attend to them. However, good-breeding | description of such person is hid in the deobliges a man to maintain the figure of the formity with which the angry man describes keenest attention, the true posture of which him; therefore this fellow always made his in a coffee-house, I take to consist in lean- customers describe him as he would the ing over a table with the edge of it pressing day before he offended, or else he was sure hard upon your stomach: for the more pain he would never find him out. These and the narration is received with, the more many other hints I could suggest to you for gracious is your bending over; besides that the elucidation of all fictions; but I leave it the narrator thinks you forget your pain by to your own sagacity to improve or neglect the pleasure of hearing him. this speculation. I am, sir, your most obedient, humble servant.' T.

Fort Knock has occasioned several very perplexed and inelegant heats and animosities; and there was one the other day, in a

-Adjuro nunquam eam me deserturum ;

homines.

coffee-house where I was, that took upon No. 522.] Wednesday, October 29, 1712.
him to clear that business to me, for he said
he was there. I knew him to be that sort
of man that had not strength of capacity to
be informed of any thing that depended
merely upon his being an eye-witness, and
therefore was fully satisfied he could give
me no information, for the very same rea-
son he believed he could, for he was there.
However, I heard him with the same
greediness as Shakspeare describes in the
following lines:

Non, si capiundos mihi sciam esse inimicos omnes
Hanc mihiexpetivi contigit, conveniunt mores valeant,
Qui inter nos discidium volunt: hanc nisi mors, mi

"I saw a smith stand on his hammer, thus, With open mouth, swallowing a taylor's news."

adimet nemo.

Ter. Andr. Act iv. Sc 2.

I swear never to forsake her; no, though I were sure to make all men my enemies. Her I desired; her I have obtained; our humours agree. Perish all those who would separate us! Death alone shall deprive me of her.

I SHOULD esteem myself a very happy man if my speculation could in the least contribute to the rectifying the conduct of my readers in one of the most important 'I confess of late I have not been so much affairs of life, to wit, their choice in maramazed at the declaimers in coffee-houses riage. This state is the foundation of comas I formerly was, being satisfied that they munity, and the chief band of society; and expect to be rewarded for their vocifera- I do not think I can be too frequent on subtions. Of these liars there are two sorts:jects which may give light to my unmarthe genius of the first consists in much im-ried readers in a particular which is so pudence, and a strong memory; the others essential to their following happiness or have added to these qualifications a good misery. A virtuous disposition, a good ununderstanding and smooth language. These derstanding, an agreeable person, and an therefore have only certain heads, which easy fortune, are the things which should they are as eloquent upon as they can, and be chiefly regarded on this occasion. Bemay be called "embellishers;" the others cause my present view is to direct a young repeat only what they hear from others as lady, who I think is now in doubt whom to literally as their parts or zeal will permit, take of many lovers, I shall talk at this and are called "reciters." Here was a time to my female readers. The advanfellow in town some years ago, who used to tages, as I was going to say, of sense, beauty, divert himself by telling a lie at Charing- and riches, are what are certainly the chief cross in the morning at eight of the clock, motives to a prudent young woman of forand following it through all parts of the tune for changing her condition; but, as she town until eight at night: at which time he is to have her eye upon each of these, she came to a club of his friends, and diverted is to ask herself, whether the man who has them with an account what censure it had most of these recommendations in the lump at Will's in Covent-garden, how dangerous is not the most desirable. He that has exit was believed to be at Child's, and what cellent talents, with a moderate estate, and inference they drew from it with relation to an agreeable person, is preferable to him stocks at Jonathan's. I have had the ho- who is only rich, if it were only that good nour to travel with this gentleman I speak faculties may purchase riches, but riches of, in search of one of his falsehoods; and cannot purchase worthy endowments. I do have been present when they have de-not mean that wit, and a capacity to enterscribed the very man they have spoken to, as him who first reported it, tall or short, black or fair, a gentleman or a raggamuffin, according as they liked the intelligence. I have heard one of our ingenious writers of news say, that, when he has had a customer with an advertisement of an apprentice or a wife run away, he has desired the ad-out quick sensations and gay reflections, vertiser to compose himself a little before he dictated the description of the offender: for when a person is put in a public paper by a man who is angry with him, the real VOL. II.

37

|tain, is what should be highly valued, except it is founded on good-nature and humanity. There are many ingenious men, whose abilities do little else but make themselves and those about them uneasy. Such are those who are far gone in the pleasures of the town, who cannot support life with

and are strangers to tranquillity, to right reason, and a calm motion of spirits, without transport or dejection. These ingenious men. of all men living, are most to be

avoided by her who would be happy in a husband. They are immediately sated with possession, and must necessarily fly to new acquisitions of beauty to pass away the whiling moments and intervals of life; for with them every hour is heavy that is not joyful. But there is a sort of man of wit and sense, that can reflect upon his own make, and that of his partner, with eyes of reason and honour, and who believes he offends against both these, if he does not look upon the woman, who chose him to be under his protection in sickness and health, with the utmost gratitude, whether from that moment she is shining or defective in person or mind: I say, there are those who think themselves bound to supply with good-nature the failings of those who love them, and who always think those the objects of love and pity who came to their arms the objects of joy and admiration.

Of this latter sort is Lysander, a man of wit, learning, sobriety, and good-nature; of birth and estate below no woman to accept; and of whom it might be said, should he succeed in his present wishes, his mistress raised his fortune, but not that she made it. When a woman is deliberating with herself whom she shall choose of many near each other in other pretensions, certainly he of best understanding is to be preferred. Life hangs heavily in the repeated conversation of one who has no imagination to be fired at the several occasions and objects which come before him, or who cannot

is ever contriving the happiness of her who did him so great a distinction; while the fool is ungrateful without vice, and never returns a favour because he is not sensible of it. I would, methinks, have so much to say for myself, that, if I fell into the hands of him who treated me ill, he should be sensible when he did so. His conscience should be of my side, whatever became of his inclination." I do not know but it is the insipid choice which has been made by those who have the care of young women, that the marriage state itself has been liable to so much ridicule. But a well-chosen love, moved by passion on both sides, and perfected by the generosity of one party, must be adorned with so many handsome incidents on the other side, that every particular couple would be an example, in many circumstances, to all the rest of the species. I shall end the chat upon this subject with a couple of letters; one from a lover, who is very well acquainted with the way of bargaining on these occasions; and the other from his rival, who has a less estate, but great gallantry of temper. As to my man of prudence, he makes love, as he says, as if he were already a father, and, laying aside the passion, comes to the reason of the thing.

'MADAM,-My counsel has perused the what estate you have, which it seems is inventory of your estate, and considered only yours, and to the male-heirs of your body; but, in default of such issue, to the right heirs of your uncle Edward for ever. Thus, madam, I am advised you cannot (the remainder not being in you) dock the entail; by which means my estate, which is fee simple, will come by the settlement proposed to your children begotten by me, whether they are males or females: but my children begotten upon you will not inherit your lands, except I beget a son. Now, madam, since things are so, you are a woworld so well, as not to expect I should man of that prudence, and understand the give you more than you can give me. I am, madam, (with great respect,) your most

obedient servant,

T. W.'

strike out of his reflections new paths of pleasing discourse. Honest Will Thrush and his wife, though not married above four months, have scarce had a word to say to each other this six weeks, and one cannot form to one's self a sillier picture than these two creatures, in solemn pomp and plenty, unable to enjoy their fortunes, and at a full stop among a crowd of servants, to whose taste of life they are beholden for the little satisfactions by which they can be understood to be so much as barely in being: The hours' of the day, the distinctions of noon and night, dinner and supper, are the greatest notices they are capable of. This is perhaps representing the life of a very modest woman, joined to a dull fellow, more insipid than it really deserves; but I am sure it is not to exalt the commerce with an ingenious companion too high, to say that every new accident or object, which comes in such a gentleman's way, gives his wife new pleasures and satisfactions. The approbation of his words and actions is a continual new feast to her; nor can she enough applaud her good fortune in having her life varied every hour, her mind more improved, and her heart more glad, from every circumstance which they meet with. He will lay out his invention in forming You must know the relations have met new pleasures and amusements, and make upon this; and the girl, being mightily taken the fortune she had brought him subservient with the latter epistle, she is laughed at, to the honour and reputation of her and and uncle Edward is to be dealt with to hers. A man of sense, who is thus obliged, I make her a suitable match to the worthy

The other lover's estate is less than this gentleman's, but he expressed himself as follows:

'MADAM,-I have given in my estate to your counsel, and desired my own lawyer to insist upon no terms which your friends can propose for your certain ease and advantage; for indeed I have no notion of making difficulties of presenting you with what cannot make me happy without you. I am, madam, your most devoted humble servant,

B. T.'

Now Lyrian hote, and now the Delian god,
Now Hermes is employed from Jove's abode,
To warn him hence, as if the peaceful state
Of heavenly pow is were touch'd with human fate!
Dry lea.

I AM always highly delighted with the discovery of any rising genius among my country men. For this reason I have read over, with great pleasure, the late miscellany published by Mr. Pope, in which there are many excellent compositions of that ingenious gentleman. I have had a pleasure of the same kind in perusing a poem that is just published, On the Prospect of Peace;*. and which, I hope, will meet with such a reward from its patrons as so noble a performance deserves. I was particularly well pleased to find that the author had not amused himself with fables out of the pagan theology, and that when he hints at any thing of this nature he alludes to it only as to a fable.

founded in truth, or at least in that which passes for such.

In mock heroic poems the use of the heathen mythology is not only excusable, but graceful, because it is the design of such compositions to divert, by adapting the fabulous machines of the ancients to low subjects, and, at the same time, by ridiculing such kinds of machinery in modern writers. If any are of opinion that there is a necessity of admitting these classical legends into our sericus compositions, in order to give them a more poetical turn, I would recommend to their consideration the pastorals of Mr. Phillips. One would have thought it impossible for this kind of poetry to have subsisted without fawns and satyrs, wood-nymphs and water-nymphs, with all the tribe of rural deities. But we see he has given a new life and a more natural beauty to this way of writing, by substituting in the place of these antiquited fables, the superstitious mythology which prevails among the shepherds of our own country.

Virgil and Homer might compliment their heroes by interweaving the actions of deities with their achievements; but for a Christian author to write in the pagan creed, to make prince Eugene a favourite of Mars, or to carry on a correspondence between Bellona and the Marshal de Villars, would be downright puerility, and unpardonable in a pet that is past sixteen. It is want of sufficient elevation in a genius to describe realities, and place them in a shining light, that makes him have recourse to such trifling antiquated fables; as a man may write a fine description of Bacchus or Apollo that does not know how to draw the character of any of his contemporaries.

In order therefore to put a stop to this absurd practice, I shall publish the following edict, by virtue of that spectatorial authority with which I stand invested.

Many of our modern authors, whose learning very often extends no farther than Ovid's Metamorphoses, do not know how to celebrate a great man, without mixing a parcel of school-boy tales with the recital: of his actions. If you read a poem on a fine woman among the authors of this class, you shall see that it turns more upon Venus or Helen than on the party concerned. I have. Whereas the time of a general peace is, known a copy of verses on a great hero in all appearance, drawing near, being inhighly commended; but, upon asking to formed that there are several ingenious hear some of the beautiful passages, the persons who intend to show their talents on admirer of it has repeated to me a speech so happy an occasion, and being willing, as of Apollo, or a description of Polypheme, much as in me lies, to prevent that effusion At other times, when I have searched for of nonsense which we have good cause to the actions of a great man, who gave a sub-apprehend; I do hereby strictly require ject to the writer, I have been entertained every person who shall write on this subwith the exploits of a river god, or have ject, to remember that he is a Christian, been forced to attend a Fury in her mis-and not to sacrifice his catechism to his chievous progress, from one end of the poetry. In order to it, I do expect of him poem to the other When we are at school, in the first place to make his own poem, it is necessary for us to be acquainted with the system of pagan theology; and we may be allowed to enliven a theme, or point an epigram, with a heathen god; but when we could write a manly panegyric that should carry in it all the colours of truth, nothing can be more ridiculous than to have course to our Jupiters and Junos,

without depending upon Phoebus for any part of it, or calling out for aid upon any one of the Muses by name. I do likewise positively forbid the sending of Mercury with any particular message or despatch relating to the peace, and shall by no means re-suffer Minerva to take upon her the shape of any plenipotentiary concerned in this great work. I do farther declare, that I shall not allow the Destinies to have had a hand in the deaths of the several thousands who have been slain in the late war, being

No thought is beautiful which is not just; and no thought can be just which is not

* By Mr. Thomas Tickle.

of opinion that all such deaths may be very which I have owned to have been written well accounted for by the Christian system by other hands. I shall add a dream to of powder and ball. I do therefore strictly these which comes to me from Scotland, forbid the Fates to cut the thread of man's by one who declares himself of that counlife upon any pretence whatsoever, unless try; and, for all I know, may be secondit be for the sake of the rhyme. And sighted. There is, indeed, something in it whereas I have good reason to fear that of the spirit of John Bunyan; but at the Neptune will have a great deal of business same time a certain sublime which that on his hands, in several poems which we author was never master of. I shall pubmay now suppose are upon the anvil, I do lish it, because I question not but it will also prohibit his appearance, unless it be fall in with the taste of all my popular done in metaphor, simile, or any very short readers, and amuse the imaginations of allusion; and that even here he be not per- those who are more profound; declaring, mitted to enter but with great caution and at the same time, that this is the last dream circumspection. I desire that the same rule which I intend to publish this season. may be extended to his whole fraternity of heathen gods; it being my design to condemn every poem to the flames in which Jupiter thunders, or exercises any other act of authority which does not belong to him: in short, I expect that no pagan agent shall be introduced, or any fact related, which a man cannot give credit to with a good conscience. Provided always, that nothing herein contained shall extend, or be construed to extend, to several of the female poets in this nation, who shall be still left in full possession of their gods and goddesses, in the same manner as if this paper had never been written.' 0.

WHEN I first of all took it into my head to write dreams and visions, I determined to print nothing of that nature which was not of my own invention. But several laborious dreamers have of late communicated to me works of this nature, which, for their reputations and my own, I have hitherto suppressed. Had I printed every one that came into my hands, my book of speculations would have been little else but a book of visions. Some of my correspondents have indeed been so very modest as to offer as an excuse for their not being in a capacity to dream better. I have by me, for example, the dream of a young gentleman not passed fifteen: I have likewise by me the dream of a person of quality, and another called The Lady's Dream. In these, and other pieces of the same nature, it is supposed the usual allowances will be made to the age, condition, and sex of the dreamer. To prevent this inundation of dreams, which daily flows in upon me, I shall apply to all dreamers of dreams the advice which Epictetus has couched, after his manner, in a very simple and concise precept. Never tell thy dream,' says that philosopher; for though thou thyself mayest take a pleasure in telling thy dream, another will take no pleasure in hearing it.' After this short preface, I must do justice to two or three visions which I have lately published, and

'SIR,-I was last Sunday in the evening led into a serious reflection on the reasonableness of virtue, and great folly of vice, from an excellent sermon I had heard that afternoon in my parish church. Among other observations, the preacher showed us that the temptations which the tempter proposed are all on a supposition, that we are either madmen or fools, or with an intention to render us such; that in no other affair we would suffer ourselves to be thus imposed upon, in a case so plainly and clearly against our visible interest. His illustrations and arguments carried so much persuasion and conviction with them, that they remained a considerable while fresh, and working in my memory; until at last the mind, fatigued with thought, gave way to the forcible oppressions of slumber and sleep; whilst fancy, unwilling yet to drop the subject, presented me with the following vision.

Methought I was just awoke out of a sleep that I could never remember the beginning of; the place where I found myself to be was a wide and spacious plain, full of people that wandered up and down through several beaten paths, whereof some few were straight, and in direct lines, but most of them winding and turning like a labyrinth; but yet it appeared to me afterwards that these last all met in one issue, so that many that seemed to steer quite contrary courses, did at length meet and face one another, to the no little amazement of many of them.

In the midst of the plain there was a great fountain: they called it the spring of Self-love; out of it issued two rivulets to the eastward and westward: The name of the first was Heavenly-Wisdom; its water was wonderfully clear, but of a yet more wonderful effect: the other's name was World ly-Wisdom; its water was thick, and yet far from being dormant or stagnating, for it was in a continual violent agitation; which kept the travellers, whom I shall mention by and by, from being sensible of the foulness and thickness of the water; which had this effect, that it intoxicated those who drank it, and made them mistake every object that lay before them. Both rivulets were parted near their springs into so many

others, as there were straight and crooked the crooked paths, who came up to me, paths, which attended all along to their re-bid me go along with them, and presently spective issues.

I observed from the several paths many now and then diverting, to refresh and otherwise qualify themselves for their journey, to the respective rivulets that ran near them: they contracted a very observable courage and steadiness in what they were about, by drinking these waters. At the end of the perspective of every straight path, all which did end in one issue and point, appeared a high pillar, all of diamond, casting rays as bright as those of the sun into the paths; which rays had also certain sympathizing and alluring virtues in them, so that whosoever had made some considerable progress in his journey onwards towards the pillar, by the repeated impression of these rays upon him, was wrought into an habitual inclination and conversion of his sight towards it, so that it grew at last in a manner natural to him to look and gaze upon it, whereby he was kept steady in the straight paths, which alone led to that radiant body, the beholding of which was now grown a gratification to his nature.

fell to singing and dancing: they took me by the hand, and so carried me away along with them. After I had followed them a considerable while, I perceived I had lost the black tower of light, at which I greatly wondered; but as I looked and gazed round about me and saw nothing, I began to fancy my first vision had been but a dream, and there was no such thing in reality; but then I considered that if I could fancy to see what was not, I might as well have an allusion wrought on me at present, and not see what was really before me. I was very much confirmed in this thought, by the effect I then just observed the water of Worldly-Wisdom had upon me; for as I had drank a little of it again, I felt a very sensible effect in my head; methought it distracted and disordered all there; this made me stop of a sudden, suspecting some charm or enchantment. As I was casting about within myself what I should do, and whom to apply to in this case, I spied at some distance off me a man beckoning, and making signs to me to come over to him. I cried to him, I did not know the way. He then called to me, audibly, to step at least out of the path I was in; for if I stayed there any longer I was in danger to be catched in a great net that was just hanging over me, and ready to catch me up; that he wondered I was so blind, or so distracted, as not to see so imminent and visible a danger; assuring me, that as soon as I was out of that way, he would come to me to lead me into a more secure path. This I did, and he brought me his palmfull of the water of Heavenly-Wisdom, which was of very great use to me, for my eyes were straight cleared, and I saw the great black tower just before me: but the great net which I spied so near me cast me in such a terror, that I ran back as far as I could in one breath without looking behind me. Then my benefactor thus bespoke me: "You have made the wonderfullest escape in the world; the water you used to drink is of a bewitching nature; you would else have been mightily shocked at the deformities and meanness of the place; for besides the set of blind fools, in whose company you was, you may now behold many others who are only bewitched after another no less dangerous manner. Look a They would sometimes cast their nets little that way, there goes a crowd of pastowards the right paths to catch the strag- sengers; they have indeed so good a head glers, whose eyes, for want of drinking at as not to suffer themselves to be blinded by the brook that run by them, grew dim, this bewitching water; the black tower is whereby they lost their way: these would not vanished out of their sight, they see it sometimes very narrowly miss being catch-whenever they look up to it: but see how ed away, but I could not hear whether any of these had ever been so unfortunate, that had been before very hearty in the straight paths.

At the issue of the crooked paths there was a great black tower, out of the centre of which streamed a long succession of flames, which did rise even above the clouds; it gave a very great light to the whole plain, which did sometimes outshine the light, and oppressed the beams of the adamantine pillar; though by the observation I made afterwards, it appeared that it was not from any diminution of light, but that this lay in the travellers, who would sometimes step out of straight paths, where they lost the full prospect of the radiant pillar, and saw it but sideways: but the great light from the black tower, which was somewhat particularly scorching to them, would generally light and hasten them to their proper climate again.

Round about the black tower there were, methought, many thousands of huge mis-shapen ugly monsters; these had great nets which they were perpetually plying and casting towards the crooked paths, and they would now and then catch up those that were nearest to them: these they took up straight, and whirled over the walls into the flaming tower, and they were no more seen nor heard of.

I considered all these strange sights with great attention, until at last I was interrupted by a cluster of the travellers in

they go sideways, and with their eyes downwards, as if they were mad, that they thus may rush into the net, without being beforehand troubled at the thought of so miserable a destruction. Their wills are so perverse, and their hearts so fond of the pleasures of the place, that rather than