perceive a long inscription in large characters on the front, probably upon the occasion of some triumph, but, being in haste, I left it to be made out by some subsequent adventurer who may happen to travel this way; so, continuing my course to the west, I soon arrived at an unwalled town, called Islington.(1)

"Islington is a pretty neat town, mostly built of brick, with a church and bells: it has a small lake, or rather pond, in the midst, though at present very much neglected. I am told it is dry in summer: if this be the case, it can be no very proper receptacle for fish, of which the inhabitants themselves seem sensible, by bringing all that is eaten there from London.

"After having surveyed the curiosities of this fair and beautiful town, I proceeded forward, leaving a fair stonebuilding, called the White Conduit House, on my right. Here, the inhabitants of London often assemble to celebrate a feast of hot rolls and butter: seeing such numbers, each with their little tables before them, employed on this occasion, must, no doubt, be a very amusing sight to the looker on, but still more so to those who perform in the solemnity. "From hence I parted with reluctance to Pancras, as it

manner.

(1) ["Goldsmith was very partial to Islington, where he at one period occupied apartments. It was occasionally his custom to enjoy what he called, a shoemaker's holiday,' which was spent in the following innocent Three or four of his intimate friends rendezvoused at his chambers to breakfast about ten; at eleven they proceeded by the City Road and through the fields to Highbury Barn to dinner; about six they adjourned to White Conduit House to drink tea; and concluded the evening by supping at the Grecian or Temple Exchange Coffee Houses, or at the Globe in Fleet-street. There was a good ordinary of two dishes and pastry kept at Highbury Barn at this time at ten-pence per head, including a penny to the waiter, and the company generally consisted of literary characters, a few Templars, and some citizens who had left off trade."-Nelson's Islington, p. 42.]

(2) [“Goldsmith probably alluded to one on the Green, or another formerly at the front of Pullen's-row."-Ibid. p. 41.]

is written, or Pancridge as it is pronounced; but which should be both pronounced and written Pangrace: this emendation I will venture meo arbitrio ; Пav, in the Greek language, signifies all, which, added to the English word grace, maketh all grace, or Pangrace; and, indeed, this is a very proper appellation to a place of so much sanctity as Pangrace is universally esteemed. However this be, if you except the parish church and its fine bells, there is little in Pangrace worth the attention of the curious observer.

"From Pangrace to Kentish Town is an easy journey of one mile and a-quarter: the road lies through a fine champaign country, well watered with beautiful drains, and enamelled with flowers of all kinds, which might contribute to charm every sense, were it not that the odoriferous gales are often more impregnated with dust than perfume.

"As you enter Kentish Town, the eye is at once presented with the shops of artificers, such as venders of candles, small-coal, and hair-brooms; there are also several august buildings of red brick, with numberless sign-posts, or rather pillars, in a peculiar order of architecture; I send you a drawing of several, vide A. B. C. This pretty town, probably borrows its name from its vicinity to the county of Kent; and, indeed, it is not unnatural that it should, as there are only London and the adjacent villages that lie between them. Be this as it will, perceiving night approach, I made a hasty repast on roasted mutton, and a certain dried fruit called potatoes, resolving to protract my remarks upon my return and this I would very willingly have done, but was prevented by a circumstance which, in truth, I had for some time foreseen; for night coming on, it was impossible to take a proper survey of the country, as I was obliged to return home in the dark." Adieu.

LETTER CXXIII.

THE CONCLUSION.

To the Same.

After a variety of disappointments, my wishes are at length fully satisfied. My son, so long expected, is arrived; at once, by his presence, banishing my anxiety and opening a new scene of unexpected pleasure. His improvements in mind and person have far surpassed even the sanguine expectations of a father. I left him a boy, but he is returned a man pleasing in his person, hardened by travel, and polished by adversity. His disappointment in love, however, had infused an air of melancholy into his conversation, which seemed at intervals to interrupt our mutual satisfaction. I expected that this could find a cure only from time; but fortune, as if willing to load us with her favours, has in a moment repaid every uneasiness with rapture.

Two days after his arrival, the man in black, with his beautiful niece, came to congratulate us upon this pleasing occasion; but, guess our surprise, when my friend's lovely kinswoman was found to be the very captive my son had rescued from Persia, and who had been wrecked on the Wolga, and was carried by the Russian peasants to the port of Archangel. Were I to hold the pen of a novelist, I might be prolix in describing their feelings at so unexpected an interview; but you may conceive their joy without my assistance: words were unable to express their transports; then how can words describe it?

When two young persons are sincerely enamoured of each other, nothing can give me such pleasure as seeing them married: whether I know the parties or not, I am happy at thus binding one link more in the universal chain. Nature has, in some measure, formed me for a match-maker, and

given me a soul to sympathize with every mode of human felicity. I instantly, therefore, consulted the man in black, whether we might not crown their mutual wishes by marriage: his soul seems formed of similar materials with mine, he instantly gave his consent, and the next day was appointed for the solemnization of their nuptials.

All the acquaintances which I had made since my arrival, were present at this gay solemnity. The little beau was constituted master of the ceremonies, and his wife, Mrs. Tibbs, conducted the entertainment with proper decorum. The man in black, and the pawnbroker's widow, were very sprightly and tender upon this occasion. The widow was dressed up under the direction of Mrs. Tibbs; and as for her lover, his face was set off by the assistance of a pig-tail wig, which was lent by the little beau, to fit him for making love with proper formality. The whole company easily perceived, that it would be a double wedding before all was over; and, indeed, my friend and the widow seemed to make no secret of their passion: he even called me aside, in order to know my candid opinion, whether I did not think him a little too old to be married. "As for my own part,”

continued he, "I know I am going to play the fool, but all my friends will praise my wisdom, and produce me as the very pattern of discretion to others."

At dinner, every thing seemed to run on with good humour, harmony, and satisfaction. Every creature in company thought themselves pretty, and every jest was laughed at. The man in black sat next his mistress, helped her plate, chimed her glass; and, jogging her knees and her elbow, he whispered something arch in her ear, on which she patted his cheek: never was antiquated passion so playful, so harmless, and amusing, as between this reverend couple. The second course was now called for, and, among a variety of other dishes, a fine turkey was placed before the

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widow. The Europeans, you know, carve as they eat; my friend, therefore, begged his mistress to help him to a part of the turkey. The widow, pleased with an opportunity of showing her skill in carving (an art, upon which, it seems, she piqued herself) began to cut it up, by first taking off the leg. "Madam," cried my friend, "if I might be permitted to advise, I would begin by cutting off the wing, and then the leg will come off more easily." Sir,' replies the widow, 'give me leave to understand cutting up a fowl; I always begin with the leg." "Yes, Madam," replies the lover, "but if the wing be the most convenient manner, I would begin with the wing." Sir,' interrupts the lady, 'when you have fowls of your own, begin with the wing, if you please; but give me leave to take off the leg : I hope I am not to be taught at this time of day." "Madam," interrupts he, we are never too old to be instructed." "Old, Sir !' interrupts the other, who is old, Sir? When I die of age, I know of some that will quake for fear: if the leg does not come off, take the turkey to yourself." "Madam," replied the man in black, "I do not care a farthing, whether the leg or the wing comes off; if you are for the leg first, why you shall have the argument, even though it be as I say." "As for the matter of that,' cries the widow, I do not care a fig, whether you are for the leg off or on; and, friend, for the future keep your distance." "O," replied the other, "that is easily done; it is only removing to the other end of the table; and so, Madam, your most obedient humble servant."

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Thus was this courtship of an age destroyed in one moment; for this dialogue effectually broke off the match between this respectable couple, that had been just concluded. The smallest accidents disappoint the most important treaties; however, though it in some measure interrupted the general satisfaction, it no ways lessened the happiness of the youthful couple; and by the young lady's looks, I could