Mr. Spectator." applying himself to me, "to take care how you meddle with country 'squires. They are the ornaments of the English nation; men of good heads and sound bodies! and, let me tell you, some of them take it ill of you, that you mention fox-hunters with so little respect." Captain Sentry spoke very sparingly on this occasion. What he said was only to commend my prudence in not touching upon the army, and advised me to continue to act discreetly in that point. By this time I found every subject of my speculations was taken away from me, by one or other of the club and began to think myself in the condition of the good man that had one wife who took a dislike to his gray hair, and another to his black, till by their picking out what each of them had an aversion to, they left his head altogether bald and naked. While I was thus musing with myself, my worthy friend the clergyman, who, very luckily for me, was at the club that night, undertook my cause. He told us, that he wondered any order of persons should think themselves too considerable to be advised. That it was not quality, but innocence, which exempted men froin reproof. That vice and folly ought to be attacked wherever they could be met with, and especially when they were placed in high and conspicuous stations of life. He farther added, that my paper would only serve to aggravate the pains of poverty, if it chiefly exposed those who are already depressed, and in some measure turned into ridicule, by the meanness of their conditions and circumstances. He afterward proceeded to take notice of the great use this paper might be of to the public, by reprehending those vices which are too trivial for the chastisement of the law, and too fantastical for the cognizance of the pulpit. He then advised me to prosecute my undertaking with cheerfulness, and assured me, that whoever might be displeased with me, I should be approved by all those whose praises do honor to the persons on whom they are bestowed. The whole club pay a particular deference to the discourse of this gentleman, and are drawn into what he says as much by the candid, ingenuous manner with which he delivers himself, as by the strength of argument and force of reason which he makes use of. Will Honeycomb immediately agreed, that what he had said was right; and that, for his part, he would not insist upon the quarter which he had demanded for the ladies. Sir Andrew gave up the city with the same frankness. The Templar would not stand out, and was followed by Sir Roger and the Captain; who all agreed that I should be at liberty to carry the war into what quarter I pleased; provided I continued to combat with criminals in a body, and to assault the vice without hurting the person. This debate which was held for the good of mankind, put me in mind of that which the Roman triumvirate were formerly engaged in for their destruction. Every man at first stood hard for his | friend, till they found that by this means they should spoil their proscription; and at length, making a sacrifice of all their acquaintance and relations, furnished out a very decent execution. Having thus taken my resolutions to march on boldly in the cause of virtue and good sense, and to annoy their adversaries in whatever degree or rank of men they may be found; I shall be deaf for the future to all the remonstrances that shall be made to me on this account. If Punch grows extravagant, I shall reprimand him very freely. If the stage becomes a nursery of folly and impertinence, I shall not be afraid to animadvert upon it. In short, if I meet with anything in city, court, or country, that shocks modesty or good manners, I shall use my utmost endeavors to make an example of it. I must, however, entreat every particular person, who does me the honor to be a reader of this paper, never to think himself, or any one of his friends or enemies, aimed at in what is said; for I promise him, never to draw a faulty character which does not fit at least a thousand people; or to publish a single paper, that is not written in the spirit of benevolence, and with a love of mankind.—C. No. 35.] TUESDAY, APRIL 10, 1711. CATULL. CARM., 39, in Enat. Nothing so foolish as the laugh of fools. AMONG all kinds of writing, there is none in which authors are more apt to miscarry than in works of humor, as there is none in which they are more ambitious to excel. It is not an imagination that teems with monsters, a head that is filled with extravagant conceptions, which is capable of furnishing the world with diversions of this nature and yet if we look into the production of several writers, who set up for men of humor, what wild irregular fancies, what unnatural distortions of thought do we meet with? If they speak nonsense, they believe they are talking humor; and when they have drawn together a scheme of absurd, inconsistent ideas, they are not able to read it over to themselves without laughing. These poor gentlemen endeavor to gain themselves the reputation of wits and humorists, by such monstrous conceits as almost qualify them for Bedlam ; not considering that humor should always lie under the check of reason, and that it requires the direction of the nicest judgment, by so much the more as it indulges itself in the most boundless freedoms. There is a kind of nature that is to be observed in this sort of compositions, as well as in all other; and a certain regularity of thought which must discover the writer to be a man of sense, at the same time that he appears altogether given up to caprice. For my part, when I read the delirious mirth of an unskillful author, I cannot be so barbarous as to divert myself with it, but am rather apt to pity the man, than laugh at anything he writes. The deceased Mr. Shadwell, who had himself a great deal of the talent which I am treating of, represents an empty rake, in one of his plays, as very much surprised to hear one say, that breaking of windows was not humor; and I question not but several English readers will be as much startled to hear me affirm, that many of those raving incoherent pieces which are often spread among us under odd chimerical titles, are rather the offsprings of a distempered brain, than works of humor. It is indeed much easier to describe what is not humor, than what is; and very difficult to define it otherwise than as Cowley has done wit, by negatives. Were 1 to give my own notions of it, I would deliver them after Plato's manner, in a kind of allegory-and by supposing Humor to be a person, deduce to him all his qualifications, according to the following genealogy. Truth was the founder of the family, and the father of Good Sense. Good Sense was the father of Wit, who married a lady of collateral line called Mirth, by whom he had issue Humor. Humor therefore being the youngest of this illustrious family, and descended f om parents of such different disposi tions, is ve y various and unequal in his temper: sometimes you see him putting on grave looks and a solemn habit, sometimes airy in his behavior and fantastic in his dress; insomuch that at different times he appears as serious as a judge, and as jocular as a merry-andrew. But as he has a great deal of the mother in his constitution, whatever mood he is in, he never fails to make his company laugh. But since there is an impostor abroad, who takes upon him the name of this young gentleman, and would willingly pass for him in the world; to the end that well-meaning persons may not be imposed upon by cheats, I would desire my readers, when they meet with this pretender, to look into his parentage, and to examine him strictly, whether or no he be remotely allied to Truth, and lineally descended from Good Sense; if not, they may conclude him a counterfeit. They may likewise distinguish him by a loud and excessive laughter, in which he seldom gets his company to join with him. For as True Humor generally looks serious while everybody laughs ab ut him; False Humor is always laughing, while everybody about him looks serious. I shall only add, if he has not in him a mixture of both parents, that is, if he would pass for the offspring of Wit without Mirth, or Mirth without Wit, you may conclude him to be altogether spurious and a cheat. The impostor of whom I am speaking, descends originally from Falsehood, who was the mother of Nonsense, who was brought to bed of a son called Frenzy, who married one of the daughters of Folly, commonly known by the name of Laughter, on whom he begot that monstrous infant of which I have here been speaking. I shall set down at length the genealogical table of False Humor, and, at the same time, place under the genealogy of True Humor, that the reader may at one view behold their different pedigree and relations: Falsehood. Nonsense. Frenzy- -Laughter. False Humor. Truth. Good Sense. Humor. I might extend the allegory, by mentioning several of the children of false humor, who are more in number than the sands of the sea, and might in particular enumerate the many sons and daughters which he has begot in this island. But as this would be a very invidious task, I shall only observe in general, that False Humor differs from the True, as a monkey does from a man. First of all, He is exceedingly given to little apish tricks and buffooneries. Secondly, He so much delights in mimicry, that it is all one to him whether he exposes by it vice and folly, luxury and avarice; or, on the contrary, virtue and wisdom, pain and poverty. signs in this paper is to beat down that malignant spirit which discovers itself in the writings of the present age, I shall not scruple, for the future, to single out any of the small wits that infest the world with such compositions as are ill-natured, immoral, and absurd. This is the only exception which I shall make to the general rule I have prescribed myself, of attacking multitudes, since every honest man ought to look upon himself as in a natural state of war with the libeler and lampooner, and to annoy them wherever they fall in his way. This is but retaliating upon them and treating them as they treat others.-C. No. 36.] WEDNESDAY, APRIL 11, 1711. Immania monstra Perferimus. VIRG. Æn., iii, 583. I SHALL not put myself to any farther pains for this day's entertainment, than barely to publish the letters and titles of petitions from the playhouse, with the minutes I have made upon the latter for my conduct in relation to them. Drury-lane, April the 9th. Upon reading the project which is set forth in one of your late papers, of making an alliance between all the bulls, bears elephants, and lions which are separately exposed to public view in the cities of London and Westminster; together with the other wonders, shows, and monsters whereof you made respective mention in the said speculation we, the chief actors of this play-house, met and sat upon the said design. It is with great delight that we expect the execu tion of this work: and in order to contribute to it, we have given warning to all our ghosts to get their livelihoods where they can, and not to appear among us after day-break of the 16th instant. We are resolved to take this opportunity to part with everything which does not contribute to the representation of human life; and shall make a free gift of all animated utensils to your projector. The hangings you formerly mentioned are run away; as are likewise a set of chairs, each of which was met upon two legs going through the Rose tavern at two this morning. We hope, Sir, you will give proper notice to the town that we are endeavoring at these regulations; and that we intend for the future to show no monsters, but men who are converted into such by their own industry and affectation. If you will please be at the house to-night, you will see me do my endeavor to show some unnatural appearances which are in vogue among the polite and well-bred. I am to represent, in the character of a fine lady dancing, all the distortions which are frequently taken for graces in mien and gesture. This, Sir, is a specimen of the methods we shall take to expose the monsters which come within the notice of a regular theater; and we desire nothing more gross may be admitted by you Spectators for the future. We have cashiered three companies of theatrical guards, and design our kings shall for the future make love and sit in council without an army; and wait only your di Thirdly, He is wonderfully unlucky, insomuch that he will bite the hand that feeds him, and endeavor to ridicule both friends and foes indifferently. For having but small talents, he must be merry where he can, not where he should. Fourthly, Being entirely void of reason, he pur-rection, whether you will have them reinforce ses no point either of morality or instruction, but is ludicrous only for the sake of being so. Fifthly, Being incapable of anything but mock representations, his ridicule is always personal, and aimed at the vicious man or the writer-not at the vice or the writing. I have here only pointed at the whole species of false humorists; but as one of my principal de King Porus, or join the troops of Macedon. Mr. Pinkethman resolves to consult his pantheon of heathen gods in opposition to the oracle of Delphos, and doubts not but he shall turn the fortune of Porus, when he personates him. I am desired by the company to inform you, that they submit to your censures; and shall have you in greater veneration than Hercules was of old, if you can drive monsters from the theater; and think your merit will be as much greater than his, as to convince is more than to conquer. "I am, Sir, your most obedient servant, T. D." "SIR, "When I acquaint you with the great and unexpected vicissitudes of my fortune. I doubt not but shall obtain your pity and favor. I have for many years past been Thunderer to the play-house and have not only made as much noise out of the clouds as any predecessor of mine in the theater that ever bore that character, but also have descended and spoken on the stage as the bold Thunderer in The Rehearsal. When they got me down thus low, they thought fit to degrade me farther, and make me a ghost. I was contented with this for these two last winters; but they carry their tyranny still farther, and not satisfied that I am banished from above ground, they have given me to understand that I am wholly to depart their dominions, and taken from me even my subterraneous employment. Now, Sir, what I desire of you is, that if your undertaker thinks fit to use fire-arms (as other authors have done) in the time of Alexander, I may be a cannon against Porus, or else provide for me in the burning of Persepolis, or what other method you shall think fit. "SALMONEUS OF COVENT-GARDEN." The petition of all the Devils of the play-house in behalf of themselves and families, setting forth their expulsion from thence, with certificates of their good life and conversation, and praying relief. The merit of this petition referred to Mr. Chr. Rich, who made them devils. street, where, to the great offense of chaste and tender cars, they learn ribaldry, obscene songs, and immodest expressions from passengers and idle people, as also to cry fish and card-matches, with other useless parts of learning to birds who have rich friends, she has fitted up proper and neat apartments for them in the back part of her said house: where she suffers none to approach them but herself, and a servant-maid who is deaf and dumb, and whom she provided on purpose to prepare their food, and cleanse their cages; having found by long experience, how hard a thing it is for those to keep silence who have the use of speech, and the dangers her scholars are exposed to, by the strong impressions that are made by harsh sounds and vulgar dialects. In short, if they are birds of any parts or capacity, she will undertake to render them so accomplished in the compass of a twelvemonth, that they shall be fit conversation for such ladies as love to choose their friends and companions out of this species.—R. No. 37.] THURSDAY, APRIL 12, 1711. -Non illa colo calathisve Minervæ SOME months ago, my friend Sir Roger, being in the country, inclosed a letter to me, directed to a certain lady whom I shall here call by the name of Leonora and as it contained matters of consequence, desired me to deliver it to her with my own hand. Accordingly I waited upon her ladyship pretty early in the morning, and was desired by her woman to walk into her lady's library, till such time as she was in readiness to receive The very sound of a lady's library gave me a great curiosity to see it; and as it was some time before the lady came to me, I had an op The petition of the Grave-digger in Hamlet, to command the pioneers in the Expedition of Alex-me. ander. Granted The petition of William Bullock, to be Hephes- portunity of turning over a great many of her tion to Pinkethman the Great. Granted. ADVERTISEMENT. books, which were ranged together in a very beautiful order. At the end of the folios (which were finely bound in gilt) were great jars of china, placed one above another in a very noble piece of A widow gentlewoman, well born both by father architecture. The quartos were separated from and mother's side, being the daughter of Thomas the octavos by a pile of smaller vessels, which Prater, once an eminent practitioner in the law, rose in a delightful pyramid. The octavos were and of Lætitia Tattle, a family well known in all bounded by tea-dishes of all shapes, colors and parts of this kingdom, having been reduced by sizes, which were so disposed on a wooden frame, misfortunes to wait on several great persons, and that they looked like one continued pillar infor some time to be a teacher at a boarding-school dented with the finest strokes of sculpture, and of young ladies, giveth notice to the public, that stained with the greatest variety of dyes. That she hath lately taken a house near Bloomsbury- part of the library which was designed for the resquare, commodiously situated next the fields, in ception of plays and pamphlets, and other loose a good air; where she teaches all sorts of birds of papers, was inclosed in a kind of square, consisting the loquacious kind, as parrots, starlings, magpies, of one of the prettiest grotesque works that and others, to imitate human voices in greater ever saw, and made up of scaramouches, lions, perfection than ever was yet practiced. They are monkeys, mandarins, trees, shells, and a thounot only instructed to pronounce words distinctly, sand other odd figures in china-ware. In the and in a proper tone and accent, but to speak the midst of the room was a little japan table, with a language with great purity and volubility of tongue, quire of gilt paper upon it, and on the paper a together with all the fashionable phrases and com- silver snuff-box made in the shape of little book. pliments now in use either at tea tables, or on visit-I found there were several other counterfeit books ing-days. Those that have good voices may be upon the upper shelves, which were carved in taught to sing the newest opera-airs, and, if required wood, and served only to fill up the numbers like to speak either Italian or French, paying something extraordinary above the common rates. They whose friends are not able to pay the full prices, may be taken as half-boarders. She teaches such as are designed for the diversion of the public, and to act in enchanted woods on the theaters, by the great. As she had often observed with much concern how indecent an education is usually given these innocent creatures, which in some measure is owing to their being placed in rooms next the fagots in the muster of a regiment. I was wonderfully pleased with such a mixed kind of furniture, as seemed very suitable both to the lady and the scholar, and did not know at first whether I should fancy myself in a grotto or in a library. Upon my looking into the books, I found there were some few which the lady had bought for her own use, but that most of them had been got together, either because she had heard them praised, or because she had seen the authors of them. Among several that I examined, I very | The springs are made to run among pebbles, and well remember these that follow: Ogleby's Virgil. Dryden's Juvenal. Cassandra. Cleopatra. A stræa. Sir Isaac Newton's Works. by that means taught to murmur very agreeably. They are likewise collected into a beautiful lake that is inhabited by a couple of swans, and empties itself by a little rivulet which runs through a green meadow, and is known in the family by the name of The Purling Stream. The knight like wise tells me, that this lady preserves her game The Grand Cyrus; with a pin stuck in one of better than any of the gentlenen in the country, the middle leaves. Pembroke's Arcadia. not (says Sir Roger) that she sets so great a value upon her partridges and pheasants, as upon her Locke on Human Understanding, with a paper larks and nightingales. For she says that every of patches in it. A Spelling-book. bird which is killed in her ground, will spoil a concert, and that she shall certainly miss him the A Dictionary for the explanation of hard words. next year. The fifteen comforts of matrimony. Sir William Temple's Essays. When I think how oddly this lady is improved by learning, I look upon her with a mixture of admiration and pity. Amidst these innocent en Father Malebranche's Search after Truth, trans- tertainments which she has formed to herself, lated into English. A book of Novels. The Academy of Compliments. Culpepper's Midwifery. The Ladies' Calling. Tales in Verse by Mr. Durfey: bound in red leather, gilt on the back, and doubled down in several places. All the Classic Authors in Wood. Baker's Chronicle. Advice to a Daughter. The New Atlantis, with a Key to it. Mr. Steele's Christian Hero. how much more valuable does she appear than those of her sex, who employ themselves in diversions that are less reasonable, though more in fashion? What improvements would a woman have made, who is so susceptible of impressions from what she reads, had she been guided by such books as have a tendency to enlighten the understanding and rectify the passions, as well as to those which are of little more use than to divert the imagination? But the manner of a lady's employing herself usefully in reading, shall be the subject of another paper in which I design to recommend such particular books as may be proper for the improvement of the sex. And as this is a subject of very nice nature, I shall desire my correspondents to A Prayer-book: with a bottle of Hungary Wa- give me their thoughts upon it.-C. ter by the side of it. Dr. Sacheverell's Speech. Fielding's Trial. Seneca's Morals. Taylor's Holy Living and Dying. La Ferte's Instructions for Country Dances. I was taking a catalogue in my pocket-book of these and several other authors, when Leonora entered, and upon my presenting her with a letter for the knight, told me, with an unspeakable grace, that she hoped Sir Roger was in good health; I answered yes, for I hate long speeches, and after a bow or two retired. Leonora was formerly a celebrated beauty, and is still a very lovely woman. She has been a widow for two or three years, and being unfortunate in her first marriage, has taken a resolution never to venture upon a second. She has no children to take care of, and leaves the management of her estate to my good friend Sir Roger. But as the mind naturally sinks into a kind of lethargy, and falls asleep, that is not agitated by some favorite pleasures and pursuits, Leonora has turned all the passion of her sex into a love of books and retirement. She converses chiefly with men (as she has often said herself), but it is only in their writings, and admits of very few male visitants, except my friend Sir Roger, whom she hears with great pleasure, and without scandal. As her reading has lain very much among romances, it has given her a very particular turn of thinking, and discovers itself even in her house, her gardens, and her furniture. Sir Roger has entertained me an hour together with a description of her country-seat, which is situated in a kind of wilderness, about a hundred miles distant from London, and looks like a little enchanted palace. The rocks about her are shaped into artificial grottos covered with woodbines and jessamines. The woods are cut into shady walks, twisted into bowers, and filled with cages of turtles. No. 38.] FRIDAY, APRIL 13, 1711. Cupias non placui: se nimis.-MART. One would not please too much. A LATE Conversation which I fell into, gave me an opportunity of observing a great deal of beauty in a very handsome woman, and as much wit in an ingenious man, turned into deformity in the one, and absurdity in the other, by the mere force of affectation. The fair one had something in her person (upon which her thoughts were fixed) that she attempted to show to advantage in every look, word, and gesture. The gentleman was as diligent to do justice to his fine parts as the lady to her beauteous form. You might see his imagination on the stretch to find out something uncommon, and what they call bright, to entertain her, while she writhed herself into as many dif ferent postures to engage him. When she laughed, her lips were to sever at a greater distance than ordinary, to show her teeth; her fan was to point to something at a distance, that in the reach she may discover the roundness of her arm; then she is utterly mistaken in what she saw, falls back, smiles at her own folly, and is so wholly discomposed, that her tucker is to be adjusted, her bosom exposed, and the whole woman put into new airs and graces. While she was doing all this, the gallant had time to think of something very pleasant to say next to her, or to make some unkind observation on some other lady to feed her vanity. These unhappy effects of affectation naturally led me to look into that strange state of mind which so generally discolors the behavior of most people we meet with. The learned Dr. Burnet, in his Theory of the Earth, takes occasion to observe, that every thought is attended with a consciousness and representativeness; the mind has nothing presented to it but what is immediately followed by a reflection of the world which should be most polite, is visi of conscience, which tells you whether that which ble wherever we turn our eyes: it pushes men not was so presented is graceful or unbecoming. This only into impertinencies in conversation, but also act of the mind discovers itself in the gesture, in their premeditated speeches. At the bar it torby a proper behavior in those whose consciousness ments the bench, whose business it is to cut off all goes no farther than to direct them in the just superfluities in what is spoken before it by the progress of their present state or action; but be practitioner; as well as several little pieces of intrays an interruption in every second thought, justice which arise from the law itself. I have when the consciousness is employed in too fondly seen it make a man run from the purpose before approving a man's own conceptions; which sort a judge, who was, when at the bar himself, so of consciousness is what we call affectation. close and logical a pleader, that with all the pomp of eloquence in his power, he never spoke a word too much.* As the love of praise is implanted in our bosoms as a strong incentive to worthy actions, it is a very difficult task to get above a desire of it for things that should be wholly indifferent. Women, whose hearts are fixed upon the pleasure they have in the consciousness that they are the objects of love and admiration, are ever changing the air of their countenances, and altering the attitude of their bodies, to strike the hearts of their beholders with new sense of their beauty. The dressing part of our sex, whose minds are the same with the sillier part of the other, are exactly in the like uneasy condition to be regarded for a well-tied cravat, a hat cocked with an uncommon briskness, a very well chosen coat, or other instances of merit, which they are impatient to see unobserved. It might be borne even here, but it often ascends the pulpit itself; and the declaimer in that sacred place is frequently so impertinently witty, speaks of the last day itself with so many quaint phrases, that there is no man who understands raillery, but must resolve to sin no more. Nay, you may behold him sometimes in prayer, for a proper delivery of the great truths he is to utter, humble himself with so very well-turned phrase, and mention his own unworthiness in a way so very becoming, that the air of the pretty gentleman is preserved under the lowliness of the preacher. I shall end this with a short letter I wrote the other day to a very witty man, overrun with the He This apparent affectation, arising from an ill-fault I am speaking of: governed consciousness, is not so much to be wondered at in such loose and trivial minds as DEAR SIR, these but when we see it reign in characters of "I spent some time with you the other day, and worth and distinction, it is what you cannot but must take the liberty of a friend to tell you of the lament, not without some indignation. It creeps insufferable affectation you are guilty of in all into the heart of the wise man as well as that of you say and do. When I gave you a hint of it, the coxcomb. When you see a man of sense look you asked me whether a man is to be cold to what about for applause, and discover an itching inclin his friends think of him? No, but praise is not ation to be commended; lay traps for a little in- to be the entertainment of every moment. cense, even from those whose opinion he values in that hopes for it must be able to suspend the pos nothing but his own favor; who is safe against session of it till proper periods of life, or death this weakness? or who knows whether he is guil- itself. If you would not rather be commended ty of it or not? The best way to get clear of such than be praiseworthy, contemn little merits; aud a light fondness for applause, is to take all possi- allow no man to be so free with you, as to praise ble care to throw off the love of it upon occasions you to your face. Your vanity by this means will that are not in themselves laudable, but as it ap- want its food. At the same time your passion for pears we hope for no praise from them. Of this esteem will be more fully gratified; men will nature are all graces in men's persons, dress, and praise you in their actions: where you now rebodily deportment, which will naturally be win-ceive one compliment, you will then receive twenning and attractive if we think not of them, but ty civilities. Till then you will never have of lose their force in proportion to our endeavor to either, farther than, make them such. When our consciousness turns upon the main design of life, and our thoughts are employed upon the chief purpose either in business or pleasure, we shall never betray an affectation, for we cannot be guilty of it: but when we give the passion for praise an unbridled liberty, our pleasure in little perfections robs us of what is due to us for great virtues, and worthy qualities. How many excellent speeches and honest actions are lost, for want of being indifferent where we ought? Men are oppressed with regard to their way of speaking and acting, instead of having their thoughts bent upon what they should do or say; and by that means bury a capacity for great things, by their fear of failing in indifferent things. This, perhaps, cannot be called affectation; but it has some tincture of it, at least so far, as that their fear of erring in a thing of no consequence, argues they would be too much pleased in performing it. It is only from a thorough disregard to himself in such particulars, that a man can act with a laudable sufficiency; his heart is fixed upon one point in view; and he commits no errors, because he thinks nothing an error but what deviates from that intention. "Sir, your humble servant." No. 39.] IMITATED. T. Much do I suffer, much, to keep in peace As a perfect tragedy is the noblest production of human nature, so it is capable of giving the mind one of the most delightful and most improving entertainments. A virtuous man (says Seneca) struggling with misfortunes, is such a spectacle as gods might look upon with pleasure; and such a pleasure it is which one meets with in the representation of a well-written tragedy. Diversions of this kind wear out of our thoughts everything that is mean and little. They cherish and culti vate that humanity which is the ornament of our nature. They soften insolence, soothe affliction, and subdue the mind to the dispensations of Providence. *This seems to be intended as a compliment to Chancellor The wild havoc affectation makes in that parti Cowper. |