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thou wilt not be able to relish our Company, after

thy Conversatious with Moll. White and will. Wim. í ble. Pr'ychee don't send us up any more Stories of a

Cock and a Bull, nor frighten the Town with Spirits and Witches. Thy Speculations begin to sinell confoundedly of Woods and Meadows. If thou dost not

come up quickly, we shall conclude that thou art in 'Love with one of Sir Roger's Dairy Maids. Service to Knight. Sir ANDREW is grown the Cock of the Club

lince lie left us, and if he does not return quickly will ' make every Mother's Son of us Common-wealch's Men,

Dear SPEC,

Thine Eternally,

WILL, HONEYCOMB,

No 132.' Wednesday, August 1.

Qui aut Tempus quid poftulet non videt, aut plura loc quitur, aut fe oftentat, aut eorum quibuscum eft rationem non habeat, is impetus esse dicitur.

Tull.

I TAVING notified to my good Friend Sir ROGER

that I should set out for London the next Day, his

Horses were ready at the appointed Hour in the Evening; and, attended by one of his Grooms, I arrived at the County Town at Twilight, in order to be ready for the Stage-Coach the Day following. As soon as we arrived at the inn, the Servant who waited upon me, enquired of the Chamberlain in my Hearing what Company he had for the Coach? The Fellow answered, Mrs. Betty Arable the great Fortune, and the Widow her Mother; a recruiting Officer (who took a Place because they were to go; ) young Squire Quick set her Cousin (that her Morher - wished her to be married to ;) Ephraim the Quaker, her . Guardian; and a Gentleinan that had studied himself dumb from Sir ROGER DE COVERLEY's. I obterved by

what

what he said of my self, that according to his Office he dealt much in Intelligence; and doubted not but there was fome Foundation for his Reports of the rest of the Company, as well as for the whimfical Account he gave of me. The next Morning at Day-Break we were all called ; and I, who know my own natural Shyness, and endeavour to be as little liable to be disputed with as possible, dressed immediately, that I might make no one wait. The first Preparation for our Setting out, was, that the Captain's Half-Pike was placed near the Coachman, and a Drum behind the Coach. In the mean time the Drummer, the Captain's Equipage, was very loud, that none of the Captain's things should be placed so as to be spoiled; upon which his Cloak-bag was fixed in the Seat of the Coach: And the Captain himself, according to a frequent, tho'invidious Behaviour of Military Men, ordered his Man to look sharp, that none but one of the Ladies should have the Place he had taken fron. ting to the Coach-box..

WE were in some little time fixed in our Seats, and fat with that Dislike which People not too good-natured usually conceive of each other at first Sight. The Coach jumbled us insensibly into some sort of Familiarity; and we had not moved above two Miles, when the Widow asked the Captain what Success he had in his Recruiting? The Officer, with a Frankness he believed very graceful, told her, ' That indeed he had but very - little Luck, and had suffered much by Desertion, there.

fore should be glad to end his Warfare in the Service • of her or her fair Daughter. In a Word, continued

he, I am a Soldier, and to be plain is my Character : • You see me, Madam, young, sound, and impudent;

take me your self, Widow, or give me to her, I will i be wholly at your Disposal. I am a Soldier of Fori cune, ha!' This was followed by a vain Laugh of his own, and a deep Silence of all the rest of the Company. I had nothing left for it but to fall fast asleep, which' i did with all Speed. Come, said he, resolve upon it, we I will make a Wedding at the next Town: We will • wake this pleasant Companion who is fallen alleep, « to be the Brideman, and giving the Quaker a Clap on the Knee) he concluded, This fly Saint, who, l'lt • warrant, understands what's what as well as you or I, « Widow, shall give the Bride as Father. The Quaker,who happened to be a Man of Smartness, answered, Friend,

warrant

I take it in good Part that thou haft. given me the • Authority of a Father over this comely and virtuous • Child; and I must assure thee, that if I have the giving ' her, I shall not bestow her on thee. Thy Mirth, ' Friend, favoureth of Folly: Thou art a Person of a • light Mind; thy Drum is á Type of thee, it soundech " because it is empty. Verily, it is not from thy Full, ness, but thy Emptiness, that thou hast spoken this Day

Friend, Friend, we have hired this Coach in Partner • ship with thee, to carry.us to the great City; we cana • not go any other way. This worthy Mother must • hear thee if thou wilt needs utter thy Follies ;, we can. not help it, Friend, I say: if thou wilt, we must hear thee: But if thou wert á Man of Understanding, thou

wouldft not take Advantage of thy couragious Counte: nance to abash us Children of Peace, Thou art, thou

fayest, a Soldier; give Quarter to us, who cannot re. s fit thee, Why didft thou fleer at our Friend, who

feigned himself asleep? he said nothing; but how doft

thou know what he containeth? If thou speakest im, • proper Things in the Hearing of this virtuous young

Virgin, consider it is an Outrage against a distressed

Person that cannot get from thee: To speak indis'creetly what we are obliged to hear, by being hasped

up with thee in this publick Vehicle, is in some degree assaulting on the high Road

HER E Ephraim paused, and the Captain with an happy and uncommon Impudence (which can be convicted and support it self at the fame time) crie's, Faith, Friend, . I thank thee; I should have been a little Impertinent if • thou hadît not reprimanded me. Come, thou art, Į « see a smoaky old Fellow, and I'll be very orderly the ! ensuing Part of the Journey. I was going to give my

self Airs, but Ladies I beg Pardon. . THE Captain was so little out of Humour, and our Company was fo far from being sowred by this little Ruf. file, that'Ephraim and he took a particular Delight in be. ing agreeable to each other for the future; and assumed their different Provinces in the Conduct of the Com

· pany.

pany. Our Reckonings, Apartments, and Accomino. dation, fell under Ephraim and the Captain looked to all Disputes on the Road, as the good Behaviour of our Coachman, and the Right we had of taking place as going to London of all Vehicles coming from thence. The Occurrences' we met with were ordinary, and very little happened which could entertain by the Relation of them: But when I consider'd the Company we were in, I took it for no small good Fortune that the whole Journey was not spent in Impertinencies, which to the one Part of us might be an Entertainment, to the other a Suffering, What therefore Ephraini said when we were almost ar, ried at Londan, 'had to me an Air not only ofgood Underftanding but good Breeding. Upon the young Lady's expressing her Satisfaction in the Journey, and declaring how delightful it had been to her, Ephraim delivered himself as follows; • There is no ordinary Part of hu

mane Life which expreffeth so much a good Mind, { and a right inward Man, as his Behaviour upon meet

ing with Strangers, especially such as may seem the ! moft unsuitable Companions to him : Such a Man, ! when he falleth in the Way with Persons of Simpli& city and Innocence, however knowing he may be in

the Ways of Men, will not vaunt himself thereof; but I will the rather bide his Superiority to them, that he may « not.bet painful unto them. My good friend, (conti.

nued he, turning to the Officer) thee and I are to part ? by and by, and peradventure we may never meet a

gain: But be advised by a plain Man; Modes and Ada parel are but Trifles to the real Man, therefore do not think such a Man as thy self terrible for thy Garb, nor such a one as me contemptible for mine. When

two such as thee and I meet, with Affections as we sought to have towards each other, thou shouldft re! joice to see my peaceable Demeanour, and I should

be glad to see thy Strength and Ability to protect me sin it, i 361 isse . ms

T

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N° 133.

Thursday, August 2.

Quis Desiderio sit pudor, aut modus 1.:

Tam Chari capitis ? ini. , Hor. .

T HER E is a sort of Delight, which is alternately

mixed with Terror and Sorrow, in the Contem

plation of Death, The Soul has its Curiosity more than ordinarily, awakened, when it turns its Thoughts upon the Conduct of such who have behaved themselves with an Equal, a Religned, a Chearful, a Generous or Heroick Teinper in that Extremity. We are affected with these respective Manners of Behaviour, as we fecretly believe the part of the dying Person imirable, by our selves, or such as we imagine our selves more particu. larly capable of. Men of exalted Minds march before us like Princes, and are, to the Ordinary Race of Mankind, rather Subje&s for their Admiration than Example. However, there are no Ideas Itrike more forcibly upon our Imaginations, than those which are raised from Re Ae&tions upon the Exits of great and excellent Men, Ina nocent Men who have suffered as Criminals, tho' they were Benefactors to human Society, seem to be Perfons of the highest Distinction, among the vastly greater Number of Human Race, the Dead. When the Iniquity of the Times brought Socrates to his Execution, how great and wonderful is it to behold him, unfupported by any thing but the Testimony of his own Con. Science and Conje&tures of Hereafter, receive the Poison with an Air of Mirth and good Humour, and as if going on an agreeable Journey bespeak fome Deity to make it fortwiate.

W HEN Phocion's good Adions had met with the like Reward from his Country, and he was led to Death with many others of his Friends, they bewailing their Fate, he walking comporedly towards the Place of Execution, show gracefully docs hé support his illustrious Character

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