in his Attendance, and the Lady ſaid, he was gone into the Country.

Some Weeks paſt over without either a Meſſage, or a Letter, coming from the ſuppoſed Huſband, upon which ſhe fell into a deep Melancholy; which, though ſhe ſeemed to attribute to her Apprehen⯑ſion of the approaching Hour, I could ea⯑ſily perceive had ſome more ſecret and latent Cauſe.

And as in my Life I had never ſeen a more retired, or modeſt Perſon, I had the utmoſt Compaſſion for her, and judged, if ſhe was among the Number of the Unfor⯑tunate, ſome uncommon Villainy had been practiſed againſt her.

As we were very intimate, I frequently ſurprized her in Tears; and, at laſt, I ventured to beg her to acquaint me with the Cauſe of her Affliction, aſſuring her, it was not an impertinent Female Curioſity which urged me on, but a real Deſire to [103] be ſerviceable to her, which, perhaps, by ſome Means or other, Providence might point out.

She burſt into Tears, and fondly em⯑bracing me, told me, ſhe wanted a Friend to unboſom herſelf to, and added, that if I would be her Bedfellow that Night, ſhe would relate to me her unhappy Story.

Wiſhed for Night came, and my fair Friend kept her Promiſe.

I am, ſaid ſhe, the Daughter of an emi⯑nent Merchant, who by his extraordinary good Nature, in being Surety for others, hoſpitable Spirit, and very great Loſſes at Sea, was obliged to live in a more narrow Compaſs than ſuited the Generoſity of his Mind; my Mother dying when I was but twelve Years of Age, my Father made me Miſtreſs of the Houſe, which he ſaid would teach me to be an Oeconomiſt, and to know how to govern one of my own. When I was about fourteen Years of Age, a wealthy Packer, a very handſome Man, courted me; my Father ingenuouſly told him, he could give him but five hun⯑dred [104] Pounds, with which, if he was ſatis⯑fied, and, that I had no Objection to it, he ſhould be very glad to have him for a Son-in-law.

Mr. H—rn—l, for ſo was he called, aſſured him he would gladly take me without a Portion, but my Father inſiſted on his Acceptance of it, as it would help to furniſh a Houſe.

Whatever may be thought at St. James's, theſe who converſe with the Traders of London, will find, they neither want Senſe nor Politeneſs; and I liked Mr. H—l ſo well, that I was very glad of being ſo happily diſpoſed of.

My Huſband took a Houſe commo⯑dious for his Buſineſs, and for four Years, during which Time I had four Children, we lived in great Harmony.

But, in the mean Time, I had the Miſ⯑fortune of loſing my dear Father, who leſt the little Remainder of his Fortune, as a Portion for my younger Siſter, and ap⯑pointed my Huſband to be her Guardian.

One Day he told me, he was afraid he ſhould not be able to keep ſuch good [105] Hours as he had done, being choſen a Member of the Philoſophic Club; in which were many Gentlemen of Diſtinc⯑tion, whoſe Acquaintance it was greatly his Intereſt to cultivate, and to whom it was an Honour to be known, ſo he hoped it would not give me any Uneaſineſs: I anſwered, he had always been ſo indulgent to me, I muſt be ungrateful, indeed, to take Offence, or be uneaſy at any thing he was pleaſed to do; he ſeemed tranſ⯑ported with my Anſwer, kiſſed me, and ſaid, I was the beſt Wife living. Little did I think what Villainy he was perpetra⯑ting againſt me.

He now ſtayed out ſeveral Nights en⯑tirely, and, if he came at all, it was not 'till Four or Five in the Morning, which, being unacquainted with Jealouſy, gave me no other Concern, than the Fear that Irre⯑gularities might prejudice his Health; but I have often been ſurprized at his coming Home ſo ſober, and that he did not ap⯑pear drowſy, after ſuch long watching.

One Morning, in particular, he no ſooner entered, but he called for his Ri⯑ding [106] Dreſs, and told me, he was going with a Gentleman into the Country, for a few Days; ſo giving me his Purſe, in which were forty Guineas, he deſired I would carefully obſerve his Buſineſs, in which I was now a pretty good Proficient.

Three Months Time elapſed, and, tho' I wrote to him, according to his own Di⯑rection, I never received an Anſwer.

I was now filled with the moſt gloomy Apprehenſions; one Time concluding he had been murdered; a thouſand Fears preſented themſelves to my Imagination, 'till loſt and bewildered, I could fix on nothing: My Friends perſuaded me to ad⯑vertiſe him, which accordingly I did.

Some Days after, a very well dreſt young Gentleman deſired to ſee me; I ſhewed him into the Parlour, where he demanded of me, whether I was Mr. H—l's Wife? I ſaid, yes; upon which, to my great Surprize, he aſked me, could I prove it? I aſſured him I could: ‘"That is all I want, Madam:"’ I begged he would explain thoſe dark Speeches, inaſmuch as they quite terrified [107] me: ‘"Madam, ſaid he, my Name is L—ck—y, I have a good Eſtate, and am newly called to the Bar; your Huſ⯑band has inveigled away my Siſter, and married her; ſhe is under Age, and has fifteen thouſand Pounds to her Fortune; ſhe ſhall prove her Marriage; and, if you do not prove your prior one, what can the World think of you?"’

I was ſo aſtoniſhed at this Account, that I fainted away;—the Gentleman called the Servants to my Aſſiſtance, and ſtayed by me 'till I came to myſelf; the Agonies I felt, are only known to thoſe who have truly and tenderly loved: dread⯑ful Alternative! either to proſecute a be⯑loved Huſband to Death, or be myſelf deemed an infamous Woman?

Here the poor Creature had ſo renewed her own Anguiſh, and ſo awakened all my Woes, that our Eyes ſtreamed ſocial, and mingled their ſympathetic Waters; 'till, inſenſibly, the dewy-feathered Sleep cloſed up our Eye-lids.

[108]I longed as much for the next Night, as the Sultan, in The Arabian Nights En⯑tertainment, did to hear the charming Sche⯑razade's fine Stories; at length it came, and the Lady proceeded.

I begged a Day or two to conſider on ſo important an Affair, and alſo to con⯑ſult with my Friends, what was moſt ad⯑viſeable for me to do, and then I would return a poſitive Anſwer; ſo, having an Uncle in Bond-ſtreet, I ſent my Houſhold Furniture there: Dear Madam, ſaid I, what did you do with your Children? Oh, returned ſhe, I never had one that lived above a few Days. That, ſaid I, was happy. I think ſo now, ſaid ſhe, though I did not then. I told my Uncle all my mournful Story, who adviſed me, bv all Means, to vindicate myſelf, and not fall a Prey to ſo conſummate a Villain.

I ſtayed with my Uncle, who was a Widower; my Siſter married, and Mr. H— would not pay her her For⯑tune, as ſhe had not aſked his Conſent: [109] My Uncle would not permit either a Let⯑ter, or a Meſſage to be delivered to me, but kept me a perfect Priſoner; how⯑ever, there was a young Lady in the Neighbourhood, whom he had ſome In⯑clination to marry, and whom he fre⯑quently brought, as a Companion, to re⯑lieve my ſolitary Hours.

One Evening ſhe inſiſted on my coming to drink Tea with her, my Uncle urged me to it; I went. Judge of my Surprize! when I found there my Huſband's Mother and Siſter all drowned in Tears; they told me, he was confined in Newgate,—had taken the Priſon-Fever, and declared he could not die in Peace, unleſs he ſaw me.

I loved too well to refuſe his Requeſt, upon which they immediately hurried me into a Coach; and there indeed he was; the Lawyer had arraigned him for his Life, and he muſt take his Trial.

He looked ſo dejected, and ſeemed ſo ſincerely penitent, and I, alas! ſo ſincerely loved him, that I even conſented to ſtay with him in his Confinement; he acknow⯑ledged [110] his Fault; but very artfully inſinu⯑ated, that it did not proceed from any Change in his Affection, but that his Cir⯑cumſtances were ſo diſtreſſed, that he had no other Means to retrieve them; that his Death could be of no Service to me;—that I knew myſelf to be his lawful Wife; that he would always ſupport me; in ſhort, he uſed every tender and prevailing Argument to keep me from appearing againſt him, and, Heaven knows, I had no Inclination to do it.

When his Trial-Day came, his ſecond Wife fully proved her Marriage to him; but, like the real Mother, I choſe to give her all, ſooner than divide him, ſo ſhe triumphed over me; and, as I had given up the Cauſe, none of my Friends would give me any Aſſiſtance. I am now in the oddeſt Situation imaginable; even a kept Miſtreſs to my own Huſband; for, upon no other Terms, would he give me any Relief; nor do I know whether to ſtile myſelf innocent or guilty for my Conde⯑ſcenſion to him.

[111]As my Tenderneſs for him made me appear in a bad Light to the World, ever ready to cenſure even our beſt Actions; I dare not in my preſent Condition, let any Perſon, who knows me, ſee me, leſt they ſhould think of me worſe than I deſerve—I have had no Supply from him for a conſiderable Time; he has prohibited my writing to him at his Houſe; and now, dear Madam, adviſe me what to do.

There was ſomething ſo peculiarly un⯑happy in this poor Creature's Fate, that it might puzzle a wiſer Head than mine to comply with her Requeſt; I conſidered it every way without being able to form any Scheme for her Relief.

At length, ſhe told me, he kept an Of⯑fice on Ludgate-Hill, (where he was always to be found at Nine) in the Morning, as his ſecond Wife was too fine a Lady to bear one in the Houſe; ſhe imagined, if I could ſee him, I might work on his Compaſſion; I readily conſented to do any thing which might be ſerviceable to her, and riſing early next Morning, ſhe [112] gave me a Letter to him, which I pro⯑miſed not to deliver, but into his own Hand.

Accordingly, I ſet out on my Embaſſy, and found the Gentleman, ſuch as ſhe had deſcribed him, a polite, handſome Man, of above thirty Years of Age; he was alone, and received me very civilly: I preſented the Letter, but ſeemed ignorant of the Contents; I could eaſily perceive he was much diſturbed; however, with a marvellous Aſſurance, he ſaid, he could not give Charity to every Body; that he had often aſſiſted that unfortunate Perſon; that ſhe ought to work for her Bread, as many of her Betters did, and a Number of ſuch inhuman Speeches, common on thoſe Occaſions. I told him her preſent Condi⯑tions did not enable her to perform any but Needle-work, and that he who put her into it ſhould ſupport her; he aſked me what I meant? Nothing but Honesty; if a Man gets a Child he ought to take care of it. What, ſaid he, would you have me father a Baſtard? She could not, [113] I am ſure, have One by you; and would not, I am convinced, have One by any Body elſe. He bade me explain myſelf; I told him, he perfectly underſtood me, and therefore it was not neceſſary; but that if he pleaſed, I would tell Mrs. H—l the ſecond, of his Midnight Viſits to his Wife. The Wretch ſeemed confounded, and ſeeing I knew him ſo well, thought he had beſt be quiet, eſpecially as a Gen⯑tleman came in, before whom he did not care to be expoſed; ſo he called me to the Staircaſe, and putting a Couple of Guineas into my Hand, ſaid aloud, Madam, I ſhall take care, and mind your Directions; I begged he would, and ſo we parted: But, I am well convinced, it was Fear, not Love, that made him ſend her even that Trifle.

This unhappy Lady died a few Hours after ſhe was brought to Bed, the Infant alſo died; and I hope, though her Huſ⯑band, by her Lenity, once eſcaped a Hal⯑ter, juſtly due to him, he has, by this Time, inherited it, for I would have ſuch Offenders ſo cut off.

[114]I grew ſo melancholy at the Loſs of my Companion, that I did not even care for writing, but amuſed myſelf entirely with reading; and my not having a Li⯑brary of my own, made me a conſtant Cuſtomer to a Shop in the Neighbour⯑hood, where they hired out Books by the Quarter; this brought me into an Ac⯑quaintance with the Perſons who kept it, ſenſible, well-bred People: One Day I received a Letter from Mrs. Ryves, for that was their Name, that ſhe had ſome very agreeable Friends with her, and that they wanted a Hand at Quadrille, ſo ſhe hoped I would be of their Party; I was very glad of any Recreation, and as they lived but in Brook-Street, directly went. I was ſhewn into a Parlour, where ſat an old Man, whom I knew to be a Grub-Street Writer, and a young Gentleman in a very plain Dreſs, whom I alſo ſuppoſed to be in the ſame Claſs; they were playing Crib⯑bage for a Farthing a Game, and, inſtead of Counters, ſcored with Chalk; they had alſo an Ale-houſe Pot, with ſome Porter [115] in it, ſtanding by them, and the Room ſmelled ſtrong of Tobacco; from theſe Appearances, I conceived a very con⯑temptible Opinion of the Company, and would have retired, had I known how to do it civilly; but, as at my Entrance, I had told Mrs. Ryves, I was entirely diſ⯑engaged that Evening, I could by no means get off; and could only hope for ſome little Amuſement, by hearing what thoſe Underlings in Arts and Sciences might have to ſay;

The Scene, however, was changed, the diſagreeable Part of the Decoration re⯑moved, and a Quadrille Table introduced.

The younger Gentleman propoſed our playing for Nothing: ‘"Pſhaw, ſaid I, then we ſhall all cheat;"’ ‘"I would no more do that, ſaid he, than give a Vote againſt my Country."’—This ſurpri⯑zed me; told him, I hoped, as he ex⯑pressed ſuch a Spirit of Patriotiſm, he had [116] a Seat in the Houſe: He ſaid, he had the Honour of repreſenting the ancient City of Canterbury; that his Father was Ad⯑miral Rocke, and that he was married to the Siſter of the Lord Guilford Dudley, a Lady unmatched in Wit, and Beauty: I told him, I was glad to find one Perſon of Diſtinction, who was not aſhamed to do Juſtice to the Merits of his Lady: ‘"I ſhould be a Scoundrel, ſaid he to refuſe it; ſhe gave me the Preference to a Man of a much larger Fortune, to whom her Friends had deſtined her; an Obligation never to be forgot by a grateful Spirit."’ This Gentleman had ſuch an uncommon generous way of think⯑ing, that, inſtead of minding the Game, I was quite attentive to him, which he ob⯑ſerving, ſaid, ‘"Take away the Cards, they are only fit to amuſe ſuch as are incapable of taſting a more rational Entertainment."’

I was very glad of this;—the old Scrib⯑bler walked into the Shop, to recreate him⯑ſelf [117] with Tobacco, and Porter; and Mrs. Ryves went to get us ſome Chat-inſpiring Liquor, Green Tea.

I told Mr. Rooke, if I had been any way wanting in Reſpect to him, I hoped he would attribute it to my Ignorance of his Station, and the Company, and Situa⯑tion I found him in.

He aſſured me, I had committed no Offence, nor did he believe it was in my Nature: But, ſaid he, as you have re⯑marked on the Company, you muſt know my Wife and Lord S—thw—ll's Siſters went this Morning to Greenwich: I had ſome Buſineſs which prevented my waiting on them; when that was over, I went to Mount-Street Coffee-Houſe, in order to pick up ſome Company to dine with me, and finding none, I aſked the old Man, who refuſed me, as Mrs. Ryves had engaged him; I told him, I would go dine with him;—as I had, in the Shop, read your Apology for the Miniſter, I was greatly ſurpriſed to hear it was the Product of a Lady's Pen; when I ſeemed to queſtion [118] it, they propoſed ſending for you, which being very agreeable to me, was imme⯑diately done; ſo, Madam, this is the Hiſ⯑tory of the Day.

I thanked the Gentleman, for his Com⯑plaiſance in relating it.

The Tea put him into ſuch high Spirits, that he, finding me a Sort of a Politician, told me many entertaining Stories about Sir Rob—t W—l [...]'s various Schemes to have always the Majority of the Houſe on his Side; of which, as many as I can re⯑collect that were humorous, I preſent my Readers with.

The Firſt was this: One Sir Cl—dy M—cd—l, a Scots Baronet, without a Foot of Eſtate, was returned duly elected, for what Shire I have forgot; however, he came to London, took a Hackney-Coach, and drove to Sir Rob—t's; the Servants ſaid, he was engaged; but Sir Cl—dy inſiſted on his carrying up his Name, and, leſt he ſhould forget it, he jumped out of the Coach, and, running up Stairs after him, delivered his Embaſſy [119] himſelf. Sir Rob—t welcomed him, and, like a Courtier, told him, he ſhould be glad to ſerve him: ‘"Nay, nay, Mon, returned he, I came na here for Com⯑pliments; I ha ne Siller to get a Lodg⯑ing, ſo I'll e'en ſtay here till you give me ſome:"’ So Sir Rob—t choſe to give him his Purſe, rather than be plagued with his Impertinence.

The Earl of P—rb—h, a Pen⯑ſioner, told Sir Rob—t, he was always at a Loſs how to vote, inaſmuch as he did not underſtand the Debates,—and was ſo near ſighted, that when the Houſe divided, he knew not of which Side to go:—Sir Rob—t bade him always follow the Bi⯑ſhops. It happened, on the Convention Scheme, three or four of the Biſhops roſe, and the Earl ſeeing them move, he, ac⯑cording to his Maſter's Direction, followed them, and voted point-blank againſt his his Intereſt.

Mr. Rooke, ſeeing how much I was pleaſed, proceeded:

[120]A Scots Peer, who was alſo a Pen⯑ſioner, and a remarkable fat Man, came one Morning, according to Cuſtom, to Sir Rob—t's Levee, and, without the leaſt Ceremony, laid hold of his Ribbon; Sir Rob—t could not readily diſengage him⯑ſelf, and the Nobleman lugged him to the Window, in which, ſouſing him⯑ſelf down, he happened to have an Eſcape, which carried with it ſo loud a Report, that it threw the whole Company into Laughter.

Very well, my Lord, ſaid the Miniſter, pray what have you farther to ſay?

‘"Why, this it is, Sir Rob—t, I owe Fifteen Hundred Pounds, and by G—d, if you don't give it to me, I'll go to⯑morrow to the Houſe, and vote ac⯑cording to Conſcience."’ 'Tis to be preſumed his Demand was complied with in private, though laughed at in public, as he always voted with Sir Rob—t.

Mr. Rocke finding me attentive, pro⯑ceeded: The late Duke of Wh—ton was a Man of infinite Variety, and Humour; [121] at the Time of the Diſcovery of Atter⯑bury's Plot, as they called it, which was proved by decyphering Letters, and tor⯑turing the harmleſs Alphabet into Treaſon; the Duke ſaw a Man at the Door of the Parliament-Houſe, ſelling Horn-books; Sir Rob—t's Equipage ſtopped, and the Duke, laying hold of him as he alight, told him, he was ſurpriſed he did not ſend that Fellow to Newgate, who was ſelling ſuch a Libel on the Miniſtry: ‘"Why, ſaid Sir Rob—t, my Lord, thoſe are Horn-books;"’ ‘"Treaſon, by G—, replied the Duke, as I will convince you;"’ ſo holding him, he ran on,

ſaid he, pulling him by the blue String; the Miniſter could not help himſelf, and being naturally of a pacific Temper, took this as quietly as he did G-n-r-l Ch—ch—ll's lying with his W [...]fe.

As I had never heard the Story, I beg⯑ged he would relate it: Why, ſaid he Sir R-b-rt went out very early one Morning to the Houſe, but having forgot ſome Paper of Importance to the dirty Work of the Day,—he returned Home for it, and paſſing through his Wife's Apartment to his Cloſet, what ſhould he ſee, but his ſerene Spouſe and the General in amorous Dalliance—the General, All-Hero as he was, jumped out of Bed, and beſought Mercy, from, as he ſuppoſed, his incenſed Rival; but the good Man, reſembling Cato in one Point,

ſaid careleſly, ‘"Prithee, what does the Fool mean? you look very warm; get into Bed again, or you'll catch Cold."’

Mr. Rooke, ſeeing me ſo well diverted with this Story, proceeded to another: As I have, ſaid he, mentioned the Duke of Wh—rt—n,—you are to know, he had an Intrigue with Mrs. P—, now C—teſs of B—; one Morning, as they were in Bed together, he recollected that he had promiſed to write a Letter to a Friend—ſo he called for a Pen, Ink, and Paper; but being at a Loſs for a Writing-Deſk, made the Lady turn up her Poſte—s, and dated his Letter from ſweet P—ggy P—lt—y's &c. &c. &c.

Here entered our kind Hoſt, and brought us in a Paper called the Champion, in which was a very humorous Piece of Advice to all who went to C—t, to wear Shields on their Bu—s; this was ſo Mal [124] à propos that it raiſed out Mirth: Said Mr. Rooke, his M—'s own was in Dan⯑ger the other Night; As how, Sir? Why, ſaid he, Sir Rob—t, not chuſing to hurt the Kingdom by the K—'s uſing foreign Commodities, when we had ſo much cheaper and better at Home, recom⯑mended to him Miſs Sk—rr—t, as an Hand-Maiden; his M— liked her ſo well, that he invited her to ſup with him in the C—teſs of Y—h's Apart⯑ment, where growing a little more fond of his young Miſtreſs than the old One could bear, ſhe aroſe, and as the K— leaned over the Table, drew the Chair from under him, and let M— come ſouſe to the Ground: Oh, what a Falling-off was there! He, all enraged, roſe again, kicked firſt the C—ſs, next his Hat, and retired to his Apartment, marvelouſly diſtempered with Choler.

Well, Sir, ſaid I, ſurely Sir R—t was a moſt neceſſary Servant, that would even Sir Pandarus of Troy become, and that for his own Daughter, to oblige his M—; but an able Politician will turn [125] his Hand to any thing, where Profits may accrue, and Mr. Gay obſerves that

And yet, who could ſuſpect a Man of his Reverence and Station, for the moſt vile and ſervile of all Employments!

Oh ſy, ſaid he, don't diſgrace ſo noble an Occupation. I aſſure you, the Knight's Complaiſance to the General proved the Means of ſaving his own Life; for, on the Exciſe Scheme, the People were ſo incenſed, that they determined to put him to Death, and yet make it ſeem Chance Medley: Accordingly, as he was going down to St. Stephen's Steps, into our il⯑luſtrious S—te-Houſe! one Man puſhed him ſo hard that he tumbled on his Face, and a Number of Perſons determined to run over him, and trample him to Death; but the General, who was with him, drew his Sword, and ſwore the firſt who ad⯑vanced ſhould die on Point of Fox.

[126]No body ventured to encounter a Ch—ll, ſo the Prime M—ſter eſcaped.

Ah! ſaid I, that was God's Mercy, and ten Thouſand Pities! Faith, ſaid he, and ſo it was.

Mr. Rooke now began to be a little in⯑quiſitive, who I was? I told him my Name was Meade, for by that I always went in London; ſo that the numerous Stories of Mrs. P—n's being in Ta⯑verns, Bagnio's, &c. which my Huſband ſays be can prove, (Mem. he lyes) never appertained to me; but to his own C—ſin N—y P—n, whoſe Father lives in Pill-Lane,—and who is herſelf as common a Proſtitute as ever traverſed the Hundreds of Drury.

I do this to convince him I ſcorn to rob any of his illuſtrious Family of their noble Atchievements, and, according to the old Proverb, 'Tis but proper to ſet the Saddle on the right Horſe, or rather Mare, for I think ſhe much reſembles one.

But to return.

[127]Mr. Rooke aſked me, if I was related to Capt. Meade? I told him, he was my Uncle's Son: He ſaid, he was a worthy little Fellow; that he knew him very well, and had made him his Confidant in his Amour with his Lady.

Time ſtole inſenſibly away with ſuch agreeable Amuſement; we ſat till the ſmall Hours without Drowſineſs, nor did we de⯑ſire the Aid of Bacchus to keep up our Spirits.

I humbly hope no body will attempt to decypher my Initials; for I do aſſure them, the great M— is an innocent Letter, and does not like Mitching, Mal⯑licho, mean Miſchief.

I told Mr. Rooke, I was going to pub⯑liſh a Book by Subſcription; he ſaid, he was ſure it muſt be good, ſo he gave me a Guinea, and promiſed to uſe his Intereſt for me.

He told me, he would come and viſit me the firſt Hour he had to ſpare: I an⯑wered, I hoped he would ſoon find one: Well then, ſaid he, I'll tell you how I paſs the Day, and do you find one.

[128]I riſe about Nine, drink Coffee, not that I like it, but that it gives a Man the Air of a Politician; for the ſame Reaſon, al⯑ways read the News;—then I dreſs, and about Twelve, go to the Cocoa-Tree, where I talk Treaſon; from thence to St. James's Coffee-Houſe, where I praiſe the Miniſtry; then to White's, where I talk Gallantry; ſo by Three I return Home to Dinner; after that, I read about an Hour, and digeſt the Book and the Dinner to⯑gether;—then I go the Opera or Play, Vaux-Hall or Ranelagh, according to the Seaſon of the Year; from thence Home to Supper, and about Twelve to Bed.

I ſmiled at the Gentleman's whimſical Deſcription of his paſſing the Day, and told him he had, by his own Account, three or four Hours to beſtow on me, as the Hour he talked Treaſon, the Hour he was loyal, or the Hour in which he read; ‘"Ay, ſaid he, very gaily, or what think you of the laſt Flour, wherein I go to Bed?"’ ‘"Oh, Sir, you are ſo much better enga⯑ged, it would not only be Wickedneſs, but Folly alſo, to think of that at all."’

[129]Well, depend on it, ſaid he, I'll ſee you to⯑morrow; ſo we took Leave forever, for the very firſt News I heard next Morning, was, that Mr. Rooke, a little while after he aroſe, fell down in an Apoplectic Fit, and inſtantly expired.

I never was more ſhocked than at his untimely Fate; Heavens! all Wit, Life, and Gaiety at Night, and dead in the Morning! I wept for him as a Friend, and ſuch, I am ſure, he would have been to me, had he lived. I found, by theſe two me⯑lancholy Events, there was nothing ſerious in Mortality; all was but Toys! I frequently recollected Dr. Delany's beautiful Lines on ſeeing himſelf in the Glaſs:

Mrs. Ryves was alſo much touched for the Loſs of this Gentleman, and, indeed, [130] ſo was every body who knew him. She and I went one Afternoon to walk in St. James's Park, but finding myſelf weary, ſhe propoſed going to a Phyſician's Houſe in Weſtminſter, a Widower, and her Rela⯑tion, where we could get a Diſh of Tea, and reſt ourſelves; I agreed; the Doctor was at Home, and a very polite Gentle⯑man; I found by the Furniture of the Room, he was a Virtuoſo, it being adorned with Books, Medals, Paintings, dried Butterflies, and Tomes of Caſuiſtry.

The Dean mentions it as a Praiſe to Vaneſſa, that

For no ſooner did the Doctor perceive that I knew Mark Anthony from Julius Caeſar, and Brutus from both, but he related a great Part of the Roman Hiſtory to me, even from the firſt Punic War to the Death of Julius.

[131]My Readers may venture to believe it was not new to me, who had from my Childhood been, if I may uſe the Word, a perfect Devourer of Books; and I found them both ſweet to the Palate, and nou⯑riſhing Food to the Mind.

It has been obſerved, as a Piece of re⯑fined Policy in Gondamore the Spaniard, that he uſed to talk bad Latin to King James I. who being a Pedant rather than a Prince, had ſo much Pleaſure in, as he thought, ſetting this Machiavel right, that, to oblige his Pupil, he complimented him with the Head of that learned and brave Man Sir Walter Raleigh.

I have often ſucceſsfully practiſed the ſame Art, and gained many Friends by ſeeming to take their Inſtruction with Pleaſure; to acknowledge their Superiority of Underſtanding, on which even Fools pride themſelves, is, I believe the moſt delicate way of flattering ever yet thought of, as Caſſius ſays of Caeſar,

[132] Very few People are Virtue Proof there, all, like Achilles, have a mortal Heel, and though

I found the good Doctor fallible here, to my great Happineſs, as it made him my Friend; and, under God, his Skill and Care ſoon after ſaved my Life.

The Gentleman made us ſtay to Supper, finding when the Wind was in one particu⯑lar Point, I was as wiſe as Hamlet, and knew a Hawk from a Handſaw.

At Supper I told him, I was an Amicus, a-kin to the Faculty, being a Phyſician's Daughter, upon which he aroſe, and ſaid he muſt ſalute his Niece; and, that if ever I ſhould fall ſick, he claimed the Ho⯑nour of attending me. We ſtayed toge⯑ther till Twelve very chearfully, and then parted in Peace.

[133]I have obſerved, if my Life had any Sunſhine, it was but a faint and watery Gleam, too ſoon overcaſt, for, in a very few Days, I was ſeized with a violent Fe⯑ver; it took me with cold ſhivering Fits, and remembering the Doctor's Claim, I ſent for him. He had me bled, and ordered me to go to Bed; I did not ſee him till next Morning, by which time I was quite light-headed, and crying out for my Chil⯑dren; when the Doctor came, I told him he had ſtolen them from me, and carried them to Mr. P—n; on this he opened my Boſom, for which I alſo quarrelled, and ſaid he was a very impudent Fellow; he, ſmiling, ſaid, I had a very fair Skin, but that he was under a Neceſſity of making free with it, otherwiſe he could not anſwer for my Life; and as, it ſeems, it was full of purple Spots, he ordered a large Bliſter for my Back, and one for each Arm; what paſt for ſome Days, in which, they were renewed, I know not, being quite inſenſible even to Pain; but when the Fever abated, and Reaſon once [134] more reaſſumed her Throne, what Frail Machines are we, when Sickneſs can diſ⯑place her? They aſſured me, I raved in⯑ceſſantly for my dear little Ones, and fell into ſuch Fits of Crying and Lamentation for them, that it put them in Mind of Rachel mourning for the Loſs of her Chil⯑dren, who refuſed to be comforted, be⯑cauſe they were not.

So, as it has been often obſerved, that there is Truth in Wine, I found there was Truth in Madneſs, the Cauſe that hurts the Brain, or the reigning Paſſion of the Soul then manifeſts itſelf, and as my Be⯑loved were evermore preſent to my Ima⯑gination, it was no Wonder that their Names dwelt ever on my Tongue.

When theſe Things were told me, I, as one newly awakened from Sleep, remem⯑bered ſome wild, disjointed, incoherent Ideas, which had poſſeſſed my Soul, even during it's lethargic State; ſuch as, that Mr. P—n was going to offer ſome violent Injury to our Children, but of what Kind I knew not, it was fled, like the Remembrance of a Gueſt which tarrieth [135] but a Day. I might have as well have endeavoured to find out the Path which the light Bird had with his Wings beat in the buxom Air, or the Track of a Ship, when with it's crooked Keel, it divides the briny Waves which immediately unite again; or ſeize old Time, and bid him bring me back one Moment paſt, as hope to recollect what, was for ever loſt in Oblivion.

Indeed I have frequently had theſe ſu⯑pernatural Sollicitings, or a Kind of Indi⯑cation of whatever was to befal me before it happened: Nay, what is more ſurpri⯑zing, I have read a Hiſtory, to me quite new, and it has occurred to me, that I myſelf had been ſome way principally concerned in the moſt material Tranſactions of it, tho' they were paſt a thouſand Years.

Had I lived in the Days of Pythagoras, I believe I ſhould have been of his Opi⯑nion, and have imagined,

[136] Nay, I ſhould have been afraid to kill a Woodcock, leſt I ſhould diſinherit the Soul of my Grand-dame.

If my Reader thinks me whimſical, let him judge by the Event.

A Woman, (in whoſe Garden I had once walked in Ireland) the firſt Day I was able to ſit up, and very weak I was after ſo long Sickneſs, even while my kind Phyſician was rubbing my Temples with Hungary Water to recover me out of a fainting Fit, ruſhed into the Room, and, without the leaſt Ceremony, cried out, ‘"Do you know what that Villain has done?"’ As I neither knew her, nor who ſhe ſpoke of, I was quite ſtartled, and aſked her, who ſhe talked about, or what ſhe meant? ‘"That Villain P—n, ſays ſhe, who has ſold your two younger Children for Slaves to New York:"’ This was ſuch a monſtrous Crime I could ſcarce give any Credit to it; for, even admit⯑ting what he had ſo cruelly charged me with in Regard to his Bed, was Truth, how had their helpleſs Innocence offended [137] him? I obſerved to the Doctor, my Ra⯑vings were ominous, and portended ſome dire Calamity.

The Doctor, apprehending this Shock might make me relapſe, begged of the Perſon who gave it, to retire; which, after ſeveral Aſſeverations, that what ſhe ſaid was Fact, as indeed it was, and that ſhe had brought it out in that Manner to haſte me, if poſſible, to prevent their un⯑happy Fate, ſhe did.

As the Doctor was not only a Man of excellent Underſtanding, but alſo of great Humanity, I told him, as he had been ſo kind to adminiſter to the Health of my Body, he muſt now, if poſſible, adminiſter to a Mind diſeaſed; and as it was impoſ⯑ſible for him to preſcribe Remedies with⯑out knowing the Diſtemper, and it's Ori⯑ginal, I gave him my Story in a few Words, and he adviſed me to write to Ireland, to the Rulers, and Biſhops, which I did that very Night; and, pro⯑videntially, the Letters were delivered Time enough to prevent the Children being ſold to Slavery—the Affair was [138] enquired into, and Mr. P—n was obliged to refund to the Maſter of the Kid-Ship, the Golden Earneſt he had received as the Price of the Innocent.

What to me was moſt ſurprizing, was, that Mr. P—n's Mother was one of the Contrivers of this infernal Plot; Grand⯑mothers being uſually more indulgent to their Grandchildren than even their Mo⯑thers; but as ſhe who would have made a Prey of them is not long ſince dead, even of the Diſeaſe that Herod, Peter the Cruel, and other malignant Wretches fell by, I can only bid her adieu, and chari⯑tably hope ſhe has eſcaped the Judgment of the next World, as it fell on her in this.

Theſe Facts are ſo publickly known, that for the Evidence of them I could pro⯑duce even a Cloud of Witneſſes, were it neceſſary.

And yet, who that beheld this Man, clad in holy Veſture at the Altar, appear⯑ing like white-robed Innocence, with Eyes up-turned to Heaven, could believe him capable of all Manner of Crimes;

He may, indeed, like Richard III. prove himſelf by theſe to be a Man; who, when his Mother upbraids him with his mani⯑fold Acts of ſavage Tyranny, ſhe ſays,

And, indeed Mr. P—n may again ſay with him, that he has nothing

[140] Or pluck the holy Furr from off his Back, and let the World, for once ſee what the Inſide of a wicked Prieſt is made of.

As I received no Account from Ireland, I knew not what to think; ſometimes I flattered myſelf that the Woman had be⯑lied him; at other Times, reflecting on his intolerable Barbarity to the poor Crea⯑tures, whom Diſtreſs alone made me leave immured within his inhoſpitable Walls, too rough a Cradle for my pretty Ones! my very Heart died within me, and I am as well aſſured, as that I live, that it was not the Fear of God, but the Fear of a Halter, hindered him from embruing his own Hands in their vital Blood.

But, enough of the Wretch, who, if he can diſprove me, ought to do it; he attributes his Silence to Contempt of me, but it is well known he neither wants Wit, nor Words, nor Impudence to bring him off: It is ſtrong Conviction, with Proof as full and evident as Day againſt him, ties up his guilty Tongue.

[141]At length, I thought of writing to W—rſ—le, as I had learned he was in Dublin: He wrote me Word, that the Children were all well; that he had given an Apprentice-Fee with my Daughter to a Milliner, and had taken my youngeſt Son to himſelf; that old Mr. P—n and my Mother were dead, and my laſt Child, which, being but an Infant, I could not carry to London with me; that he had got a famous oſſified Man, and was going to carry him to Paris for a Shew, to which Place he earneſtly invited me to accompany him.

I hoped, by this Letter, that Mr. P—n had been wronged, with re⯑gard to the Children under his Care; and tho' ſome humane Tears fell for the Loſs of my Mother and my Child, yet, con⯑ſidering how deſolate they both were, I en⯑vied rather than deplored their Fate.

The Child, here mentioned, was that which Mr. P—n diſclaimed, and adviſed me to leave upon the Pariſh.

And now I do aſſure my Readers I was alſo ſincerely ſorry for the Death of old [142] Mr. P—n, inaſmuch as he always treated me with a fatherly Tenderneſs, was exceſſively fond of my Children, was a Man of a great uncultivated Genius; and, tho' I have mentioned his keeping an Alehouſe, I did not mean it in any Diſ⯑reſpect to his Memory; for he was the Son of a Gentleman, tho', by various Miſ⯑fortunes, he was reduced to take up ſo low an Occupation; but nothing can be juſtly deemed ſcandalous which is not diſhoneſt. And, I am well convinced, had he lived, he never would have conſented to the in⯑human Barbarity of his Son.

So many melancholy Incidents had be⯑fallen me in this ſolitary Place, that I de⯑termined to change my Lodging; and was recommended by a Stationer's Wife to a ſingle Gentlewoman who kept a Milliner's Shop in Fleet-ſtreet; ſhe was a jolly likely Dame, of about Forty, very gay; we liked each other ſo well, that we ſoon [143] made a Bargain, and, for a few Days, I was very well pleaſed with the Change, as the Variety of that buſy Part of London amuſed my Mind: But I ſoon found that I was got into very bad Hands, and that my new Landlady was neither better nor worſe than a mercenary Town Jilt; who being pretty well known herſelf, and conſequently deſpiſed, wanted ſomething new to produce to her Cuſtomers.

I think I never ſaw any Perſon in my Life who did not poſſeſs one good Quality, except this Creature; for Woman is a Term too gentle for her, who had not even Decency to hide her Shame.

To give my Reader a Taſte of her Cleanlineſs: She told me herſelf ſhe had not combed her Head for three Years, which, I believe, was true, becauſe ſhe was not Miſtreſs of a Comb, except when ſhe made free with mine, than which no⯑thing could be more offenſive to me, ſo that her Hair, tho' naturally fine, being quite matted on a filthy Hair-cap, ſeemed to be a Compoſition of raw Silk and Moſs, ſuch as I remember to have ſtolen a Lock [144] of from the H [...]ad of Good Duke Hum⯑phrey, at St. Albans, three hundred Years after his Death: Shifts ſhe had two as yellow as Canvas, but they were ſleeveleſs; no Matter for thar, ſhe ſold ready-made Cambrick Sleeves, and could eaſily pin on a Pair, for ſhe never took any farther Trouble about them; I think I muſt for the reſt refer my Reader to the Lady's Dreſſing-room, for

I really, 'till I ſaw this Wretch, ima⯑gined the Dean had only muſtered up all the dirty Ideas in the World in one Piece, on Purpoſe to affront the Fair Sex, as he uſed humorouſly to ſtile old Beggar-women, and Cinder-Pickers.

This makes me digreſs to relate a Com⯑pliment of his to ſome Ladies, who ſupped with him, of which I had the Honour to be One: The Dean was giving us an Ac⯑count of ſome Woman, who, he told us, was the naſtieſt, filthieſt, moſt ſtinking old [145] B—ch that ever was yet ſeen, except the Company, Ladies! except the Company! for that you know is but civil. We all bowed; could we do leſs?

From the Time I had the Misfortune of being her Tenant, ſhe invited every Perſon ſhe had any Acquaintance with to ſee me, as tho' I had been ſome outlandiſh Monſter, or wonderful Curioſity. Amongſt the reſt, ſhe prevailed on the now L—d Ch—f J—ſt—ce E—e, then a Stu⯑dent in Grays-Inn, a fine Gentleman, po⯑etically turned, and ſomewhat too much upon the effeminate or delicate Order to bear whatever was not quite refined, to venture into her Dining-Room, where I ſat ſcribbling; I was for retiring, but that was not permitted: The Gentleman, who was dreſſed in black Velvet, and had the Air of a Perſon of Diſtinction, ſaid, he hoped as his Viſit was intended entirely to me, I would not be ſo unkind as to refuſe it.

I ſaid, I did not know how I was enti⯑tled to ſuch an Honour; but ſince he was pleaſed to beſtow it on me, I ſhould with Gratitude accept of it. My Hoſteſs, for [146] that Name, by her Bulk, far above the common Size of Females, ſhe ſeemed to deſerve, prudently left the Stranger and I to ourſelves, under Pretence that ſhe muſt at⯑tend her Shop. Mr. E—e, ſeeing my Table covered with written Papers, told me, my Room reſembled that of a Law⯑yer, and aſked me Leave to read my Contemplations; to which I agreeing, he had the Complaiſance to ſeem entertained; when, to my unſpeakable Confuſion, the Brute returned, and cried, ‘"What will you treat the Lady with?"’ ‘Any thing ſhe chuſes,"’ returned he, and ſeemed as much confounded as I was: ‘"Pray, Madam, what do you like?"’ ‘"No⯑thing at preſent, Sir, but what I have ordered, ſome Coffee;"’ as it was but Five o'Clock in the Afternoon, and as the Gentleman was remarkable for Sobriety, he approved of my Taſte: He offered to pay for it; ‘"I told him, I did not ſell it, and that he could not more highly ag⯑grieve me."’

My Landlady ſent it up, but did not think proper to partake of our Repaſt, of [147] which I was very glad; he looked on me with Eyes of great Compaſſion, eſpecially as he obſerved the Tears ſpringing from mine, for indeed I was quite ſhocked; he aſked me how I became acquainted with a Perſon ſo very unlike myſelf? I told him, I was a Stranger, and knew very little of her: as he gave Credit to my Words, he adviſed me to quit her Houſe, aſſuring me ſhe was a Procureſs, and, as he ſaid, kept a Shop only to diſguiſe her real Occupation.

He had ſcarce finiſhed his friendly Cau⯑tion, when Madam entered again with two very large Lobſters in one Hand, and a Bottle of Wine in the other, ſhe laid a very foul Table Cloth, dreſſed her Fiſh, and invited us to partake; which we refuſing, ſhe eat them all herſelf, drank the Bottle of Wine, and very modeſtly deſired the Gentleman to pay for them, to which he acquieſced.

This Scene made us laugh heartily, for ſhe fed with ſuch keen Diſpatch, and drank ſo often, that ſhe ſeemed like a ſtarved Pierot, devouring all before her.

[148]Her Rage of Hunger being now, as we hoped, ſuppreſſed, ſhe once more left us; and Mr. E—e ſaid, ‘"I hope you are now convinced, Madam, that, at leaſt, your Reputation will be un⯑done, if you continue here:"’ I anſwered, ‘"It was but too true; but that, at pre⯑ſent, I ſaw no Method of Relief, as ſhe owed me Money, which ſhe never was baſhful in borrowing, by which means I was ill provided to remove, and had agreed to take it out in Board and Lodging."’

Here Madam once more ruſhed in, when, to my great Surprize! ſhe aſked Mr. E—e, would he give her a roaſted Fowl and Sauſages for Supper? He told her, after ſo plentiful a Meal as ſhe had juſt made, he was ſure ſhe did but jeſt: She affirmed ſhe was in earneſt, and that if he would not, there was a Gentleman below that would.

Mr. E—e, who had a Mind to hold more Talk with me, aſked me, what Part of the Houſe belonged to me? She anſwered, with matchleſs Impudence, a [149] very good Bed-chamber, which ſhe ſup⯑poſed, we ſhould have no Objection to, as we liked each other ſo well.

I ſeemed not to take the Meaning of her Speech; and not having the leaſt Appre⯑henſion of any Incivility being offered to me by a Perſon of good Breeding, and Humanity; I told the Gentleman, he ſhould be very welcome, if he pleaſed to walk into it,—as it was on the ſame Floor; he ſaid, I did him great Honour, and that he would wait on me.

However, to avoid the evil Comments which wicked Perſons, judging others by themſelves, are ever ready to make, I left the Door wide open, to the no ſmall Mor⯑tification of my Landlady, and her new Gueſt, as they were obliged to paſs by it.

And what ſhould he be but ſome drunken Swabber or Boatſwain! whoſe Tarpaulin Compliments, of which we heard every Word diſtinctly, for ſome time, diverted us; 'till, at laſt, their Talk became ſo of⯑fenſive, that as I had left the Door open in Point of Decency, I was now on the ſame Account obliged to ſhut it.

[150]The Gentleman once more urged the Neceſſity of my Departure from this vil⯑lainous Woman; aſſuring me, if I would but change my Lodging, and ſend a Line to him, with a Direction, where to find me, he would do every thing in his Power to ſerve diſtreſſed Merit, as he was pleaſe to term it.

And that nothing might be wanting to enable me to do it, he, in a very polite Manner, obliged me to accept of two Guineas, as a Subſcription to my Wri⯑tings.

This ingenious Gentleman entertained me with the Recital of ſeveral beautiful poetical Compoſitions of his own, and finding I was not quite taſteleſs, but, at leaſt, endeavoured to give them due Praiſe, he ſtayed with me 'till Ten o'Clock, no unſeaſonable Hour, as it was in the Month of June; when, either being hungry himſelf, or willing to entertain me, he inſiſted on my Permiſſion to ſend to the Devil Tavern for ſome Supper, a Meal I never chuſe, but, in Complaiſance to my Benefactor, and alſo as a Means of en⯑gaging [151] his further Converſation, which was truly elegant, I, with ſome Reluc⯑tance, ſubmitted to. Our one Maid be⯑ing gone for the other Bowl of Punch for the Sailor, the Gentleman went and be⯑ſpoke it himſelf.

I could not, in his Abſence, but reflect how much the unhappy Part of Women diſappoint even their own Ends; for when they throw off the Appearance of Modeſty, and ſhew the mercenary Proſti⯑tute unveiled, no Man of common Under⯑ſtanding can have the leaſt Regard for them; Mr. Addiſon obſerves of ſome Wo⯑man, who kept a noted Houſe of civil Reception, that ſhe ſaid, no Girl was fit, even for her, who was paſt bluſhing. Well ſaid the Dean, in the following Lines:

[152] And I do aſſure my Reader, I did not forget to return Thanks to the Almighty, who had enabled me to live by his Gifts to me; for, ſure I am, that I could raiſe no Money by vile Means;

Mr. E—e's Return broke off my Contemplation; he had ordered a ſlight, but elegant Repaſt, with a Flaſk of Cham⯑paigne; we ſupped together with great Pleaſure, and, except the diſſonant and unharmonious Noiſe made by our Neigh⯑bours, who were now got ſo merry, that they did, what they called, ſing; we had no Interruption, but talked of Hiſtory, Poetry, and every Muſe-like Theme; called all the mighty Dead before us, re-judged their Acts, commented on the Works of Milton, Shakeſpear, Spencer, and all the Britiſh Claſſics.

The Star, that uſhers in the roſy Dawn, began to reaſſume her Empire o'er the Duſk, and drowſy World; the Bell tolled One, a Signal of Departure to my amiable Gueſt, whoſe kind Injunctions, in regard to my Removal, I promiſed to obey.

The Maid, whom her Miſtreſs half ſtarved, and though ſhe was really her Betters, uſed ſo ill, that ſhe down-right hated her, told me that the Sailor and ſhe were gone to Bed together, both dead drunk.

And yet this Creature would talk of Virtue, nay, go to Church; but, to ſay the Truth, ſhe only went there to pick up a Gallant.

As I was not in the leaſt ſleepy, I diſ⯑miſſed the Servant, and

In ſhort, I was wrapped in a pleaſing Fit of Melancholy, and had I been in the Country, midſt vernal Airs and Blooms, ſhould have attuned my rural Minſtrelſy to ſome high Theme; but, alas! Eaſe and Retirement, thoſe Friends to the Muſe, ever were denied to me, being in a popu⯑lous City pent amidſt the buſy Hum of Men, obliged to work for daily Bread, and often not obtaining even that poor Pittance.

Oh! that I could now retire! that ſome charitable Hand would beſtow on my poor [155] Remains of Life, even but a Clay Habita⯑tion in ſome ſequeſtered Scene, where,

How happy ſhould I think myſelf!

My Readers will, I hope, acknow⯑ledge I deal candidly with them, when I not only acquaint them with my Actions, but reveal to them even the inmoſt Re⯑ceſſes of my Soul as freely as to Heaven.

At length, remembering that Nature requires a Time of Reſt, I thought it but meet to indulge the pleaſing Heavi⯑neſs: or, in plainer Language, I went to Bed, and enjoyed the Honey-dew of Sleep, 'till it was very late in the Day.

It ſeems the Maid had, on purpoſe to mortify her Miſtreſs, told her how genteely Mr. E—e had entertained me; which, though ſhe herſelf had been guilty of ſuch foul Intemperance, and ſwiniſh Gluttony, raiſed her Indignation to ſuch a Height, [156] that ſhe downright affronted me, telling me, I had no Buſineſs with her Gallant: Why, ſaid I, ſure you had him all to your⯑ſelf, I did not interfere; for I ſuppoſed ſhe meant honeſt Tar, but, it ſeems, I was miſtaken, for it was Mr. E—e, whom ſhe had ſo politely diſmiſſed, and whom now ſhe had called a hundred Scrubs; aſ⯑ſuring me, ſhe could never make any thing of him, and really I believed her; and by what I then ſaw of her Temper, I am certain, had ſhe known he had made me a Preſent, I ſhould not have eſcaped with⯑out a good Beating.

Well, ſaid ſhe, at laſt, I warrant I had a better Chap than your fine Beau; (this was ſpeaking pretty plain) my Man gave me a Crown, and Victuals, and Liquor enough: Now, be ſincere, what did that Mr. Maiden give you? For what, ſaid I, I have nothing to ſell; you who keep a Shop, and are in the way of Trade, may eaſily diſpoſe of five Shillings Worth of Goods.

[157]The Wretch knew not what Anſwer to make to me; to acknowledge herſelf a Proſtitute, as I did not ſeem to think her one, was too vile, even for her, and to have given but the moſt remote Hint, that ſhe ſuſpected any evil Correſpondence between Mr. E—e and me, laid her abſolutely at our Mercy.

However, ſhe turned off the Diſcourſe with what Mr. Addiſon terms a Horſe-Laugh, an excellent Expedient to ſupply the Lack of Brains, and which whoever can ſecure on their Side, are ſure of Victory; for who can ſtand it, let it be ever ſo in⯑judiciouſly beſtowed?

This I have very lately experienced, when one W—dw—rd, a Player, got the Laugh againſt me, who never vied with his ſuperior Excellence, only by ſaying,

Oh that his Words had been true! that he had bequeathed to me the precious Legacy of his Wit and Learning

But to deſcend to this terrene Spot: I dreſt, and wandered forth in queſt of a new Lodging; not well knowing this Part of the Town, I paſt through a very clean Court, all inhabited by Jewellers, and juſt oppoſite to the End of it ſaw on the Window of what they in London call a Twiſt Shop, a Bill up to let the firſt Floor. The Woman of the Houſe ſhewed me the Apartment; the Furniture was not only new but rich, and I concluded the Price would be too high for me; but, to my great Surpriſe, the Woman of the Houſe agreed, not only to furniſh me with Linen, but alſo with Plate and China for Five Shillings a Week; there was but one In⯑convenience, which was, that there was no Paſſage into the Houſe, but through the [159] Shop, to which, if they did not object, I had no Cauſe. It ſo fortuned that the Counteſs of Eſſex's Woman, whom I had known at the Laundreſs's before-men⯑tioned, came in, and gave me ſo high a Character, that we agreed on my taking Poſſeſſion of my new Apartment the next Day.

I went from this to a Friend's to Dinner, and did not return Home till Ten at Night; but never in my Life was I more highly provoked; for lo! my Land⯑lady and ſome Fellow or other were in my Bed; the Maid never apprized me of it, being willing to expoſe her brutal Miſ⯑treſs to the utmoſt, but ſhewed me into the Chamber.

I am certain, I was infinitely more aſhamed than ſhe was, for ſhe called to me to ſit down on the Bed ſide; but I haſtened out, and, as I could not take up with her Bed, I was obliged to ſit up all Night.

Pretty ſoon in the Morning, a Woman came to ſee me; ſhe and I packed up my Clothes, called a Porter, and made him carry them to my new Abode, and, as I [160] hoped never to ſee the Wretch again, I did not bid her Adieu.

My Landlord was a Maſter-Taylor, in very good Circumſtances, and his Wife a very ſober modeſt Woman.

I paſt a Week over very calmly, when remembering my Promiſe to Mr. E—e, I wrote a Line to him, but, as I did not know what Street I was in, I enquired of my Landlady, who with very great Re⯑luctance, told me, it was Drury-Lane. I was extremely concerned at this Piece of Information, which ſhe obſerved, and, aſ⯑ſured me, I might enquire into her own, and her Huſband's Character; that they had kept their Lodgings empty, ſooner than let them to any idle Perſon, though they could have had a good Price for them; and a great deal more to the ſame effect; all which, though I did moſt ſted⯑faſtly believe, yet I held it no proper Place for me, of all Perſons in the World, to reſide in.

Women whoſe Characters are unble⯑miſhed, or, who have their Huſbands [161] with them as Guardians to it, may do a thouſand Things, which thoſe who have fallen on evil Days, and evil Tongues, in Prudence muſt avoid.

I did not directly tell my Landlady that I muſt leave her, being reſolved, if poſ⯑ſible, not to remove till I could find a Place where I could be fixed.

Accordingly, I once more took my Way to St. James's, and called upon my old Landlady there: Her firſt Floor was let, but the ſecond being tolerably genteel, we, as we had always been on very friend-Terms, ſoon made a Bargain for it, and I was to enter on it as ſoon as my Week for the other was up. The very Air of St. James's always pleaſed me, and indeed I received ſo many Favours from the Nobili⯑ty, that I had juſt Cauſe to prefer it to any other Part of London.

This happened to be ſome public Feſti⯑val, which, as I did not recollect, I ſat with the good old Gentlewoman till Even⯑ing, when on my return Home, there was a large Bonfire, and a great Crowd at the [162] Temple-Gate; I ſtopped a little, being ſtar⯑tled, and not well knowing how to paſs by, when an old Gentleman very well dreſt, aſk⯑ed me where I was going? I told him, which was Truth, I had miſtaken my Way, being a Stranger: He ſaid, if I'd let him know where I lived, he would wait on me Home; I was almoſt aſhamed to do it, yet, conſidering they were creditable Peo⯑ple where I lodged, I ventured to inform him. My Landlord happened to be his Taylor, ſo he readily conducted me to his Houſe; the People ſaluted him, and ask⯑ed him for his Lady and Family: Why, ſaid he, this is one of them, ſhe is a near Relation to my Wife. I was ſurprized at this new Kindred, and could not tell whether the old Gentleman ſpoke Truth or not, though I could not recollect I had ever ſeen him be⯑fore: yet, as the Landlord treated him with the higheſt Reſpect, I thought it not con⯑venient to contradict him, ſo I invited him in, and wondered where this would end!

My Landlady lighted us up to my Din⯑ing-room; he told her, I had dined at his [163] Houſe, and that after ſo long a Walk I muſt needs be dry, and therefore deſired her to get him a Bottle of Wine, and a Plate of Scotch Collops from ſome particular Tavern he directed her to.

As I found the old Gentleman did not ſtick at telling one Lye, I concluded all he ſaid was falſe, as it really was.

She no ſooner departed, but he aſked me, whether he was not an able Politician? I ſaid, he was a merry Gentleman, and I hoped as I had the Honour of being his Couſin, he would let me know who he was, leſt I ſhould be asked any croſs Queſtions, and our Accounts ſhould vary.

He told me his Name, and where he lived; that he had a conſiderable Eſtate, and alſo a good Employment under the Government, all of which did not make him happy, becauſe Heaven had not bleſſed him with a Child.

He then asked me who I was? for he ſaid, he was ſure I had had a good Edu⯑cation. As I had no reaſon to doubt of his Sincerity, I told him my Story, with which he ſeemed much affected; and in [164] Concluſion, I aſſured him, I was more un⯑happy in having Children, from whom, in all probability, I was for ever ſeparated, than he could be, who never had one.

Here my Landlady brought in Supper, to which he invited her to ſtay; our Con⯑verſation turned on general Topics; it grew pretty late, when to my great Aſtoniſh⯑ment, the Gentleman ſaid, ‘"Couſin, I think you told me, you wanted Mo⯑ney, I have a good deal of your's in my Hands, though not much about me at preſent; however, here are a couple of Guineas, when you want Fifty you know where to come."’ Would I did, thought I, but it was no time for me to refuſe them.

When he went away, I knew not what to think of this odd Adventure, ſometimes I fancied it was a Dream, and dreaded to wake leſt the Gold ſhould vaniſh; then I began to flatter myſelf, that perhaps ſome Relation had left me a Legacy; but hav⯑ing never ſince my Diſtreſs, received the ſmalleſt Favour from one of them, I could hardly hope they ſhould now feel any com⯑punctuous [165] Viſitings of Nature, who were all to me, remorſeleſs as the Sea.

In ſhort, the more I thought, the more I was perplexed, and could only humbly hope, that the protecting Hand of him who

So recommending myſelf to his paternal Care, who had Compaſſion on my Sor⯑rows, I went to my Repoſe.

Early next Morning the Woman of the Houſe told me, there was a Lady wait⯑ing for me in the Dining-room; ſo I aroſe, and who ſhould it be, but my late odious Landlady!

My Reader may judge how welcome ſhe was. She told me there was a Gentle⯑woman waiting for me at her Houſe, who had Buſineſs of the utmoſt Conſequence, and very much to my Advantage to im⯑part [166] to me: Though I ſcarce gave Credit to her, yet Curioſity made me accompany her Home, where I beheld a marvellous ill-favoured old Woman; her Chin, which had on it a comely black Beard, almoſt met her Noſe, there not being a Tooth in the Way to bar their Union. I am ſure, had Don Quixote ſeen her, he would have endeavoured to diſenchant her Muſtachio's. Her Eyes were black and fierce, her Back nobly prominent, her Dreſs tawdry, and take her for all in all, I hope I never ſhall look upon her Like again. I was doubtful whether it was not a Man in Woman's Clothes; but if it were a Crea⯑ture of the Feminine Gender, I concluded it muſt be a Witch, and that the Study of the Black Art had made her ſo hairy about the Face, that ſhe had need of a Barber. But to proceed: She accoſted me very ci⯑villy, in a deep Connaught Brogue, told me ſhe knew all my good Family, and lived in the ſame Pariſh with me in Dublin; I ſoon grew tired of her fulſome Flattery to me and them, and deſired to know her Commands; ſhe told me my Lord G—l⯑w—y [167] had a great Regard for my Fa⯑ther, and was very deſirous of ſeeing me,—and would be a Friend to me: and if I would dine with her next Day, he would meet me: I now began to gueſs at my Lady's Occupation, and gave her a point blank Denial; not but that I ſhould have been glad to ſee his Lordſhip, as I knew he had a Regard for my Father; but a Woman muſt appear in a comtemptible Light, when introduced to a Nobleman by one of the Devil's Agents. So I left Madam to her Meditations, and departed, to her no ſmall Diſcomfort, for it was a gol⯑den Guinea out of her Way; as it ſeems, my Lord's Price was two, one of which he preſented to Madam Procureſs, and the other to the Lady who granted him a Fa⯑vour.

This infernal Embaſſadreſs had taken on her the Name of Cunningham, being, as ſhe ſaid, ruined by a Gentleman of that Name, who had recommended her to ſe⯑veral of the Iriſh Noblemen, as a very neceſſary Perſon. Oh how deteſtable it is [168] to feed a Maw, or clothe a Back by ſuch a filthy Vice!

Well, at the appointed Time, I re⯑turned to St. James's, and the firſt Day I was there, I was honoured with a Letter from Lord G—lw—y, as follows;

I returned my Compliments to his Lord⯑ſhip, and gladly excepted of the Honour of his Company.

About Six he came, and related to me the Trick Mrs. Cunningham had put on [169] him; he told me, he had employed her to find me out, having a Curioſity to ſee a Perſon he had ſo often heard of, both at White's and in Ireland; that the Appoint⯑ment was made, and a Lady introduced to him, whom by his Deſcription of her, I knew to be the odious Mrs. Smith, my ſhocking Landlady;—he ſaid he was much diſappointed when he ſaw her, but the Lady was very kind; nay, ſo kind that he could not reſiſt her.

As you ſtood at your Window this Morning, Colonel D—ne—be aſked me, knowing I was one of the Commiſ⯑ſioners of Ireland, whether I knew you? I anſwered, no:—Why, ſaid he, that is a little Iriſh Muſe, a Phyſician's Daugh⯑ter, and a Parſon's Wife, an eloped one I have been told, but ſhe won't confeſs that; on this I aſked your Name, the Colonel ſaid it was Pilkington, but you were uſually called Mrs. Meade; I then found I had been deceived, and wrote immediately to you.

I told his Lordſhip, I had the Honour of having many Repreſentatives, which [170] had been of very great Diſadvantage to my Character, inaſmuch as they were pretty liberal of their Favours, which were placed to my Account, though I knew nothing of the Matter: My Lord ſaid, that was hard; but he hoped, now he had found the real Mrs. Pilkington, ſhe would not be inexorable. To turn off this Sort of Diſ⯑courſe, I talked of public Affairs, which put my Lord in the Head of making me pacquet Commiſſioner Th—mpſ—n, then Candidate in the Election for the City of Y—rk, with old Engliſh Rhymes, after the Manner of Mother Shipton's Pro⯑phecies, to inform him of the Defeat he was to meet with in that Year. I had the good Fortune to divert him with my co⯑mical Stuff ſo well, that he left me a Task, which was to tranſlate a French Chanſon à boire; he gave me a couple of Guineas, and promiſing to be a frequent Viſitor, he took his Leave.

I do aſſure my Readers, I was very glad to be retained as his Lordſhip's Muſe and Secretary,—an Employment both of Honour and Profit.

[171]I continued in Favour ſome Time; and we bantered half the Nobility, either about their Love-Intrigues or Parliamentary Af⯑fairs, all of which were well known to his Lordſhip, who honoured me with his Con⯑fidence and Inſtruction.

But as all Happineſs fades away, an un⯑foreſeen Accident blaſted mine.

My Lord was ſeized with a Fever, which confined him ſome Days; the firſt Time he was able to go Abroad, he wrote me Word he would paſs the Evening with me. About his appointed Hour, ſomebody tapped at the Dining-room Door, which I opened; when, inſtead of my Lord, en⯑tered Colonel D—nc—be and Mr. Sp—nc—r, whom the Colonel pre⯑ſented to me, and made his Exit.

This Nobleman was no more like his Brother than I to Hercules,—for the firſt Thing he did was to double-lock the Door, put the Key in his Pocket, and by main Strength oblige me to ſit on his Knee. I told him I expected Lord G—l⯑w—y, but that had no Effect, for he ſwore he ſhould not have Admittance; he [172] ſaid he was as well entitled to a Lady's Favour as any Lord: It was to no Purpoſe for me to aſſure him, my Lord never aſked any but what were conſiſtent with Ho⯑nour: He gave no Credit to my Words, and ſeeing he had ſet me weeping, he ſaid, my Lord was very happy in my Love, but that he was not worthy of it, being an Inconſtant; but as for me, added he, I do not come to pay you one Viſit, but to make you mine for ever, to raiſe ſuch Me⯑rit above Diſtreſs, and to make you as happy as I can.

Sir, returned I, your Goodneſs deſerves my Acknowledgment, but your Meaning ſeems doubtful; on what Terms am I to receive thoſe Advantages? On the eaſieſt and ſweeteſt in the World, ſaid he, give me your Love in return, it is all I wiſh; and running on with Lord Haſtings's Speech in his Midnight Viſit to poor Jane Shore, he cried,

[173]It was in vain for me to remonſtrate that he had a fine young Lady of his own; that I was not worth the Pains he took; that I was not handſome: He ſaid, I pleaſed him, and that to him was Beauty, which he was reſolutely determined to poſſeſs, if not by Conſent, he would make uſe of Force.

And truly the Gentleman would ſoon have convinced me he was the ſtronger, had not Lord G—lw—y knocked at the Door; he ſwore I ſhould not open it: My Lord called to me, and ſaid he would break the Door open. I begged of Mr. Sp—nc—r to permit me to let him in, and that if he would ſtay a Moment, I would frame ſome handſome Excuſe to diſ⯑miſs him.

He gave me the Key and went into the Bed-chamber; I opened the Door for Lord G—lw—y, who brought with him the Earl of M—dd—x, a fine Gentleman; Lord G—lw—y was either very angry, or affected to appear ſo; and really I knew not what Apology to [174] make, only to ſay I had been aſleep. The Noblemen ſeated themſelves, to the no ſmall Vexation of Mr. Sp—nc—r. Lord G—lw—y asked me who was in the Bed-chamber? I ſaid, Nobody;—well, Madam, ſaid he, I know you are a Lady of Veracity, but for once I preſume to doubt it; ſo ſaying, he made to the Door, which ſtood open, and Mr. Sp—nc—r clapped it in his Face, doubled-locked it within-ſide, and to my great Happineſs, went out of another Door down Stairs; this I was very glad of, be⯑ing apprehenſive of a Quarrel.—Lord G—lw—y was in a violent Paſ⯑ſion, and inſiſted on my telling him what Fellow, as he called him, affronted him? So to ſatisfy him, I very ingenuouſly told him the whole Story, to the infinite Mirth of Lord M—dd—x, who, I thought, would have died with Laughter, for amongſt other Accidents, I had, in the Fray, loſt a little Paris Cap I wore, and as my Hair was very thick, never miſſed it.

But whatever I could ſay, would by no Means pacify Lord G—lw—y; he [175] called me twenty ungrateful Devils and Jilts, and I know not what, which ſur⯑prized me the more, as I never in my Life imagined he loved me, and conſequently could not form any Idea of his being jea⯑lous; but I ſuppoſe, his Pride was piqued at being locked out, which was the real Cauſe of his Reſentment.

Lord M—dd—x in vain pleaded my Cauſe, till at laſt, an odd Whim of his turned our Tragedy to a Farce.

Lord M—dd—x, it ſeems, liked an Italian Singer, on whom Lord R—y⯑m—d, a very ſmall Gentleman, with a Mind in Proportion to his diminutive Fi⯑gure, had wrote a very ſtupid Satire; he begged of me to write a Love-Letter to him, for he was, it ſeems, a Man of Gal⯑lantry, and his Anſwer I was to commu⯑nicate at White's.

As I was a perfect Stranger to his Cha⯑racter, the Nobleman dictated a fine En⯑comium on his Learning, Wit, Poetry, Beauty, &c. all of which united, had, it ſeems, made a Conqueſt of me, unheard, unſeen, and made me extremely ambitious [176] of being known to ſo accompliſhed a No⯑bleman; we alſo gave him ſome Poetry, and a Direction where to find his moſt enamoured Nymph. This done, the Letter was diſ⯑patched away to Bond-ſtreet, and the Meſſenger brought Word I ſhould have an Anſwer in the Morning.

I know whoever reads this, may very poſſibly cenſure me; but all who are de⯑pendant on the Favours of the Great, muſt comply with their Whimſies; it is enough, if we are ſo conſcientious as not to be made a Slave to their Vices, as R—b—t N—g—t, Eſq civilly asked me to be.

Now, as I have mentioned this Fellow, for ſuch is the Term his Behaviour to me merits, who am in this, in the ſame Mind with Pope ^*, That

I hope my Reader will allow me to give them a ſhort Sketch of him, with Regard [177] to me, and alſo, of the Mortification I had the Happineſs of giving him.

My Father attended his firſt Wife, Lady E—ll—a P—k—t, and, I had, I believe, paſſed twenty Evenings in his Company in Dublin; he had publiſhed a Poem, written by the Rev. Mr. Sterling, called Happineſs, as his own, and another on his Converſion from Popery, inſcribed to W—m P—y, now Earl of B—h, to whoſe Piety he was indebted for his being drawn out of Error. This gave me a fine Opportunity of paying him a Com⯑pliment, which I ſent to White's; he ſent me Word he would wait on me that Eve⯑ning; accordingly he came.

After his firſt Salutation, he very po⯑litely aſked me, if I could help him to a W—, telling me, he had married an ugly old Devil for Money, whom he hated, and wanted a Girl to take into Keeping, which he depended on my Skill to chuſe for him: I thanked him for the honourable Employment he recommended to me, but aſſured him, it was not in my Power to ſerve him, as I never converſed [178] with Women. He told me, he would not be a Friend to me on any other Terms; I ſaid, I was ſorry for it, ſo making him a Reverence, I left the Room. He ſtayed in it ſome Time, hoping, I ſuppoſe, I was gone of his Errand, but finding I did not return, he went away; but to do him Juſtice, he left Half a Gui⯑nea on the Table, as a Recompence for the Affront he had given me.

He wanted, it ſeems, to be admitted as a Member of the Club at White's; their Way of Election is by ballotting, and one black Bean is ſufficient to overturn any Man's Pretenſion to that Honour. I told my Story ſo effectually, that they all con⯑cluded him unfit for Society, and as many Friends as he imagined he had amongſt three hundred Nobles, and, as vaſt a For⯑tune as his Wife had brought him, he had but one white Bean in the whole Draught.

However, I return him Thanks for his Ten and Sixpence, to ſhew my Gratitude.

But, to return to my little Lord R—ym—d. Early next Morning, as I was drinking Tea, his Valet de Chambre [179] ſaid he muſt ſpeak to me. I deſired he might come in; he was a Frenchman, who, contrary to the reſt of his Country, was as booriſh as an Engliſh Farmer; he threw down a Letter on the Table, ‘"Dere, my Lord ſend a you dat;"’ I opened it, and read as follows:

[180]While I was peruſing this gallant Epiſtle, the Frenchman looked ſharp about; he even opened the Corner Cup⯑board; then he demanded of me what did I want with his Lorde? I could not reſiſt my Inclination to laugh, at which he grew choleric, and ſwore, Garzoon, he ſhould never come; which, I being quite eaſy about, he went away muttering ſome⯑thing.

I ſent his Letter, which was wrote in a very bad Hand, and almoſt every Word miſ-ſpelt, to Lord M—dd—x, who ſhewed it to the Company at White's, on whom it took the ſame Effect it had done on me, for they all laughed heartily at Jack-a-Dandy, a Nick-name Lord M—x had beſtowed on him.

Theſe two merry Noblemen, who had ſet me on this Scheme, would fain have prevailed on me to ſend another Letter to Jack-a-Dandy, but I told them, I did not approve of a Man, governed by his Man, and one who ſeemed to be a Coward into the Bargain; Lord M—dd—x then [181] me, Lord R—ym—d had ſome Reaſon to be fearful how he made an Aſſignation, as he had once the Misfortune to be taken in by a Billet-doux; and, when he went to the appointed Place, inſtead of a fine Lady, found a Couple of ſturdy Fellows, who gave him a very good Cudgelling.

This put me in mind of a merry Story told me in London, of Col. C—nn—m, who took Delight in paying his Addreſſes to young Ladies, merely for Amuſement; and no ſooner did he perceive he had gained their Affection, but he deſpiſed his Conqueſt.

As the Noblemen knew him, I related one Story to them, out of many, of a pleaſant Revenge a forſaken Nymph took on him.

This Lady was of exceeding good Birth, very well accompliſhed, and of unblemiſhed Reputation, but not of Fortune equal to his; however, he ſeemed ſo fond, that ſhe ſuppoſed that would be no Obſtacle, and intirely devoted herſelf to the Pleaſure of loving him; which he no ſooner perceived, but he grew cold, civil, and reſpectful, [182] and at laſt went to London, without ſo much as bidding her Farewel.

Her Step-father, Brigadier V—ſ—y, having ſome Call there, took his Lady and her Children with him, where, though Miſs A—t, for that was the Lady's Name, frequently ſaw the Colonel at Court, he never took the leaſt Notice of her, but ſeemed as never acquainted: This, as we may preſume, ſufficiently grieved her, ſhe made her Complaint to a Female Confidante, a Lady of Quality, and a Wo⯑man of Spirit; between them they con⯑trived, at leaſt, to give his Vanity a terri⯑ble Mortification.

They wrote to him a Letter, as from a married Dutcheſs, who was fallen in Love with him at Court; the Chairman had Di⯑rections to wait for his Anſwer, but they took Care that he ſhould not be able to gueſs who ſent it;—all that the Colonel could diſcover was, that it was given to him in the Street, and he was ordered to leave the Anſwer at a Mercer's, where it would be ſafe delivered to the Perſon who wrote the Letter.

[183]This Secrecy made him quite ſure he had gained the Heart of ſome high-born Fair; he failed not to ſend a paſſionate and tender Return for ſo great an Honour as the unknown Charmer had done him. The Ladies received it, and were glad to find the Gudgeon ſwallow the Bait ſo gree⯑dily. Next Night he took care to dreſs himſelf with the utmoſt Magnificence; and, as he is really a graceful Perſon, he made no doubt but the Lady would, by ſome favourable Glance, diſcover herſelf to him; to this End, he went to Court, and ſtrictly examined the Countenance of every Lady of Quality there to no Purpoſe, which only made him ſuppoſe the Lady extremely diſcreet, and careful of her Re⯑putation.

His imaginary Miſtreſs made ſeveral Appointments with him, then ſent him Word, her Lord was come to Town, or ſome Apology, 'till at laſt, tired with their Sport, they reſolved to finiſh it.

To this End, he received a Letter, that the Lady could not find out any Place where ſhe could, without Danger of Diſ⯑covery, [184] meet him, except at his own Houſe, but begged, that he might not let any of his Servants be in the Way; that ſhe would come in a Chair, exactly at Ten, one ſmall Tap at the Door being the Signal for Happineſs.

Never did Knight-Errant propoſe to himſelf more Glory in the finiſhing of an Adventure, than did our happy Colonel at his near approaching Bliſs; he had framed to himſelf an Idea of a perfect Beauty, kind, tender, and formed for Love; his Anſwer was all Rapture, and Acknow⯑ledgment.

His Apartments were filled with Wax Lights, himſelf curled, perfumed, and dreſſed to ſuch Advantage; who could re⯑ſiſt that beheld him? He punctually o⯑beyed the Ladies Commands, in diſ⯑miſſing all the Servants, with Orders not to appear, and waited the happy Minute, with the Impatience of a real Lover; every Moment he looked at his Watch, and thought the Hours, Ages.

At length the long wiſhed for Signal was given, he flew to receive the Fair-one, [185] when a Porter delivered a Band-box into his Hand, and, without ſpeaking a Word to him vaniſhed. Never was any Man in greater Confuſion than he, at opening it; he there found, not only all his own ſoft Epiſ⯑tles, but alſo a little Doll in a Chair, with a Letter in her Hand, directed to him, the Purport of which, was, to let him know he was a conceited Coxcomb, to ſuppoſe any Woman of Quality had the leaſt Re⯑gard for him, and, that the Lady who held that, was a Miſtreſs good enough for him.

The Noblemen thanked me for my Narration, and wiſhed the Trick had been put on Jack-a-Dandy, ſuch a Lady being a much more ſuitable Match for him than the Colonel; however, we all agreed, that this was no Tax on the Gentleman's Un⯑derſtanding,

And, that his Appearance might captivate a Lady, without any Miracle.

Lord M—dd—x did me the Honour to ſubſcribe, and, aſſured me, he would pre⯑vail [186] on as many of his Friends as he could, to do me the ſame Favour.

Next Day Colonel Duncombe asked me, did I know ſuch a Gentleman of Ireland, as L—ft—s H—e, Eſq; I ſaid I did, particularly well, as my Brother and he were inſeparable Companions in the Col⯑lege; he told me, there was a Parcel of Letters freed by the Earl Thomond, then juſt dead, lying for him at White's, and, that he ſhould be very glad to ſee him, to learn ſome Account of the Particulars of Lord Thomond's Death, with whom he had for many Years a ſtrict Friendſhip.

As I had learned by Accident where Mr. H—e lived, I wrote to let him know what the Colonel ſaid; he ſent me a Letter of Thanks, and, that he would do himſelf the Honour of meeting the Colonel the next Evening at my Apart⯑ment.

It ſo fortuned that my kind Benefactor Mr. Cibber came over with the Colonel, and a little after came Mr. H—e; his Politeneſs, and the many pleaſing Inci⯑dents of our younger Days, gave me [187] infinite Delight, as it was a Proof that I was not an Impoſtor, and convinced the Auditors I had once been in Eſteem, even in my own Country.

After a good deal of agreeable Chat, wherein Mr. H—e took an Opportunity of mentioning his having, when he was in the College, ſpent his whole Year's Al⯑lowance in making one grand Ball; and that, as on this Occaſion, he was in Diſ⯑grace with his own Father, he quartered himſelf on mine, praiſing his elegant man⯑ner of living, and the kind Reception he always received from him, which as he ſaid, he muſt ever acknowledge to his Family; Mr. Cibber ſaid, he hoped, as I was the only deſolate Perſon belonging to it, he would be ſo good as to aſſiſt me. He aſked, how it was in his Power? Why, returned he, this poor Lady is obliged to publiſh her Writings by Subſcription, and I dare ſay, a Gentleman of her own Coun⯑try, who has ſo fine a Fortune, and knows her ſo many Years, will, at leaſt, be as kind as Strangers have been to her: With⯑out [188] doubt, Sir, ſaid Mr. H—e, it is the Duty of every Gentleman to do it; ſo riſing, he told me, he was very ſorry he was under an Engagement to the Duke of Devonſhire, but that he would take ano⯑ther Opportunity of paying his Reſpects to me; which ſame Opportunity, as he never found in London, I hope he will in Ireland, and have ſuch a Dependance on his Honour, that I am certain, he will keep it, in being my Friend.

As I had the Honour of being once a kind of a Favourite to Alderman Barber, I judged him a very proper Perſon, both as he had been a Printer, and was alſo a Man of conſiderable Intereſt, to apply to, both to increaſe my Subſcription, and to put me into a Method of getting my Wri⯑tings printed as cheap as I could; to this end, I wrote him a very reſpectful Letter, but received no Anſwer; I followed it with a Second, ſtill he was ſilent; at length, I found a Method to make him ſpeak to me, for, recollecting the beſt Part of a very ſevere Satyr Mr. P—n had [189] wrote on him, I let him know I had it, on which he invited me to his Houſe, re⯑ceived me very kindly, apologized for his Silence, being ill of the Gout, which had hindered him from anſwering me; and aſ⯑ſured me, as ſoon as he was able to go abroad, he would preſent me as a Compa⯑nion to the Dutcheſs of Buckingham, who had promiſed to take one of his Recom⯑mendation, and who, he ſaid, being in the Decline of Life, and having no Children, would, he was certain, if I had the good Fortune to pleaſe her, remember me in her Will; but unhappily for me the Al⯑derman died a few Days after, nor did the Dutcheſs long ſurvive him.

So vaniſhed my Hopes.

A ſhort time after this Diſappointment, which ſenſibly affected me, my Landlady told me, there was an ugly ſquinting old Fellow, who ſaid he had Buſineſs of the utmoſt Conſequence, and muſt ſpeak to me; I bid her ſhew him up, and found he anſwered her Deſcription; he aſked me, was my Name Meade? I ſaid, yes; why [190] then, ſaid he, I am come to inform you, that there is a Legacy of five hundred Pounds left you by one Mr. Clark, who died laſt Week at St. Edmondſbury, but the Lady I was ordered to inquire for is Mr. P—n's Wife; are you the Perſon? I told him the Direction was very right, but that I neither was related to, nor even ac⯑quainted with any Perſon of the Name of Clark, from whom I had the ſmalleſt Rea⯑ſon to hope for ſuch a Favour: Nay, Madam, returned he, as you have changed your Name, why may not he? Upon this, he ſhewed me a Letter, to my Fancy au⯑thentic, wherein I was deſired, if living, to wait on Counſellor Clark in Eſſex-Street in the Strand, who had Orders to pay me the Money, on Proof I was Mrs. Pil⯑kington.

I knew not what to make of all this; I was in hopes the fickle Goddeſs, who is well repreſented ſtanding on a Wheel, was, for once, in a good Humour with me, and was reſolved to make me amends for her former Caprice, or, to ſpeak more ſeriouſly, that the Supreme Almighty Being, that Power, who

had taken Compaſſion on my Sufferings.

While I was loſt in muſing on this odd Adventure, the old Fellow asked me very gaily, if I would give him my Company to Richmond, and take a Dinner with him? I told him I never went abroad with Per⯑ſons I did not know, eſpecially Men; he told me, he was very capable of being ſer⯑viceable to me, and that it was alſo in my Power to be ſo to him; in what, Sir? Why, I have received from Ireland, from your Huſband, the Life of Alderman Barber, wherein there is an Account of the Amours of Cadenus and Vaneſſa, to which the Alderman was privy, and related them to Mr. P—n: Now I have been informed you have ſome Letters of the Dean's, which may embelliſh the Work; and alſo a true Character of the Alderman, written by his Chaplain; I will make you [192] a handſome Conſideration for them, if you will give them to me to publiſh.

This Diſcourſe ſurprized me almoſt as much as the firſt; I therefore begged he would not hold me any longer in Suſpence, but let me know who I converſed with? He anſwered his Name was Edmund Curl, upon which, in ſpite of Vexation, and the Diſappointment of my new-born Hope, I could not forbear laughing at the fine Scheme he had laid, to trick me out of any valuable Manuſcripts I might poſſibly poſ⯑ſeſs; ſo making him a Courteſy, I ſaid, Farewel, Legacy!

I ſhould not trouble the Reader with this Story, but that I have been charged with writing the Life of the Alderman; and, as I ſhall anſwer it to God, I never even ſaw it in my Life, not but Curioſity would have engaged me to read it, eſpe⯑cially as I heard it was very well wrote; but at the Time it was publiſhed, I was a Priſoner in the Marſhalſea, and really had not a Crown to ſpare for a Book.

As Mr. Curl ſwore heartily, that his Letter, with regard to the Legacy, was [193] genuine, I went the next Day to Coun⯑ſellor Clark; there was indeed an old Gen⯑tleman of his name newly dead, at St. Ed⯑monsbury, who had Children and Grand⯑children, Heirs at Law, ſufficient to in⯑herit his Fortune, and, as it happened, he died inteſtate.

However I comforted myſelf that Mr. Curl had not made a Fool of me, as he has done of many a better Writer, and ſe⯑cured me a Priſoner in his poetical Garret, which the ingenious Mr. Fielding charm⯑ingly ridicules.

But oh the diſmal Summer (which ever was attended with Want and all it's gloomy Train, not only to me, but many Perſons who ſeem in good Circumſtances) left me quite deſolate, and obliged me to take a cheaper Lodging, which I did in the Houſe of one Mrs. Trifoli in Duke-ſtreet, St. James's, a moſt extraordinary painted up, bedizened-out old Woman, whoſe Huſband was a German Quack, not then in England, from which, it ſeems his Wife had obliged him to fly, for robbing her of a Deed of Settlement he had made to [194] her at Marriage; but to ſay the Truth, I think that was a Bleſſing to the poor Man, for ſhe was a very Devil incarnate, un⯑merciful and cruel to the laſt Degree: I dare ſay, ſhe never in her Life gave even a Cup of Water or a Morſel of Bread, to keep a poor Creature from ſtarving!

Her Cuſtom was to live upon her Lodgers, even when ſhe knew they were deſolately poor, inaſmuch, that if one of them ſent but for a Pint of Small-Beer, ſhe would intercept it in the Way, and drink half of it; but indeed ſhe was very civil, for ſhe always ſent them Word ſhe drank their Healths, and ſo ſhe did in reality, by depriving them of the Means of pre⯑ſerving it.

Being ſadly diſtreſſed by this avaritious Wretch, I was adviſed to apply to Dr. Mead, who was a Man of Taſte, and had ſixty thouſand Pounds left him, to give in ſuch Charities as he thought proper. Ac⯑cordingly I wrote him a moving Tale of my Diſtreſs, which had ſo good an Effect, that he ſent me Word he would wait on me himſelf the next Day, but not keeping his Word, I addreſt him in the following Lines:

[197]I ſent theſe Rhymes to the Doctor, and, in return, was deſired to come to his Houſe in Ormond-ſtreet, at Four o'Clock that Afternoon.

Now were my Hopes high raiſed, high as the Spring Tide, to which the Ebb quickly ſucceeds, as it did with me; I fancied, vainly fancied! at leaſt ten Guineas in my Pocket, and had, like the Man with his Basket of Glaſſes, turned them into Trade, and purchaſed in my Mind an eaſy Subſiſtence for Life; but I was a little miſ⯑taken in the Matter, as the Sequel will ſhew. I dreſſed myſelf very neatly, and waited on the Doctor; when I knocked at his Door, a Footman with his Mouth very full, and a Bone in his Hand, opened it, and in an Iriſh Accent, demanded my Buſineſs? I told him I wanted to ſpeak to the Doctor: ‘"By my own Shoul, ſaid he, my Maiſhter will not be ſpoke to by Nobody!"’ Well then, Friend, if you pleaſe to let him know Mrs. Meade is here, I believe he will ſpeak to me: ‘"Miſhtriſh Maide, replied he, Arah, are you vanting Charity, and taakes up my Maiſhter's Name to claim [198] Kin with him; well, ſtay there, I'll tell him."’ So he went into a back Par⯑lour, but was quite confounded, when the Doctor inſtantly came out, and gave him a ſevere Reprimand for letting me ſtand in the Hall; and I am very certain, had I thought it worth my While to have ac⯑quainted the Docter with his Inſolence, he would have been diſcharged. A proper Caution to Livery-wearing Fellows to ſpeak with Civility to every Body.

The Doctor ſhewed me into a handſome Street-parlour, adorned with ſeveral Curio⯑ſities, of which here needs no Account: He asked me for Sir John Meade, whom, becauſe he remembered, he expected I ſhould, though he died two Years before I was born; when I told him ſo, he ſeemed diſpleaſed: And really I remember that good Mr. Cibber, in his pleaſant Way, ſcolded me once for not remembering King Charles II. though my Father was born in the Reign of King William.

As my Anſwers to the Doctor, with re⯑lation to the whole Family of the Meades, were ſufficient to convince him I was not an [199] Impoſtor, he asked me how he could ſerve me? I told him I had ſome Poems to publiſh, but for Want of a little Money to pay for the Printing of them, I could not proceed: ‘"Poems, returned he; why, did you ever know any Perſon get Mo⯑ney by Poetry?"’ ‘Yes, Sir, ſeveral; Mr. Pope in particular:"’ ‘"Oh Lud, Lud, (ſaid he, grinning horribly, and ſquinting hideouſly) what Vanity thou haſt! can you write like him?"’ I was quite abaſhed, and really knew not what to ſay for ſome Moments, for my Reader may eaſily perceive, I could not but be ſenſible I had made a fooliſh Speech, un⯑aware to myſelf; however, upon Recollec⯑tion, I aſſured him, I did not preſume to put myſelf in any Degree of Compariſon with ſo juſtly an admired Writer, but that perhaps, on Account of my Sex, I might find a little Favour,

Well ſaid he, there are a Couple of Gui⯑neas for you: This, though far ſhort of my Expectations, was a little preſent Relief, and as the Gentleman was under no Obliga⯑tion [200] to reward or encourage me, I very gratefully accepted of them, and yet

And here gentle Reader, give me Leave to treſpaſs a Moment on your Patience, to make one Remark, which is, that, amongſt all the Perſons who are celebrated for be⯑ing charitable, I never met one really ſo; and the moſt humane and beneficent are thoſe whoſe Characters have been ſo at⯑tacked for their Humanity, that at laſt they have even been aſhamed of well-doing.

I remember Dr. Swift told me, he ſaw a Beggar attack at Biſhop, who charitably from his Abundance, ſpared him a Half⯑penny, and ſaid, God bleſs you; preſently after he attacked Brigadier Groves, who threw Half a Crown to him, and bade G—d d—m him; which, ſaid he, do you think the Beggar prayed for at Night?

[201]But as I have mentioned Dr. Meade, who was ſo much in Love with Mr. Pope, for ſaying,

I think I muſt give them alſo a Sketch of Sir Ha—s, to whom the Doctor adviſed me to apply, as an Encourager of Arts. I travelled down to Chelſea to wait upon him; it ſnowed violently, inſomuch that I, who had only a Chintz Gown on, was wet to the Skin: The Porter, memoran⯑dum, better bred than his Maſter, to whom I had ſent up a Compliment, which, as he did not deſerve, I ſhall not do him the Ho⯑nour to inſert, invited me into his Lodge, where, after about two Hours Attendance, I was at length permitted to enter to his Supreme Maj [...]ſty; but ſure the Pope him⯑ſelf, in all his pontifical Robes, never was half ſo proud. I was conducted by an Eſ⯑cort thro' ſix or ſeven Rooms, one of which was entirely wainſcotted, if I may ſo term it, with China; but like the Idol to whom [202] a ſtately Temple was conſecrated, which a Traveller, attracted by it's outward Mag⯑nificence, thought to find an adorable Deity in, and on Search, found a ridiculous Monkey; ſo I ſaw an old Fellow, whom I am very well convinced never ſaw me, for he did not even vouchſafe to turn his Eyes off a Paper he was writing, to ſee who came in, till at laſt a Beggar-Woman entered, with a ſore eyed Child; the In⯑ſide of whoſe Eyelids he very charitably tore out with a Beard of Corn, under which cruel Operation the Girl fainted, but he ſaid that was good for her: It may be ſo, for by two-headed Janus, Nature has fra⯑med ſtrange Doctors in her Time.

[203] Of this latter Sort was Sir H—ns. Tho' I had ſent him up a Letter which lay before him, he aſked me what I wanted? if I had bad Eyes he ſaid he would bruſh them up for Charity; but as they happened to be tolerably good, I excuſed myſelf, by tel⯑ling him I had brought him that Letter; and indeed I was quick-ſighted enough to find out, that his Honour (as the Beggar-woman called him) was a conceited, ridi⯑culous, imperious old Fool.—He then conſidered my Letter over, and finding by the Contents, Dr. Mead had recommended me to him, ſaid, ‘"Poor Creature! I ſup⯑poſe you want Charity; there is Half a Crown for you."’ I could hardly reſiſt a ſtrong Inclination I had to quoit it, as Falſtaff ſays, into his Face, like a Three-penny Shovel-groat; and was only con⯑ſtrained by the Conſideration, that I had never a Shilling in my Pocket, and that, little as it was, I could eat for it.

I have here done with the Great Sir H—ns Sl—ne, B—r— of O—k—m, and return to Dr. Meade.

[204]I had forgot to tell my Readers, that re⯑juicing at my Succeſs, when I returned from his Houſe I threw the two Guineas up, and had the Misfortune to loſe one in a Chink of the Room; the Board my Land⯑lady would never permit me to remove, leſt, as ſhe ſaid, I ſhould ſpoil her Floor. This trivial Accident gave me a great deal of Uneaſineſs, as it put me out of Power of paying, and quitting her according to my Intention.

However, as I was obliged to live by my Wits, which indeed were almoſt at an End; I formed a Scheme to write a Pane⯑gyric on P—p Lord H—k, then newly created L—d H—h C—r of E—d. I did not addreſs him in the Manner I had done a great many of the Nobility, that is with my one Poem, which I ſent all round, like the Biſhop's Paſtoral Letter; it was, as Swift ſays,

I wrote a fire new one for himſelf, which was really paying him a higher Compliment [205] than he deſerved, as my Readers may per⯑ceive hereafter. I had compleated the Poem, and ſent it to him; he deſired me to come to him on Sunday, that being his only leiſure Time.—

Accordingly, I waited on him at Eight o'Clock on Sunday Morning; the Houſe had rather the Appearance of Deſolation and Poverty, than that of the L—d Ch—ll—r of Br—n: He had Complai⯑ſance enough to ſend his Mace-Bearer to keep me Company, till ſuch time as a Pair of Folding-doors flew open, and my Lord appeared in his Robes, ready to go to Church; he bowed down to the Ground to me, and aſked me if I would drink a Diſh of Chocolate with him? which you may not doubt I accepted of; and was ſurprized to find myſelf, though ſunk in the moſt abject Poverty, ſitting with ſo great a Man!

So, for my Labour, I got a Diſh of ^*Chocolate, which I now return, with the [206] utmoſt Humility, to his L—d—p again.

So, my Lord went to Church, where I alſo went; I there ſaw Doctor Meade, who, perceiving his Lordſhip made me a low Bow, made one four times as low; and I could very hardly refrain laughing at them both, and thinking

And that

Well, I could find no Remedy for the Conſumption of my Purſe, nor borrow, to linger out the Diſeaſe, any where, but from the Pawnbroker; but he was always cha⯑ritable.

However, I concealed my Diſtreſs with the utmoſt Care from my Landlady; called every Morning for the Teakettle, though I had no Tea;—then I ſaid I was enga⯑ged to dine abroad, and took a ſolitary Walk to Weſtminſter-Abby,—and ranged the ſolemn Iſles alone, envying thoſe who reſted in Peace from their Labours; till, at laſt, having been three Days and three Nights without Food of any kind, Heaven pardon me! a melancholy Thought came into my Head, that it was better to die at once, than die daily; and that, as I could [208] not Fardles bear, it was beſt to make my own Quietus, and no longer ſtrive to keep up a frail and feveriſh Being: And here, indeed, I own, I had been unmindful of the Crown which Virtue gives,

Deſpair vanquiſhed me quite; nay, ſo art⯑ful was the Enemy, as even to perſuade me, I had a Right to diſpoſe of my own Life, eſpecially when there did not ſeem, even a Poſſibility of preſerving it. Filled with gloomy Ideas, I took my uſual Walk, and took notice of the Corner, between the Monuments of Shakeſpear and Rowe, where I wiſhed to be interred, and that Mr. Pope's Lines,

[209] might be my Epitaph. I really found room for Meditation, even to Madneſs.

In this Temper I went into St. James's Park, and ſeated myſelf by Roſamond's Pond; the Moon, apparent Queen, un⯑veiled her peerleſs Light, and I waited in the ſilent Shade, reſolved to execute my dreadful Purpoſe, as ſoon as I could do it without Obſervation, when a young Lady, and an old one, both very well dreſſed, ſeated themſelves by me; they, in an ele⯑gant Stile began to praiſe the ſweet and ſolemn Beauties of the Moon-light Scene, the Winds gently whiſpered through the fragrant Lime-trees, juſt then in full Flower; and, indeed, though they were not vernal Airs, they might have diſſipated all Anguiſh, but Deſpair: Finding, that not⯑withſtanding my Taciturnity, the Ladies would enter into Converſation with me, I could not, in Point of good Breeding, re⯑fuſe to return them Anſwers, with as much Politeneſs, as I was Miſtreſs of, till at length, we were ſo pleaſed with each other, that Time inſenſibly flying, we found we were locked into the Park; but the Ladies, [210] whoſe Garden opened into it, inſiſted on my accompanying them to Supper.

We were let in at a Back-door, by a Servant in Livery, to a very genteel Houſe, where, on a Sopha, ſat a very handſome Man in a Gold Brocade Night-Gown, to whom the young Lady preſented me, and ſaid, he was her Spouſe; the Cloth was ready laid, and a cold Supper on the Table: I would very fain have pre⯑vailed on the Lady to permit me to go through her Houſe home, for I could ea⯑ſily perceive the Gentleman's Civility was quite forced, and, that he was impatient to revenge on his Wife the Liberty ſhe had taken of inviting a Stranger in; which in⯑deed, I believe, ſhe did on no other Ac⯑count, but, that ſhe thought Decency would prevent him from giving her a Beating, of which, it ſeems, he was very liberal, though he was but a Footman when the Lady married him, and threw herſelf, and twenty thouſand Pounds away upon him, as I afterwards learned.

But, as the late Earl of Pembroke ob⯑ſerved, when he was told a Maid of Ho⯑nour, [211] who was very handſome, was in Love with him, notwithſtanding he was an old Hump-back'd Man, but one of in⯑finite Wit, ſaid, ‘"Faith, it may be ſo, Women have ſtrange Fancies!"’

I, though foodleſs, never ſpent three Hours more diſagreeably, eſpecially, as this Houſe brought back to my Mind, the Fear and Terror I always felt in Mr. P—n's, to which, if my Father, Mother, or any Friend came, it threw me into Agonies, being well aſſured, they would never de⯑part without receiving ſome groſs Affront, ſuch as the two following Stories, trivial as they are, may ſerve to illuſtrate.

One Alhallow's Eve, a Night of Plea⯑ſure and Diſport in Ireland, among the young Maidens and Batchelors, my Brother and Siſter, who had invited ſome Perſons, agreeable to their own Age, to celebrate it with them, very fairly begged of us, old Folks, to go abroad; to oblige them, and myſelf alſo, I begged of Doctor Delany, who dined with us, and my Father and Mother, to come home with me, and try [212] if we could not be as chearful as they: I no ſooner propoſed the Scheme than they all agreed to it. As my Father was no Supper-Man, I had ordered a Cuſtard to be made for him, and having a barnſtable Oven, it was put into it to bake.

While we were amuſing ourſelves in a⯑greeable Chat, entered Mr. P—n, like the Deſcription of Winter,

and obſerving a Smoak, occaſioned by the lighting of the Oven, he deſcended to ex⯑amine the Contents thereof, found the Cuſtard, eat moſt part of it, and ſent the Remainder out of Doors, telling us to our Faces, we ſhould not liquor our Chops at his Expence; though, memorandum, my dear Father always ſent his Supper and Wine before him, whenever he vouchſafed us the Honour of a Viſit.

The ſecond Inſtance of my Spouſe's Good-nature, was, that though he had no leſs than thirteen Hens, he, knowing I liked a new-laid Egg for my Supper, watched [213] the Hen-rooſt cloſe, and every Egg was in a Baſket ſent to the Widow W—rr—n, covered with a Damaſk Napkin, of which ſhe got no leſs than eighteen given to me by Brigadier Meade: At length, one Even⯑ing, when my Huſband was abroad, my Brother and Siſter came to viſit me; when the Clock ſtruck Ten, I concluded Mr. P—n would not come home to Supper, and I had the Impudence to eat two Eggs; they were ſcarce down when he came in, my Brother had ſent for a Bottle of Wine, and invited his Reverence to drink a Glaſs, but ^*he ſcorned us and our vile Inſinuations; and as he always kept an exact Reckoning for his Poultry, he very magiſterially or⯑dered his Eggs to be got ready; this was a Thunder-clap to me; however, as it was in vain to attempt to hide my Guilt, I was forced to confeſs the horrid Fact; upon which he ſtood aghaſt, as though he had ſeen Church-yards yawn, and Hell itſelf breathe forth Contagion to the World.

[214]What, ſaid he, did you eat my black Hen's Egg? Could not any other ſatisfy your dirty Guts? I wiſh the Devil was in the Egg, and that it had choaked you.

I anſwered, he had preferred his chari⯑table Wiſh too late; and, leſt it ſhould take any Effect, I drank a Glaſs of my Bro⯑ther's Wine, that I might digeſt all toge⯑ther.

Oh, let the World judge how happy I was! But to return.

Though my Park Adventure had di⯑verted the Execution of my ſad Scheme for one Evening, yet, as it had brought me no Relief, I ſtill kept my Purpoſe, and reſolved to fulfil it the next: To this End, I came and ſat in the ſame Place; I made ſeveral Attempts to throw myſelf in, and ſtill, when I came near the Water, the Fear of ſomething after Death puzzled the Will; I examined my Heart ſtrictly, to know what groſs Offence I had ever committed, that it ſhould

For, had I ever refuſed my Morſel to the Hungry, or ever filled the Widow's Eyes with Tears, I ſhould not wonder at it. Quite loſt in theſe melancholy Reflec⯑tions, I was waked as from a Dream, by a very well dreſſed Gentleman, who tapped me on the Shoulder, and ſaid, Lord, can this be Mrs. Pilkington? I looked at him earneſtly, and recollecting I had ſeen his Face before, anſwered, it was all the Re⯑mains of her that was Mrs. Pilkington. May I preſume, Madam, to aſk, on what Intention you are ſitting her? I fancy he perceived by my Looks the Diſorder of my Soul, which, I believe, was ſtrongly pictured there. I begged he would leave me to myſelf—But he inſiſted on my going along with him to the Royal Vineyard, which was not far off—it was in vain to refuſe him, he would take no Denial. When we were got about half way, I very ſe⯑riouſly demanded of him, who he was? He anſwered, he was Capt. Hamilton, who had [216] once the Honour of ſeeing me at my Uncle Van Lewen's in Cork, and who ſhould think himſelf very happy, if it was any way in his power to ſerve me. We got a cold Fowl and ſome Ham, of which I eat a little, and took a Glaſs or two of Cham⯑paigne, and I found it revive me very much. We then fell into Diſcourſe, and I very ſincerely related to him my unhappy Situation, and the Peril his Appearance had delivered me from. My Story affected him ſo much, that it drew Tears from him.

After we had regaled ourſelves, it grow⯑ing late, we left the Park, and he was ſo kind to ſee me to my Lodging; where, putting a couple of Guineas into my Hand, we parted, and he promiſed to ſee me next Morning; but I ſaw him no more.

I am ſure, when Mr. P—n comes to this part of my Story, he will wiſh the Gentleman had been buried, ſooner than he ſhould do him ſo ill an Office, as that of ſaving my Life; but I, among other things, was born to let the World ſee, what the Inſide of a Prieſt is made of;

Take notice, I always except the good and valuable part of the Clergy, whom nobody more highly reſpects and honours than I ſincerely do; for when they poſſeſs, like Berkley, every Virtue under Heaven, who can refuſe it?

I once more began to believe myſelf un⯑der the Favour and Protection of the Al⯑mighty; as his Hand, though to me in⯑viſible, viſibly led me through various Mazes, perplexed with Error; and deter⯑mined, whatever Sufferings he was pleaſed to inflict, to bear them with Reſignation, and never permit them to triumph over a Chriſtian Faith.

And a ſevere and cruel Trial of my Conſtancy I quickly experienced; there was a young Woman, who lodged in the Gar⯑ret, whom I not only to the utmoſt of my Power ſupported, as ſhe was my Country-woman, [218] and in great Diſtreſs, but alſo as ſhe ſaid ſhe was related to the Lord Powerſcourt; her Maiden Name, as ſhe told me, was Craggs; his Lordſhip may better know whether this was true or falſe, than I can preſume to do; however, I had often made her a Confidante to my Diſtreſs, which ſhe as conſtantly revealed to my in⯑exorable Landlady; who one Day, pre⯑tending great Compaſſion, told me what a Snake I harboured in my Boſom, and ſaid, as ſhe had learned from her, that I had ſe⯑veral valuable Things in Pawn, ſhe would releaſe them, and keep them in her own Hands, till ſuch time as I could pay her the Trifle I owed her. I thought this a kind Offer, and with great Acknowledg⯑ment accepted of it: Oh! what a Fool was I, to ſuſpect ſuch a Jew of any Remorſe? I gave her a Line to the Pawnbroker, em⯑powering her to receive whatever he had of mine, and out of my two Guineas paid her one. She laid out two Guineas, took the Goods into her own Hands, and, e'er ſhe came Home, took out a Writ againſt me, for the Money ſhe had paid for them.

[219]This was on a Friday; it rained exceſ⯑ceſſively all Day, to which I attributed both her ſtaying, and the extreme Low⯑neſs and Dejection of Spirit I laboured un⯑der: I called to Mrs. Craggs to bear me Company; but, as ſhe had told my Chri⯑ſtian Name to my Landlady, in order to have me properly arreſted, ſhe did not think convenient to come to me.

At length the old Beldam returned, and, in a merry way, aſked me, Did not I think ſhe had run away with my things? I anſwered, no—they were not worth her while. She complained of being very dry; upon which I was weak enough to treat her with ſome Porter.

My Reader will pleaſe to obſerve, I was at this time employed in writing a Tragedy, called, The Roman Father, from the Story of Virginius and Virginia, two Acts of which I had finiſhed; but, as at the ſame time there were two bad Plays wrote on that Subject, I did not think pro⯑per to go on with it; it was lying on my Window; and after ſome Chat with the [220] old Woman, being very much depreſſed in Spirit, I went to Bed.

Early next Morning, to my no ſmall Surprize, entered a Couple of ill-favoured Fellows, the Sight of whom ſtruck Terror to my Soul. I demanded their Buſineſs; one of them anſwered, ‘"Get up, you Iriſh Papiſt Bitch, and come along with us."’ The other, who had employed himſelf in looking over my Papers, cried, ‘"Ay, the Iriſh Whore, here is ſomething a⯑bout ſome Roman Father, that's the Pope, and be damn'd to you, is it?"’ I was for ſome time quite ſpeechleſs, but, when I recovered Strength enough to ſpeak, I begged of them to leave the Room, till I put on my Clothes; but my Landlady coming in at that inſtant, cried, ‘"You're damn'd modeſt;—don't quit the Place:"’ The Fellows, who had more Decency than ſhe, looked out at the Window, while I dreſſed myſelf, in which Time my Agony was inconceivable; they called a Coach, and thruſting me into it, conveyed me to the Houſe of an Officer of Mace at Cha⯑ring-croſs; as I happened to have a Gui⯑nea [221] in my Pocket, I called for a Room and a Pint of Wine, and then conſidered, if I had one Friend I could apply to: My dear Mr. Cibber was out of Town, as were likewiſe moſt of the Nobility; however, I ſaw young Mr. Cibber go by the Window, and ſent to him, but like all the World, when he heard my Condition, he would not come near me. My whole Debt was Forty Shillings; O, what could I do but give my Tears Vent! which was my only Relief; and next Day, after paying twenty Shillings, I was conveyed to the Marſhalſea Priſon. I ſat withinſide of the Lodge for ſome Minutes quite ſtupified; till at length a Man came, and aſked me, if I was a Priſoner, which, it ſeems, he did not be⯑fore know; I told him I was, upon which he brought me into a Room, where a Par⯑cel of Wretches ſeized me, and ſung a long Song about Garniſh, and were going to pull my Clothes off, till a Servant, who had ſeen me before, ſaid, ‘"For God's ſake don't uſe Dr. Meade's Wife ill:"’ Upon this a moſt ugly Woman came up, and ſaid, ‘"G—d d—n you, you B—h, do you [222] pretend to be Dr. Meade's Wife?—I am his Wife."’ I begged to be heard, which was granted; I told her my Name was Meade, and my Huſband a Clergy⯑man in Ireland. ‘"Oh, that's a different Caſe, ſaid ſhe, going off."’ They were kind enough to take my Word for ſome Drink; and a good decent Woman ſaid, ſhe would accept of me for a Chum, as they call it. She brought me into a little dirty Apartment, where, without examin⯑ing any thing, I in Deſpair threw myſelf down on a Bed I ſaw there, and reſolved never to riſe again. Three Days and Nights paſt, during which Time I never taſted Food of any ſort. At length the Companion of my Miſery preſſed me to take a little Refreſhment, which I was per⯑ſuaded do; and ſeeing ſo many People in my own Condition, at length reconciled me to think of making myſelf as eaſy as poſſible; and leave myſelf to the Diſpoſi⯑tion of Divine Providence. One Morning a Friend came to viſit me, by whom I ſent a Letter to Dr. M—de, telling him my Diſtreſs, and, among other Things, theſe Lines:

I made no doubt but I ſhould be re⯑lieved, and waited impatiently for the An⯑ſwer, which was as follows:

[224]I kept the Original of this by me, with a Reſolution, when I ſhould theſe unlucky Deeds relate, not to omit it. This was ſoon gone, I had many to ſatisfy: I then wrote to Henry Furneſe, Eſq who in a polite manner ſent me a Guinea, which doubled the Obligation;

I was by this ſupported till my dear Mr. Cibber came to Town, who was no ſooner acquainted with my Misfortune, than he ſent me a Guinea all changed into Six-pences, leſt it ſhould tempt ſome one to pick my Pocket; this was an Inſtance of ſingular Humanity; but he has often ſaid, when he did good to People in Diſtreſs, it was only to eaſe his own Mind, which would other⯑wiſe have been on the Rack: Oh, Heavens! what innate Goodneſs muſt dwell in that Breaſt?

[225]Seeing the Woman, that accuſed me for being the Doctor's Wife, lying dead drunk in the Puddle, I aſked my Companion, who ſhe was? Madam, I'll tell you, ſaid ſhe: She was a Servant to Dr. M—de, who had a Child by her, and ſupported her in his Houſe for ſome time; at length they parted, and he was to allow her five Guineas a Week: But the Doctor marry⯑ing his preſent Lady, began to be remiſs in his Payments, which enraged Madam to ſuch a Degree, that, forgetting Decency, ſhe went to his Houſe, and, in Preſence of all his Servants, abuſed and expoſed him to the utmoſt of her power.

Upon this the Doctor ſtepped into his Chariot, and ordered it to drive to her Lodging, where finding ſhe was indebted to her Landlord, one Mr. Bradſt—t, famous for being a Spy for the D— of C—, he deſired him to arreſt, and put her in Jail. This artful Fellow al⯑ledged, it would be very expenſive; but the Doctor having Charity-money enough to ſupply ſuch Exigencies, ſaid, he valued not the Expence, ſo ſhe was ſecured. Upon [226] this the poor Wretch was arreſted, and thrown into Jail; and from time to time Bradſt—t got three hundred Pounds of the Doctor for keeping her there; till at length the Doctor growing weary of the Expence, conſented to her Releaſement; but ſhe had ſo entirely devoted herſelf to drinking, that ſhe died a few Days after ſhe obtained her Liberty.

And ſo let this be booked among other of his good Works, ſuch as combing the Ladies Heads, &c. &c.

I think it is a great Pity that every cha⯑ritably diſpoſed Perſon is not his own Al⯑moner, ſince it is a thouſand to one, whe⯑ther that which was intended to help the Diſtreſt and Innocent, is not applied to the Service of LUXURY and VICE! I am ſure, to my own Knowledge, in ſeveral Inſtances it has been ſo by the D-ct-r, who has many Affairs of the ſame Nature on his Hands; and, to quote his favourite Mr. Pope,

I remember, twenty Years ago, to have heard Dr. Delany ſay from the Pulpit, it was a glorious thing for a Man to be his own EXECUTOR: I dare ſay, he never preached but what he practiſed; and, ex⯑cept that eternal Treaſure, which he has wiſely laid up in ſtore, where neither Moth nor Ruſt can corrupt, nor Thieves break thro' and ſteal: Whenever he comes to pay his Mortal Debt—which Hour be far away!—all he will have left on this ſide of a bleſſed and glorious Immortality, will be a Shower of Orphans and of Wi⯑dows Tears, to bedew the conſecrated Earth, where his honoured Remains ſhall reſt in Peace, till ſummoned to partake of that Bliſs, prepared by the Almighty be⯑fore all Worlds, for Souls like his.

As I have frequently obſerved to my Readers, that I was glad to run away from ſuch a diſagreeable Theme as my Misfor⯑tunes, I hope for their Pardon, though I [228] am obliged to return to them again, and give them an Account even of ſo diſmal a Place as a Jail.

Our Head-Turnkey happened to have been a Servant to Alderman Barber; and, like Joſeph, I found Favour in the Sight of my Keeper, as he had ſeen me in better Days.

This Man took great Compaſſion on me, and as on every Friday, which is Court-day, the Priſoners are all locked up in their re⯑ſpective Apartments, leſt, when the Gates are thrown open for the Admiſſion of the Judge and Lawyers, any of them ſhould make their Eſcape: I was always indul⯑ged in the Liberty of hearing the Trials, which, as a Court of Judicature was a [229] Scene I had never before beheld, greatly amuſed me.

And, indeed, I quickly perceived Sir Richard Steele was not miſtaken, when he ſaid the firſt, ſecond, and third Excellence of a Lawyer was Tautology.

Yet this was but a tranſitory Relaxation, once in a Week; the Horror of my Con⯑dition returned with double Violence the Moment I heard the Key turn for my Con⯑finement.

If Mr. P—n ſhould alledge, that I have been ſevere on him in my Writings; let him but conſider, the Extremity that he drove a worthy Gentleman's Daughter to, nurtured in Eaſe and Plenty: and if he does not acquit me, I am ſure the reſt of the World will.

We had a ſort of a Chappel belonging to the Jail, where Dr. Friend, a Clergy⯑man, Brother to Dr. Friend the Phyſician, obliged us with Divine Service every Sun⯑day: This Gentleman was himſelf a Pri⯑ſoner in the King's-Bench, and, after all the Grandeur he had once lived in, was now ſo low reduced, as even to be beholden [230] to ſuch an unfortunate Creature as I for Sixpence; which, unfortunate as I was, I could not refuſe to ſo fine an Orator, a G [...]ntleman! and, by all Accounts, only undone by boundleſs Generoſity and Hoſ⯑pital [...]ty.

The firſt Day I heard him preach I was charmed with his Elocution, but the reſt of the Congregation, mad and drunk, bade him hold his Tongue;—he indeed, like Orpheus, played to Wolves and Bears; nor were they half ſo obliging to him, as the Storms were to Arion; neither could he, though uttering dulcet and harmonious Sounds, make the rude Crowd grow civil with his Song.

This fine Gentleman I often invited to my lonely Manſion—he was not a lit⯑tle ſurpriſed to hear my mournful Story;—and indeed it ſomewhat alleviated my Sorrow to find ſuch a Companion:—Poor Gentleman! Death has releaſed him; I am ſure I ſhould have done it, had the Almighty given me a Power equal to my Inclination to ſerve him.

[231]However I may praiſe God that I was, under him, the happy Inſtrument of Good to Numbers of my wretched Fellow-crea⯑tures, ſince by one pathetic Memorial I wrote for them, the ſorrowful Sighing of the Priſoners reached the Hearts of the Le⯑giſlative Powers, and obtained an Act of Grace for them.

But as it was now near Chriſtmas, and the Act was not to take Place till the June following, I uſed my utmoſt Endeavours to procure my own Liberty; for, oh! what anxious Moments muſt have paſſed between that dreadful Interval of Time? On a ſe⯑cond Application to Mr. Cibber, he uſed all his Power with the Great for me, and, as he had been uſed to move their Paſſions, did it effectually on my Behalf, inſomuch than no leſs than ſixteen Dukes contributed a Guinea a-piece towards my Enlargement.

When I read over theſe Words, Diſcharge from your Cuſtody the Body of, &c. as I was by nine Weeks Confinement, Sickneſs, and Faſting, rendered quite weak, the joy⯑ful Surpriſe made me faint away ſeveral Times, and indeed, my kind Benefactor [232] had like to have fruſtrated his own gene⯑rous Deſign of preſerving me.

However, after all Debts, Extortions, and Dues were paid, I had juſt thirteen Shillings left, with which Sum I was once more permitted to breathe the open Air—and go where I pleaſed.

As ſoon as I got as far as London-Bridge, I found my Head turn quite giddy, and my Legs fail me, inſomuch that I went into a Jeweller's Shop, who perceiving my weak Condition, permitted me to ſit down in it; I begged of him to let ſome of his Servants call a Coach for me, which he civilly complied with; when I was got into it, I was at a Loſs where to bid the Coachman drive me; till at laſt recollecting, that all my Writings, All, the little all! which might make my fu⯑ture Fortune, were in the Poſſeſſion of Mrs. Trifoli, the Woman who had caſt me into Miſery unſpeakable, which, not to teize my Readers, I have ſlightly paſſed over: for what Entertainment can it poſſibly give to the curious, learned, or polite Reader to hear from me what every [233] Perſon, who has ever been in a Jail, can relate as well as I.

Well, I was carried to her Houſe, where, as I told her, I did not know where to lodge that Night; ſhe kindly accepted of me for a Bedfellow, but a very bad one I found, for ſhe, as my Spirits were quite fatigued, no ſooner found I was faſt aſleep, but ſhe picked my Pocket.

When I awoke in the Morning, ſhe asked me to give her ſome Tea, on which taking up my Pocket to give her Money to go for it, I found I had none; when I complained of this Uſage, ſhe told me ſhe was too charitable to permit me to ſleep with her, and now this was her Reward; ſo ſhe inſiſted on my turning out of her Doors, and truly I knew not where to

So I went dirty, as I came out of Jail, to Mr. Cibber; for I ought before to have obſerved, that this Wretch not only ſecured my Perſon, but my Clothes alſo, inſomuch that I had not a Shift to change me, till, [234] out of what Charity was ſent me, I bought a ſecond one in the Jail.

However, he received me with as much Regard and Kindneſs, as though I had been ever ſo well dreſt; but he charged me not to give him Thanks for any Thing he had done to ſerve me, but to praiſe God, who, as he ſaid, had given me Me⯑rit; ‘"For, Child, ſaid he, were you ſtupid, inſenſible, or wicked, I ſhould never have had the ſmalleſt Compaſſion for you."’

He asked me what I now intended to do? I aſſured him I did not know; for that I neither had a Lodging, nor, what was yet worſe, a Shilling to get one; ‘"Well, ſaid he, I have a little Money in Store for you; I told your melancholy Story to the Duke of Richmond, and he gave me Five Guineas for you; there they are."’

This was a Lottery Prize to one in my unhappy Situation; I could not, though prohibited, forbear the warmeſt Expreſ⯑ſions of Gratitude, both to his Grace and Mr. Cibber; to the Duke I wrote a Letter [235] of Acknowledgment, and provided myſelf with a Lodging in Weſtminſter, and, as it was on Chriſtmas Eve I obtained my Li⯑berty, on New-Year's Day I publiſhed in the Gazette the following Lines:

My dear old Friend was pleaſed with my Senſe of his Goodneſs to me; only he told [237] me, my Lines were more proper to be ad⯑dreſſed to an Archbiſhop than to him, who had nothing to boaſt of more than a little common Humanity.

Well, being now free,—and with five Guineas in my Pocket, in flowing Circum⯑ſtances, I began to conſider, in what Man⯑ner I ſhould improve them; ſo I wrote to his Grace of M—h, who, like Lord Kingsborough, knows not how to give one Guinea by way of Relief, he immediately ſent me Ten, ſealed up in a very genteel Letter, with his beſt Wiſhes and Compli⯑ments to me: who was now ſo rich as I?

But, as Shakeſpear obſerves,

So I juſt then heard a Clergyman was in England, who was a near and intimate Friend of my Father's; him I addreſſed, and was ordered to go to Mr. Richardſon, [238] a Printer, in Saliſbury-court, for an An⯑ſwer to my Letter.

As I had never formed any great Idea of a ^*Printer, by thoſe I had ſeen in Ireland, I was very negligent of my Dreſs, any more than making myſelf clean; but was extremely ſurpriſed, when I was directed to a Houſe of a very grand outward Ap⯑pearance, and had it been a Palace, the beneficent Maſter deſerved it.

I met a very civil Reception from him; and he not only made me break⯑faſt, but alſo dine with him, and his agree⯑able Wife and Children. After Dinner he called me into his Study, and ſhewed me an Order he had received to pay me twelve Guineas, which he immediately took out of his Eſcrutore, and put it into my Hand; but when I went to tell them over, I found I had fourteen, and ſuppo⯑ſing the Gentleman had made a Miſtake, I was for returning two of them; but he, [239] with a Sweetneſs and Modeſty almoſt pe⯑culiar to himſelf, ſaid, he hoped I would not take it ill, that he had preſumed to add a Trifle to the Bounty of my Friend.

I really was confounded, till, recollecting that I had read Pamela, and been told it was written by one Mr. Richardſon, I aſked him, whether he was not the Au⯑thor of it? He ſaid, he was the Editor: I told him, my Surprize was now over, as I found he had only given to the incompa⯑rable Pamela the Virtues of his own worthy Heart.

When he reads theſe Lines, as read them I am certain he will, even for the Writer's ſake, let him reflect, that, at leaſt, his Bread was not ſcattered on the Water; but that though I have no other Way of ſhewing my Gratitude for his boundleſs and repeated Acts of Humanity to me, and my Children, but Words, mere Words; yet, if every Word of mine could charm down Bleſſings on him,

And now, that I might, if poſſible, avoid the Miſery of extreme Want, I re⯑ſolved to turn my Stock into Trade; and, after long Conſideration, thought nothing would ſuit my Inclination ſo well as a Pamphlet-Shop, nor no Place was ſo pro⯑per for my Purpoſe as St. James's-Street, where I ſhould be in the Center of my noble Benefactors; to this end, I walked through it, and finding one to be let, which anſwered my Purpoſe, I directly agreed to give the Landlord twenty-one Pounds a Year, for a Shop, Parlour, and Kitchen; but the Landlord inſiſted upon my paying a Quarter's Rent before-hand, which, though a little hard upon me, as I not only had the Shop to ſtock, but Fur⯑niture of all Kinds to buy, I complied with.

[241]So, Reader, here was a new Scene, and I, for the firſt of my Family, took my Place behind a Counter.

Having met with a very great Bargain of Prints, which were ſold under Diſtreſs, and having ſome Knowledge in that Way, I reſolved alſo to deal in them; ſo, having decorated out my Windows with them to the beſt Advantage, early on Monday Morning I entered on my new Employ.

The firſt Perſon who entered was Lord P—ſt—n, dreſs'd à la mode de Paris, with long ſloped double Ruffles, ſuch as the La⯑dies wear; he took down the Print of Shakeſpear's Monument, and, though it was marked Price Eighteen-pence, he bade me a Groat for it, which, as it had coſt me a Shilling, I could by no means take; ſo he went away very much diſpleaſed, and truly, I began to be out of Conceit with my Occupation.

As my dear Mr. Cibber had made me a preſent of fifty of his laſt Anſwer to Mr. Pope, I ſat down to read it, and found it ſo full of Spirit and Humour, that juſt as it had thrown me into a hearty Fit of [242] Laughter, a Clergyman entered, who aſked me, what I had got new? I told him my preſent Situation: He looked earneſtly on me, and ſaid, he was very ſure of that; ‘"But, Madam, ſaid he, all are not born to be happy in this World, however they may merit it, which plainly demon⯑ſtrates a future State, where Rewards and Puniſhments will be impartially diſ⯑tributed; but why ſhould I tell this to Mrs. Pilkington, who may better in⯑ſtruct her Teacher?"’

I begged of the Gentleman to inform me, where I had had the Honour of ſeeing him? He told me, he was Son to Colonel Stuart, who lived next Door to my Father, before I was married, and when he himſelf was in the College: I then recollected, that he uſed every Day to ſend me ſome poetical Praiſe, and as I never before had an Op⯑portunity of thanking him for his elegant Compliments, I took it now.

As he was deſirous of giving me Hanſel, as they call it, I recommended Mr. Cibber's Letter to him, as a Cure for the Spleen, a Diſtemper moſt ſtudious and learned Per⯑ſons [243] are apt to fall into; he took the Ghoſt's Word for the Excellence of the Performance, and gave me a Guinea; I was going to give him Change, but he would not accept of it; ſo, promiſing to be a conſtant Cuſtomer for whatever I ſold, and wiſhing me all Succeſs, he de⯑parted. Mem. The Clergyman infinitely more generous than the Peer.

As my Obligations to Mr. Cibber were ever preſent to my Mind, I wrote to him the following kind of Paraphraſe on an Ode of Horace:

[245]I ſent theſe Lines to my dear Gentleman, who preſently came to me, as I was once more in his Neighbourhood,—and in his chearful way, ſaid, ‘"Faith, Child, you have praiſed me ſo, that, I think, it is the leaſt I can do to make you eat for a Fortnight;"’—ſo he gave me three Guineas.

As my Mind was now a little at Peace, I began to think of my dear Children, whom nothing but my Incapacity of doing them Service, and a Suppoſition that their Father took proper Care of them, could ever divert my Thoughts from, even a Moment; ſo ſtrong is maternal Love, at leaſt, if every Mother loves like me: For, really, and I hope it is a pardonable Frail⯑ty, my very Life is treaſured in him, whom I may properly ſtile my only Child, and were he to die I ſhould not long ſur⯑vive him.

I know not of what impenetrable Stuff his Father's Heart was made of, that could let ſuch a Son, not only want the Advan⯑tages of Education, which had it not been [246] in his Power to pay for it, it was in his own Power to beſtow on him, ſo far as inſtructing him in the Knowledge of Latin and Greek, which Cato would not permit his Son to be indebted to a Slave for;—and yet Cato was, at leaſt, as good, and a much greater Man than the Parſon; ſurely this he might have done:—No; on the contrary, he choſe to expoſe him, at Nine Years of Age, to every Calamity in Life; and that he did not turn Thief or Pickpocket, was due to God's reſtraining Grace, and providential Care of him.

And here, I muſt, in Vindication of my Child, declare, he never was undutiful or diſreſpectful to me, as his Father has falſly and cruelly reported; he is, like all Per⯑ſons of his Age, ſo full of Mirth and over⯑flowing Spirits, that, I am certain, the Dulneſs his Father brings, as an Excuſe for taking him from School, never was his Fault;

For he is—

Though, I am ſure, only that he has too much Reſpect for his Father, to throw any Reflection on him; yet he might properly ſay, ‘He let me feed with his Hinds, debar'd me of a Place in his Love, and, as much as was in him, mined my Gentility by baſe Education.’ And I may ſay, with Truth, the Boy is gentle, though

[248]But to return. I wrote to Ireland to my eldeſt Son, who, either through Fear of his Father's Anger, or an ill-natur'd Spirit derived from him, did not think me worth an Anſwer; however, he ſhewed the Letter to his Siſter, who, in her low Stile, ſent me an affectionate Letter. Before it reached me, I heard Mr. Ar—e was come to London, and having been told my Child was bound Apprentice to him, I did not doubt but I ſhould find him with him, ſo I went to wait on him; he received me very politely, and told me, my Son had left him, and was gone to Scotland: When I demanded, how they came to part? He ſaid, he had pawned ſome of his Muſic Books, and that he had complained to his Father of him, who aſked what they might be worth? It is to be preſumed that they were valued to the utmoſt they coſt; upon which Mr. P—n, ever tender, ſaid he was glad to hear that the Theft, as he termed it, amounted to Death, intreating Mr. Ar—e to proſecute the Child, for ſuch he then was, and declaring that no⯑thing in the World would give him greater Satis⯑faction [249] than to hear that the Dog was hang'd.

Mr. Ar—e ſaid, Mr. P—n's In⯑humanity quite ſhocked him,—ſo he corrected the Boy very ſeverely, upon which he ran away from him; that he had ſince received a Letter from him, which he ſhewed to me, and from thence I got a Direction where to write to him. I was, as may be ſuppoſed, infinitely diſturbed at this Account of my Son; I wrote to him that very Night, and informed him of what Mr. A—e had ſaid; I begged of him to come to me, and that as his Maſter had highly commended his muſical Talents, I hoped, by Mr. Cibber's Intereſt, to get him engaged at one of the Theatres.

About ten Days after, having juſt paid my Rent, and bought ſome Shop-Goods, on which I had laid out every Penny I was worth;—as I had ſtuck up on my Shop Window, Letters written here on any Subject, except the Law, Price Twelve-pence; Petitions alſo drawn at the ſame Rate. Mem. Ready Money, no Truſt.

[250]A Man came in, very badly dreſt, with a greaſy Leather Apron before him; he looked over ſome Prints, when the Poſt⯑man brought me a large Pacquet, marked Edinburgh; as I had no Money, I was in terrible Confuſion, eſpecially as the Fellow cried, ‘"Come, Miſtreſs, don't keep me waiting;"’ I ſaid, I muſt ſend out for Change: Oh, ſaid he, I never go without it; where's your Piece? Upon this, the Leather-apron'd Gentleman, for ſuch he was, drew out a Handful of Gold, and throwing down a Guinea, ſaid, ‘"There, take your Money;"’ and what was yet more ſurprizing, he inſiſted on my taking the Change, for he determined, he ſaid, to have me his Debtor.

Upon this I began to have a very different Opinion of my new Cuſtomer than what his firſt Appearance gave me, and therefore civilly entreated his Permiſſion to peruſe my Letter, to which he agreeing, I had not read above ten Lines when I burſt into Tears, ſo the Gentleman inſiſted on my laying it aſide while he ſtayed, telling me, [251] I muſt ſo far oblige him as to write a Love-Letter for him.

Upon this I invited him into the Parlour, and told him, he muſt make me his Confi⯑dant: He ſaid, he had never mentioned Love to the Lady; that, as to her Perſon, ſhe was very agreeable, but that her Mind far ſurpaſſed it: So, having my Inſtruc⯑tions, I quickly finiſhed my Taſk greatly to his Satisfaction, inſomuch that he pro⯑teſted I muſt give him Leave to ſend for a Flaſk of Champaigne to raiſe my Spirits, which, indeed, were greatly oppreſſed.

By the time he had drank a Glaſs or two, he began to talk of Homer, Horace, Milton, and all the Poets; ſung an Italian Song; and ſoon convinced me, that Dreſs was put on merely to diſguiſe a fine Gen⯑tleman, which it was no way in his Power to do; I told him ſo, and aſked him, why he walked in Maſquerade?

He ſmiled at my Queſtion, but aſſured me, he was neither better or worſe than a Houſe-Painter, and that his Name was Tom Bruſh.

[252]This put me in Mind of an Adventure I once had in Ireland, when one of the fineſt Gentlemen in it came to viſit me in a Grazier's Coat, and told me his Name was Tom Long, the Carrier, though he hap⯑pened to be an Engliſh Baronet, with a large Eſtate, and a great Employment.

But I have been a Lady of Adventure, and almoſt every Day of my Life produces ſome new one: I am ſure, I ought to thank my loving Huſband for the Opportunity he has afforded me of ſeeing the World from the Palace to the Priſon; for had he but permitted me to be what Nature cer⯑tainly intended me for, a harmleſs houſ⯑hold Dove, in all human Probability I ſhould have reſted contented with my humble Situation, and, inſtead of uſing a Pen, been employed with a Needle, to work for the little ones we might, by this time, have had.

Now, after all my ſtrange Viciſſitudes of good and evil Fortune, I ſincerely de⯑clare, that were I to have my Wiſh, tho' I ſhould not now in the Decline of Life be able to ſtruggle through Misfortunes, as in [253] it's firſt ſprightly Career; yet as by the Bounty, Compaſſion, and Kindneſs of all my noble, and honoured Benefactors, I have the unſpeakable Happineſs of being ſet above the low Diſtreſſes of Life.

I think I am glad that there has been ſuch ſtrong Proof made of my Conſtancy, without which I had ſcarce known how duly to praiſe that eternal Goodneſs, who evermore gave me Strength adequate to the ſevere Afflictions he was pleaſed to try me with. Be then all Praiſe to him, who

Well, when Mr. Bruſh departed, I read my dear Child's Letter, which was as fol⯑lows:

This Account of my poor Child's Suf⯑ferings threw me into what they call An Hiſterick Cholick, under which I languiſhed many Days; but my Hour was not yet come, nor had my Sorrows reached their Summit. But of that in due place.

But to return to my Seat behind the Counter, where I was tolerably content with my Situation, except for the Concern I felt for my Children, from whom I could ſeldom diſengage my Thoughts, although the ſad Remembrance grieves my [260] Soul. I muſt proceed: I went to indulge a pleaſing Fit of Melancholy into Weſtmin⯑ſter-Abbey,

I wandered through the Cloyſters, reading the Inſcriptions till it grew duſkiſh. I haſtened to the great Gate, but was infi⯑nitely ſhocked to find I was locked into the ſolitary Manſions of the Dead: I called a⯑loud to no purpoſe, except to fright myſelf with my own Voice, reverborated through

'Tis ſcarce in the power of Imagination to paint the Horror which poſſeſſed me, eſ⯑pecially as, by the Glimpſes of the Moon, the Statues, which had before been Subjects of Amuſement to me, now looked dread⯑ful, when each Mole-hill Ant ſwelled to a huge Olympus; I knew not what to do, [261] but, if poſſible, take Sanctuary at the Altar.

I went up to the Iron Wicket, which opens into that part of the Abbey where Divine Service is performed, and to my unſpeakable Happineſs, pulled it open: I thought to ſit down in one of the Pews till Morning, till, recollecting the Church was full of Rats, my Terrors were again re⯑newed, and I had Inclination to go into the Iſles, yet, how ſtrong a Paſſion is Fear? the very Look of them terrified me; till, at length gathering Courage, even from De⯑ſpair, I went to the Communion Table, took off from thence a Carpet, which co⯑vered it, and thinking I could no where be ſo ſecure from thoſe Vermin as in the Pulpit, I, with great Difficulty, dragged it up, where finding alſo a Velvet Cuſhion, I ſeated myſelf, and laid the Cuſhion un⯑der my Head, wrapping even my Face up with the Carpet.

I endeavoured all in my Power, by the Force of Reaſon and Religion, to conquer the Terrors which ſeized me; I reflected that God was every where, and able to [262] defend me; that he was not ſlow to hear, nor impotent to ſave; and alſo that the Church was peculiarly under his Care, as conſecrated to Acts of Holineſs, and both relying on his Providence, and commit⯑ting to his Protection, I found my Mind as tranquil and compoſed, as if I had been at home in my Bed, and fell into a deep Sleep: And here, tho' I may be thought whimſical or ſuperſtitious for it, I cannot avoid relating my Dream, produced, no doubt, by the ſame Set of Ideas which had poſſeſſed my waking Thoughts, and ſtill held their place in Sleep.

I imagined myſelf to be exactly where I was, and that ſuddenly the Graves gave up their mighty dead, who walked in mar⯑tial Array before me; I thought, by ſome ſecret intuitive Knowledge, I became ac⯑quainted not only with their Names, but alſo with their Aſpects. Many crowned Heads and ſceptered Hands ſtalked by me in venerable Majeſty: Henry V. clad in Armour, drew in a particular manner my Attention, inſomuch that I could not for⯑bear bleſſing him; I thought he ſmiled, [263] and, with a placid Air, returned my Salu⯑tation, and ſaid, ‘"I ſhould have been Great, if, when I had conquered France, I had not married the perfidious Daugh⯑ter of it, who at the Age of Thirty-four poiſoned me. This Crime of hers has been truly viſited on all our unhappy Race, who are now quite extinct."’

I ſaid, Thanks, Gracious Monarch. He diſappeared, and two Perſons ſtruggling for a Diadem next approached. Death, Deſolation, and Ruin were ſpread around them, till at length, a ſurly-looking Fel⯑low deſtroyed them both, and all their Friends.

I mourned at this ſad Scene, when, lo! a Hero appeared, who held in one Hand red Roſes and white, ſo blended that they looked lovely to the Eye; he ſeemed once or twice to ſmell to them, when inſtantly the Flowers faded and died, while in their Place, appeared a large Bag of Money.

Next came a ſquat, ſquare-faced King, who held in his right-hand four bloody Heads, one of whom I thought I knew to [264] be that of Anna Bullen, and the other that of the Marquis of Surrey.

A ſweetly blooming Youth, whoſe Por⯑trait was juſt at my Back in the Pulpit, ap⯑peared and vaniſhed like my Dream, out of which I ſtartled by the Chimes; finding the Bell tolled Four, and knowing the early Service did not begin till Six, I once more endeavoured to compoſe myſelf to Reſt.

I muſt reaſſume my Dream juſt where it broke off, as it really occurred to me. A lovely Lady made her Entrance, holding Plato in one Hand, and the Bible in the other; two Men, by Force, put a Crown on her Head, at which ſhe ſeemed ter⯑rified, when immediately came a Woman with a Countenance like Maegara, attended by a Train of Fellows, with Cords, Axes, and Hatchets, Wheels, and other Imple⯑ments of Death and Torture, waited on again by Perſons, who, by their holy Veſtments, I hoped would be, at leaſt hu⯑mane; but alas! inſtead of comforting the lovely Lady, they forced the above-ſaid Fury, who ſeemed for once inclined to pity [265] her, to permit thoſe ſavage and inhuman Butchers to cut off the lovelieſt, the moſt learned Head that ever, from the prime Creation, adorned a Woman.

But to the unſpeakable Happineſs of Great-Britain, this deteſtable Wretch told me, as I thought, that Philip of Spain poi⯑ſoned her, in Hopes of marrying her Siſter Elizabeth, then a Priſoner in the Tower.

I was tired with theſe ſhadowy crowned Heads paſſing by me, like thoſe in Macbeth, and wiſhed to ſee the ſweetly inſpired, Lau⯑rel-wreathed Poets advance; my Wiſh was immediately gratified, and a merry old Fellow appeared, who was, as it were in Jeſt, laſhing a whole Swarm of Friars:

And though the Blows were dealt pretty ſmart, they affected to ſmile at them.

[266]Next appeared a Queen, to whom a Gentleman, with a ſweet but melancholy Countenance, humbly preſented a Volume of inimitable Poetry, as he was the Prince of Poets in his Time: His Gloriana re⯑ceived it graciouſly, and putting her Hand in her Pocket gave him a large Bag; I ſup⯑poſed it had been filled with Gold, but the Poet opening it, found nothing in it but Grains, ſu [...]h as they feed the Hogs with, of which he put a large Handful into his Mouth, and inſtantly dropped down.

The Concern I felt for him awaked me; the Bell tolling for Morning Prayer, and the Sexton miſſing the Carpet, and ſuppo⯑ſing the Church had been robbed, was al⯑moſt beſide himſelf, till I called to him, and bade him not be frighted, there was nothing gone; the Man ſtared at me, I begged him to come and help me down, for I found myſelf ſo weak I could ſcarce move.

I then told him by what odd Accident I came there: He ſeemed amazed that I out⯑lived it, and ſwore heartily he would not have been in my Place for all the World. [297] I begged of him to get ſomebody to call me a Chair; he went himſelf for one, and with great Good-nature, brought from his own Houſe a ſmall Phial, with ſome Cherry-brandy in it, and a Tea-cup in his Pocket; I am ſure I wanted a Cordial, and there⯑fore took a little of it, though not with⯑out obliging him to accept of Payment for it.

When I returned Home, my Servant, who had ſat up for me all Night, was amazed to ſee me ſo pale and dirty, for the old Carpet had ſufficiently ſoiled my Apparel; but, leſt ſhe ſhould conceive a bad Opinion of me, I told her where I had been, and went to Bed; I ſlept for two Hours, and awoke extremely ill, notwith⯑ſtanding which I cleaned myſelf, and went into my Shop.

A young Gentleman, but very gravely dreſt, was my firſt Cuſtomer; he aſked me the Price of an old Print in the Window, and ſeemed ſurprized at my aſking Half a Crown for it, aſſuring me it was not worth a Groat; I ſaid, I was ſure he was too good a Judge not to know the Value of [268] any Print taken out of Montfaucon's An⯑tiquities: He ſaid, he wondered why, ſince I knew the Value of the Author, I ſhould be ſo taſteleſs as to cut one of them out of the Work, which in many Places ſerved to illuſtrate it, particularly in the Medals: I aſſured him I had not done it, but had bought them amongſt a Number of others. The Gentleman perceiving I ſpoke very faintly, ſaid, he believed I was not well; I aſſured him I was ſo ill, it was with in⯑finite Difficulty I ſpoke at all; he demanded of me, who was my Phyſician? I ſaid, I had none ſince my dear Father died, who was one of the Faculty: Then, Madam, ſaid he, allow me to have that Honour; ſo feeling my Pulſe, he ordered me to be bled, which greatly relieved my poor Head, which, with the Agitation of Spirit I had ſuffered over Night, aked ready to ſplit. As this Gentleman gave me his Attendance as long as I had the leaſt Complaint, I ſhould, I think, be highly ungrateful not to acknowledge my Obligation to Dr. Lawſon.

[269]And indeed, I muſt here ſay, I never met with more learned, more generous, or more humane Gentlemen than Phyſicians; yet as no general Rule is without an Excep⯑tion, Dr. W—lk—r refuſed me a Sub⯑ſcription, altho' every other Phyſician had, on my dear Father's Account, relieved his unhappy Family; but he alledged it would diſoblige Mr. P—n; I know not but it might; yet how he came to fear him more than the reſt of the World did, that I know not, but any Excuſe will ſerve a Man to ſave five Shillings; perhaps he could not ſpare them, as it is more than probable, were he ſee'd according to his Skill, he might not be worth a ſingle Marvedi; and for many Reaſons, he ought not to be ſevere on any Woman's Cha⯑racter, let him amend the Females of his own Family firſt, a Taſk, I fear he will never be able to perform.

I might alſo give the ſame Advice to Dr. O—ns, whoſe two Siſters took a ſolitary Walk over Eſſex-Bridge every Evening, perhaps to ſay their Prayers.

[270]But to return to Albion. I had one Even⯑ing been invited abroad, and at my Return, my Servant told me there had been two very fine Gentlemen to viſit me, who would not leave their Names, but ſaid they would come the next Morning. Accord⯑ingly they did; one of whom I knew to be Lieutenant Southwel, ſince dead, and the other the L—d V—t D—le; Mr. Southwel, who had been many Years acquainted with me, ſeemed rejoiced to ſee me, but my Lord looked on me with the utmoſt Contempt, nay, with ſuch an Air, as I had never before met with from any Gentleman, and cried, ‘"Prithee, come away, I thought you were to take me to a Girl of Sixteen;"’ though, mem. he was at that time married to his preſent Lady, who is, by all Accounts, a very great Beauty: I aſſured his Lordſhip I had been once Sixteen, but as it happened ſix⯑teen Years had rolled over ſince that bloom⯑ing Seaſon, and that, to my great Morti⯑fication, I could not arreſt old Father Time: Mr. Southwel very politely ſaid, I ſhould be always young; but my Lord [271] urging his Departure, he whiſpered me, that he would come and paſs the Evening with me.

He kept his Word, and gave me a long Detail of the Calamities he had ſuffered on Board a Man-of-War, where, becauſe ſome ſaucy Fellow called him a Baſtard, and he in Return, broke his Head, the Captain confined him ſixteen Weeks to his Cabin; but learning that he was very ill, he per⯑mitted him to come upon Deck; he was ſupported by two Men, weak, cold, and trembling, as he aſſured me, and ready to faint, ſo that he was obliged to ſit down; upon which the Captain demanded how he dare to ſit down in his Preſence, or to wear his Hat? ſo he firſt knocked it off, and then threw it into the Sea.

Theſe Indignities, ſaid he, ſo highly provoked me, that I retired to my Cabin, reſolved, if ever I ſet my foot on Shore, to call the Captain to an Account for them. Accordingly, as ſoon as we were on Engliſh Ground, I challenged him, for which Of⯑fence I was mulcted eighteen Months pay; ſo here is the Hiſtory of poor Dick for you.

[272]I was ſenſibly touched with his Narra⯑tion, and could not help reflecting how ter⯑ribly it muſt be to Gentlemen of Family and Education, to bear with Inſults from Wretches ſo far beneath them, as thoſe Marine Commanders frequently are, who are perhaps advanced for being abject, and no ſooner are they advanced, but they be⯑come inſolent Tyrants.

And indeed, I believe this is eternally the Caſe; for it is a conſtant Remark, that the worſt Maſters and Miſtreſſes, are thoſe who have been Servants themſelves; they know what Frauds they have committed when in the like Situation, and conſe⯑quently pry into ſuch low Affairs, as Per⯑ſons of genteel Birth, and generous Educa⯑tion could never think of, and even if they were informed of them, would chuſe to overlook.

Mr. Southwel then told me, Lord D—le had abuſed me all Day, tho' for what Cauſe I know not; but, with blunt Ben, in Love for Love, I merrily told my Sea Officer, that as for my Lord's Love or Liking, I valued it not of a Rope's [273] End, and that, mayhap, I liked him as little as he did me.

I almoſt forced him to drink a Pint of Wine with me, and would have alſo forced Half a Guinea on him, but his Spirit would not admit of that.

I was ſo highly provoked at Lord D—le's Inſolence and Pride, ſo lit⯑tle becoming the Character of a Nobleman, that I could not forbear writing ſome Lines on ſo proper a Subject for Satire, which Mr. Southwel had ſnatched from me, and directly carried to his Lordſhip.

I went next Morning to wait on Ad⯑miral Anſon, with a Petition from the Siſter of his Valet de Chambre, who hap⯑pened to be the firſt Man ſhot in his firſt Sea Engagement, to whom, beſide a Part of the Prize then taken, there was ſeven Years Wages due. I was ſhewn into the Back Parlour of a ſmall Houſe in Hanover-Square. It was well adorned with Books in Glaſs Caſes, even from the Ceiling to the Floor; and on this Occaſion, as I had a thouſand Pounds worth of Jewels left with me by Mr. Fiſher, whoſe Father kept a [274] Shop in Caſtle-ſtreet, Dublin, to diſpoſe off for him, knowing how much Dreſs com⯑mands Reſpect, I put a pair of Diamond Ear-rings into my Ears, tied on a Diamond Solitaire, and as for Lace, and every other Appurtenance to ſuit thoſe Ornaments, I had them of my own.

My glittering Appearance, and being in a Chair, ſoon b [...]ought the Admiral down in a rich Undreſs, as he ſuppoſed, by the Account delivered of me, I muſt be a Wo⯑man of Quality; my Eyes were faſt en⯑gaged to the Books when he entered; he begged my Pardon for his Diſhabille: I turned, and ſaid, I was glad for once to ſee Learning and Valour ſo happily united.

But no ſooner did he find that I had only a Petition to deliver, but his Coun⯑tenance changed to the ſevere, and he told me, he believed People thought he had brought Home the Wealth of the Indies, whereas he had not a ſingle Shilling to com⯑mand, no more than the meaneſt Sailor aboard, the Money being all, as he ſaid, paid into the Treaſury, from whence no [275] Man, without the utmoſt Difficulty, could extract one ſingle Farthing of it; and hav⯑ing the Word of ſo great a Man, I really believed it: A ſad Diſcouragement to all Sailors to venture their Lives, when even their very Admirals are not rewarded!

However, as I told the Admiral the Woman was actually ſtarving, he gave me a Guinea for her.

When I returned Home, I found in my Shop Lord D—le, Mr. Skeffington, ſince dead, and another Gentleman waiting for me; Lord D—le aſked what he had done, to provoke me to write with ſo much Bitterneſs againſt him? Nay, my Lord, what had I done to diſoblige you, or occaſion your beſtowing on me ſuch groſs Abuſe, as Mr. Southwel aſſured me you did? My Lord ſaid, upon his Honour it was falſe, and taking me by the Hand, aſſured me he would be a Friend to me, provided I gave him no more of my Pen; but as from that Hour to this, he never did me any kind of Service, I think the Obligation void on my Side, and there⯑fore [276] preſent my Readers with the follow⯑ing Sketch of his inimitable Character.

And now, my L—d, as I believe I am the firſt Poet who ever celebrated the illuſtrious Name of St. L—dg—r, which Name, by your ſuppoſed noble, and right-well remembered Father's Account, you are as much intitled to, as I am to that of Plantagenet, I hope you will, according to your true Nobility, give me a hand⯑ſome Reward for this extraordinary Pane⯑gyric!

And here I cannot avoid relating, that I believe, the true Cauſe of his L—d—p's Averſion to me, was this: A little Time after I was ſeparated from my Huſ⯑band, as it was quite the Mode to attack me, he employed one of his infernal Agents to inform me, he ſhould be glad to drink a Diſh of Tea with me; I told the Wretch I did not know his L—d—p, and there⯑fore hoped he would excuſe me.

[278]But the Harridan, being reſolved not to loſe her Reward, told my L—d I would meet him ſomewhere, indeed I do not know the Place, and introduced to him a great, luſty, maſculine Woman, dreſſed in a Calimanco Cap and Cloak, or long Riding-hood. I believe his L—d—p wondered that ſuch a Creature had made any Noiſe in the World; ſo telling her, he was ſorry he had given her the Trouble of coming there, he gave her a Guinea, and haſtly departed.

A few Nights after this, W—rſd—le had The Cure for a Scold, altered from Shakeſpear's Taming of a Shrew, into a Ballad Opera, by Mr. P—n, played for his own Benefit; I wrote a flaming Pro⯑logue to it, in Honour of my fair Coun⯑trywomen, and W—rſd—le inſiſted on my going to ſee it, aſſuring me, he would have a Lettice ſecured entirely for me, or any Friends I ſhould pleaſe to bring, and would himſelf take care of placing me, and alſo guarding me ſafe out, for really I was very much afraid of receiving ſome Inſult.

[279]On theſe Promiſes I ventured to go; when behold! the Lettice was full; but that was no Matter, the Ladies, though my in⯑timate Friends, quickly decamped, and Mrs. Dub—g, the Fidler's Wife, de⯑clared ſhe had like to faint at the Sight of the odious Creature! the Rev. Mr. Gr—n alſo took to his Heels, ſo I had indeed the whole Lettice for me and my Company, which were two young Miſſes, Daughters to my Landlady.

My Gorgon Face, inſtead of turning my Enemies into Stone, clapped Wings to their Feet, and made them fly down Stairs, like ſo many feathered Mercuries, Parſon and all, tho' he was bulky, and tipſy, and dull, and ſo forth; tho' indeed, thoſe Qualities might make him deſcend with the greater Velocity, and give him a natural Alacrity in ſinking.

However, by their precipitant Flight, I got the front Row.

When the Play began, I forgot to keep up my Fan, and two Gentlemen of Diſ⯑tinction in the Pit bowed to me; pre⯑ſently after the Orange Girl came up, and [280] ſaid a Gentleman deſired I would accept of half a Dozen Oranges; I aſked who it was? and ſhe ſhewed me a Perſon dreſſed in Scarlet, trimmed with Black; as I did not know him, I told her it was a Miſtake, and a young Girl, who followed her in, ſaid, that was L—d D—le, and that the Compliment was intended for her; but the Orange Girl, calling her very fami⯑liarly by her Name, which was Nancy Raymond, ſwore to the contrary; for, ſaid ſhe, you know how you uſed my L—d. They talked to one another in the vulgar Tongue, being exceedingly well known to each other, having both followed the ſame Occupation of Orange and Oyſter Selling, and both came up Stairs into the World.

To compoſe the Animoſity, I bought ſome Fruit, and though I really paid for it, I doubt not but his L—d—p did alſo.

When the Play was over, to which I moſt heartily repented that I went, W—rſ⯑d—le came to put me into a Chair, ſaid he would ſup with me, and kept his Word.

[281]I related to him the Play-Houſe Adven⯑ture, and asked him what kind of a Man L—d D—le was? He told me, he was both a very looſe, and a very unge⯑nerous Man, Qualities which no way re⯑commended him to me; ſo being honoured with a ſecond Meſſage from him, I, with an abſolute, Sir, not I, diſmiſſed me back the cloudy Meſſenger.

But to return:

The next Day a moſt ugly, ſquinting, mean looking Fellow, whoſe good Clothes made his Awkwardneſs but the more con⯑ſpicuous, came in to buy ſome Prints; his Mind was portrayed in his Countenance, where Impudence and Ignorance ſeemed to vie for Pre-eminence; however, he ſpoke to me with great Civility, and perceiving, by his Accent, that he was an Hibernian, I aſked him, how long he had been in London? Curioſity lead me into a great deal of Chat with him, and as he knew every great Family in Ireland, their Ser⯑vants at leaſt, he was able to give me a good deal of Intelligence: I then enquired, whether Buſineſs or Pleaſure had brought [282] him to London? He ſaid, both; and pull⯑ing out his Pocket-Book, told me, he would ſurprize me; I cannot ſay indeed but he did; for he ſhewed me Dr. Swift's Head, engraven in Vellum, not in ſize much larger than a ſmall Locket, ſuch as they wear in Rings, yet ſo extremely like the Original, that there was no Occaſion to write the Name under it: Several more Pieces of the ſame curious Work he ſhewed to me, and ſaid, he hoped to make his Fortune by them in London.

I told him, I was afraid he would be diſappointed, as Painting and Statuary were the Taſte of the Engliſh Nobility; beſide, this is Work more ſuited to a Wo⯑man than a Man; if I could do it, it might turn to Account to me. Upon which, of his own Accord, he begged I would paſs his Works for mine, and that he would give me a third part of the Profit ariſing from the Sale of them: he gave me to un⯑derſtand he very well knew who I was, and that our united Intereſt might be ſer⯑viceable to each other, an Offer I did not reject.

[283]As he had many fine Mantlings cut, he could very quickly inſert the Arms, ſo I deſired he would finiſh one for General Ch—h—l; he obeyed me, and I wait⯑ed on the old Gentleman with it, and a few complimentary Lines, which I have now forgot. I ſent in my Preſents, and the General deſired I might be ſhewn in: He was in a very magnificent Drawing⯑room, adorned with Stucco Work, the op⯑poſite Door opened into a Garden, full blown;—the General was ſeated on a rich Sopha, at a Table adorned with Dreſ⯑ſing-plate. He deſired I might ſit down on a Sopha, oppoſite to him, and ordered his Servant to remove the Table; there were ſeveral Vaſes filled with Flowers, ſweetly ſmelling round the Chamber; and, for my part, I rather imagined I was in ſome Aſian Palace, than a Houſe in Groſ⯑venor-ſtreet.

He thanked me for my Preſent, ‘"But, Madam, ſaid he, it is to me quite uſe⯑leſs, as all my Houſe is Stucco Work; however, if you'll be ſo kind as to come up ſtairs with me, we may perhaps find [284] ſome Place, where a Nail may be driven without Injury."’

As the old Gentleman doubted I might poſſibly miſtake his Meaning, he was go⯑ing to explain himſelf; upon which I took up the Picture, and in very great Confuſion made the beſt Speed out of his Houſe.

I had not walked above twenty Yards, when one of the General's Footmen over⯑took me, who told me, his Maſter was afraid I might fall in a Fever, if I walked in the Heat of ſo warm a Day, and there⯑fore deſired I would accept of a Guinea to pay my Chair; I took it, and returned my Compliments.

As there was ſomething humorous in the General's Behaviour, I addreſſed him the next Day in the following Lines:

I never received any Anſwer to theſe Lines, but in a very ſhort time after I heard the General was Dead.

I gave the young Man both his Coat of Arms and the Guinea; ſo we reſolved next to addreſs the Earl of Stair, then Veldt Marſhal.

It is a very great Loſs to me, that by the Ignorance of my Daughter half of my Writings were burned, for ſhe never ſcru⯑pled, if even the Fire was bad, to take a whole Bundle of them to enliven it; but whether this may be any Loſs to the World I muſt leave to their Judgment.

[287]I can recollect but very few Lines of the Poem to his Excellency, which were as follows:

A very fine young Gentleman undertook to deliver my Preſent to the Earl, and a Servant ſhewed me into a Parlour. In a few Minutes the Gentleman returned, and ſaid my Lord deſired to ſee me; ſo he handed me up into a full Levee of Stars, and different coloured Ribbons. As I had never before been in ſo auguſt an Aſſembly, I was ready to die with Shame, eſpecially as there was not one of my own Sex to keep me in Countenance. My Lord in a moſt polite manner thanked me for the Honour, as he termed it, I had done him; and the Noblemen, after his Example, ſeemed to contend who ſhould praiſe me moſt; to which I could make no other Re⯑turn than Courteſies and Bluſhes.

At length, the Earl of Stair ſaid there was a Defect in the placing the Swords, which go through the Veldt Marſhal's Arms, [289] which he would willingly have altered; and brought me out a Print of the Noblemen's Arms, who held the ſame Dignity in France, as a Pattern; I told his Lordſhip I could eaſily alter it: ‘"Pray then do, Madam, returned he, for I admire your Work ſo much, that I would willingly have it quite compleat."’ Accordingly, it was finiſhed, and the next Morning I waited on his Excellency with it, when, to my great Surprize, I had no Admiſſion to him, but a Footman brought down five Guineas to me.

I was not a little ſurprized at this ſudden Alteration in his Lordſhip's Mind. But what had the Fool, who did the Work, done? truly told Major Elliotſon, that I made a Hand of his Performances; he told my Lord,—who vexed at being im⯑poſed upon, ſent me the Trifle above⯑mentioned, which was not, by any means, a Payment for the Labour and Curioſity of the Work, and what, from a Perſon of his Station, I ſhould not have thought an extraordinary Reward even for the Lines.

[290]So, finding the Folly of the Man, I would not undertake to diſpoſe of any more cut Vellum, but left him to make his moſt of it.

I ſhould never have thought this Fellow worth ſpeaking of, only that my Huſband has ſaid he was my G [...]llant, not that I owe any Reverence or Honour to him, or re⯑gard what he can ſay, any more than the idle Wind, but that I would not have ſuch an Imputation laid on my Underſtanding, to ſay I made Choice of a low-born, ugly, illiterate Scoundrel. No, no; Mr. P—n may reſt aſſured, that if I would have done him the Honour to exalt his Horn like that of an Unicorn, it ſhould, at leaſt, have been to me a Cornu-Copia.

But, alas! poor I, have been for many Years a Noun Subſtantive, obliged to ſtand alone, which, praiſe to the eternal Goodneſs! I have done, notwithſtanding the various Efforts of my Enemies to deſtroy me, many of whom I have lived to triumph over, though they encompaſſed me on every Side, like ſo many Bulls of Baſan: and though they ſhould now kick up their [291] Heels, like ſo many wild Aſſes in the Valley of Geohron; though the Dunces ſhould make Songs of me, and though

I think it would not afflict me, but that I ſhould be able to convince them I had, at leaſt, Patience, Hope, and Charity, ſuffi⯑cient to make them aſhamed of the Injuries they have been weak and wicked enough to offer.

Becauſe I would now fairly challenge my moſt malicious Foes to anſwer from the Tribunal of their own Conſcience, what Provocation I ever gave them to uſe me ill?

Whom have I defrauded or belyed? Nay, indeed, of whom have I ſpoke half the Evil which it was in my Power to do? There are few Characters immaculate, and had I an Inclination to retaliate Injuries, I am, I believe, able enough to do it.

And ſometimes one has ſo ſtrong an In⯑clination to it, that it is hard to reſiſt, eſ⯑pecially when a Lady of Quality, (that is [292] by Marriage, for her Grandfather was a Smith at G—n, and kept the Sign of the Horſeſhoe there, as I have frequently heard the late Lord Montgarret relate) could, becauſe I preſumed to beg ſhe would do me the Honour of being a Sub⯑ſcriber to me, a Privilege I thought a long Acquaintance might have entitled me to take, order my Maid to be kicked; and as I am really aſhamed to uſe her Lady⯑ſhip's Words on the Occaſion, being much too indecent for a Repetition, methinks ſhe might have ſpared them, eſpecially to one who knew her too!

Heaven knows poor ******* had but the Leavings of half the Town; but he botched up a broken Reputation with Matrimony, an admirable Salve!

[293]As ſhe was pleaſed to ſay, my Life could be nothing but a continued Series of —, I am aſhamed to ſpeak the Word;—I dare ſay had it been ſo, ſhe would have purchaſed my Book ſooner than the Bible, to indulge her private Meditations, eſpecially if I had the wicked Art of paint⯑ing up Vice in attractive Colours, as too many of our Female Writers have done, to the Deſtruction of Thouſands, amongſt whom Mrs. Manly and Mrs. Haywood de⯑ſerve the foremoſt Rank.

But what extraordinary Paſſions theſe Ladies may have experienced, I know not; far be ſuch Knowledge from a modeſt Woman: Indeed Mrs. Haywood ſeems to have dropped her former luſcious Stile, and, for Variety, preſents us with the in⯑ſipid: Her Female Spectators are a Col⯑lection of trite Stories, delivered to us in ſtale and worn-out Phraſes: bleſs'd Re⯑volution!

[294]And here give me Leave to obſerve, that amongſt the Ladies who have taken up the Pen, I never met with but two who de⯑ſerved the Name of a Writer; the firſt is Madam Dacier, whoſe Learning Mr. Pope, while he is indebted to her for all the Notes on Homer, endeavours to depreciate; the ſecond is Mrs. Catherine Philips, the matchleſs Orinda, celebrated by Mr. Cowly, Lord Orrery, and all the Men of Genius who lived in her Time.

I think this incomparable Lady was one of the firſt Refiners of the Engliſh Numbers; Mr. Cowly's, though full of Wit, have ſomewhat harſh and uncouth in them, while her Sentiments are great and virtuous; her Diction natural, eaſy, flow⯑ing, and harmonious.

Love ſhe wrote upon with Warmth, but then it was ſuch as Angels might ſhare in without injuring their original Purity. Her Elegy on her Huſband's Daughter, is a Proof of the Excellency and Tenderneſs of her own Heart, rarely met with in a Step-mother; nor could I ever read it without Tears, a Proof it was wrote from her Heart.

[295]And dear Orinda! gentle Shade! ſweet Poet! Honour of thy Sex! Oh, if thou haſt Power to do it, inſpire me! for ſure Thou art in the happy Bowers of Bliſs, praiſing that eternal Goodneſs, who, to the Loſs of this World, took Thee early away to adorn the Holieſt of Holies, where in Songs of Love, not ill-eſſay'd below, great Saint Thou continueſt to celebrate thy Maker.

I cannot, except my own Country-woman, Mrs. Grierſon, find out another female Writer, whoſe Works are worth reading; ſhe indeed had a happy and well-improved Genius. I remember ſhe wrote a very fine Poem on Biſhop Berkley's Ber⯑mudian Scheme; the Plan of it was this: She ſuppoſes that the Night before St. Paul ſuffered, an Angel appeared to comfort him with the future Proſpect of the Church, [296] and the Growth of Chriſtianity; the Angel informs him that in ſuch a Year there ſhall be born in the Weſtern Iſland a great Apoſtle, who ſhall be known by this Token:

I am ſorry that I cannot recollect any more of this Poem, or that the Prophecy con⯑tained in it of the Biſhop's converting the Indians was, by the Avarice of ſome in Power, fruſtrated; for ſurely he was well fitted for that holy Miſſion, having Learn⯑ing and Innocence in Perfection. Nor do I at all doubt that had this true Embaſſador [297] of Chriſt been enabled to purſue the ſacred Purpoſe of his Soul, but the Power of working Miracles would have been added to his other heavenly Gifts.

I have been accuſed of writing bitterly againſt the Clergy; I never did, but when they forgot their own High Calling; one B— in particular, ſays, ‘"that I Alexander the Copper-ſmith have done him much Wrong, in talking about Pence, and Farthings, and ſuch ſmall Coin, whereas he has within theſe two and twenty Years, given me the Sum total of ſixteen Pounds Iriſh, in hard Gold, out of which, had I been induſ⯑trious, I might have made a comfortable Livelihood:"’ But I am afraid, had he been in my Caſe, he would have ſtarved. Happy for him his Father was born be⯑fore him, and Happy is the Son whoſe Fa⯑ther is gone to the Devil, is an old Pro⯑verb. But indeed, now my L—, I take it a little unkindly, that you ſhould declare in public, that you had me, as well as my Maid, ſur la Tapis; methinks, tho' you are a Conjurer, you need not be a [298] Blab: Oh, fy! is it thus you return my generous Paſſion? for, by your own Ac⯑count, you did not pay me well; why Juggy Mackſhane, the Chairman's Wife, had a better Price from you, and you made her Son a Parſon, while you quarrelled with mine for having his Bu [...]ton holes worked in the beſt Taſte, and told him, he muſt be very wicked to be guilty of ſuch Extravagance: Were not you a little cenſorious, think you? Why you, tho' in the Vauward of your Youth, have yet a ſtrong Daſh of the Cox—b, and might excuſe it in a Boy. Well, but as theſe ſaid ſixteen Pounds are ſo inſiſted on, I acknow⯑ledge to have received them, and ſhould have thanked you, but that you ſent me Word, in London, you did not know who I was, and that it was very impudent in me to apply to you for Charity; but leſt you ſhould again forget me, I am willing to be your ſweet Remembrancer: And, oh! by our chaſte Love, I conjure you to make my Huſband a Dean; ſure this you ought to do, when you ſay you made him a Cuckhold; beſides, you know it was in [299] that ſweet Hope I yielded up my Heart; then be a gentle Mediator between us, plead for me as you did for the fair ^*Quaker; tho' Hiſtorians relate, that your Lady would have been as well pleaſed, had you been leſs aſſiduous in that Affair.

And now, I confeſs, I am a little ſpite⯑ful, but it is only Jealouſy; ſend me an hundred Pounds to cure the Anguiſh your Infidelity has given me, and I will try to conquer my hopeleſs ill-ſtar'd Paſſion!

Your L—'s Poetry in my Praiſe I never can forget; and as it would be a Loſs to the World, if any Part of ſo juſtly an admired Author's Works ſhould be bu⯑ried in Oblivion; take, oh World! the following Lines:

[300]Your ſecond Poem is, I confeſs, a little obſcure, yet, no doubt, may have much Meaning in it:

And indeed, I remember another R— R— Author, who entertained ſome very polite Company with the following Epi⯑taph, written as he aſſured us, by himſelf, it is very laconic:

If the curious Reader cannot digeſt this Heaven-born Verſe, why let him be gra⯑minivercus, and chew the Cud.

But pray, my L—, do not you think it was a little ill judged of you, to attack my Character at the Expence of your own? and to deſcribe yourſelf as ſuch a Cormo⯑rant in Love, that you muſt have two Fe⯑males at once; why, Turk Gregory never did ſuch Feats in Arms;

Truth is, I am afraid this is apocryphal, and will win no Credit, eſpecially as it was after your Expedition to the South of France, when you were ill of the —, &c. &c. &c.

But prithee now, for I think I am en⯑titled to talk a little familiarly to you; do not boaſt of Abilities, either of Mind or Body, which you never had; no Perſon living will believe you, any more than they would me, if I ſhould tell them I had been a great Beauty, when they could ſee no Remains of it.

But you are, as the good Man ſaid of Nero, a very Wag!

Hang it, why ſhould you and I go to Logger-heads? Order your Equipage to drive here to-morrow Morning, and let us buſs, as we uſed to do, and be Friends.

Otherwiſe, I have two or three Pieces [302] of the ſame Stuff, of which I have given you Samples at your Service.

Lord, 'tis a ſtrange Thing that all B— will needs be Authors! now would they avoid manifeſting their Dulneſs, we the illiterate might conclude they were Men of profound Erudition, and that on that Account, they were advanced to their high Stations: but the Devil owes ſome of them a Shame, and is, when they do his Work, an excellent Paymaſter; yet it is ſtrange, this ſame Dulneſs is not confined to them, it deſcends to their Sons, witneſs our celebrated Comedy, The Suſpicious Husband, which, but for it's neither hav⯑ing one Character well drawn, any Plot, any thing like a Sentiment, and wrote too in a gallimawfry Stile, might be a good Performance; but as long as it is ſtamped with a Name, it paſſes current, tho' Ster⯑ling No-Senſe.

But, my L—d B—, tho' I have di⯑greſſed from you, yet ſee my Love! I re⯑turn again: Ah, it was well I did not, even from Scripture, pick up an unſavory Si⯑mile; I am much offended that you ſhould [303] ſay, when I was laſt at Shrift with your Holineſs, that we had no better Accom⯑modation for our Feaſt of Love, but a Carpet, whereas I inſiſt on it, that the Pe⯑nance you enjoyned me, was as eaſy as a Down-bed could make it; ſo here I inva⯑lidate your Evidence in one Point, and the reſt of your Accuſation naturally falls to the Ground.

But being now tired at laughing at you, I'll tell you an Arabian Tale. There was a really generous Man, who built a fine Pa⯑vilion, to which were an Hundred Open⯑ings; as the Poor had free acceſs to it, they were relieved by him at every Opening and Avenue; they bleſſed his Goodneſs, and his Fame flew far.

There was in his Neighbourhood the Son of an old Miſer, who was left im⯑menſely rich; he was of a ſordid Temper, yet emulous of Praiſe, ſo he built ſuch an⯑other Pavilion, and in like Manner diſ⯑tributed Alms; it ſo fortuned, that one old Man attacked him ſeven times in the ſame Morning at ſeven of the Entrances, he met him again at the eighth, and aſked [304] for an Alms, at this he loſt all Patience, and cried, ‘"Did not I ſeven times re⯑lieve you?"’ ‘"Ah, quoth the poor Man, Lord bleſs my Lord Aboulcaſem, I have walked three hundred times round his Pavilion, been three hundred times relieved, and yet I am certain he does not know my Face.’

So, to apply the Story, God bleſs my dear loved Lord Kingsborough, who gives Hundreds without blowing a Trumpet be⯑fore his good Deeds, or defaming the Cha⯑racters of thoſe whom his Bounty bleſſes.

I have often been ſurprized at one of our C—s, which, to ſhew my Charity, I will inſert. ‘O Lord, who alone workeſt great Mar⯑vels! ſend down upon our B— and C— the healthful Spirit of thy Grace.’ Marvellous would it be indeed, if they had either Health, Spirit, or Grace; no Doubt but the learned Compilers of the Liturgy had their own Reaſons for this ſupernatural Invocation; but why nothing leſs than a [305] Miracle ſhould bleſs theſe, any more than any other Order of Men, I leave to ſome future Commentators, and hope they will oblige us with Annotations on this extra⯑ordinary Ejaculation.

I would not incur the Cenſure of the Cl— ſo far as to give a Hint that they are not ſound: No, no, many of them are; but then it is ſo ſound as things that are hollow, Impiety hath made a Feaſt of them, and now that their Bones are mar⯑rowleſs, their Blood is cold, and Specula⯑tion dwells not in their Eyes; they hate us Youth. Gorbellied K—, Bacon fed! ah, would we had the ſhaking of their Bags! I knew one of them, who, without the leaſt Study, wrote the following two elegant and learned Lines:

I know the Gentlemen had too much Mo⯑deſty and Diffidence of their own ſuperior [306] Talents to give their Works to the Preſs; but I hope, as they are charitable, they won't be diſpleaſed, as they are above mak⯑ing Money of their Performances, that I ſhould, ſince they, though but little, ſerve to ſwell my Volume, and, no doubt, will edify my Readers. I think I have nothing to boaſt of as a Writer, but a great Memory, for if I could not have retained Shakeſpear, Milton, &c. and the great Authors I have laſt mentioned, to give a Taſte of their Wit, when I was myſelf at a Loſs, I do not know how I could ever have com⯑paſſed three Volumes of Memoirs.

Indeed if I had printed all the Poetry that has been ſent me for that purpoſe, ſince I came to this Kingdom, it would have proved as odd a Medley, as any thing ever yet exhibited to publick View. I ſuppoſe every one who fancied they had Wit, had a mind to ſee how it would look in Print, but I muſt beg to be excuſed. Though the learned Mr. Timothy Ticklepitcher preſ⯑ſed very hard for a Place, it would be a ſtrong Proof of my Vanity, to inſert his anti ſublime Compliments to me.

[307]Another poetical Gentleman wrote me a long Letter in a Text Hand, which put me into a Palpitation of the Heart, as I was about that time threatened, (for certain ſcan⯑dalous Truths I have been guilty of relat⯑ing) with ſome Law; and truly I hate that as much as Sir John Falſtaff did Secu⯑rity: When I, in plain Engliſh, ſet down undeniable Facts, they menace me with Law, I would as lieve they would ſtop my Mouth with Ratsbane: But I find I am like Sir John, not only witty myſelf, but am alſo the Occaſion that Wit is in others; there is not an Halfpenny Paper can peep its Head out, but preſently my Name muſt be dragged in by Head and Shoulders to grace it. But to the Letter: Having recovered my Spirits, I read it over; and found a great many Compli⯑ments, with a Promiſe, that the profound Author would wait on me at Four o'Clock. I never thought of it till the time appointed, when

[308] I own I ſuppoſed he came to ſee if he could

And I always ſuſpect Falſhood to lurk un⯑der a full Peruke. He juſt came in with a huge fat Man, as fat as Butter, with him, but would not ſtay, for which Reaſon I will not print his fond Letter, ſo I think I am even with him. If I were any way given to be proud, I think I have a great deal of Reaſon to be ſo, ſince I cannot go any where, as I am not very well known, but I hear ſome Piece of my own Hiſtory, quite new. I am ſeen in this Place and t'other Place, and ſay ſomething mighty witty to be ſure!

I do not wonder that Perſons of For⯑tune and Diſtinction of this Kingdom go to England to ſpend their Time and E⯑ſtates; ſince here, be you as chaſte as Ice, or pure as Snow, thou ſhalt not eſcape Calumny, eſpecially among your half-bred, half-witted Gentry, but

In London almoſt every one, in the mid⯑dling State of Life, has ſome Employment or Diverſion to kill their Time; and here it is the reverſe, we are all Gentry, where⯑fore the Females have no Amuſement but that of SLANDER.

Where

I ſhould be very glad, e'er they look for the Mote in my Eye, they would be pleaſed to pull the Beam out of their own. I could mention Numbers of theſe Scandal-mon⯑gers, [310] who have ſaid, ‘"Oh Lord! may be ſhe'll put us down in her Memorials!"’ But goon, incorrigible Dunces, too contemp⯑tible for my Notice: All I ſhall beg of the Men is, never to believe any thing that is ſaid of me by a Woman, as it is more than Four to One it is a Lye—But as the great Milton's Genius could even deſcend to Hell, ſo I think I muſt mention one Mrs. Ir—d—ll, who hearing I got Money for my Work, a thing ſhe could never do, exclaimed bitterly againſt me, nay, even kept her Bed for a Week on Account of it, and wrote two or three very ſtupid Pa⯑pers againſt me; and though ſhe could not ſhew her Wit, at leaſt ſhewed Envy, Ma⯑lice, and all Uncharitableneſs.

I know a very ingenious Gentleman, who, whenever he ſees a Parcel of Females ſeated at their Tea, names the Chamber Pandaemonium; and Dr. Young, in one of his Satires, ſays,

And I really cannot remember ever to have ſeen a Set of Ladies tippling this Li⯑quor but Scandal ſtrait enſued; ay, even amongſt our new Teachers, commonly called Moravians, amongſt whom I had, in London, the Misfortune to live, and whom, though they took themſelves to be inſpired, I really always believed to be under the Deluſion of Satan.

One of the holy Siſters once told me the Devil inſpired Milton: ay, and me into the Bargain: Truly ſhe did his infernal Majeſty the greateſt Honour he ever yet received, and I could not avoid thinking her either very ignorant or very wicked; but I comforted myſelf with hoping that the former was her Fault, and that ſhe did not know how heinous a Sin ſhe commit⯑ted, when ſhe robbed the Maker of his Glory, and attributed his beſt Gifts and Graces to the common Enemy of Man. I [312] think I might juſtly apply to theſe Secta⯑ries Mr. Pope's Lines:

I believe theſe Wretches would be very proud of being perſecuted; but our Go⯑vernors, of the ſame Mind with the witty and gallant Emperor Julian, vulgarly call⯑ed the Apoſtate, will neither hinder them to aſſemble, nor preach, any more [313] than he did the Galileans, unleſs they preach Sedition, and then they come under the Penalty of the Law.

Poor Julian! the Chriſtians murdered him, for not permitting them to murder each other. St. Gregory the Younger, preaching old St. Gregory's Funeral Ser⯑mon, forty Years after the Death of Julian, when one would have thought Reſentment might be alſo dead, (if he had any Cauſe for it) has theſe remarkable Words: ‘"And now, ſays he, here lies my Uncle dead, who delivered you from the Perſecution of that old Bull-burning Tyrant Julian: Now, who had a greater Hand in his Death than my Uncle? For once, when he and his Captain of the Archers came in to hear Maſs, had he not ſuddenly gone away, my Uncle would have kicked him."’ The Tranſlator ſays, he had more Difficulty with this Paſſage than all the reſt of the Work; for he would fain have had the Kicking intended for the Captain of the Archers, not being able to conceive, that the Emperor of the World [314] ſhould be afraid that an old Prieſt ſhould kick him.

But the old Prieſt propheſied that ſuch a Day this Apoſtate ſhould die, and truly he took eſpecial Care that his Prophecy ſhould be fulfilled, by hiring one of the Emperor's own Soldiers to put him to Death.

I could ſay ſomething more; why ſhould I not; nay, out it muſt: I believe, if my favourite Apoſtle St. Paul had not behaved himſelf with more good Manners than our modern New Lighters, he would not have almoſt perſuaded his Auditors to be Chri⯑ſtians; how noble is his Anſwer on the Oc⯑caſion?

But he was as remarkably a fine Gentle⯑man, as he was a Saint, a Martyr, and a Chriſtian; like Dr. Delany, whoſe preaching goes even to the dividing of the Blood and Spirit. And let me here, dear Sir, beg you will fulfil a Promiſe you gave me many Years ago, that you would at⯑tend my laſt Moments; if I ſend to you, will you refuſe to chear a dying Sinner with Hope of Peace and Pardon; for the Doctrine of Damnation is now ſo univerſally recei⯑ved, [315] that Half the World are caſt into Deſ⯑pair.

Theſe poor Enthuſiaſts uſed, in London, to ſteal every thing they could lay their Hands on from me, inſomuch that at laſt they ſtole my one Pair of Shoes; and yet they brought Scripture Authority for Theft, for they ſaid the Children of Iſrael borrowed Jewels of Gold and Silver of the Egyptians, which they ran away with, and they ſpoiled the Egyptians. I remember I once menti⯑oned this Paſſage to Dr. Delany, who underſtanding Hebrew perfectly, turned over to it to there, where it is very differ⯑rently related: For the Egyptians finding ſo many Plagues brought on them, and particularly the Leproſy, with which theſe People were all infected, ordered them to depart, but they declared they would not go, unleſs their Hire was paid to them, and alſo ſo many Changes of Apparel, and Jewels of Gold, given to ſupport them in their Pilgrimage; how they behaved them⯑ſelves in the Wilderneſs, is ſo well ſet forth in the Old Teſtament, that it would puzzle a wiſer Head than mine to know how they [316] became the peculiar Favourites of an im⯑partial and unprejudiced Deity.

Indeed it were to be wiſhed, that ei⯑ther this learned and excellent Divine, or ſome other of equal Abilities, if ſuch may be found, would oblige the World with a new Tranſlation of the Old Teſtament, ſince, as we now have it, it ſeems filled with Incon⯑gruities, Indecencies, and ſhocking Abſur⯑dities, ſuch as the Holy Spirit could never have dictated, whoſe Body is Light, and whoſe Shadow Truth.

I beg pardon for this rambling Digreſ⯑ſion, and hope the Divines will not cenſure me for it, as I only preſume to give them Hints, which their ſuperior Knowledge may improve upon,

For I intend not this Addreſs to the ig⯑norant Part of the Clergy, who would many of them be more fit to till the Earth, than plant or water the Goſpel, but to the learn⯑ed, juſt, and pious, that they may remove Scruples from weak Minds, raiſe up thoſe [317] that are fallen, and finally, beat down Satan under our Feet, which God of his infinite Mercy enable them to do, through the Me⯑rits and Mediation of our Lord Jeſus Chriſt.

But once more to return to my Shop. One Afternoon two young Gentlemen came into it, one of whom aſked me for ſome Tea; I told him, I did not ſell any, but that there was a Coffee-Houſe next Door, where he might be ſupplied: He aſked me, would not I give a Diſh of Tea to a Friend, and Relation? I ſaid, yes, with Pleaſure: Why then, ſaid he, this Gentleman is Dean M [...]ade's Son, of Cor [...], and my Name is Bl—nd—n; as his Father was married to Brigadier Meade's Widow, I gave them an Invitation into the Parlour, and ordered ſome Tea to be got ready. I was really very glad to ſee any Perſon from Ireland, particularly thoſe I was allied to, nor could I conceive that they came in that manner only to inſult a Woman, who never of⯑fended either of them; indeed, as for the Dean's Son, I muſt acquit him, for he did not affront me, but I took it ill he ſhould bring with him a Fellow he knew deſigned it.

[318]There was nothing groſs, indecent, abu⯑ſive, or unmannerly, which this Wretch did not, without the leaſt Provocation, ſay to me, till, at length, though I am not really of a paſſionate Diſpoſition, I loſt all Pa⯑tience, and thinking myſelf very much his Betters, I aſked him, whether his Father continued to ſell Butter-milk to the Poor at a Penny a Quart, with his own Hand, in a hard Seaſon, when every other Perſon gave their's away.

Upon this he very politely threatened to kick me, but as he was then at a great Di⯑ſtance from his own Dunghill, and I am ſure I give Caſtle-Bl—nd—n its proper Title when I ſtile it one, I was not in the leaſt intimidated, and only bade him go ſhew his Slaves how choleric he was, and

And here excuſe me, Sir, if I give your Picture to the World. When you make Love, if any but the leaden-darted Cupid ever touched your unworthy, groveling, baſe Heart, your Argument is that of a [219] Highwayman's, you bring a loaden Piſtol, clap it to the Fair-one's Boſom, and ſay, ‘"De⯑liver your Treaſure, or you are dead."’

Could not you have taken your ancient Father, the old Stick picker's Advice, and have coaxed the Girl, and have given her a Cherry-coloured Top-knot? but you

And filthy as your rotten Leg, and more corrupted Soul, muſt have been every thing you could produce; for thou art the Quinteſſence of Filth, and I am weary of writing, when every thing baſe, every thing low, every thing inſolent is the Theme, and all compriſed in pretty Maſter Jacky Bl—nd—n.

As I have mentioned an Attempt to write a Play, which

[320] I preſent my Readers with an Act of it, and would, with great Pleaſure, finiſh it, but that I am certain our preſent Manager would never permit it to be played, m [...]ly becauſe it was mine; for ſince his Prejudice againſt me, though how I incurred his Diſpleaſure I know not, carried him him ſo far as to ſay a Prologue I wrote for the King's Birth-Night was Blaſphemy, I don't know but he may be ingenious enough to prove the Play to be High-Treaſon; but leſt my Readers ſhould be⯑lieve me capable of writing any thing like it, I preſent them with the Lines.

I believe none, but ſuch a Conjurer as Mr. Sherridan, would have found out Blaſ⯑phemy in theſe Lines, and I am ſorry he did not ſay they were as flat Burglary too as ever was committed; but he is a Judge, a Gentleman: his Father was an Author, ay, and a Parſon! and for the ſignal Fa⯑vours he has beſtowed on me, I return him theſe my Acknowledgments!

However, at all Hazards, I'll venture to ſtand the Teſt of publiſhing the Following, becauſe Mr. Cibber approved it.

One Day, as I was in my Shop, a Gen⯑tleman, very richly dreſſed, told me, he had a Letter for me; I received it very reſpectfully, but could not help ſmiling, when I found it was the Letter I wrote for Tom Bruſh, neatly copied and directed to me, and that, leſt it ſhould miſcarry, he had brought it himſelf.

I ſaid it was a very genteel Piece of Gal⯑lantry, and quite now. He told me he [241] was going to his Seat in the County of Sur⯑rey the next Day, and gave me a very kind Invitation to paſs the Remainder of the Summer there, but as he was a young, gay, ſingle Gentleman, I did not hold it convenient.

Pray, Madam, ſaid he, do you never go to the Opera? No, really, Sir; not but that I love Muſic, but it happens to be too expenſive an Entertainment for me: Well then, Madam, returned he, I muſt inſiſt on having the Honour of treating you to it; on which, he downright forced a Cou⯑ple of Guineas on me, and making me promiſe to correſpond with him till his Re⯑turn to London, we parted.

Unfortunately I loſt his Direction, and ſo had it not in my Power to keep my Word.

And I do aſſure my Readers, I did not go to the Opera, wiſely conſidering that two Pound two, would be of infinitely more Service to me, than it could poſſibly be to Mr. Heydeigger.

But, alas! before the Return of Winter, I had neither Shop, nor almoſt an Habi⯑tation. [342] By what ſtrange Reverſe of For⯑tune I was again reduced to the utmoſt Calamity, and by what unexpected and ſig⯑nal Mercy delivered from it, muſt, as it is impoſſible for me to get it into the Com⯑paſs of this Volume, be the Subject of a Third.

I ſhould be highly ungrateful not to ac⯑knowledge the Favour and Bounty of the whole Body of the Nobility, Clergy, and Gentry of this Kingdom, whoſe Goodneſs, as it is my higheſt Pride to own, ſo it ſhall ever be my utmoſt Ambition to merit; and if their poor Servant can in the leaſt contribute to their Entertainment, ſhe ſhall think herſelf over-paid, or, to uſe my dear Mr. Cibber's Words:

But, oh my loved, honoured, and ex⯑cellent Lord Kingſborough! where ſhall I find Words adequate to the Senſe I have of your Goodneſs, your unlimited Gene⯑roſity? thou kind Preſerver of mine, and my Son's Life!

But as with You my Muſe began, with You alſo ſhe muſt end, yet not 'till I re⯑late the following Story.

I ſaw in London the truly elegant and beautiful Speech of a certain great Man, not long ſince our ſupreme Governor here; I was really ſo charmed with it, that I wrote the following Lines, which I ſhewed to Mr. Cibber. As his Excellency was re⯑turned to England, Mr. Cibber was ſo well [344] pleaſed with them, that, as he was particu⯑larly intimate with him, he undertook to deliver them, and ſaid, he did not doubt but he would give me a handſome Re⯑ward: To give this Theſis plainer Proof, I put it to the Teſt.

I ought to have premiſed, that juſt as I had finiſhed this Poem, W—rſd—le came in, and ſnatched it from me, ſaying he would ſend it himſelf to his old Friend Phil [...]p. I could not get it from him, but as I remembered every Syllable of it, I wrote it in a better Hand than that rough Draught I had given to Mr. Cibber, and having the Honour of his Correction, who [347] is a fair and candid Critic, ſent it again to him.

W—ſd—le came in the Evening, told me that the Earl ſent him many Thanks, and would be glad to ſee his old Friend.

Upon this I aſked W—rſd—le to lend me Half a Crown to buy a Pair of Shoes, which he abſolutely refuſing, when he had convinced me he had fifty Guineas in his Pocket, I, though ill-ſhod, was obliged to reſt contented.

Early next Morning I received from Mr. Cibber the following ſhort Epiſtle:

[348]By this I found Mr. W—rſd—le had boaſted of an Intereſt in his Excellency, which he certainly never had, for who would have even given me that ſmall Re⯑ward that had received the Poem before from another Hand, would they not have laughed at me!

I waited on Mr. Cibber, who told me he had given my Poem to his Excellency with theſe Words: ‘"That if he had not thought it beautiful, he would not have ta⯑ken the Liberty of preſenting it to him."’

‘"As Dinner, ſaid he, was juſt brought up my Lord put it into his Pocket. In the Evening I reminded him of it: He told me he was attack'd by all the World with paultry Rhimes, which his L—d always beſt rewarded."’

The next Day Mr. Cibber attacked his Excellency again, and aſked him how he liked the Lines? Upon which he ſaid, ‘"Oh I had forgot, there's two Guineas for her, but don't put them into your Sil⯑ver Pocket, leſt you ſhould make a Miſtake and pay your Chair with them: [349] So here, Madam, are the two Guineas for you."’ As I was entirely indebted to Mr. Cibber for this Bounty, I return my Acknowledgements to Him.

My dear Lord Kingſborough, I never ſhould have related this Story, except by way of Contraſt to your amiable Virtues; for I may juſtly ſay with Swift,

My fav'rite Lord is none of thoſe,

Juſt as I was writing about W—rſd—le, a Gentleman brought me a Pamphlet en⯑tituled, A Parallel between Mrs. Pilking⯑ton and Mrs. Phillips, written by an Ox⯑ford Scholar, as he tells us, himſelf, ſtar⯑ving in a Garret; Pray, Mr. Scholar, deal ingenouſly did not W—rſd—le hire you to write it, becauſe he was indolent; dull, I [350] ſuppoſe you mean; if he can write ſo much better than I, let him give the World a Proof of his Abilities; but it ſeems, he is diſcontented that I have not ſufficiently ex⯑poſed him: Why, let him have but a little Patience, and my Life on't he ſhall have no Cauſe of Complaint on that Head, but I cannot break in on the Order of Time ſo far as to give the World a ſecond Act of him, yet

Unity of Time and Place, you know, Mr. Critick, muſt be obſerved, otherwiſe we muſt renounce the Stagyrite.

If you intend your Performance for a Satire on me, truly your Words are ſo clerkly couched, that I cannot find any Sting in them.—You ſay I admired the Dean for being a Brute.—N. B. You lye; and none but a Villain would call him one. I admired his Charity, Wit, Senſe, Taſte, &c. and to ſay he had Paſſions, which ob⯑ſcured for a while his ſhining and uncom⯑mon Excellencies, is no more than ſaying he was human, and conſequently liable to Error.

[351]Then you aſk me, how I dare mention Mr. Pope? Why truly, like Drawcanſir, all this I can do, becauſe I dare.—I never refuſed doing Juſtice to his poetical Merits; but all your Art can never per⯑ſuade the World, that he was not an en⯑vious Defamer of other Men's good Parts, and intolerably vain of his own. How does he boaſt of his Acquaintance with the Great, even to childiſh Folly? The late Earl of Peterborough could not divert him⯑ſelf with pruning a Tree in his Garden, but preſently we are told of it in theſe high⯑ſounding unharmonious Words:

Why, one would have thought he had hired the Earl for a Gardener.

And as for his Gratitude, let that appear by his Poem, called Taſte, wherein he abuſes the late Duke of Chandos for his Munificence to Writers, whereof take the following Sample:

Was this any Defect in his Grace's Charac⯑ter, eſpecialy in a poetical Eye? No, ſurely: but I ſuppoſe Mr. Pope was angry, as he was not a Dramatick Writer, that his Grace ſhould beſtow any Favour on them.

He then proceeds to ridicule his Grace's Library, and the Grandeur and Magnifi⯑cence of his Improvements.

I ſuppoſe, becauſe he did not find his own Works there, he reſolved at all Hazards to depreciate his Betters. Shall I proceed, or have I ſaid enough ‘To thee, who haſt not Ear, nor Eye, nor Soul to comprehend it.’

And now, how dare you to abuſe my Huſband? Why, thou, poor paultry Gar⯑retteer! thou ſtarveling Bard! if I have a Mind to do it myſelf, what's that to you?

Poor Creature! and as you ſay you are in Neceſſity, I hope you will be relieved, even by putting together

I ſuppoſe this this is an Alluſion to Niſus and Euryalus; but prithee learn more Wit,

For I am certain I never was a Match for Mrs. Philips, either in Beauty or in Art, in both of which ſhe reigns unrivalled, and I, as in Duty bound, give her the Pre⯑eminence. But

Ha! have I gueſſed right? thou wicked Scribbler, that praiſeſt the Worſt beſt, and Beſt worſt; thou art juſt fit to nurture Fools, and chronicle Small-beer.

Now to criticize on your wonderful Work: In the firſt Place, you ſay all my Characters are well drawn, eaſy, natural and pictureſque; and yet after this high Compliment, that I even made a dull Story entertaining by the Force of a ſpark⯑ling Wit, and retentive Memory; why, preſently after I dwindle, by the Force of your Pen, into a mere Dunce: And ſo though you promiſed us a Parallel, you give us a Contraſt; you are a very witty Fellow, I aſſure you, and deal much in [356] the Surprizing. And ſo you do not like my Poetry, there was no Thought of pleaſing you when it was writ; but go to my Treaſurer, tell him I order him to give you three hundred Kicks in private, and the Lord ſend you a b [...]tter Taſte!

Hey-day, the Devil rides on a Fiddle⯑ſtick! freſh News arrived! all my Letters to W—rſd—le to be publiſhed; oh terrible! well; I hope he will publiſh every Poem that was incloſed in them, that I may come by my own again? let him return to me three Operas, twenty-five Odes, the Let⯑ters I wrote for him, the Poem which begins,

And then he has my full Leave to publiſh every Letter of mine that he thinks will ſerve his Purpoſe; but remember that if you and he ſhould ſit down, and out of your own Loggerheads write Nonſenſe, and offer it to the World as mine, I enter my Caveat, and will not adopt the ſpurious Iſſue. So here I quit ye, and upon mature [357] Deliberation, am ſorry I waſted ſo much Time, Paper, and Ink, on ſo contemptible a Subject as either of ye.

My Lord, I beg Pardon for ſo long di⯑greſſing from my darling Theme, but it was almoſt impoſſible for me not to beſtow thoſe Libellers a Laſh;

And though it is not in reality worth while to purſue Graſhoppers, who die in a Seaſon, yet while their Noiſe offends me, I cannot forbear it.

And, now my Lord, and oh! (ſince you permit me to call you by that tender Name) my Friend, and let me add, my Guardian Angel; for ſurely, very excellent has thy Favour been to me, far ſurpaſſing that of Kindred, as you generouſly bid me name my Wiſh to you, and obtain it; and as I, broken with the Storms of Fortune, for I may truly ſay with Holy David, to my Creator, ‘[358]Even from my Youth up, thy Terrors have I ſuffered with a troubled Mind, and thou haſt vexed me with all thy Storms.’ Have little to hope for on this Side Diſſo⯑lution, and have no other Concern about parting with a Life, which has been but a continual Scene of Sorrow, except that of leaving my Son unprovided for: Let your Favour extend to him, as your Station and Virtue muſt ever give you a powerful In⯑tereſt; uſe a Portion of it to get him ſome little Employment, or Place, which may give him Bread, when I no more want it.

I flatter myſelf he will not be entirely unworthy of your Goodneſs, as he is of a generous, humane, and grateful Diſpo⯑ſition.

I muſt beg your Lordſhip's Pardon for praiſing my Son, which indeed, I ſhould not do, but that both his Father and Mr. A—e, endeavoured all in their Power to injure his Character; the latter of whom is ſince convinced he wronged him.

[359]And here I muſt apologize for ſo long deferring the Publication of this Second Volume; and as no Reaſon is ſo good as the true one, take it as follows:

When I came to Ireland, I took a Houſe near Bow-Bridge, as well for the Pleaſure of a fine Art, as to keep retired from buſy Tongues; but, finding it was highly inconvenient to be at ſuch a Diſtance from Printers, Stationers, &c. I took a Firſt-Floor in Abbey-Street, and having my own Furniture, ſent it there, with Orders to the Men to put up the Beds, which accordingly was done: When I came in the Evening to take Poſſeſſion of my new Habitation, be⯑hold all my Furniture was torn down, and lying in Heaps in the Paſſage; when I demanded the Cauſe of this, I was told, the Reverend Dr. J—n V—ey, who, it ſeems, lodged in the Houſe, had, by his own ſpecial Authority, commanded the Goods ſhould be thrown into the Street, but the Landlord knowing himſelf liable to be called to an Account for what he had [360] received, did not chuſe to obey him in that Article.

Well, as my Houſe was empty, I knew not where I, or my Child could ſleep that Night, but, as I was not ill-beloved in the Neighbourhood I left, I went back to it, where a good Woman gave me part of her Bed, and her Huſband, my Son, and two little Children of theirs, lay together.

Early next Morning, my Son took a Lodging for me in Big-butter-lane; my Goods, damaged as they were, were carried there, but, wot you well, the Parſon fol⯑lowed them! Dr. V—ey, I mean, told the People I was a very bad Woman, and they were again left in the Paſſage; ſo when I came, there was no Entrance for me, and I was obliged to return to the Place from whence I came. Mem. I was forty Shillings out of Pocket by this pious Divine, I wiſh he would pay me.

Next Day my Son took a Lodging for me in Gol en-lane, where the Woman no ſooner underſtood I was Dr. Van Lewin's Daughter, who, as ſhe ſaid, ſaved her Life, but ſhe gladly accepted of me for a Lodger; [361] but what with the Vexation of my Mind, and the Cold I had got, I fell into a violent Fever, and was for many Weeks confined to my Bed, till, by the Care and Skill of Dr. Ould, I was once more enabled to pur⯑ſue my Work; and, as I am much indebted to his Humanity, I take this Opportunity of acknowledging it.

And now do I expect an Army of Cri⯑tics to attack my poor Work, and to ſave them the Trouble, I will even do it my⯑ſelf, altho' I own the Task to be a little un⯑grateful. But, Mrs. Pilkington, notwith⯑ſtanding the Regard and Affection which I really have for you, I muſt tell you what the World ſays of you; but however, I will give you fair Play, and allow you to make the beſt Defence you can for your⯑ſelf: Suppoſe you and I enter into a Dia⯑logue, I being the Accuſer, begin: Ma⯑dam, your Story has nothing in it, either new or entertaining; the Occurrences are common, trivial, and ſuch as happen every Day; your Vanity is intolerable, your Stile borrowed from Milton, Shakeſpear [362] and Swift, whom you pretend to deſcribe, though you never knew him; you tell us a Story of his Beef being over-roaſted, and another of a mangy Dog; fine Themes truly! for my Part, I wonder you ever got a Shilling for your curious Performance; I am ſure it is a Proof of the Stupidity of the Boeotians, who, tho' they have ſtill done you the Honour to advertiſe in every Paper, that you were not a Dunce, proved themſelves to be little better for taking ſo much Notice of you.

Myſelf. Hold, hold, you charge me ſo faſt you do not give me Leave to reply; to your firſt Article I plead guilty; my Story is dull enough, it was therefore I ſtrove to embelliſh it with ſuch poetical Ornaments, as I could beg, borrow, or ſteal: I have known a Gentleman write a Latin Poem, and every Line of it was borrowed from the Claſſicks, yet this was eſteemed a Beauty in him; why then ſhould it be deemed a Fault in your humble Servant? Had I not an equal Right to make free with Milton, Swift, and Shakeſpear, as he had with Vir⯑gil and Horace.

I. O lud, lud! why the beſt Part of your firſt Volume, is that which you wrote from yourſelf, without theſe Auxiliaries.

Myſelf. Oh, upon my Word you com⯑pliment now.

[363] I. Truly, I did not intend it, but we would rather have ſome of your own Stuff.

Myſelf. Why I muſt bring you a Simile from what I do not much deal in, that is, Needle-work; do not Ladies buy coarſe Canvaſs, and work thereon Fruits, Flowers, Trees, all Summer, and all Autumn's Pride? and ſhould we ſay the Canvas would have been better without the Artiſt's curi⯑ous Embroidery; the ſame will hold in Painting.

I. O come, do not think to put us off at this Rate, you give us Quotation on Quotation; why, we know the Works of other Writers, and expected ſomething en⯑tirely new from your ſuperior Pen.

Myſelf. I am ſorry it is not in my Power to oblige you, but Kings and Prophets, who lived before me, have declared, there was nothing new under the Sun.

I. But you ſhew no Reverence, either to Ermin, Crape or Lawn.

Myſelf. O I really do, when the Wearers deſerve them; but I hope you would not have me pay Homage to the Things them⯑ſelves? Why then, I may go and kneel down to all the Goods in the Shops, becauſe as the Author of The Tale of a Tub, ſays, in them we live, move, and have our Be⯑ing.

[364] I. But have you no farther Regard to Station? Is your licentious Pen to laſh all Orders and Degrees of People? are you to indulge your laughing, and laſhing Hu⯑mour, at every Bodies Expence.

Myſelf. Why, ſure I have a Right to it; have they not laughed and laſhed me round? This is but a Retaliation, they were the firſt Aggreſſors; no Perſon who did not deſerve a Stripe, ever got one from me: Is Station a Privilege for doing every Thing Evil with Impunity? If ſo, let Satan on his burning Throne be honoured!

I. Well, upon my Word, Mrs. Pil⯑kington, I am weary of your Arguments; you ſeem reſolved to get the better of me, and that my Readers may always be aſſured I will do, when I am both Plaintiff and Defendant.

And I aſſure my Readers, that if my Third Volume is not filled with more ſur⯑prizing Events, and i [...]finitely more enter⯑taining than either of the foregoing, I will for ever quit my Magic Art, and