hope it is by some only, and that many retain their veneration to a name to which our language, our taste, our manners, are singularly indebted; and who first, of our English writers, presented virtue to our view, introduced by cheerfulness, and attended by the graces. I am, sir, 66 Your's, most respectfully, 66 "To G. GRIFFIN, Esq. Saltantem spectes, et chironomonta volanti JUVENAL, Sat. 5. DRYDEN. my admi — nec minimo sanè discrimine refert, Quo gestu lepores, et quo gallina secetur. The carver dancing round each dish surveys, With flying knife, and, as bis art directs, With proper gestures every fowl dissects; A thing of so great moment to their taste, That one false slip had surely marr'd the feast. "DEAR SIR-Warm as I have been in ration of your excellent work, there was a sentiment in a late paper of your's, which struck me more forcibly than any I had ever seen, as more perfectly according with my own ideas. There is nothing,' you say, however inconsiderable, from which morality may not be derived. This, sir, is an opinion to which from my childhood I have been particularly attached. If the stories of my nurse may be believed, I have often appeared totally wrapped up in reflections on my rattle, and sat whole hours in profound meditation on a saucepan of pap. "An ingenious friend of mine, whose opinions are remarkably congenial with my own, who exercises the laudable profession of a tailor, called upon me, a few days ago, with a bundle of papers in his hand, which he informed me were tracts, poems, disser tations, tragedies, &c. of his own composition. I own I was at first preparing to rebuke my friend for quitting the more honourable employment of cutting out coats and breeches, for that of stitching together a parcel of rhymes, or cabbaging materials for a dissertation. In short I began seriously to expostulate with him on his temerity, and to recal his exertions from the pen to the needle. My good friend, smiling with a look of compassion for my ignorance, informed me, 'that these two instruments mutually assisted each other; that the same pieces of cloth furnished him with materials for a new coat and a new composition; and that, in short, he stitched as an author and wrote as a tailor.' I was a good deal surprised at this account, till, upon looking over my friend's manuscripts, I found, among many others, the following titles: A Treatise on Sewing, with a comparison between a pair of shears and a Lord Chancellor'Tailoring considered in a moral and philosophical light' The Plot discovered, or Hell in an uproar ; a tragedy' View of Men and Manners, as taken from a tailor's board'' Directions for cutting out; a didactic poem'-and a variety of others of the same nature. What a blessing, Mr. Griffin, would it be for this country, if every body would imitate the example of this gentleman, and make either their pleasures or their business subservient to nobler pursuits. We might then expect a generation of poetical green-grocers, metaphysical cork-cutters, and philosophical tallow-chandlers. We should then all be like the gamester, who, to the surprise of a large congregation, brought into church a pack of cards instead of a prayer-book; and, on being reprimanded, proved that the cards, in the light he con sidered them, answered every purpose of the liturgy. For if the haberdasher, when rolling up his small wares, would consider them in an astronomical view, and the cheesemonger, when surrounded by Stilton and Double-Gloucester, regard his goods as subjects for philosophy, there would be nothing wanting to render the former a Newton and the latter a Socrates. "For my own part, sir, I have not the happiness of exercising any of the trades in question, and therefore cannot myself apply them to the purposes of morality. But you must know, sir, the chief delight of my life is-good eating; nor am I ashamed to own myself a GLUTTON, since I can at the same time boast that I am a moralizing one. As I swallow with remarkable expedition, I have usually done dinner before the rest of the company, and, in order to fill up the vacant time, amuse myself with observing the manoeuvres of some one who still continues eating. An inexperienced person can have no idea of the fund of knowledge and improvement which such speculation affords; nor can they at all conceive the many useful lessons and rules for my future conduct which I collect merely from observing the knife and fork ranging from one part of the plate to the other, industriously collecting the different substances, and piling up the fat on the meat, the sallad on the fat, the gravy on the sallad, and the salt on the gravy. When I see this delicious pyramid descend the throat, it reminds me of a poet, who heaps tropes upon episodes, similes upon tropes, and catastrophes on similes, and at last sees the whole fabric destroyed by the tooth of the critic. If the unfaithful fork happens to let go his cargo just as the mouth is opening for its prey, what a melancholy picture does this accident present of the uncertainty and vicissitude of all human affairs. How strongly does it bring to my mind that trite but excellent maxim of π μεταξυ πελει κυλικος και χειλεος ακρs many things happen between the cup and the lip.' By this means, Mr. Griffin, you perceive that my fondness for eating is of eminent advantage to my mind and morals; since the same ingredients afford wholesome food to my stomach and wholesome reflections to my heart. "If this letter should meet with a favourable reception, I will, in a short time, send you a very elaborate dissertation on carving, which was composed 'intercisivo tempore,' that is, between the first and second course. 66 I remain, your most devoted servant, 66 NOTES TO CORRESPONDENTS.-SEMICOLON is received. I will venture to give QUINTUS the piece of advice which Horace gave to his namesake -ne percuncteris. No. 37. MONDAY, JULY 23, 1787. O, curas hominum! O, quantum est in rebus inane! PERSIUS. DRYDEN. WHEN philosophy, affecting to exclaim thus on the vanity of human pursuits and knowledge, and the emptiness of human glory, sings, the praises of retirement and seclusion from society, I cannot repress the smile which arises at the mock solemnity of the declaration, and have sufficient ill-nature to suspect that the sentiment has been dictated by that very vanity which it seemingly despises. I believe that none are found to be more warmly attached to that perishable frailty (as they call it) fame, than those who outwardly neglect it. They may do it with safety; by the singularity of affecting to deprecate what others value so highly, they are certain of attracting the attention of mankind. If these men are sincere and speak the real sentiments of their hearts, let them not be disturbed in their favourite retirement; their opinions are harmless, and will have but little influence on the world at large. But let them extend to others that toleration which is granted to themselves. If their quiet is not envied by the great, let them not impede the more active pursuit of others; if their cottage is left untouched, they should not attempt to destroy the palace which another is rearing; they may rest assured the world will not molest them, if they do not molest the world; in spite of their outcries, men will follow their different pursuits with the same ardour, and, by endeavouring to deter them, they only betray their own impotence. The truth is, that, in the great maze of life, each may pursue his own path without fear of interrupting his neighbour; the roads are numerous, and broad enough for us to pass without crowding each other. As each man has his particular turn, his favourite pursuit, he may follow it; I only wish he would not abuse his neighbour for choosing a different track. There is nothing more common, at the same time nothing more absurd, or a more infallible mark of a narrow understanding, than to condemn every pursuit but your own, and depreciate every study in comparison with some beloved object; surely the disposition which refuses to mix with any but that of a similar texture, is not only uncharitable and unsociable but ridiculous. Every man must be a competent judge of what is most consonant to his own inclinations; and as every |