"MR. SPECTATOR,

"I was mightily pleased with your speculation of Friday. Your sentiments are noble, and the whole worked up in such a manner as cannot but strike upon every reader. But give me leave to make this remark that while you write so pathetically on contentment, and a retired life, you soothe the passion of melancholy, and depress the mind from actions truly glorious. Titles and honors are the reward of virtue: we therefore ought to be affected with them: and though light minds are too much puffed up with exterior pomp, yet I cannot see why it is not as truly philosophical to admire the glowing ruby, or the sparkling green of an emerald, as the fainter and less permanent beauties of a rose or a myrtle. If there are men of extraordinary capacities who lie concealed from the world, I should impute it to them as a blot in their character, did not I believe it owing to the meanness of their fortune rather than of their spirit. Cowley, who tells the story of Aglaus with so much pleasure, was no stranger to courts, nor insensible of praise.

"What shall I do to be for ever known, And make the age to come my own?"

was the result of a laudable ambition. It was not till after frequent disappointments that he termed himself the melancholy Cowley; and he praised solitude, when he despaired of shining in a court. The soul of man is an active principle. He, therefore, who withdraws himself from the scene before he has played his part, ought to be hissed off the stage, and cannot be deemed virtuous, because he refuses to answer his end, I must own I am fired with an honest

ition to imitate every illustrious example. The les of Blenheim and Ramillies have more than e made me wish myself a soldier. And when I

seen those actions so nobly celebrated by poets, I have secretly aspired to be one of that nguished class. But in vain I wish, in vain nt with the desire of action. I am chained down bscurity; and the only pleasure I can take is eing so many brighter geniuses join their friendly ts to add to the splendor of the throne. Farewell , dear Spec, and believe me to be with great lation, and no envy,

"SIR,

"Your professed admirer,

Middle-Temple, October 26, 1714. Though you have formerly made Eloquence the ect of one or more of your papers, I do not renber that you ever considered it as possessed by et of people, who are so far from making Quinn's rules their practice, that, I dare say for them, v never heard of such an author, and yet are no masters of it than Tully or Demosthenes among ancients, or whom you please among the mons. The persons I am speaking of are our comn beggars about this town; and that what I say is e, I appeal to any man who has a heart one degree ter than a stone. As for my part, who don't pred to more humanity than my neighbors, I have entimes gone from my chambers with money in pocket, and returned to them not only pennyless,

look from one of those despicable creatures, than in the eye of the fairest she I ever saw, yet no one a greater admirer of that sex than myself. What I have to desire of you is, to lay down some directions in order to guard against these powerful orators, or else I know nothing to the contrary, but I must myself be forced to leave the profession of the law, and endeavor to get the qualifications necessary to that more profitable one of begging. But in whichsoever of these two capacities I shine, I shall always desire to be your constant reader, and ever will be "Your most obedient humble servant,

"J. B."

"SIR,

"Upon reading a Spectator last week, where Mrs. Fanny Fickle submitted the choice of a lover for life to your decisive determinations, and imagining I might claim the favor of your advice in an affair of the like, but much more difficult nature, I called for pen and ink, in order to draw the characters of seven humble servants whom I have equally encouraged for some time. But, alas! while I was reflecting on the agreeable subject, and contriving an advantageous description of the dear person I was most inclined to favor, I happened to look into my glass. The sight of the small-pox, out of which I am just recovered, tormented me at once, with the loss of my captivating arts, and my captives. The confusion I was in on this unhappy, unseasonable discovery, is inexpressible. Believe me, Sir, I was so taken up with the thoughts of your fair correspondent's case, and so intent on my own design, that I fancied myself as triumphant in my conquests as ever.

"Now, Sir, finding I was incapacitated to amuse myself on that pleasing subject, I resolved to apply myself to you, or your casuistical agent, for advice in my present circumstances. I am sensible the tincture of my skin, and the regularity of my features, which the malice of my late illness has altered, are irrecoverable; yet don't despair but that that loss, by your assistance, may in some measure be repairable if you'll please to propose a way for the recovery of one only of my fugitives.

“One of them is in a more particular manner beholden to me than the rest; he, for some private reasons, being desirous to be a lover incognito, always addressed me with billet-doux, which I was so careful of in my sickness, that I secured the key of my lovemagazine under my head, and hearing a noise of opening a lock in my chamber, endangered my life by getting out of bed to prevent, if it had been attempted, the discovery of that amour.

"I have formerly made use of all those artifices which our sex daily practises over yours, to draw, a it were undesignedly, the eyes of a whole congregation to my pew; I have taken a pride in the number of admirers at my afternoon's levee; but am now quite another creature. I think, could I regain the attractive influence I once had, if I had a legion of suitors, I should never be ambitious of entertaining more than one. I have almost contracted an antipa. thy to the trifling discourses of impertinent lovers, though I must needs own, I have thought it very odd of late, to hear gentlemen, instead of their usua[ complacencies, fall into disputes before me of politics, or else weary me with the tedious repetition of how thankful I ought to be, and satisfied with my reVOL. X.

covery out of so dangerous a distemper: this, tho I am very sensible of the blessing, yet I cannot dislike, because such advice from them rather se to insult than comfort me, and reminds me too m of what I was; which melancholy consideratio cannot yet perfectly surmount, but hope your se ments on this head will make it supportable.

"To shew you what a value I have for your tates, these are to certify the persons concerned, unless one of them returns to his colors (if I r so call them now) before the winter is over, voluntarily confine myself to a retirement, where punish them all with my needle. I'll be revenged them by decyphering them on a carpet, humbly b ging admittance, myself scornfully refusing it. you disapprove of this, as savoring too much malice, be pleased to acquaint me with a draught like better, and it shall be faithfully performed "By the unfortunate

"MONIMI