that their works are not held in higher estimation than thofe of the ancients. And this, I think, will be as apparent as any other truth, if we confider for a moment the nature and office of the people called critics. It is the nature of thefe people to be exceedingly dull; and it is their office to pronounce decifively upon the merit and demerit of all works what foever. Thus, chufing themfelves into the faid office, and happening to fet out without talte, talents, or judgment, they have no way of gueffing at the excellency of an author, but from what the faid author has been graciously pleafed to fay of it himself: and as moit of the moderns are afraid of communicating to the public all that paffes in their hearts on that fubject, the critics, mittaking their referve for a confeffion of weakness, have pronounced sentence upon their works, that they are good for nothing. Nor is it matter of wonder that they proceed in this method: for by what rule of reason should a man expect the good word of another, who has nothing to fay in favour of himself? To avoid, therefore, the cenfure of the critics, and to engage their approbation, I take this early opportunity of affuring them that I have the pleature of tanding extremely high in my own cpinion; and if I do not think proper to lay with Horace

Sublimi feriam fidera vertice; or with Ovid

Jemque of as incepi, quod nec Jovis ira, nec ignes,

Hec poterit ferrum, nec edax abolere vetuftas;

it is because I chufe to temper vanity with humility; having fometimes found that a man may be too arrogant, as well as too humble; though it must always be acknowledged, that in affairs of enterprize, which require ftrength, genius, or activity, affurance will fucceed where modetty will fail.

To fet forth the utility of blending thefe two virtues, and to exemplify in a particular inftance the fuperiority of affurance, as I began my first paper with a tale, I fhall end this with a fable.

Modefty, the daughter of Knowledge, and Affurance, the offspring of Igno. rance, met accidentally upon the road; and as both had a long way to go, and had experienced from former hardships that they were alike unqualified to pur

fue their journey alone; they agreed, notwithstanding the oppofition in their natures, to lay afide ail animofities, and, for their mutual advantage, to travel together. It was in a country where there were no inns for entertainment; fo that to their own address, and to the hofpitality of the inhabitants, they were continually to be obliged for provifion and lodging.

Affurance had never failed getting admittance to the houfes of the great; but it had frequently been her misfortune to be turned out of doors, at a time when he was promifing herfelf an elegant entertainment, or a bed of down to rest upon. Modefty had been excluded from all fuch houfes, and compelled to take thelter in the cottages of the poor; where, though the had leave to continue as long as fhe pleased, a trufs of itraw had been her ufual bed, and roots of the coarfett provifion her conflant repaft. But as both, by this accidental meeting, were become friends and fellow-travellers, they entertained hopes of affifting each other, and of fhortening the way by dividing the cares of it.

Affurance, who was dreffed lightly in a fummer fik and fhort petticoats, and who had fomething commanding in her voice and prefence, found the fame eafy accefs as before to the castles and palaces upon the way; while Modesty, who followed her in a raffet gown, speaking low, and cafting her eyes upon the ground, was as ufual pushed back by the porter at the gate, till introduced by her companion, whofe fashionable appearance and familiar addrets got admithion for both.

And now, by the endeavours of each to fupport the other, their difficulties vanithed, and they faw themselves the favourites of all companies, and the parties of their pleafures, feftivals, and amufements. The fallies of Affurance were continually checked by the delicacy of Modelty, and the blushes of Modesty were frequently relieved by the vivacity of Aflurance, who, though he was fometimes detected at her old pranks, which always put her companion out of countenance, was yet fo awed by her prefence, as to top thort of offence.

Thus in the company of Modefty, Affurance gained that reception and efteem, which the had vainly hoped for in her abfence; while Modeity, by

means

means of her new acquaintance, kept the best company, feafted upon delicacies, and flept in the chambers of state. Affurance, indeed, had in one particular the afcendancy over her companion: for if any one afked Modefty whofe daughter fhe was, the blushed and made no answer; while Affurance took the advantage of her filence, and impofed herself upon the world as the offspring of Knowledge.

In this manner did the travellers purfue their journey; Affurance taking the lead through the great towns and cities, and apologizing for the rufticity of her companion; while Modefty went foremolt through the villages and hamlets, and excufed the odd behaviour of Affurance, by presenting her as a courtier. It happened one day, after having measured a tedious length of road, that they came to a narrow river, which by a haity (well had washed away the bridge that was built over it. As they flood upon the bank, cafting their eyes upon the oppofite fhore, they faw at a little distance a magnificent castle, and a crowd of people inviting them to come over. Affurance, who stopped at nothing, throwing afide the covering from her limbs, plunged almost naked into

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the ftream, and fwam fafely to the other fide. Modefty, offended at the indecency of her companion, and diffident of her own ftrength, would have declin ed the danger; but being urged by Affurance, and derided for her cowardice by the people on the other fide, fhe unfortunately ventured beyond her depth; and oppreffed by her fears, as well as entangled by her cloaths, which were bound tightly about her, immediately difappeared, and was driven by the current none knows whither. It is faid, indeed, that he was afterwards taken up alive by a fisherman upon the Englith coaft, and that shortly she will be brought to the metropolis, and fhewn to the curious of both fexes with the furprizing Oronuto Savage, and the wonderful Panther Mare.

Affurance, not in the leaft daunted, purfued her journey alone; and though not altogether as fuccessfully as with her companion, yet having learned in particular companies, and upon particular occafions, to affume the air and manner of Modefty, she was received kindly at every houfe; and at laft arriving at the end of her travels, fhe became a very great lady, and rofe to be first maid of honour to the queen of the country,

TO MR. FITZ-ADAM.

F I had inclination and ability to do the cruelest thing upon earth to the man I hated, I would lay him under the neceffity of borrowing money of a friend.

You are to know, Sir, that I am curate of a parish within ten miles of town, at forty pounds per annum; that I am five and thirty years old, and that I have a wife and two children. My father, who was a clergyman of fome note in the country, unfortunately died foon after I came from college, and left me mafter of seventeen hundred pounds. With this fun, which I thought a very great one, I came up to town, took lodgings in Leicester Fields, put a narrow lace upon my frock, learnt to dance of Denoyer, bought my fhoes of Tull, my fword of Becket, my hat of Wagner, and my huff-box of Deard. In

fhort, I entered into the spirit of taste, and was looked upon as a fashionable young fellow. I do not mean that I was really fo, according to the town acceptation of the term; for I had as great an averfion to infidelity, libertinifm, gaming, and drunkenness, as the moft unfashionable man alive. All that my enemies, or, what is more, all that my friends can fay against me, is, that in my drefs I rather imitated the coxcomb than the floven; that I preferred good company to reading the fathers; that I liked a dinner at the tavern better than one at a private house that I was oftener at the play than at evening prayers; that I ufually went from the play to the tavern again; and that in five years time I spent every fhilling of my fortune. They may also add, if they please, as the climax of my follies, that when I was worth nothing myself, I married the most amiable woman in the world, without a penny to her fortune, only

B

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because we loved each other to distraction, and were miferable afunder.

To the whole of this charge I plead guilty; and have most heartily repented of every article of it, except the laft: I am, indeed, a little apprehenfive that iny wife is my predominant paffion, and that I fhall carry it with me to the grave.

I had contracted an intimacy at college with a young fellow, whofe tafte, age, and inclinations, were exactly fuited to my own. Nor did this intimacy end with our ftudies; we renewed it in town; and as our fortunes were pretty equal, and both of us our own mafters, we lodged in the fame house, dressed in the fame manner, followed the fame diverfions, spent all we had, and were ruin ed together. My friend, whofe genius was more enterprizing than mine, fteer. ed his courfe to the West Indies, while I entered into holy orders at home, and was ordained to the curacy above-mentioned.

At the end of two years I married, as I told you before; and being a wit as well as a parfon, I made a fhift by pamphlets, poems, fermons, and furplice fees, to increate my income to about a hundred a year.

I think I thall pay a compliment to my wife's œconomy, when I affure you, that notwithstanding the narrownels of our fortune, we did not run out above ten pounds a year: for if it be confidered that we had both been used to company and good living; that the largest part of our income was precarious, and confequently, if we starved our felves, we were not fure of laying up; that as an author I was vain, and as a parfon ambitious; always imagining that my wit would introduce me to the minifter, or my orthodoxy to the bithop; and, exclufive of thefe circumitances, if it be alfo confidered that we were generous in our natures, and charitable to the poor, it will be rather a wonder that we spent fo little.

It is now five years and a quarter fince our marriage; in all which time I have been running in debt without a poffibility of helping it. Laft Christmas I took a furvey of my circumstances, and had the mortification to find that I was fifty-one pounds fifteen fhillings worse than nothing. The uneafinets I felt upon this difcovery determined me to fit down and write a tragedy. Ifoon

found a fable to my mind; and was making a confiderable progress in the work, when I received intelligence that my old friend and companion was just returned from Jamaica, where he had married a planter's widow of immenfe fortune, buried her, and farmed out the eltate fhe had left him for two thousand pounds a year upon the Exchange of London.

I rejoiced heartily at this news, and took the firft opportunity of paying my congratulations upon fo happy an occafion. As I was dreffed for this vifit in very clean canonicals, my friend, who poffibly had connected the idea of a good living with a good cafsock, received me with the utmolt complaifance and good-humour; and after having testified his joy at feeing me, defired to be informed of my fortune and preferment. I gave him a particular account of all that had happened to me fince our separation; and concluded with a very blunt request, that he would lend me fifty guineas to pay my debts with, and to make me the happieft curate within the bills of mortality.

As there was fomething curious in my friend's answer to this request, I fhall give it to you word for word, as near as I can remember it; marking the whole fpeech in italics, that my own interruptions may not be mistaken.

6

FIFTY guineas! And fo you have run yourself in debt fifty-two pounds ten jbillings!- Within a very trifle, Sir. Ay, ay, fmean fo. Fifty guineas is the fum you want; and perhaps you would think it hard if I refufed lending it?'- '-'I fhould ind ed.'-'I knew you would. Let me fee,' (going to the efcritoire) can you change me a hundred pound note?-Who, I, Si? You furprize me! Here, Jehn! (enters John) 'get change for a hundred pound note: I want to lend this gentleman fome money-Or-no, no; Ifhan't want you." (Exit John.) I believe I have jorty guineas in my pocket. You may get the other ten fomewhere else. One, two, three —Ay, there are just jorty guineas. And pray, Sir, when do you intend to pay me? I had rather be excused, Sir, from taking any; I did not expect to he fo mortified.'-' Extravagance, Sir, is the fure road to mortification. I muft deal plainly with you. He that lends • his money has a right to deal plainly. You began the world with about two

• thousand

thousand pounds in your pocket."— Se-· venteen hundred, Sir." And thefe Seventeen hundred pounds, I think, lafted you about five years.'- True, Sir.' -Five times three are fifteen-Ây, you lived at the rate of about three hundred and fifty pounds a year. After this, as you tell me yourself, you turned curate; and because forty pounds a year was an immenfe jum, you very prudently fell in love, and married a beggar. Do you think, Sir, that if I had intended to marry a beggar, I fhould have spent my fortune as I did? No, Sir; I married a woman of fortune, great fortune; and fo might you-What hindered you? But I fay nothing against your wife. I hope you are both heartily forry that you ever faw one another's faces. Are your children boys or girls?- - Giris, Sir. And I suppose I am to portion • them? But I muft tell you once for all, • Sir, that this is the last fum you must 'exped from Me. I have proportioned my expences to my eftate, and will not be made uneafy by the extravagance of any man living. I have two thousand a year, and I spend two thousand. If you bave but forty, I fee no occafion for your spending more than forty. I have a fincere regard for you, and I think my actions have proved it; but a gentleman, who knows you very well, told me yefterday, that you were an expen

five, thoughtless, extravagant young fellow.'

I know not to what length my friend would have extended his harangue; but as I had already heard enough, I laid the forty guineas upon the table; and, like Lady Townly in the play, taking a great gulp, and fwallowing a wrong word or two, left the room without fpeaking a fyllable.

I have now laid afide my tragedy, and am writing a comedy, called The Friend. I do not know that I have wit enough for fuch a performance; but if it be damned, it is no more than the author (though a parfon) will confent to be, if ever he makes a fecond attempt to borrow money of a friend.

Your taking proper notice of this letter will oblige your humble fervant and admirer,

T. H.

To gratify my correfpondent, I have publifhed his letter in the manner I received it. But I must entreat, the next time I have the favour of hearing from him, that he will contrive to be a little more new in his fubject: for I am fully perfuaded that ninety-nine out of every hundred, as well clergy as laity, who have borrowed money of their friends, have been treated exactly in the fame

manner.

O the entertainment of my fair

them an old-fashioned virtue called Prudence, I fhall devote this and a following paper. If the ftory I am going to tell them should deferve their approbation, they are to thank the hufband and wife from whom I had it; and who are defirous, this day, of being the readers of their own adventures.

An eminent merchant in the city, whofe real name I fhall conceal under that of Wilfon, was married to a lady of confiderable fortune and more merit. They lived happily together for fome years, with nothing to difturb them but the want of children. The husband, who faw himself richer every day, grew impatient for an heir; and as time rather leffened than increased the hopes of one, he became by degrees indifferent,

affliction to her; yet fo gentle was her difpofition, that the reproached him only with her tears; and feldom with those, but when upbraidings and ill-ufage made her unable to reftrain them.

It is a maxim with fome married philofophers, that the tears of a wife are apt to wash away pity from the heart of a husband. Mr. Wilfon will pardon me if I rank him, at that time, among these philofophers. He had lately hired a lodging in the country, at a fmall diftance from town, whither he ufually retired in the evening, to avoid (as he called it) the perfecutions of his wife.

In this cruel feparation, and without complaint, the paffed away a twelvemonth; feldom feeing him but when bufinefs required his attendance at home,

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and never fleeping with him. At the end of which time, however, his behaviour, in appearance, grew kinder; he faw her oftener, and began to speak to her with tendernefs and compaflion.

One morning, after he had taken an obliging leave of her, to pass the day at his country lodging, fhe paid a vifit to a friend at the other end of the town; and topping in her way home at a thread-thop in a by-treet near St. James's, the faw Mr. Wilfon crofling the way, and afterwards knocking at the door of a genteel houte over-against her, which was opened by a fervant in livery, and immediately fhut, without a word being spoken. As the manner of his entrance, and her not knowing he had an acquaintance in the street, a little alarmed her, the enquired of the fhop woman if the knew the gentleman who lived in the oppofite houfe. You have juft feen him go in, Madam,' replied the woman. His name is Roberts, and a mighty good gentleman, they fay, he is. His lady At thofe words Mrs. Wilfon changed colour; and interrupting her- His lady, Ma. dam!-I thought that-Will you give me a glass of water? This walk has fo tired me-Pray give me a glafs of water-I am quite faint with fatigue.' The good woman of the hop ran herfelf for the water; and by the additional help of fome hartfhorn that was at hand, Mrs. Wilfon became, in appearance, tolerably compofed. She then looked over the threads she wanted; and having defired a coach might be fent for-' I believe, faid the, you were quite frightened to fee me look fo pale; but I had walked a great way, and fhould certainly have fainted if I had not ftepped into your shop.-But you were talking of the gentleman over the way -I fancied I knew him; but his name is Roberts, you fay? Is he a mai ried man, pray? The happieft in the ✦ world, Madam,' returned the threadwoman; he is wonderfully fond of children, and to his great joy his lady is now lying-in of her firit child, which is to be chriftened this evening; and as fine a boy, they fay it is, as • ever was feen.' At this moment, and as good fortune would have it, for the faving a fecond dofe of hartshorn, the coach that was fent for came to the door; into which Mrs. Wilfon immediately stept, after hefitating an apology

for the trouble she had given; and in which coach we shall leave her to return home, in an agony of grief which her felf has told me the was never able to defcribe.

The readers of this little hiftory have been informed that Mr. Wilfon had a country lodging, to which he was fuppofed to retire almoft every evening fince his difagreement with his wife; but, in fact, it was to his houfe near St. James's that he conftantly went. He had indeed hired the lodgings above mention ed, but from another motive than mere ly to fhun his wife. The occasion was this.

As he was fauntering one day through the Bird-cage walk in the Park, he faw a young woman fitting alone upon one of the benches, who, though plainly, was neatly dreffed, and whofe air and manner diftinguished her from the lower clafs of women. He drew nearer to her without being perceived, and faw in her countenance, which innocence and beauty adorned, the most compofed melancholy that can be imagined. He stood looking at her for fome time; which the at laft perceiving, started from her feat in fome confufion, and endeavoured to avoid him. The fear of lofing her gave him courage to fpeak to her. He begged pardon for disturbing her, and excuted his curiofity by her extreme beauty, and the melancholy that was mixed with it.

It is obferved by a very wife author, whofe name and book I forget, that a woman's heart is never fo brim-full of affliction, but a little flattery will infinuate itself into a corner of it; and a Wilfon was a handfome fellow, with an eafy addrefs, the lady was foon perfuaded to replace herself upon the bench, and to admit him at her fide. Wilson, who was really heart-ftruck, made her a thousand proteftations of esteem and friendship; conjuring her to tell him if his fortune and fervices could contribute to her happiness, and vowing never to leave her till she made him acquaint ed with the caufe of her concern.

Here a short paufe enfued; and after a deep figh, and a fream of tears, the lady began thus

If, Sir, you are the gentleman your appearance fpeaks you to be, I fhall thank Heaven that I have found you. I am the unfortunate widow of an officer who was killed at Dettingen,