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St. James's Coffee-house, August 17.

be accounted for from the influence of the planet so little esteem, that they call her in their base style Mercury on this island; the ascendency of which a Tongue-Pad. Old True Penny bid me advise her Sharper over Sol, who is a patron of the muses and to keep her wit until she comes to town again, and all honest professions, has been noted by the learned admonish her, that both wit and breeding are local; Job Gadbury, to be the cause, that cunning and for a fine court-lady is as awkward among country trick are more esteemed than art and science.' It house-wives, as one of them would appear in a drawmust be allowed also, to the memory of Mr. Partridge, ing-room. It is therefore the most useful knowledge late of Cecil-street in the Strand, that in his answer one can attain at, to understand among what sort of to an horary question, At what hour of the night to men we make the best figure; for if there be a place set a fox-trap in June 1705? he has largely dis- where the beauteous and accomplished Emilia is unaccussed, under the character of Reynard, the manner ceptable, it is certainly a vain endeavour to attempt of surprising all Sharpers as well as him. But of pleasing in all conversations. Here is Will Ubi, who these great points, after more mature deliberation. is so thirsty after the reputation of a companion, that his company is for any body that will accept of it; and for want of knowing whom to choose for himself, is never chosen by others. There is a certain chastity of behaviour which makes a man desirable; and which if he transgresses, his wit will have the same fate with Delia's beauty, which no one regards, because all know it is within their power. The best course Emilia can take is, to have less humility; for if she could have as good an opinion of herself for having every quality, as some of her neighbours have of themselves with one, she would inspire even them with a sense of her merit, and make that carriage, which is now the subject of their derision, the sole object of their imitation. Until she has arrived at this value of herself, she must be contented with the fate of that uncommon creature, a woman too humble.

'TO ISAAC BICKERSTAFF, ESQ.

'SIR-We have nothing at present new, but that we understand by some Owlers, old people die in France. Letters from Paris of the 10th instant, N. S. say, that Monsieur d'Andre, Marquis d'Oraison, died at eighty-five: Monsieur Brumars, at one hundred and two years, died for love of his wife, who was ninety-two at her death, after seventy years cohabitation. Nicholas de Boutheiller, parish-preacher at Sasseville, being a bachelor, held out to one hundred and sixteen. Dame Claude de Massy, relict of Monsieur Peter de Monceaux, grand audiencer of France, died on the seventeenth, aged one hundred and seven. Letters of the seventeenth say, Monsieur Chrestien de Lamoignon died on the seventh instant, a person of great piety and virtue; but having died young, his age is concealed for reasons of state. On the fifteenth, his most Christian Majesty, attended by the Dauphin, the Duke of Burgundy, the Duke and Duchess of Berry, assisted at the procession which he yearly performs in memory of a vow made by Lewis the Thirteenth, in 1638. For which act of piety, his Majesty received absolution of his confessor for the breach of all inconvenient vows made by himself. I am, sir, your most humble servant,

'HUMPHREY KIDNEY.'

From my own Apartment, August 17. I am to acknowledge several letters which I have lately received; among others, one subscribed Philanthropos, another Emilia, both which shall be honoured. I have a third from an officer in the army, wherein he desires I would do justice to the many gallant actions which have been done by men of private characters, or officers of lower stations, during this long war; that their families may have the pleasure of seeing we lived in an age, wherein men of all orders had their proper share in fame and glory. There is nothing I should undertake with greater pleasure than matters of this kind; if, therefore, they who are acquainted with such facts would please to communicate them by letters, directed to me at Mr. Morphew's, no pains should be spared to put them in a proper and distinguishing light.

This is to admonish Stentor, that it was not admiration of his voice, but my publication of it, which has lately increased the number of his hearers.

No. 57.] SATURDAY, AUGUST 20, 1709.

Will's Coffee-house, August 19.

I WAS this evening representing a complaint sent me out of the country from Emilia. She says, her neighbours there have so little sense of what a refined lady of the town is, that she, who was a celebrated wit in London, is, in that dull part of the world, in

White's Chocolate-house, August 19.

Since my last, I have received a letter from Tom Trump, to desire that I would do the fraternity of gamesters the justice to own, that there are notorious Sharpers, who are not of their class. Among others, he presented me with the picture of Harry Coppersmith, in little, who, he says, is at this day worth half a plumb, by means much more indirect than by false dice.

I must confess there appeared some reason in what he asserted; and he met me since, and accosted me in the following manner: 'It is wonderful to me, Mr. Bickerstaff, that you can pretend to be a man of penetration, and fall upon us Knights of the Industry as the wickedest of mortals, when there are so many who live in the constant practice of baser methods, unobserved. You cannot, though you know the story of myself and the North Briton, but allow I am an honester man than Will Coppersmith, for all his great credit among the Lombards. I get my money by men's follies, and he gets his by their distresses. The declining merchant communicates his griefs to him, and he augments them by extortion. If, therefore, regard is to be had to the merit of the persons we injure, who is the more blameable, he that oppresses an unhappy man, All mankind are or he that cheats a foolish one? indifferently liable to adverse strokes of fortune; and he who adds to them, when he might relieve them, is certainly a worse subject, than he who unburdens a man whose prosperity is unwieldy to him. Besides all which, he that borrows of Coppersmith does it out of necessity; he that plays with me does it out of choice.'

I allowed Trump there are men as bad as himself, which is the height of his pretensions; and must confess, that Coppersmith is the most wicked and impudent of all Sharpers; a creature that cheats with credit, and is a robber in the habit of a friend. The contemplation of this worthy person made me reflect on the wonderful successes I have observed men of the meanest capacities meet with in the world, and recollect an observation I once heard a sage man make;

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which was, That he had observed, that in some professions, the lower the understanding, the greater the capacity.' I remember, he instanced that of a banker, and said, that the fewer appetites, passions, and ideas a man had, he was the better for his business.'

There is little Sir Tristram, without connection in his speech, or so much as common sense, has arrived by his own natural parts at one of the greatest estates amongst us. But honest Sir Tristram knows himself to be but a repository for cash: he is just such a utensil as his iron chest, and may rather be said to hold money, than possess it. There is nothing so pleasant as to be in the conversation of these wealthy proficients. I had lately the honour to drink half-apint with Sir Tristram, Harry Coppersmith, and Giles Twoshoes. These wags gave one another credit in discourse, according to their purses; they jest by the pound, and make answers as they honour bills. Without vanity, I thought myself the prettiest fellow of the company; but I had no manner of power over one muscle in their faces, though they smirked at every word spoken by each other. Sir Tristram called for a pipe of tobacco; and telling us tobacco was a pot-herb,' bid the drawer bring him the other halfpint. Twoshoes laughed at the knight's wit without moderation; I took the liberty to say, it was but a pun.' 'A pun!' said Coppersmith; you would be a better man by ten thousand pounds if you could pun like Sir Tristram.' With that they all burst out together. The queer curs maintained this style of dialogue until we had drunk our quart a-piece, by half-pints. All I could bring away with me is, that Twoshoes is not worth twenty thousand pounds: for his mirth, though he was as insipid as either of the others, had no more effect upon the company than if he had been a bankrupt.

From my own Apartment, August 19.

before their natural: with this they weave something to cover their heads, which descends down half way their bodies, hides their features, and hinders you from knowing men by their faces. This nation has, besides this, their God and their king. The grandees go every day at a certain hour, to a temple they call a church: at the upper end of that temple there stands an altar consecrated to their God, where the priest celebrates some mysteries which they call holy, sacred, and tremendous. The great men make a vast circle at the foot of the altar, standing with their backs to the priest and the holy mysteries, and their faces erected towards their king, who is seen on his knees upon a throne, and to whom they seem to direct the desires of their hearts, and all their devotion. However, in this custom, there is to be remarked a sort of subordination; for the people appear adoring their prince, and their prince adoring God. The inhabi tants of this region call it · It is from fortyeight degrees of latitude, and more than eleven hundred leagues by sea, from the Iroquois and Hurons.'

Letters from Hampstead say, there is a coxcomb arrived there, of a kind which is utterly new. The fellow has courage, which he takes himself to be obliged to give proofs of every hour he lives. He is ever fighting with the men, and contradicting the women. A lady, who sent to me, superscribed him with this description out of Suckling:

I have heard it has been advised by a diocesan to his inferior clergy, that instead of broaching opinions No. 58.] of their own, and uttering doctrines which may lead themselves and hearers into error, they would read some of the most celebrated sermons, printed by others for the instruction of their congregations. In imitation of such preachers at second-hand, I shall transcribe from Bruyere one of the most elegant pieces of raillery and satire which I have ever read. He describes the French as if speaking of a people not yet discovered, in the air and style of a traveller.

· I have heard talk of a country, where the old men are gallant, polite, and civil: the young men, on the contrary, stubborn, wild, without either manners or civility. They are free from passion for women, at the age when in other countries they begin to feel it; and prefer beasts, victuals, and ridiculous amours before them. Amongst these people, he is sober who is never drunk with any thing but wine; the too frequent use of it having rendered it flat and insipid to them: they endeavour by brandy, and other strong liquors to quicken their taste, already extinguished, and want nothing to complete their debauches, but to drink aqua-fortis. women of that country hasten the decay of their beauty, by their artifices to preserve it: they paint their cheeks, eye-brows, and shoulders, which they lay open, together with their breasts, arms, and ears, as if they were afraid to hide those places which they think will please, and never think they show enough of them. The physiognomies of the people of that country are not at all neat, but confused and embarrassed with a bundle of strange hair, which they prefer

The

I am a man of war and might,

And know thus much, that I can fight
Whether I am i'th' wrong or right,
Devoutly.

No woman under heaven I fear,
New oaths I can exactly swear:
And forty healths my brain will bear,
Most stoutly.'

TUESDAY, AUGUST 23, 1709. White's Chocolate-house, August 22. POOR Cynthio, who does me the honour to talk to me now and then very freely of his most secret thoughts, and tells me his most private frailties, owned to me, that though he is in his very prime of life, love had killed all his desires, and he was now as much to be trusted with a fine lady as if he were eighty. That one passion for Clarissa has taken up,' said he, my whole soul; and all my idle flames are extinguished, as you may observe ordinary fires are often put out by the sunshine.'

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This was a declaration not to be made but upon the highest opinion of man's sincerity; yet as much a subject of raillery as such a speech would be, it is certain, that chastity is a nobler quality, and as much to be valued in men as in women. The mighty Scipio, who,' as Bluffe says in the comedy, was a pretty fellow in his time,' was of this mind, and is celebrated for it by an author of good sense. When he lived, wit, and humour, and raillery, and public success, were at as high a pitch at Rome, as at present in England; yet, I believe, there was no man in those days thought that General at all ridiculous in his behaviour in the following account of him.

Scipio, at four-and-twenty years of age, had obtained a great victory; and a multitude of prisoners, of each sex and all conditions, fell into his possession: among others, an agreeable virgin in her early bloom and beauty. He had too sensible a spirit to see the most lovely of all objects without being moved with

lantry, and rise the higher in our esteem, the farther they are removed from our imitation.'

Will's Coffee-house, August 22.

A man would be apt to think, in this laughing town, that it were impossible a thing so exploded as speaking hard words should be practised by any one that had ever seen good company; but, as if there were a standard in our minds as well as bodies, you see very many just where they were twenty years ago, and more they cannot, will not arrive at. Were it not thus, the noble Martius would not be the only mau in England whom nobody can understand, though he talks more than any man else.

passion: besides which, there was no obligation of honour or virtue to restrain his desires towards one who was his by the fortune of war. But a noble indignation, and a sudden sorrow which appeared in her countenance, when the conqueror cast his eyes upon her, raised his curiosity to know her story. He was informed, that she was a lady of the highest condition in that country, and contracted to Indibilis, a man of merit and quality. The generous Roman soon placed himself in the condition of that unhappy man, who was to lose so charming a bride; and, though a youth, a bachelor, a lover, and a conqueror, immediately resolved to resign all the invitations of his passion, and the rights of his power, to restore her to her destined husband. With this purpose he commanded her parents and relations, as well as her husband, to attend him at an appointed time. When they met, and were waiting for the general, my author frames to himself the different concern of an unhappy father, a despairing lover, and a tender mother, in the several persons who were so related to the captive. But, for fear of injuring the delicate circumstances with an old translation, I shall proceed to tell you, that Scipio appears to them, and leads in his prisoner into their presence. The Romans, as noble as they were, seemed to allow themselves ait, he should be glad to be allowed to participate of little too much triumph over the conquered; therefore, as Scipio approached, they all threw themselves on their knees, except the lover of the lady: but Scipio observing in him a manly sullenness, was the more inclined to favour him, and spoke to him in these words:

It is not the manner of the Romans to use all the power they justly may: we fight not to ravage countries, or break through the ties of humanity. I am acquainted with your worth, and your interest in this lady: fortune has made me your master; but I desire to be your friend. This is your wife; take her, and may the gods bless you with her! But far be it from Scipio to purchase a loose and momentary pleasure at the rate of making an honest man unhappy.'

Indibilis's heart was too full to make him any answer; but he threw himself at the feet of the general, and wept aloud. The captive lady fell into the same posture, and they both remained so, until the father burst into the following words: 'O divine Scipio! the gods have given you more than human virtue. O glorious leader! O wondrous youth! does not that obliged virgin give you, while she prays to the gods for your prosperity, and thinks you sent down from them, raptures, above all the transports which you could have reaped from the possession of her injured person? The temperate Scipio answered him without much emotion, and saying, Father, be a friend to Rome,' retired. An immense sum was offered as her ransom; but he sent it to her husband, and smiling, said,This is a trifle after what I have given him already; but let Indibilis know, that chastity at my age is a much more difficult virtue to practise than generosity.'

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Will Dactyle the epigrammatist, Jack Comma the grammarian, Nick Gross-gain, who writes anagrams, and myself, made a pretty company at a corner of the room; and entered very peaceably upon a subject fit enough for us, which was, the examination of the particle For, when Martius joined us. He, being well known to us all, asked what we were upon ? for he had a mind to consummate the happiness of the day, which had been spent amongst the stars of the first magnitude among the men of letters; and, therefore, to put a period to it as he had commenced

the pleasure of our society.' I told him the subject. 'Faith, gentlemen,' said Martius, your subject is humble; and if you will give me leave to elevate the conversation, I should humbly offer, that you would enlarge your enquiries to the word For-as-much; for though I take it,' said he, to be but one word, yet the participle Much implying quantity, the particle As similitude, it will be greater, and more like ourselves, to treat of For-as-much.' Jack Comma is always serious, and answered, Martius, I must take the liberty to say, that you have fallen into all this error and profuse manner of speech by a certain hurry in your imagination, for want of being more exact in the knowledge of the parts of speech; and it is so with all men who have not well studied the particle For. You have spoken For without making inference, which is the great use of that particle. There is no manner of force in your observation of quantity and similitude in the syllables As and Much. But it is ever the fault of men of great wit to be incorrect; which evil they run into by an indis creet use of the word For. Consider all the books of controversy which have been written, and I will engage you will observe, that all the debate lies in that point, Whether they brought in For in a just manner; or forced it in for their own use, rather than as understanding the use of the word itself? There is nothing like familiar instances: you have heard the story of the Irishman who reading, Money for live hair, took a lodging, and expected to be paid for living at that house. If this man had known, For was in that place of a quite different signification to the particle To, he could not have fallen into the mistake of taking Live for what the Latins call Vivere, or rather Habitare.'

Martius seemed at a loss; and, admiring his pro I observed Cynthio was very much taken with my found learning, wished he had been bred a scholar, narrative; but told me, this was a virtue that would for he did not take the scope of his discourse. This bear but a very inconsiderable figure in our days.' wise debate, of which we had much more, made me However, I took the liberty to say, that we ought reflect upon the difference of their capacities, and not to lose our idea of things, though we had de- wonder there could be, as it were, a diversity in men's bauched our true relish in our practice; for, after we genius for nonsense; that one should bluster, while have done laughing, solid virtue will keep its place another crept, in absurdities. Martius moves like a in men's opinions; and though custom made it not blind man, lifting his legs higher than the ordinary so scandalous as it ought to be, to ensnare innocent way of stepping; and Comma, like one who is only women, and triumph in the falsehood; such actions, short-sighted, picking his way when he should be as we have here related, must be accounted true gal-marching on. Want of learning makes Martius a

brisk entertaining fool, and gives him a full scope; but that which Comma has, and calls learning, makes him diffident, and curbs his natural misunderstanding to the great loss of the men of raillery. This conversation confirmed me in the opinion, that learning usually does but improve in us what nature endowed us with. He that wants good sense is unhappy in having learning, for he has thereby only more ways of exposing himself: and he that has sense knows that learning is not knowledge, but rather the art of using it.

St. James's Coffee-house, August 22. We have undoubted intelligence of the defeat of the king of Sweden; and that prince, who for some years had hovered like an approaching tempest, and was looked up at by all the nations of Europe, which seemed to expect their fate according to the course he should take, is now, in all probability, an unhappy exile, without the common necessaries of life. His czarish majesty treats his prisoners with great gallantry and distinction. Count Rhensfeildt has had particular marks of his majesty's esteem, for his merit and services to his master; but Count Piper, whom his majesty believes author of the most violent counsels into which his prince entered, is disarmed, and entertained accordingly. That decisive battle was ended at nine in the morning; and all the Swedish generals dined with the czar that very day, and received assurances, that they should find Muscovy was not unacquainted with the laws of honour and umanity.

No. 59.] THURSDAY, AUGUST 25, 1709.

White's Chocolate-house, August 24. ESOP has gained to himself an immortal renown for figuring the manners, desires, passions, and interests of men, by fables of beasts and birds. I shall in my future accounts of our modern heroes and wits, vulgarly called Sharpers, imitate the method of that delightful moralist; and think I cannot represent those worthies more naturally than under the shadow of a pack of dogs; for this set of men are, like them made up of Finders, Lurchers, and Setters. Some search for the prey, others pursue, others take it; and if it be worth it, they all come in at the death, and worry the carcass. It would require a most exact knowledge of the field and the harbours where the deer lie, to recount all the revolutions in the chace.

But I am diverted from the train of my discourse of the fraternity about this town, by letters from Hampstead, which give me au account, there is a late institution there, under the name of a Raffling-shop; which is, it seems, secretly supported by a person who is a deep practitioner in the law, and out of tenderness of conscience has, under the name of his maid Sisly, set up this easier way of conveyancing and alienating estates from one family to another. He is so far from having an intelligence with the rest of the fraternity, that all the humbler cheats, who appear there, are outfaced by the partners in the bank, and driven off by the reflection of superior brass. This notice is given to all the silly faces that pass that way, that they may not be decoyed in by the soft allurement of a fine lady, who is the sign to the pageantry. At the same time, signior Hawksly, who is the patron of the household, is desired to leave off this interloping trade, or admit, as he ought to do, the Knights of the Industry to their share in the spoil. But this little matter is only by way of digression. Therefore, to return to our worthies.

The present race of terriers and hounds would starve, were it not for the enchanted Acteon, who

has kept the pack for many successions of hunting seasons. Acteon has long tracts of rich soil; but had the misfortune in his youth to fall under the of the year, a deer, and in some parts a man. power of sorcery, and has been ever since, some parts he is a man, such is the force of magic, he no sooner While grows to such a bulk and fatness, but he is again turne:l into a deer, and hunted until he is lean; upon which he returns to his human shape. Many arts have been tried, and many resolutions taken by Acteon himself, to follow such methods as would break the enchantment; but all have hitherto proved ineffectual. I have therefore, by midnight watchings, and much care found out, that there is no way to save him from the jaws of his hounds, but to destroy the pack, which, by astrological prescience, I find I out my familiar, to bring me a list of all the places am destined to perform. For which end, I have sent where they are harboured, that I may know where to sound my horn, and bring them together, and take an account of their haunts and their marks, against another opportunity.

Will's Coffee-house, August 24.

the quotations he makes from the ancients, seems a The author of the ensuing letter, by his name, and sort of spy from the old world, whom we moderns ought to be careful of offending; therefore, I must be free, and own it a fair hit where he takes me, rather than disoblige him.

'SIR,

'Having a peculiar humour of desiring to be somewhat the better or wiser for what I read, I am always uneasy when, in any profound writer, for I read no others, I happen to meet with what I cannot understand. When this falls out it is a great grievance to me that I am not able to consult the author himself about his meaning, for commentators are a sect that has little share in my esteem: your elaborate writings have, among many others, this advantage; that their author is still alive, and ready, as his extensive charity makes us expect, to explain whatever may be found in them too sublime for vulgar understandings. This, sir, makes me presume to ask you, how the Hampstead hero's character could be perfectly new when the last letters came away, and yet Sir John Suckling so well acquainted with it sixty years ago? I hope, sir, you will not take this amiss: I can assure you, I have a profound respect for you, which makes me write this with the same disposition with which Longinus bids us read Homer

and Plato. celebrated authors, we meet with a passage to which When in reading, says he, any of those we cannot well reconcile our reasons, we ought firmly to believe, that were those great wits present to answer for themselves, we should, to our wonder, be convinced, that we only are guilty of the mistakes that we before attributed to them. If you think fit to remove the scruple that now torments me, it will correspondence with you; several things falling in be an encouragement to me to settle a frequent foreign to your purpose, and whereon your thoughts my way, which would not, perhaps, be altogether would be very acceptable to your most humble servant.

'OBADIAH GREENHAT.'

I own this is clean, and Mr. Greenhat has convinced me that I have writ nonsense, yet I am not at all offended at him

Scimus, et hanc veniam petimusque damusque
vicissim.
Hor. Ars. Poet. ver. xi.

I own th' indulgence—Such I give and take. Francis.
This is the true art of raillery, when a man turns
another into ridicule, and shows, at the same time,
he is in good humour, and not urged on by malice
against the person he rallies. Obadiah Greenhat has
hit this very well: for, to make an apology to Isaac
Bickerstaff, an unknown student and horary historian,
as well as astrologer, and with a grave face to say,
he speaks of him by the same rules with which he
would treat Homer or Plato, is to place him in com-
pany where he cannot expect to make a figure; and
make him flatter himself, that it is only being named
with them which renders him most ridiculous.

the earth which was taken out of them. The next day at eight in the morning, when the French observed we were relieving our trenches, they sprung a larger mine than any they had fired during the siege, which killed only four private centinels. The ensuing night, we had three men and two officers killed, as also, seven men wounded. Between the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth, we repaired some works which the enemy had ruined. On the next day, some of the enemy's magazines blew up; and it is thought they were destroyed on purpose by some of their men, who are impatient of the hardships of the present service. There happened nothing remarkable for two or three days following. A deserter who came out of the citadel on the twenty-seventh, says the garrison is brought to the utmost necessity; that their bread and water are both very bad: and they were reduced to eat horse-flesh. The manner of fighting in this siege has discovered a gallantry in our men unknown to former ages; their meeting with adverse parties under ground, where every step is taken with apprehensions of being blown up with mines below them, or crushed by the fall of the earth above them, and all this acted in darkness, has something in it more terrible than ever is met with in any other part of a soldier's duty. However, this is performed with great cheerfulness. In other parts of the war we have also good prospects; Count Thaun has taken Annecy, and the Count de Merci marched into Franche Compte, while his electoral highness is much superior in number to Monsieur d'Harcourt; so that both on the side of Savoy and Germany, we have reason to expect, very suddenly, some great

I have not known, and I am now past my grand climacteric, being sixty-four years of age, according to my way of life; or, rather, if you will allow punning in an old gentleman, according to my way of pastime; I say, as old as I am, I have not been acquainted with many of the Green hats. There is indeed one Zedekiah Greenhat, who is lucky also in his way. He has a very agreeable manner; for when he has a mind thoroughly to correct a man, he never takes from him any thing, but he allows him something for it; or else he blames him for things wherein he is not defective, as well as for matters wherein he is. This makes a weak man believe he is in jest in the whole. The other day he told Beau Prim, who is thought impotent, that his mistress had declared she would not have him, because he was a sloven, and had committed a rape.' The beau bit at the banter, and said very gravely, he thought to be clean was as much as was necessary; and that as to the rape, he wondered by what witchcraft that should come to her ears; but it had indeed cost him No. 60.] SATURDAY, AUGUST 27, 1709. a hundred pounds to hush the affair.'

The Greenhats are a family with small voices and short arms, therefore they have power with none but their friends: they never call after those who run away from them, or pretend to take hold of you if you resist. But it has been remarkable, that all who have shunned their company, or not listened to them, have fallen into the hands of such as have knocked out their brains, or broken their bones. I have looked over our pedigree upon the receipt of this epistle, and find the Greenhats are a-kin to the Staffs. They descend from Maudlin, the left-handed wife of Nehemiah Bickerstaff, in the reign of Harry the Second. And it is remarkable, that they are all lefthanded, and have always been very expert at single rapier. A man must be very much used to their play to know how to defend himself; for their posture is so different from that of the right-handed, that you run upon their swords if you push forward: and they are in with you, if you offer to fall back without keeping your guard.

There have been, also, letters lately sent to me, which relate to other people: among the rest, some whom I have heretofore declared to be so, are deceased. I must not, therefore, break through rules so far as to speak ill of the dead. This maxim extends to all but the late Partridge, who still denies his death. I am informed, indeed, by several, that he walks; but I shall with all convenient speed lay

him.

St. James's Coffee-house, August 24.

We hear from Tournay, that on the night between the twenty-second and twenty-third, they went on with their works in the enemy's mines, and levelled

event.

White's Chocolate-house, August 26.

To proceed regularly in the history of my worthies, I ought to give an account of what has passed from day to day in this place; but a young fellow of my acquaintance has so lately been rescued out of the hands of the Knights of the Industry, that I choose to relate the manner of his escape from them, and the uncommon way which was used to reclaim him, then to go on with my intended d.ary.

You are to know then, that Tom Wildair is a student of the Inner Temple, and has spent his time, since he left the university for that place, in the common diversions of men of fashion; that is to say, in whoring, drinking, and gaming. The two former vices he had from his father; but was led into the last by the conversation of a partizan of the Myrmidons who had chambers near him. His allowance from his father was a very plentiful one for a man of sense, but as scanty for a modern fine gentleman. His frequent losses had reduced him to so necessitous a condition, that his lodgings were always haunted by impatient creditors; and all his thoughts employed in contriving low methods to support himself in a way of life from which he knew not how to retreat, and in which he wanted means to proceed. There is never wanting some good natured person to send a man an account of what he has no mind to hear; therefore many epistles were conveyed to the father of this extravagant, to inform him of the company, the pleasures, the distresses, and entertainments, in which his son passed his time. The old fellow received these advices with all the pain of a parent, but frequently consulted his pillow, to know how to behave himself on such important occasions, as the

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