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nation, without regular introduction, or care to preserve the appearance of chain of thought.

"It is," said he, "worth while to consider the force of dress; and how the persons of one age differ from those of another, merely by that only. One may observe also, that the general fashion of one age has been followed by one particular set of people in another, and by them preserved from one generation to another. Thus the vast jetting coat and small bonnet, which was the habit in Henry the Seventh's time, is kept on the yeomen of the guard; not without a good and politic view, because they look a foot taller, and a foot and a half broader-beside that the cap leaves the face expanded, and consequently more terrible and fitter to stand at the entrance of palaces.

"This predecessor of ours, you see, is dressed after this manner, and his cheeks would be no larger than mine were he in a hat as I am. He was the last man that won a prize in the Tilt-yard (which is now a common street before Whitehall). You see the broken lance that lies there by his right foot. He shivered that lance of his adversary all to pieces; and bearing himself, look you, Sir, in this manner, at the same time he came within the target of the gentleman who rode against him, and taking him with incredible force before him on the pummel of his saddle, he in that manner rode the tournament over, with an air that showed he did it rather to perform the rules of the lists, than to expose his enemy: however, it appeared he knew how to make use of a victory, and with a gentle trot he marched up to a gallery where their mistress sat (for they were rivals), and let him down with laudable courtesy and pardonable insolence. I do not know but it might be exactly where the coffee-house is now.

desk, writing, and looking as it were another way, like an easy writer, or a sonnetteer. He was one of those that had too much wit to know how to live in the world; he was a man of no justice, but great good manners; he ruined everybody that had anything to do with him, but never said a rude thing in his life; the most indolent person in the world, he would sign a deed that passed away half his estate with his gloves on, but would not put on his hat before a lady if it were to save his country. He is said to be the first that made love by squeezing the hand. He left the estate with ten thousand pounds debt upon it; but, however, by all hands I have been informed, that he was every way the finest gentleman in the world. That debt lay heavy on our house for one generation, but it was retrieved by a gift from that honest man you see there, a citizen of our name, but nothing at all akin to us. I know Sir Andrew Freeport has said behind my back, that this man was descended from one of the ten children of the maid of honor I showed you above: but it was never made out. We winked at the thing indeed, because money was wanting at that time."

Here I saw my friend a little embarrassed, and turned my face to the next portraiture.

Sir Roger went on with his account of the gallery in the following manner: "This man (pointing to him I looked at) I take to be the honor of our house, Sir Humphry de Coverley; he was in his dealings as punctual as a tradesman, and as generous as a gentleman. He would have thought himself as much undone by breaking his word, as if it were to be followed by bankruptcy. He served his country as knight of the shire to his dying day. He found it no easy matter to maintain an integrity in his words and actions even in things that regarded the offices which were incumbent upon him, in the care of his own affairs and relations of life, and therefore dreaded (though he had great talents) to go into employments of state, where he must be exposed to the snares of ambition. Innocence of life, and great ability, were the distinguishing parts of his character; the latter, he had often observed, had led to the destruction of the former, and he used frequently to lament that great and good had not the same signification. He was an excellent husbandman, but had resolved not to exceed such a degree of wealth; all above it he bestowed in secret bounties many years after the sum he aimed at for his own use was attained. Yet he did not slacken his industry, but to a decent old age spent the life and fortune which were superfluous to himself, in the

"You are to know this my ancestor was not only of a military genius, but fit also for the arts of peace, for he played on the bass-viol as well as any gentleman at court; you see where his viol hangs by his basket-hilt sword. The action at the Tilt-yard, you may be sure, won the fair lady, who was a maid of honor and the greatest beauty of her time; here she stands, the next picture. You see, Sir, my great great great grandmother has on the new-fashioned petticoat, except that the modern is gathered at the waist; my grandmother appears as if she stood in a large drum, whereas the ladies now walk as if they were in a go-cart. For all this lady was bred at court, she Became an excellent country-wife; she brought ten children, and when I show you the library, you shall see in her own hand (allowing for the difference of the language) the best receipt now in Eng-service of his friends and neighbors." land both for a hasty-pudding and a white-pot.

"If you please to fall back a little, because it is necessary to look at the three next pictures at one view; these are three sisters. She on the right hand who is so very beautiful, died a maid; the next to her, still handsomer, had the same fate, against her will; this homely thing in the middle had both their portions added to her own, and was stolen by a neighboring gentleman, a man of stratagem and resolution; for he poisoned three mastiffs to come at her, and knocked down two deer-stealers in carrying her off. Misfortunes happen in all families. The theft of this romp, and so much money, was no great matter to our estate. But the next heir that possessed it was this soft gentleman whom you see there. Observe the small buttons, the little boots, the laces, the slashes about his clothes, and above all the posture he is drawn in (which to be sure was his own choosing): you see he sits with one hand on a

* The Tilt-yard coffee-house, still in being.

Here we were called to dinner, and Sir Roger ended the discourse of this gentleman, by telling me, as we followed the servant, that this his ancestor was a brave man, and narrowly escaped being killed in the civil wars; "for," said he, "he was sent out of the field with a private message, the day before the battle of Worcester." The whim of narrowly escaping by having been within a day of danger, with other matters abovementioned, mixed with good sense, left me at a loss whether I was more delighted with my friend's wisdom or simplicity. R.

No. 110.] FRIDAY, JULY 6, 1711.
Horror ubique animos, simul ipsa silentia terrent.
VIRG. Æn., ii, 755.

All things are full of horror and affright,
And dreadful e'en the silence of the night.-DRYDEN.
AT a little distance from Sir Roger's house,
among the ruins of an old abbey, there is a long

merly hanged himself in it; and that his who lived to a great age, had shut up h rooms in the house, in which either her hu a son, or a daughter, had died. The knig ing his habitation reduced to so small a co and himself in a manner shut out of h house, upon the death of his mother orde the apartments to be flung open, and exorc his chaplain, who lay in every room on another, and by that means dissipated th which had so long reigned in the family.

walk of aged elms; which are shot up so very | went a story in the family that a butler h high, that when one passes under them, the rooks and crows that rest upon the tops of them seem to be cawing in another region. I am very much delighted with this sort of noise, which I consider as a kind of natural prayer to that Being who supplies the wants of his own creation, and who, in the beautiful language of the psalms* feedeth the young ravens that call upon him. I like this retirement the better, because of an ill report it lies under of being haunted; for which reason (as I have been told in the family) no living creature ever walked in it beside the chaplain. My good friend the butler desired me with a very grave face not to venture myself in it after sunset, for that one of the footmen had been almost frightened out of his wits by a spirit that appeared to him in the shape of a black horse without a head; to which he added, that about a month ago one of the maids, coming home late that way with a pail of milk upon her head, heard such a rustling among the bushes that she let it fall.

I was taking a walk in this place last week be tween the hours of nine and ten, and could not but fancy it one of the most proper scenes in the world for a ghost to appear in. The ruins of the abbey are scattered up and down on every side, and half covered with ivy and elder bushes, the harbors of several solitary birds which seldom make their appearance till the dusk of the even ing. The place was formerly a churchyard, and has still several marks in it of graves and burying places. There is such an echo among the old ruins and vaults that, if you stamp but a little louder than ordinary, you hear the sound repeated. At the same time the walk of elms, with the croaking of the ravens which from time to time are heard from the tops of them, looks exceedingly solemn and venerable. These objects naturally raise seriousness and attention; and when night heightens the awfulness of the place, and pours out her supernumerary horrors upon everything in it, I do not at all wonder that weak minds fill it with specters and apparitions.

Mr. Locke, in his chapter of the Association of Ideas, has very curious remarks to show how, by the prejudice of education, one idea often introduces into the mind a whole set that bear no resemblance to one another in the nature of things. Among several instances of this kind he produces the following: "The ideas of goblins and sprites have really no more to do with darkness than light yet let but a foolish maid inculcate these often on the mind of a child, and raise them there together, possibly he shall never be able to separate them again so long as he lives; but darkness shall ever after bring with it those frightful ideas, and they shall be so joined, that he can no more bear the one than the other."

:

As I was walking in this solitude, where the dusk of the evening conspired with so many other occasions of terror, I observed a cow grazing not far from me, which an imagination that was apt to startle might easily have construed into a black horse without a head: and I dare say the poor footman lost his wits upon some such trivial occasion. My friend Sir Roger has often told me with a great deal of mirth that, at his first coming to his estate, he found three parts of his house altogether useless; that the best room in it had the reputation of being haunted, and by that means was locked up; that noises had been heard in his long gallery, so that he could not get a servant to enter it after eight o'clock at night; that the door of one of his chambers was nailed up, because there

*Psal., cxlvii, 9.

I should not thus have been particula these ridiculous horrors, did I not find t very much prevail in all parts of the c At the same time I think a person who terrified with the imagination of ghosts an ters much more reasonable than one who, c to the reports of all historians, sacred an fane, ancient and modern, and to the tra of all nations, thinks the appearance of fabulous and groundless. Could not I gi self up to this general testimony of manl should to the relations of particular perso are now living, and whom I cannot dist other matters of fact. I might here add, t only the historians, to whom we may j poets, but likewise the philosophers of an have favored this opinion. Lucretius h though by the course of his philosophy obliged to maintain that the soul did no separate from the body, makes no doubt reality of apparitions, and that men hav appeared after their death. This I thin remarkable: he was so pressed with the ma fact, which he could not have the confid deny that he was forced to account for it of the most absurd unphilosophical notio was ever started. He tells us, that the s of all bodies are perpetually flying off fro respective bodies, one after another; a these surfaces, or thin cases that include other while they were joined in the body, coats of an onion, are sometimes seen entir they are separated from it; by which me often behold the shapes and shadows of who are either dead or absent.*

I shall dismiss this paper with a story Josephus,† not so much for the sake of th itself as for the moral reflections with wh author concludes it, and which I shall h down in his own words :-" Glaphyra, the ter of King Archelaus, after the death of first husbands (being married to a third, w brother to her first husband, and so passion love with her, that he turned off his form to make room for this marriage), had a v kind of a dream. She fancied that she s first husband coming toward her, and t embraced him with great tenderness; wher midst of the pleasure which she expressed sight of him, he reproached her after the fol manner: Glaphyra,' says he, thou has good the old saying, that women are no trusted. Was not I the husband of thy vir Have not I children by thee? How could forget our loves so far as to enter into a marriage, and after that into a third, nay, for thy husband a man who has so shan crept into the bed of his brother? Howe the sake of our passed loves, I shall free th thy present reproach, and make thee mine f Glaphyra told this dream to several women acquaintance, and died soon after." I t

* Lucret., iv, 34, etc.

Antiquit. Jud., lib. xvii, cap. 15, sect. 4, 5.

L.
SATURDAY, JULY 7, 1711.
Inter silvas academi quærere verum.

No. 111.]

this story might not be impertinent in this place, | He does not seem born to enjoy life, but to deliver wherein I speak of those things. Beside that the it down to others. This is not surprising to con • example deserves to be taken notice of, as it con- sider in animals, which are formed for our use, tains a most certain proof of the immortality of and can finish their business in a short life. The the soul, and of Divine Providence. If any man silkworm, after having spun her task, lays her thinks these facts incredible, let him enjoy his eggs and dies. But a man can never have taken own opinion to himself, but let him not endeavor in his full measure of knowledge, has not time to disturb the belief of others, who by instances to subdue his passions, establish his soul in virof this nature are excited to the study of virtue. tue and come up to the perfection of his nature, before he is hurried off the stage. Would an infinitely wise Being make such glorious creatures for so mean a purpose? Can he delight in the production of such abortive intelligences, such short-lived reasonable beings? Would he give us talents that are not to be exerted? capacities that are never to be gratified? How can we find that wisdom, which shines through all his works in the formation of man, without looking on this world as only a nursery for the next, and believ ing that the several generations of rational creatures, which rise up and disappear in such quick successions, are only to receive their first rudiments of existence here, and afterward to be transplanted into a more friendly climate, where they may spread and flourish to all eternity!

HOR. 2 Ep. ii, 45.

To search for truth in academic groves.

THE Course of my last speculation led me insensibly into a subject upon which I always meditate with great delight; I mean the immortality of the soul. I was yesterday walking alone in one of my friend's woods, and lost myself in it very agreeably, as I was running over in my mind the several arguments that established this great point, which is the basis of morality, and the source of all the pleasing hopes and secret joys that can arise in the heart of a reasonable creature. I considered those several proofs, drawn:

First, from the nature of the soul itself, and

particularly its immateriality, which, though not absolutely necessary to the eternity of its duration, has, I think, been evinced to almost a de

monstration.

Secondly, from its passions and sentiments, as particularly from its love of existence, its horror of annihilation, and its hopes of immortality, with that secret satisfaction which it finds in the practice of virtue, and that uneasiness which follows in it upon the commission of vice.

Thirdly, from the nature of the Supreme Being, whose justice, goodness, wisdom, and veracity, are all concerned in this great point.

There is not, in my opinion, a more pleasing and triumphant consideration in religion than this of the perpetual progress which the soul makes toward the perfection of its nature, without ever arriving at a period in it. To look upon the soul as going on from strength to strength, to consider that she is to shine forever with new accessions of glory, and brighten to all eternity; that she will be still adding virtue to virtue, and knowledge to knowledge; carries in it something wonderfully agreeable to that ambition which is natural to the ing to God himself, to see his creation forever mind of man. Nay, it must be a prospect pleas beautifying in his eyes, and drawing nearer to him, by greater degrees of resemblance.

Methinks this single consideration of the pro

and all contempt in superior. That cherubim, cient to extinguish all envy in inferior natures, which now appears as a God to a human soul, knows very well that the period will come about in eternity, when the human soul shall be as perfect as he himself now is: nay, when she shall much as she now falls short of it. It is true, the look down upon that degree of perfection, as higher nature still advances, and by that means Preserves his distance and superiority in the scale of being; but he knows that how high soever the station is of which he stands possessed at present, the inferior nature will at length mount up to it, and shine forth in the same degree of glory.

But among these and other excellent arguments for the immortality of the soul, there is one drawn from the perpetual progress of the soul to its per-gress of a finite spirit to perfection, will be suffifection, without a possibility of ever arriving at it; which is a hint that I do not remember to have seen opened and improved by others who have written on this subject, though it seems to me to carry a great weight with it. How can it enter into the thoughts of man, that the soul, which is capable of such immense perfections, and of receiving new improvements to all eternity, shall fall away into nothing almost as soon as it is created? Are such abilities made for no purpose? A brute arrives at the point of perfection that he can never pass in a few years he has all the endowments he is capable of: and, were he to live ten thousand more, would be the same thing he is at present. Were a human soul thus at a stand in her accomplishments; were her faculties to be full blown, and incapable of farther enlargements, I could imagine it might fall away insensibly, and drop at once into a state of annihilation. But can we believe a thinking being, that is in a perpetual progress of improvements, and traveling on from perfection to perfection, after having just looked abroad into the works of its Creator, and made a few discoveries of his infinite good ness, wisdom, and power, must perish at her first setting out, and in the beginning of her inquiries?

A man, considered in his present state, seems only sent into the world to propagate his kind. He provides himself with a successor, and immediately quits his post to make room for him.

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With what astonishment and veneration may hidden stores of virtue and knowledge, such inwe look into our own souls, where there are such exhausted sources of perfection? We know not yet what we shall be, nor will it ever enter into the heart of man to conceive the glory that will be always in reserve for him. The soul, considered with its Creator, is like one of those mathematical lines that may draw nearer to another for all eternity without a possibility of touching it; and can there be a thought so transporting, as to consider ourselves in these perpetual approaches to him, who is not only the standard of perfection but of happiness!-L.

Those lines are what the geometricians call the asymp totes of the hyperbola, and the allusion to them here is, per haps, one of the most beautiful that has ever been made

No. 112.] MONDAY, JULY 9, 1711.

First in obedience to thy country's rites,
Worship th' immortal gods.-PYTHAG.

I AM always very well pleased with a country Sunday, and think, if keeping holy the seventh day were only a human institution, it would be the best method that could have been thought of for polishing and civilizing of mankind. It is certain, the country people would soon degenerate into a kind of savages and barbarians, were there not such frequent returns of a stated time, in which the whole village meet together with their best faces, and in their cleanest habits, to converse with one another upon different subjects, hear their duties explained to them, and join together in adoration of the supreme Being. Sunday clears away the rust of the whole week, not only as it refreshes in their minds the notions of religion, but as it puts both the sexes upon appearing in their most agreeable forms, and exerting all such qualities as are apt to give them a figure in the eye of the village. A country fellow distinguishes himself as much in the churchyard, as a citizen does upon the 'Change, the whole parishpolitics being generally discussed in that place either after sermon or before the bell rings.

My friend Sir Roger, being a good churchman, has beautified the inside of his church with several texts of his own choosing. He has likewise given a handsome pulpit-cloth, and railed in the communion table at his own expense. He has often told me, that at his coming to his estate he found his parishioners very irregular: and that in order to make them kneel and join in the responses, he gave every one of them a hassock and a commonprayer book and at the same time employed an itinerant singing-master, who goes about the country for that purpose, to instruct them rightly in the tunes of the Psalms; upon which they now very much value themselves, and indeed outdo most of the country churches that I have ever heard.

As Sir Roger is landlord to the whole congregation, he keeps them in very good order, and will suffer nobody to sleep in it beside himself; for if by chance he has been surprised into a short nap at sermon, upon recovering out of it he stands up and looks about him, and if he sees anybody else nodding, either wakes them himself or sends his servants to them. Several other of the old knight's particularities break out upon these occasions. Sometimes he will be lengthening out a verse in the singing Psalms half a minute after the rest of the congregation have done with it; sometimes, when he is pleased with the matter of his devotion, he pronounces amen three or four times to the same prayer; and sometimes stands up when everybody else is upon their knees, to count the congregation, or see if any of his tenants are missing.

I was yesterday very much surprised to hear my old friend, in the midst of the service, calling out to one John Matthews to mind what he was about, and not disturb the congregation. This John Matthews it seems is remarkable for being an idle fellow, and at that time was kicking his heels for his diversion. This authority of the knight, though exerted in that odd manner which accompanies him in all the circumstances of life, has a very good effect upon the parish, who are not polite enough to see anything ridiculous in his behavior; beside that the general good sense and worthiness of his character make his friends observe these little singularities as foils that rather set off than blemish his good qualities.

As soon as the sermon is finished, nobody presumes to stir till Sir Roger is gone out of the

church. The knight walks down from his the chancel between a double row of his t that stand bowing to him on each side; an now and then inquires how such a one's mother, or son, or father do, whom he d see at church; which is understood as reprimand to the person that is absent.

The chaplain has often told me that, catechising day, when Sir Roger has been with a boy that answers well, he has ord Bible to be given to him next day for couragement; and sometimes accompanies a flitch of bacon. to his mother. Sir Rog likewise added five pounds a year to the place; and that he may encourage the you lows to make themselves perfect in the service, has promised upon the death of t sent incumbent, who is very old, to be according to merit.

The fair understanding between Sir Rog his chaplain, and their mutual concurre doing good, is the more remarkable, beca very next village is famous for the differen contentions that arise between the parson a squire, who live in a perpetual state of wa parson is always preaching at the squire; squire, to be revenged on the parson, neve to church. The squire has made all his atheists and tithe-stealers; while the par structs them every Sunday in the dignity order, and insinuates to them, in almos sermon, that he is a better man than his In short, matters are come to such an ext that the squire has not said his prayers ei public or private this half year; and the threatens him, if he does not mend his m to pray for him in the face of the who gregation.

Feuds of this nature, though too freq the country, are very fatal to the ordinary who are so used to be dazzled with rich they pay as much deference to the underst of a man of an estate, as of a man of lea and are very hardly brought to regard any how important soever it may be, that is pi to them, when they know there are sever of five hundred a year who do not believe

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Her looks were deep imprinted in his heart. IN my first description of the company in I pass most of my time, it may be remer that I mentioned a great affliction whi friend Sir Roger had met with in his which was no less than a dissappointm love. It happened this evening, that we f a very pleasing walk at a distance from his As soon as we came into it, "It is," que good old man, looking round him with a "very hard, that any part of my land sh settled upon one who has used me so ill perverse widow did; and yet I am sure I not see a sprig of any bough of this whol of trees, but I should reflect upon her a severity. She has certainly the finest h any woman in the world. You are to kno was the place wherein I used to muse upo and by that custom I can never come int the same tender sentiments revive in my m if I had actually walked with that beautifu ture under these shades. I have been fool to carve her name on the bark of several o trees; so unhappy is the condition of men i to attempt the removing of their passion

methods which serve only to imprint it deeper. | first steps toward love, upon the strength of her She has certainly the finest hand of any woman own maxims and declarations. in the world."

Here followed a profound silence; and I was not displeased to observe my friend falling so naturally into a discourse which I had ever before taken notice he industriously avoided. After a very long pause, he entered upon an account of this great circumstance in his life, with an air which I thought raised my idea of him above what I had ever had before; and gave me the picture of that cheerful mind of his, before it received that stroke which has ever since affected his words and actions. But he went on as follows:

"However, I must need say, this accomplished mistress of mine has distinguished me above the rest, and has been known to declare Sir Roger de Coverley was the tamest and most humane of all the brutes in the country. I was told she said so by one who thought he rallied me; but upon the strength of this slender_encouragement of being thought less detestable, I made new liveries, newpaired my coach-horses, sent them all to town to be bitted, and taught to throw their legs well, and move all together, before I pretended to cross the country, and wait upon her. As soon as I thought "I came to my estate in my twenty second my retinue suitable to the character of my fortune year, and resolved to follow the steps of the and youth, I set out from hence to make my admost worthy of my ancestors who have inhabited dresses. The particular skill of this lady has ever this spot of earth before me, in all the methods been to inflame your wishes, and yet command reof hospitality and good neighborhood, for the spect. To make her mistress of this art, she has sake of my fame; and in country sports and re- a greater share of knowledge, wit, and good sense creations, for the sake of my health. In my than is usual even among men of merit. Then twenty third year I was obliged to serve as she she is beautiful beyond the race of women. If riff of the county; and in my servants, officers, you will not let her go on with a certain artifice and whole equipage indulged the pleasure of a with her eyes, and the skill of beauty, she will young man (who did not think ill of his own arm herself with her real charms, and strike you person) in taking that public occasion of showing with admiration instead of desire. It is certain my figure and behavior to advantage. You may that if you were to behold the whole woman, there easily imagine to yourself what appearance I made, is that dignity in her aspect, that composure in who am pretty tall, rode well, and was very well her motion, that complacency in her manner, that dressed, at the head of a whole country, with if her form makes you hope, her merit makes you music before me, a feather in my hat, and my horse fear. But then again, she is such a desperate well bitted. I can assure you I was not a little scholar, that no country gentleman can approach pleased with the kind looks and glances I had from her without being a jest. As I was going to tell all the balconies and windows as I rode to the hall you, when I came to her house I was admitted to where the assizes were held. But, when I came her presence with great civility; at the same time there, a beautiful creature in a widow's habit sat she placed herself to be first seen by me in such in court to hear the event of a cause concerning an attitude, as I think you call the posture of a her dower. This commanding creature (who was picture, that she discovered new charms, and I at born for the destruction of all who beheld her) last came toward her with such an awe as made put on such a resignation in her countenance, me speechless. This she no sooner observed but and bore the whispers of all around the court she made her advantage of it, and began a diswith such a pretty uneasiness, I warrant you, and course to me concerning love and honor, as they then recovered herself from one eye to another, both are followed by pretenders and the real votauntil she was perfectly confused by meeting some- ries to them. When she discussed these points thing so wistful in all she encountered, that at in a discourse which, I verily believe, was as last, with a murrain to her, she cast her bewitch- learned as the best philosopher in Europe could ing eye upon me. I no sooner met it but I bowed possibly make, she asked me whether she was so like a great surprised booby; and knowing her happy as to fall in with my sentiments on these cause to be the first which came on, I cried, like important particulars. Her confidant sat by her, a captivated calf as I was, Make way for the and upon my being in the last confusion and defendant's witnesses.' This sudden partiality silence, this malicious aid of hers, turning to her, made all the country immediately see the sheriff says, 'I am very glad to observe Sir Roger pauses also was become a slave to the fine widow. Dur- upon this subject, and seems resolved to deliver ing the time her cause was upon trial, she be- all his sentiments upon the matter when he pleases haved herself, I warrant you, with such a deep to speak.' They both kept their countenances, attention to her business, took opportunities to and after I had sat half an hour meditating how have little billets handed to her counsel, then to behave before such profound casuists, I rose up would be in such a pretty confusion, occasioned, and took my leave. Chance has since that time you must know, by acting before so much com- thrown me very often in her way, and she as often pany, that not only I, but the whole court was has directed a discourse to me which I could not prejudiced in her favor; and all that the next understand. This barbarity has kept me ever at heir to her husband had to urge was thought so a distance from the most beautiful object my eyes groundless and frivolous, that when it came to ever beheld. It is thus also she deals with all her counsel to reply, there was not half so much mankind, and you must make love to her as you said as every one beside in the court thought he would conquer the sphinx, by posing her. But could have urged to her advantage. You must were she like other women, and that there were understand, Sir, this perverse woman is one of any talking to her, how constant must the pleasure those unaccountable creatures that secretly rejoice of that man be, who could converse with such a in the admiration of men, but indulge themselves creature. But, after all, you may be sure her in no farther consequences. Hence it is that she heart is fixed on some one or other: and yet I have has ever had a train of admirers, and she removes been credibly informed-but who can believe half from her slaves in town to those in the country, that is said?-after she had done speaking to me, according to the seasons of the year. She is a she put her hand to her bosom, and adjusted her reading lady, and far gone in the pleasures of tucker: then she cast her eyes a little down, upon friendship. She is always accompanied by a my beholding her too earnestly. They say she confidant, who is witness to her daily protestations sings excellently: her voice in her ordinary speech against our sex, and consequently a bar to her has something in it inexpressibly sweet.

You

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