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ful, modest, and discreet woman, that should that gives her an idea of her own perfections and
be the top of the market : and perhaps discover abilities. This natural pride and ambition of the • half a dozen romps tied up together in the fame soul is very much gratified in the reading of a
fack, at one hundred pounds an head. The fable: for in writings of this kind, the reader prude and the coquette should be valued at the comes in for half of the performance; every thing • fame price, though the first should go off the appears to him like a discovery of his own; be • better of the two. I fancy thou wouldst like is bufied all the while in applying characters and
such a vision, had I time to finish it; becaufe, circumstances, and is in this respect both a reader
to talk in thy own way, there is a moral in it. and a composer. It is no wonder therefore, that • Whatever thou mayest think of it, pr’ythee do on such occafions, when the mind is thus pleased • not make any of thy queer apologies for this with itself, and amused with its own discoveries, • letter, as thou didlt for my last. The women that it is highly delighted with the writing which o love a gay lively fellow, and are never angry at is the occasion of it. For this reason the Abfalom • the railleries of one who is their known admirer. and Achitophel was one of the most popular poems • I am always bitter apon them, but well with that ever appeared in English. The poetry is o them. Thine,
indeed very fine, but had it been much finer, it O
• HONEYCOMB.' would not have so much pleased, withouč a plan
which gave the reader an opportunity of exerting his own talents.
This oblique manner of giving advice is so iaNo 512. FRIDAY, OCOBER 17. offensive, that if we look into ancient histories,
we find the wise men of old very often chose to Lectorem delectando, pariterque monendo.
give counsel to their kings in fables. To omit Hor. Ars Poet. ver. 344. many which will occur to every one's memory,
there is a pretty instance of this nature in a Turkish Mixing together profit and delight.
tale, which I do not like the worse for that little
oriental extravagance which is mixed with it. "HERE is nothing which we receive with so We are told that the Sultan Mahmoud, by his
much reluctance as advice. We look upon perpetual wars abroad, and his tyranny at home; the man who gives it us as offering an affront to
had filled his dominions with ruin and desolation, our understanding, and treating us like children and half unpeopled the Persian empire. The or idiots. We consider the instruction as an im- Vifier to this great Sultan (whether an humourist plicit censure, and the zeal which any one thews or an enthusiast, we are not informed) pretended for our good on such an occasion as a piece of pre
to have learned of a certain Dervice to understand sumption or impertinence. The truth of it is, the language of birds, so that there was not a bird the person who pretends to advise, does, in that that could open his mouth, but the Visier knew particular, exercise a superiority over us, and can
what it was he said. As he was one evening with have no other reason for it, but that in comparing the Emperor, in their return from hunting, they us with himself, he thinks us defective either in law a couple of owls upon a tree that grew near our conduct or our understanding. For these rea an old wall out of an heap of rubbish. I would fons, there is nothing so difficult as the art of « fain know, " says the Sultan,"'what those two making advice agreeable; and indeed all the « owls are saying to one another; listen tu their writers, both ancient and modern, have diftin. « discourse and give me an account of it.” The guished themselves among one another, according Visier approached the tree, pretending to be very to the perfection at which they have arrived in attentive to the two owls. Upon his return to this art. How many devices have been made use the Sultan, Sir, says he, “ I have heard part of of, to render this bitter potion palatable? Some
" their conversation, but dare not tell you what convey their instructions to us in the best chosen « it is." The Sultan would not be satisfied with words, others in the most har onious numbers, such an answer, but forced him to repeat word for fome in points of wit, and others in short proverbs. word every thing the owls had faid.
to You most But among all the different ways of giving coun
66 know then," said the Visier, « that one of fel, I think the finest, and that which pleases the “ these owls has a son, and the other a daughter, most universally, is Fable, in whatsoever shape it " between whom they are now upon a treaty of appears. If we consider this way of instructing or « marriage. The father of the fon faid to the giving advice, it excels all others, because it is o father of the daughter, in my hearing, brother, the least shocking, and the least subject to those “ I consent to this marriage, provided you will exceptions which I have before mentioned, « settle upon your daughter fifty ruined villages
This will appear to us, if we reflect in the first 6 for her portion. To which the father of the place, that upon the reading of a fable we are “ daughter replied, instead of fifty I will give her made to believe we advise ourselves. We peruse “ five hundred, if you please. God grant a long the author for the sake of the story, and consider « life to Sultan Mahmoud; whilft he reignis over the precepts rather as our own conclusions than of us, we shall never want ruined villages.' his instructions. The moral infinuates itself im. The story says, the Sultan was fo touched with perceptibly, we are taught by surprize, and become the fable, that he rebuilt the towns and villages wiser and better unawares. In short, by this me. which had been destroyed, and from that time thod a man is so far over-reached as to think he forward consulted the good of his people. is directing himself, while he is following the To fill up my paper, I shall add a most ridiculous dictates of another, and consequently is not sen- piece of natural magic, which was taught by no fible of that which is the most unpleasing circum- less a philosopher than Democritus, namely, that stance in advice.
if the blood of certain birds, which he mentioned, In the next place, if we look into human ga. wers mixed together, it would produce a ferpent ture, we fall find that the mind is never fo much of such a wonderful virtua, that whoever did eat pleafed, as when she exerts beskelf in any action it lhould be killed in the language of birds, and
understand every thing they said to one another. « into the next : for while our souls are con Whether the Dervise abovementioned might not
66 fined to these bodies, and can look only through have eaten such a serpent, I shall leave to the “ these material casements, nothing but what determination of the learned,
« is material i can affectus; nay, nothing but 66 what is so grofs, that it can reflect light and « convey the shapes and colours of things with
" it to the eye : so that though within this visible No 513. SATURDAY, OCTOBER 18.
“ world, there be a more glorious scene of thing's
6 than what appears to us, we perceive nothing -Aflata est eumine quando
" at all of it; for chis veil of flesh parts the Jam propriore Dei VIRG. Æn. 6. ver. 50. 56 visible and invisible world ; but when we put
66 off these bodies, there are new and surprising When all the God came rushing on her soul.
** wonders present themselves to our views : when
of these material spectacles are taken off, the foul, WE following letter comes to me from that
“ with its own naked eyes, fees what was inexcellent man in holy orders, whom I have
"s visible before ; and then we are in the other mentioned more than once as one of that fociety « world, when we can see it, and converse with who affifts me in my speculations. It is a thought o it: thus St. Paul tells us, that when we are in sickness, and of a very serious nature, for which
6 at home in the body, we are absent from the reason I give it a place in the paper of this day. « Lord, but when we are absent from the body, we SI R,
are present with the Lord, 2 Cor. v. 6,8. And
" methinks this is enough to cure us of our fondHE indisposition which has long hung « nefs for these bodies, unless we think it more deupon me, is at last grown to such a head,
firable to be confined to a prison, and to look that it must quickly make an end of me, or of « through a grate all our lives, which gives us but
You may imagine, that whilst I am in ' this bad 1tate of health, there are none of your “ neither, than to be set at liberty to view all the
" a very narrow prospect, and that none of the best works which I read with greater pleasure than a glories of the world. What would we give now your Saturdays papers. I should be very glad
“ for the least glimpse of thatinvisible world, which if I could furnith you with any hints for that
“the first step we take out of these bodies will day's entertainment. Were I able to dress up
" prefent us with? There are such things as ese • several thoughts of a serious nature, which have
“ hath not feen, nor ear heard, neither hath it • made great impressions on my mind during a
“ entered into the heart of man to conceive : o long fit of sickness, they might not be improper “ Death opens our eyes, enlarųes our prospect, "entertainment for that occafion.
“ presents us with a new and more glorious world, Among all the reflexions which usually rise
" which we never can fee while we are shut up s in the mind of a fick man, who has time and
6 in flesh; which should make us as willing to • inclination to consider his approaching end,
part with this veil, as to take the film of of • there is none more natural than that of his cour eyes, which hinders our fight."
going to appear naked and unbodied before him r who made him. When a man contiders, that
" As a thinking man cannot but be very much ( as soon as the vital union is diffolved, he shall
« affected with the idea of his appearing in the « see that Supreme Being, whom he now con
presence of that Being. “ whom none can see and
" live;" he must be much more affected when he • templates at a distance, and only in his works;
( considers that this Being whom he appears before, or, to speak more philosophically, when by some
o will examine all the actions of his past life, and • faculty in the foul he shall apprehend the Divine • Being, and be more sensible of his presence,
reward or punish him accordingly. I must con
i fess that I think there is no scheme of religion, :6 than we are now of the presence of any object < which the eye beholds, a man must be lost in
? besides that of Christianity, which can possibly ( carelessness and Itupidity, who is not alarmed
« support the most virtuous person under this eat such a thought. Dr. Sherlock, in his ex
thought. Let'a man's innocence be what it cellent Treatite upon Death, has represented, perfection attainable in this life, there will be
I will, let his virtues rise to the highest pitch of « in very strong and lively colours, the state of fill in him so many secret fins, so many human s the foul in its first feparation from the body, frailties, so many offences of ignorance, passion
with regard to that invisible world which every « where surrounds us, though we are not able to
' and prejudice, lo many unguarded words and < discover it through this groller world of matter,
thoughts, and in short, so many defects in his o which is accommodated to our senses in this
• best actions, that, without the advantages of such • life. His words are as follow :
an expiation and atonement as Christianity has 66 That death, which is our leaving this world,
' revealed to us, it is impossible that he should be e is nothing else but our putting off thefe bodies, thould be able « to stand in his light.” Qur holy
cleared before his sovereign judge, or that he teaches us, that it is only our union to these bodies, a which intercepts the light of the other world:
religion suggests to us the only means whereby o the other world is not at fuch a distance from
our guilt may be taken away, and our imperfect * from us as we may imagine; the throne of God
o obedience accepied. co indee: is at a great remove from this earth,
• It is this series of thought that I have endea« above the third heavens, where he displays his
voured to express in the following hymn, which ss glory to those blefied spirits which encompass
o I have composed during this my lickness. « his throne; but as soon as we ftep out of these
1. 6: bodies, we diep into the other world, which
HEN rising from the bed of death, 4 is not to properly another world, (for there is
« O’erwhelm’d'with guilt and lear, *** the same heaven and earth still) as a new state "fee my Maker, face to face, 6 vf life: To live in these bojies is to live in u how shall I appear! " this world; to live out of them is to remove
II. - If
( fore me.
. 1hould be more disposed to rest. He is the au• If yet white pardon may be found,
thor whom I always choose on such occasions, • And mercy may be fought,
• no one writing in so divine, so harmonious, • My heart with inward horror shrinks,
nor so equal a strain, which leaves the mind And trembles at the thought ;
composed and softened into an agreeable meIII.
• lancholy; the temper, in which, of all others, • When thou, O Lord, shall stand disclos’d
" I choose to close the day. The passages I turn• In majesty severe,
ed to were those beautiful raptures in his . And fit in judgment on my soul,
< Georgics, where he professes himself intirely • how shall I appear!
? given up to the muses, and smit with the love IV.
' of poetry, passionately wishing to be trans< But thou hast told the troubled mind,
ported to the cool shades and retirements of « Who does her fins lament,
the mountain Hæmus. I closed the book and • The timely tribute of her tears
went to bed. What I had just before been « Shall endlets woe prevent.
reading made so strong an impression on my V.
niind, that fancy seemed almost to fulfil to " Then see the sorrow of my heart,
! me the wish of Virgil, in presenting to me • Ere yet it be too late ;
the following vision, • And hear my Saviour's dying groans,
• Methought I was on a sudden placed in the « To give those forrows weight.
plains of Boeotia, where at the end of the ho. VI.
Orizon I saw the mountain Parnassus rising beFor never shall my soul despair
The prospect was so large an ex, Her pardon to procure,
' tent, that I had long wandered about to find Who knows thine only Son has dy'd
a path which should directly lead me to it, ( To make her pardon (ure.
< had I not seen at some distance a grove of trees
which in a plain that had nothing else remarka • There is a noble hymn in French, which
' able enough in it to fix my fight, immediate! Monsieur Bayle has celebrated for a or very fine
' ly determined me to go thither. When I ar46 ore,” and which the famous author of the Art
rived at it, I found it parted out into a great 6 of Speaking calls an admirable one,” that turns
number of walks and alleys, which often ( upon a thought of the same nature. If I could
6 widened into beautiful openings, as circles or « have done it justice in English, I would have I ovals, set round with yews and cypresses, • sent it to you translated; it was written by
with niches, grottoes, and caves placed on the " Monsieur Des Barreaux, who had been one of
' sides, encompared with ivy. There was no the greatest wits and libertines in France, but
' found to be heard in the whole place, but • in his last years was as remarkable a penitent.?
only that of a gentle breeze passing over the GRAND Dieu, tes jugemens sont remplis d'equité; leaves of the forest; every thing beside was
Toujours tu prens plaiser à nous étre propice. • buried in a profound filence. I was captivaMais j'ai tant fait de mal, que jamais ta bonté (ted with the beauty and retirement of the Ne me pardonnera, sans choquer ta justice.'
place, and never so much, before that hour, Oui, non Dieu, la grandeur de mon impieté
was pleased with the enjoyment of myself. I Ne laise à ton pouvoir que le choix du fupplice: indulged the humour, and suffered myself to Ton interest s'oppose à ma felicité :
I wander without choice or design. At length Et ta clemence même attend que je perille.
' at the end of a range of trees, I saw three Contente ton defir, puis qu'il t'est glorieux ;
' figures feated on a bank of moss, with a silent Offenje toy des pleurs qui coulent de mes yeux;
brook creeping at their feet. I adored them Tonne, frappe, il cft,tems, rens moi guerre pour guerre; as the tutelar divinities of the place, and itood I adore en perisant la raison qui t'aigrit.
still to take a particular view of each of them. Mais dessus quel endroit tombera ton tonnere,
"The middlemont, whose name was Solitude, Qui ne soit tout couvert du sang de Jesus Christ? 'sat with her arms across each other, and « If there thoughts may be serviceable to you, I
• seemed rather pensive and wholly taken up o' defire you would place them in a proper light, or displeased. The only companions which
with her own thoughts, than any ways grieved 6 and am ever with great fincerity, .
" the admitted into that retirement, was the Your's, &c.',
goddess Silence, who sat on her right hand with her finger on her mouth, and on her left Contemplation, with her eyes fixed upon
the heavens. Before her lay a celestial globe, N° 5:4. MONDAY, Oct. 20. (with several schemes of mathematical theorems.
• She prevented my speech with the greatest af, -Me Parnassi deserta per ardua dulcis
fability in the world. Fear not, said she, I Raptar amor ; juvat ire jug's quà nulla priorum
• know your request before you speak it; you Callaliam molli divertitur orbita clivo.
( would be led to the mountain of the muses; VIRG. Georg. 3. ver. 291.
" the only way to it lies through this place, and But the commanding, mufe my chariot guides, no one is so often employed in conducting Which o'er the dubious cliff securely rides : persons thither as myself. When sne had thus And pleas'd l am no beaten road to take, spoken, she rose from her seat, and I immeBut first the way to new discov’ries make.
diately placed myself under her direction ;
Dryden. but whilft I passed through the grove, I could • Mr. Spesiator,
not help enquiring of her who were the perCame home a little later than usual the < fons admitted into that sweet retirement.
other night, and not finding myself inclined Surely, said I, there can nothing enter here to Acep, l,took up Virgil to divert me until I but virtue and virtuous thoughts ; the whole
. wood fecnis designed for the reception and re proceed, and very few perfifted so long as to ward of such persons as have spent their "arrive at the end they proposed. Besides these lives according to the dictates of their con two paths, which at length severally led to the science and the commands of the gods. You • top of the mountain, there was a third made imagine right, faid me; assure yourself this up of these two, which a little after the enplace was at first desizned for no other : such trance joined in one. This carried those happy it continued to be in the reign of Saturn, • few, whose good fortune it was to find it, di. when none entered here but holy priests, de rectly to the throne of Apollo. I do not know liverers of their country from oppression and I whether I should even now have had the refotyranny, who reposed themselves here after <lution to have demanded entrance at either of their labours, and those whom the study and o these doors, had I not seen a peasant-like man love of wisdom had fitted for divine conversa- • (followed by a' numerous and lovely train of tjon. But now it is become no less dangerous youths of both sexes) infift upon entrance
than it was before desirable : vice has learn for all whom he led up. He put me in mind • ed so to mimic virtue, that it often creeps in of the country clown who is painted in the
hither under its difguise. See there! just « map for leading Prince Eugene over the Alps.
before you, Revenge ftalking by, habited in • He had a bundle of papers in his hand, and • the robe of Honour. Observe not far from • producing several which, he said, were given
him Ambition standing alone; if you ask him « to him by hands which he knew Apollo would his name, he will tell you it is Emulation or " allow as passes; among which, methought I
Glory. But the most frequent intruder we saw some of my own writing. The whole af. ' have is Luft, who succeeds now the Deity to • fembly was admitted, and gave, by their pre
whom in better days this grove was entirely • sence, a new beauty and pleasure to these hapdevoted. Virtuous Love, with Hymen, and • py manfions. I found the man did not prethe graces attending him, once reigned in this tend to enter himself, but served as a kind of happy place; a whole train of virtues waited « forester in the lawns to direct passengers, who
on him, and no dishonourable thought durft « by their own merit, or, instructions he pro! presume for admittance : but now, how is the cured for them, had virtue enough to travel ' whole prospect changed ! and how seldom re " that way. I looked very attentively upon this
newed by some few who dare despise fordid kind homely benefactor, and forgive me, Mr.
wealth, and imagine themselves fit' compani. Spectator, if I own to you I took him for your! ons for fo cliarming a divinity!
"self. We were no sooner entered, but we • The Goddess had no sooner said thus, but I were sprinkled three times with the water of ! we were arrived at the utmost boundaries of 6 the fountain of Aganippe, which had power ! the wood, which lay contiguous to a plain ( to deliver us from all harms, but only envy, " that ended at the foot of the mountain. Here ( which reacheth even to the end of our jour. ! I kept close to my guide, being solicited by • ney. We had not proceeded far in the middle • several phantoms, who assured me they would <path when we arrived at the summit of the thew me a nearer way to the mountain of hill, where there immediately appeared to us * the muses. Among the rest vanity was ex (two figures, which extremely engaged my at.
tremely importunate, having deluded infinite tention; the one was a young nymph in the f numbers, whom I saw wandering at the foot • prime of her youth and beauty; she had wings
of a hill. I turned away from this despica- . on her shoulders and feet, and was able to ! ble troop with disdain, and addressing myself transport herself to the most diftant regions in • to my guide, told her, that as I had some • the smallest space of time. She was continu. ! hopes I should be able to reach up part of • ally varying her dress, sometimes into the most • the ascent, so I despaired of having strength natural and becoming habits in the world, and : enough to attain the plain on the top:
But 6 at others into the most wild and freakish garb that ! being informed her that it was impossible to can be imagined. There stood by her a man full ! stand upon the sides, and that if I did not pro ' aged and of great gravity, who corrected her
ceed onwards, I fhould irrevocably fall down inconsistencies by řewing them in this mir
to the lowest verge, I resolved to hazard any rour, and Itill flung her affected and unbecom! Jabour and hardship in the attempt: so great . ing ornaments down the mountain, which fell
a defire had I of enjoying the satisfaction ] " in the plain below, and were gathered up and hoped to meet with at the end of my enter wore with great fatisfaction by those that in. prize!
habited it. The name of this nymph was There were two paths, which led up by dif • Fancy, the daughter of Liberty, the moit beau*• ferent ways to the summit of the mountain; « tiful of all the mountain nymphs. The other
the one was guarded by the Genius which pre ! was Judgment, the offspring of Time, and * fides over the moment of our births. He had " the only child he acknowledged to be his. A ! it in charge to examine the several preten youth, who sat upon a throne just between !. fions of those who desired to pass that way, them, was their genuine offspring; his name . but to admit none excepting those only on ( was Wit, and his seat was composed of the whom Melpomene had looked with a propiti- works of the most celebrated authors. I could
ous eye at the hour of their nativity. The not but see with a secret joy, that though the • other way was guarded hy Diligence, to whom "Greeks and Romans made the majority, yet
many of those persons applied who had met our own countrymen were the next both in with a denial the other way; but he was fo number and dignity. I was now at liberty to tedious in granting their request, and indeed ? take a full prospect of that delightful règion. I after admittance the way was fo very intricate was inspired with new vigour and life, and saw and laborious, that many, after they had made every thing in nobler and more pleasing views progress, chore rather to return back than than before; I breathed a purer æther in a sky
which was continued azure, gilded with per. coach, and bidding the driver go where he • petual sun-Dhine, The two summits of the « knew. I could not leave her so, but dogged
mountain rofe on each fide, and formed in the • her, as hard as the drove, to Paul's church. s midst a most delicious vale, the habitation of yard, where there was a stop of coaches at• the Muses, and of such as had composed works tending company coming out of the cathedral. • worthy of immortality. Apollo was seated! This gave me an opportunity to hold up a
upon a throne of gold, and for a canopy an crown to her coachman. who gave me the lig• aged laurel spread its boughs and its shade over nal, that he would hurry on, and make no « his head. His bow and quiver lay at his feet. rhafte, as you know the way is when they fa• He held his harp in his hand, whilst the Muses vour a chace. By his many kind blunders, • round about him celebrated with hymns his driving against other coaches, and flipping off
victory over the serpent Python, and sometimes some of his tackle, I could keep up with him, 6 lung in softer notes the loves of Leucothoe and lodged my fine lady in the parish of St. ( and Daphnis. Homer, Virgil, and Milton James's. As I guessed when I first saw her
were feated the next to them. Behind were a sat church, her business is to win hearts and great number of others, among whom I was * throw them away, regarding nothing but the surprised to see fome in the habit of Lapland- ' triumph. I have had the happiness by tracing ers, who, notwithstanding the uncouthness of her through all with whom I heard the was ac their dress, had lately obtained a place upon quainted, to find one who was intimate with the mountain. I faw. Pindar walking along, a friend of mine, and to be introduced to her no one daring to accost him, until Cowley
o notice. I have made so good use of my time, joined himself to him ; but growing weary of as to procure from that intimate of hers one of one who almost walked him out of breath, he her letters, which she writ to her when in the left him for Horace and Anacreon, with whom ' country. This epistle of her own may serve he seemed infinitely delighted.
to alarm the world against all ber ordinary life, "A little further I saw another groupe of fi as mine, I hope, did those, who hall behold
« her at church. I made up to them, and found it was
The letter was written fast
great a distance to hear what he said, or to miration the can meet with and returns none
« Dear Jenny,
Am glad to find you are likely to be dis-
o afraid only of me, for I shall laugh at your 'I perceived he did it without leave of the
« spouse's airs. I beg of you not to fear it, for • Mures, and by stealth, and was unwilling to
6 I am too nice a discerner to laugh at any, but • have them revised by Apollo. I could now
66 whom most other people think fine fellows; • from this height and serene sky behold the in
« so that your dear may bring you hither as soon finite cares and anxieties with which mortals
.as his horses are in case enough to appear in below, fought out their way through the *s town, and you will be very fafe against any maze of life. I saw the path of virtue
“ raillery you may apprehend from me; for I lie straight before them, whilst intereft, or
o am surrounded with coxcombs of my own some malicious Demon, still hurried them out
“ making, who are all ridiculous in a manner of the way. I was at once touched with plea- « your good-man, I presume, cannot exert himsure at my own happiness, and compassion at
" self. As men who cannot raise their fortunes, the fight of their inextricable errors. Here « and are uneasy. under the incapacity of thining ! the two contending passions rose so high, that a
courts, rail at ambition; so do aukward they were inconsistent with the sweet repofe « and infipid women, who cannot warın the i enjoyed, and awaking with a sudden start, the « hearts and charm the eyes of men, rail at afonly confolation I could admit of for my loss, « fectation : but the that has the joy of seeing was the hopes that this relation of my dream
« a man's heart leap into his eyes at beholding will not displease you.'
“ her, is in no pain for want of esteem among “ a.crew of that part of her own sex, who have
« no fpirit but that of enyy, and no lapguage N° 515. TUESDAY, OCTOBER 21, s but that of malice. I do not in this, I hope, ex
« press myself insensible of the merit of Leoda. Pudet me & miferet, qui barum mores cantabat mibi, “ cia, who lowers her beauty to all but her huf. Monwife fruftra
« band, and never spreads her charms but to TER. Heaut. Act, 2. Sc. 2, “ gladden him who has a right in them ; I say,
i do honour to those who can be coquettes, I am ashamed and grieved, tha I neglected his '«s and are notfuch; but I despise aļl who would "advice, who gave me the character of these
“ be ro, and in despair of arriving at it themcreatures.
« felves, hate and vilify all those who can. But, ! Mr. Spectator;
¢ be that as it will,' in answer to your desire of Am obliged to you for printing the account ós knowing my history: one of my chief present
I 'lately fent you of a coquette who dif- “ pleasures is in country dances; and, in obe! turbed a sober congregation in the city of Lon. 6 dience to me, as well as the pleasure of com
don: That intelligence ended at her taking a "ing up to me wịth a good grace, thewing