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The present joys of life we doubly taste,
By looking back with pleasure to the past.

THE last method which I proposed in my Saturday's paper, for filling up those empty spaces of life which are so tedious and burdensome to idle people, is the employing ourselves in the pursuit of knowledge. I remember Mr. Boyle, speaking of a certain mineral, tells us, that a man may consume his whole life in the study of it, without arriving at the knowledge of all its qualities. The truth of it is, there is not a single science, or any branch of it, that might not furnish a man with business for life, though it were much longer

than it is.

tinct in each of them, follow one anoth greater or less degree of rapidity.

There is a famous passage in the which looks as if Mahomet had been

of the notion we are now speaking of. It said that the Angel Gabriel took Mahome his bed one morning to give him a sig things in the seven heavens, in paradis hell, which the prophet took a distinct and after having held ninety thousand cor with God, was brought back again to All this, says the Alcoran, was transact small a space of time, that Mahomet at h found his bed still warm, and took up at pitcher, which was thrown down at the stant that the Angel Gabriel carried hi before the water was all spilled.*

There is a very pretty story in the tales, which relates to this passage of tha

I shall not here engage on those beaten sub-impostor, and bears some affinity to th jects of the usefulness of knowledge; nor of the pleasure and perfection it gives the mind; nor on the methods of obtaining it; nor recommend any particular branch of it; all which have been the topics of many other writers; but shall indulge myself in a speculation that is more uncommon, and may therefore perhaps be more entertaining. I have before shown how the unemployed parts of life appear long and tedious, and shall here endeavor to show how those parts of life which are exercised in study, reading, and the pursuits of knowledge, are long, but not tedious, and by that means discover a method of lengthening our lives, and at the same time of turning all the parts of them to our advantage.

we are now upon. A sultan of Egypt, an infidel, used to laugh at this circum Mahomet's life, as what was altogether in and absurd; but conversing one day wit doctor in the law, who had the gift of miracles, the doctor told him he would convince him of the truth of this passag history of Mahomet, if he would conse what he should desire of him. Upon thi tan was directed to place himself by a of water, which he did accordingly; a stood by the tub amid a circle of his g the holy man bid him plunge his head water, and draw it up again. The king ingly thrust his head into the water Mr. Locke observes, "That we get the idea of the same time found himself at the time or duration, by reflecting on that train of mountain on the sea-shore. The king ideas which succeed one another in our minds: ately began to rage against his doctor that for this reason, when we sleep soundly with- piece of treachery and witchcraft; but a out dreaming, we have no perception of time, or knowing it was in vain to be angry, he the length of it while we sleep; and that the mo- self to think on proper methods for getti ment wherein we leave off to think, till the mo-lihood in this strange country. Accor ment we begin to think again, seems to have no distance." To which the author adds, "and so I doubt not but it would be to a waking man if it were possible for him to keep only one idea in his mind, without variation, and the succession of others; and we see, that one who fixes his thoughts very intently on one thing, so as to take but little notice of the succession of ideas that pass in his mind while he is taken up with that earnest contemplation, lets slip out of his account a good part of that duration, and thinks that time shorter than it is."

We might carry this thought farther; and consider a man as, on one side, shortening his time by thinking on nothing, or but a few things; so on the other, as lengthening it, by employing his thoughts on many subjects, or by entertaining a quick and constant succession of ideas. Accordingly, Monsieur Malebranche, in his Inquiry after Truth (which was published several years before Mr. Locke's Essay on Human Understanding), tells us, "that it is possible some creatures may think half an hour as long as we do a thousand years; or look upon that space of duration which we call a minute, as an hour, a week, a month, or a whole age."

This notion of Monsieur Malebranche is capable of some little explanation from what I have quoted out of Mr. Locke; for if our notion of time is produced by our reflecting on the succession of ideas in our mind, and this succession may be infinitely accelerated or retarded, it will follow, that different beings may have different notions of the same parts of duration, according as their ideas, which we suppose are equally dis

applied himself to some people whom work in a neighboring wood: these pe ducted him to a town that stood at a littl from the wood, where, after some adve married a woman of great beauty and He lived with this woman so long, that her seven sons and seven daughters. 1 terward reduced to great want, and force of plying in the streets as a porter for hood. One day as he was walking alo sea-side, being seized with many mela flections upon his former and his presen life, which had raised a fit of devotion threw off his clothes with a design to y self, according to the custom of the Ma before he said his prayers.

After his first plunge into the sea, he raised his head above the water but himself standing by the side of the tul great men of his court about him, and man at his side. He immediately upb teacher for having sent him on such a adventures, and betrayed him into so lo of misery and servitude; but was w surprised when he heard that the state of was only a dream and delusion; th not stirred from the place where he th and that he had only dipped his head water, and immediately taken it out aga

The Mahometan doctor took this o instructing the sultan, that nothing was

passage is to be found in the Alcoran, though it *The Spectator's memory hath here deceived h in some of the histories of Mahomet's life.

ble with God; and that He, with whom a thou- | they imagine the seat of love and friendship to be sand years are but as one day, can, if He pleases, placed visibly in the eyes. They judge what make a single day, nay, a single moment, appear to any of his creatures as a thousand years.

I shall leave my reader to compare these eastern fables with the notions of those two great philosophers whom I have quoted in this paper; and shall only, by way of application, desire him to consider how we may extend life beyond its natural dimension, by applying ourselves diligently to the pursuits of knowledge.

The hours of a wise man are lengthened by his ideas, as those of a fool are by his passions. The time of the one is long, because he does not know what to do with it; so is that of the other, because he distinguishes every moment of it with useful or amusing thoughts; or, in other words, because the one is always wishing it away, and the other always enjoying it.

How different is the view of past life, in the man who is grown old in knowledge and wisdom, from that of him who is grown old in ignorance and folly! The latter is like the owner of a barren country, that fills his eye with the prospect of naked hills and plains, which produce nothing either profitable or ornamental; the other beholds a beautiful and spacious landscape divided into delightful gardens, green meadows, fruitful fields, and can scarce cast his eye on a single spot of his possessions, that is not covered with some beautiful plant or flower.

No. 95.]


stock of kindness you had for the living, by the quantity of tears you pour out for the dead: so that if one body wants that quantity of salt water another abounds with, he is in great danger of being thought insensible or ill-natured. They are strangers to friendship whose grief happens not to be moist enough to wet such a parcel of handkerchiefs. But experience has told us nothing is so fallacious as this outward sign of sorrow; and the natural history of our bodies will teach us that this flux of the eyes, this faculty of weeping, is peculiar only to some constitutions. We observe in the tender bodies of children, when crossed in their little wills and expectations, how dissolvable they are into tears. If this were what grief is in men, nature would not be able to support them in the excess of it for one moment. Add to this observation, how quick is their transition from this passion to that of their joy! I will not say we see often, in the next tender things to children, tears shed without much grieving. Thus it is common to shed tears without much sorrow, and as common to suffer much sorrow without shedding tears. Grief and weeping are indeed frequent companions; but, I believe, never in their highest excesses. As laughter does not proceed from profound joy, so neither does weeping from profound sorrow. The sorrow which appears so easily at the eyes, cannot have pierced deeply into the heart. The heart, distended with grief, stops all the passages for tears or lamentations. Now, Sir, what I would incline you to in all this is, that you would inform the shallow critics and observers upon sorrow, that true affliction labors to be invisible, that it is a stranger to ceremony, and that it bears in its own nature a dignity much above the little circumstances which are affected under the notion of decency. You must know, Sir. I have lately lost a dear friend, for whom I have not yet shed a tear, and for that reason your animadversions on that subject would be the more acceptable to,

TUESDAY, JUNE 19, 1711. Care leves loquuntur, ingentes stupent.-SENECA Trag. Light sorrows loose the tongue, but great enchain.—P. HAVING read the two following letters with much pleasure, I cannot but think the good sense of them will be as agreeable to the town as anything I could say either on the topics they treat of, or any other; they both allude to former papers of mine, and I do not question but the first, which is upon mourning, will be thought the production of a man who is well acquainted with the generous yearnings of distress in a manly temper, which is above the relief of tears. A speculation of my.. own on that subject I shall defer till another occasion.

The second letter is from a lady of a mind as great as her understanding. There is, perhaps, something in the beginning of it which I ought in modesty to conceal; but I have so much esteem for this correspondent, that I will not alter a tittle of what she writes, though I am thus scrupulous at the price of being ridiculous.


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"Sir, your most humble servant,

"B. D."

June the 15th.

"As I hope there are but few who have so little gratitude as not to acknowledge the usefulness of your pen, and to esteem it a public benefit; so I am sensible, be that as it will, you must nevertheless find the secret and incomparable pleasure of doing good, and be a great sharer in the entertainment you give. I acknowledge our sex to be much obliged, and I hope improved, by your labors, and even your intentions more particularly for our service. If it be true, as it is sometimes "I was very well pleased with your discourse said, that our sex have an influence on the other, upon general mourning, and should be obliged to your paper may be a yet more general good. Your you if you would enter into the matter more directing us to reading is certainly the best means deeply, and give us your thoughts upon the com- to our instruction; but I think with you, caution mon sense the ordinary people have of the demon in that particular very useful, since the improvestrations of grief, who prescribe rules and fash- ment of our understandings may or may not be of ions to the most solemn affliction; such as the service to us, according as it is managed. It has loss of the nearest relations and dearest friends. been thought we are not generally so ignorant as You cannot go to visit a sick friend, but some ill-taught, or that our sex does not so often want impertinent waiter about him observes the muscles wit, judgment, or knowledge, as the right appliof your face as strictly as if they were prognostics cation of them. You are so well-bred, as to say of his death or recovery. If he happens to be your fair readers are already deeper scholars than taken from you, you are immediately surrounded the beaux, and that you could name some of them with numbers of these spectators, who expect a that talk much better than several gentlemen that melancholy shrug of your shoulders, a pathetical make a figure at Will's. This may possibly be, shake of your head, and an expressive distortion and no great compliment, in my opinion, even of your face, to measure your affection and value supposing your comparison to reach Tom's and for the deceased. But there is nothing, on these the Grecian. Surely you are too wise to think occasions, so much in their favor as immoderate that the real commendation of a woman. Were wceping. As all their passions are superficial, it not rather to be wished we improved in our own

sphere, and approved ourselves better daughters, | taught me at night all he learnt, and p better wives, mothers, and friends?

find out words in the dictionary when "I cannot but agree with the judicious trader about his exercise. It was the will of Pr in Cheapside (though I am not at all prejudiced that master Harry was taken very ill of a in his favor) in recommending the study of arith- which he died within ten days after his metic; and must dissent even from the authority ing sick. Here was the first sorrow I eve which you mention, when it advises the making and I assure you, Mr. Spectator, I remer our sex scholars. Indeed a little more philosophy, beautiful action of the sweet youth in his in order to the subduing our passions to our rea- fresh as if it were yesterday. If he war son might be sometimes serviceable, and a treatise thing, it must be given him by Tom. W of that nature I should approve of even in ex- anything fall through the grief I was change for Theodosius, or the Force of Love; would cry, 'Do not beat the poor boy; { but as I well know you want not hints, I will some more julep for me, nobody else sha proceed no farther than to recommend the Bishop me.' He would strive to hide his being of Cambray's Education of a Daughter, as it is when he saw I could not bear his being in translated into the only language I have any danger, and comforted me, saying, To knowledge of, though perhaps very much to its have a good heart.' When I was holdi disadvantage. I have heard it objected against at his mouth, he fell into convulsions; an that piece, that its instructions are not of general very time I hear my dear master's last use, but only fitted for a great lady: but I confess was quickly turned out of the room, an I am not of that opinion; for I do not remember sob and beat my head against the wa that there are any rules laid down for the expenses leisure. The grief I was in was inexp of a woman-in which particular only I think a and everybody thought it would have cos gentlewoman ought to differ from a lady of the life. In a few days my old lady, who w best fortune, or highest quality, and not in their the housewives of the world, thought principles of justice, gratitude, prudence, or mod-me out of doors, because I put her in mi esty. I ought perhaps to make an apology for son. Sir Stephen proposed putting me this long epistle; bnt as I rather believe you a tice; but my lady being an excellent friend to sincerity than ceremony, shall only as-would not let her husband throw away h sure you I am,

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'Sir, your most humble servant,


No. 96.] WEDNESDAY, JUNE 20, 1711.


Mancipium domino, et frugi.-HOR. 2 Sat. vii, 2.

-The faithful servant, and the true.—CREECH.


"I HAVE frequently read your discourse upon servants, and as I am one myself, have been much offended that in that variety of forms wherein you considered the bad, you found no place to mention the good. There is, however, one observation of yours I approve, which is, 'That there are men of wit and good sense among all orders of men, and that servants report most of the good or ill which is spoken of their masters.' That there are men of sense who live in servitude, I have the vanity to say I have felt to my woeful experience. You attribute very justly the source of our general iniquity to board-wages, and the manner of living out of a domestic way; but I cannot give you my thoughts on this subject any way so well as by a short account of my own life, to this the fortyfifth year of my age-that is to say, from my first being a foot-boy at fourteen, to my present station of a nobleman's porter in the year of my age above-mentioned.

"Know then, that my father was a poor tenant to the family of Sir Stephen Rackrent. Sir Stephen put me to school, or rather made me follow his son Harry to school, from my ninth year; and there, though Sir Stephen paid something for my learning, I was used like a servant, and was forced to get what scraps of learning I could by my own industry, for the schoolmaster took very little notice of me. My young master was a lad of very sprightly parts; and my being constantly about him, and loving him, was no small advantage to me. My master loved me extremely, and has often been whipped for not keeping me at a distance. He used always to say, that when he came to his estate I should have a lease of my father's tenement for nothing. I came up to town with him to Westminster-school; at which time he


in acts of charity. I had sense enoug under the utmost indignation, to see her with so little concern, one her son had much; and went out of the house to ramb ever my feet would carry me.

"The third day after I left Sir Stephen I was strolling up and down in the wall Temple. A young gentleman of the ho (as I heard him say afterward) seeing starved and well-dressed, thought me an ready to his hand after very little inquiry 'Did I want a master?' bid me follow hi so, and in a very little while thought m happiest creature in the world. My taken up in carrying letters to wenches sages to young ladies of my master's acqu We rambled from tavern to tavern, to house, the Mulberry-garden,* and places where my master engaged every night new amour, in which and drinking he spe time when he had money. During these gances, I had the pleasure of lying on of a tavern half a night, playing at other servants, and the like idleness. master was moneyless, I was generally in transcribing amorous pieces of poetry, and new lampoons. This life held till n married, and he had then the prudenc me off, because I was in the secret of his

"I was utterly at a loss what cours next; when at last I applied myself to sufferer, one of his mistresses, a woma town. She happening at that time to full of money, clothed me from head to knowing me to be a sharp fellow, emp accordingly. Sometimes I was to go ab her, and when she had pitched upon fellow she thought for her turn, I was to ped as one she could not trust. She wo cheapen goods at the New Exchange;+ a she had a mind to be attacked she would away on an errand. When an humble

The mulberry-garden was a place of elegant ment near Buckingham-house (now the Queer somewaat like the modern Vauxhall. and York-buildings in the Strand. It was the

The New Exchange was situated between D

and dwelling-houses erected on the spot.

mart of millinery wares till 1737, when it was ta



and she were beginning a parley, I came immediately, and told her Sir John was come home: then she would order another coach to prevent being dogged. The lover makes signs to me as I get behind the coach; I shake my head-it was impossible: I leave my lady at the next turning and follow the cully to know how to fall in his way on another occasion. Beside good offices of this nature, I wrote all my mistress's love letters; some from a lady that saw such a gentleman at such a place in such a colored coat-some showing the terrors she was in of a jealous old husbandothers explaining that the severity of her parents was such (though her fortune was settled) that she was willing to run away with such a one, though she knew he was but a younger brother. In a word, my half education and love of Idle books made me outwrite all that made love to her by way of epistle; and as she was extremely cunning, she did well enough in company by a skillful affectation of the greatest modesty. In the midst of all this, I was surprised with a letter from her, and a ten-pound note.


"You will never see me more. I am married to a very cunning country gentleman, who might possibly guess something if I kept you still; therefore farewell.'

"When this place was lost also in marriage, I was resolved to go among quite another people, for the future, and got in butler to one of those families where there is a coach kept, three or four servants, a clean house, and a good general outside upon a small estate. Here I lived very comfortably for some time, until I unfortunately found my master, the very gravest man alive, in the garret with the chambermaid. I knew the world too well to think of staying there; and the next day pretended to have received a letter out of the country that my father was dying, and got my discharge with a bounty for my discretion.

"The next I lived with was a peevish single man, whom I stayed with for a year and a half. Most part of the time I passed very easily; for when I began to know him, I minded no more than he meant, what he said: so that one day in a good humor he said, 'I was the best man he ever had, by my want of respect to him.'

"These, Sir, are the chief occurrences of my life; and I will not dwell upon very many other places I have been in, where I have been the strangest fellow in the world, where nobody in the world had such servants as they, where sure they were the unluckiest people in the world for servants, and so forth. All I mean by this representation is, to show you that we poor servants are not (what you called us too generally) all rogues; but that we are what we are, according to the example of our superiors. In the family I am now in, I am guilty of no one sin but lying; which I do with a grave face in my gown and staff every day I live, and almost all day long, in denying my lord to impertinent suitors, and my lady to unwelcome visitants. But, Sir, I am to let you know that I am, when I can get abroad, a leader of the servants: I am he that keeps time with beating my cudgel against the boards in the gallery at an opera: I am he that am touched so properly at a tragedy, when the people of quality are staring at one another during the most important incidents. When you hear in a crowd a cry in the right place, a hum where the point is touched in a speech, or a huzza set up where it is the voice of the people: you may conclude it is begun or joined by, Sir, "Your more than humble servant, "THOMAS TRUSTY."


No. 97.] THURSDAY, JUNE, 21, 1711. Projecere animas-VIRG. Æn., vi, 436. They prodigally threw their lives away. AMONG the loose papers which I have frequently spoken of heretofore, I find a conversation between Pharamond and Eucrate upon the subject of duels, and the copy of an edict issued in consequence of that discourse.

Eucrate argued, that nothing but the most severe and vindictive punishment, such as placing the bodies of the offenders in chains, and putting them to death by the most exquisite torments, would be sufficient to extirpate a crime which had so long prevailed, and was so firmly fixed in the opinion of the world as great and laudable. The king answered, "that indeed instances of ignominy were necessary in the cure of this evil; but, considering that it prevailed only among such as had a nicety in their sense of honor, and that it often happened that a duel was fought to save appearances to the world, when both parties were in their hearts in amity and reconciliation to each other, it was evident that turning the mode another way would effectually put a stop to what had been only as a mode; that to such persons poverty and shame were torments sufficient; that he would not go farther in punishing in others, crimes which he was satisfied he himself was most guilty of, in that he might have prevented them by speaking his displeasure sooner." Beside which the king said, "he was in general averse to tortures, which was putting human nature itself, rather than the criminal, to disgrace; and that he would be sure not to use this means where the crime was but an ill effect arising from a laudable cause, the fear of shame." The king, at the same time, spoke with much grace upon the subject of mercy; and repented of many acts of that kind which had a magnificent aspect in the doing, but dreadful consequences in the example. "Mercy to particulars," he observed, "was cruelty in the general. That though a prince could not revive a dead man by taking the life of him who killed him, neither could he make reparation to the next that should die by the evil example; or answer to himself for the partiality in not pardoning the next as well as the former offender.-As for me," says Pharamond, "I have conquered France, and yet have given laws to my people. The laws are my methods of life; they are not a diminution but a direction to my power. I am still absolute to distinguish the innocent and the virtuous, to give honors to the brave and generous; I am absolute in my good will; none can oppose my bounty, or prescribe rules for my favor. While I can, as I please, reward the good, I am under no pain that I cannot pardon the wicked; for which reason," continued Pharamond, "I will effectually put a stop to this evil, by exposing no more the tenderness of my nature to the importunity of having the same respect to those who are miserable by their fault, and those who are so by their misfortune. Flatterers (concluded the king, smiling) repeat to us princes, that we are heaven's vicegerents; let us be so, and let the only thing out of our power be to do ill."

Soon after the evening wherein Pharamond and Eucrate had this conversation, the following edict was published against duels.


"Pharamond, King of the Gauls, to all his loving subjects sendeth greeting:

"Whereas it has come to our royal notice and observation, that, in contempt of all laws divine

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and human, it is of late oecome a custom among | height, insomuch that the female pa the nobility and gentry of this our kingdom, upon species, were much taller than the men.* slight and trivial as well as great and urgent pro- men were of such an enormous stature tha vocations, to invite each other into the field-there, peared as grasshoppers before them." A by their own hands, and of their own authority, the whole sex is in a manner dwa to decide their controversies by combat; we have shrunk into a race of beauties that see thought fit to take the said custom into our royal another species. I remember several la consideration, and find, upon inquiry into the were once very near seven foot high, th usual causes whereon such fatal decisions have sent want some inches of five. How 1 arisen, that by this wicked custom, maugre all the to be thus curtailed I cannot learn; w precepts of our holy religion and the rules of whole sex be at present under any pena right reason, the greatest act of the human mind, we know nothing of; or whether they forgiveness of injuries, is become vile and shame- their head-dresses in order to surprise ful; that the rules of good society and virtuous something in that kind which shall be ent conversation are hereby inverted; that the loose, or whether some of the tallest of the the vain, and the impudent, insult the careful, the too cunning for the rest, have contrive discreet, and the modest; that all virtue is sup-thod to make themselves appear sizeabl pressed, and all vice supported, in the one act of a secret; though I find most are of opi being capable to dare to the death. We have also are at present like trees new lopped an farther, with great sorrow of mind, observed that that will certainly sprout up and flou this dreadful action, by long impunity (our royal greater heads than before. For my ow attention being employed upon matters of more I do not love to be insulted by wome general concern), is become honorable, and the taller than myself, I admire the sex n refusal to engage in it ignominious. In these our in their present humiliation, which ha royal cares and inquiries we are yet farther made them to their natural dimensions, than to understand, that the persons of most eminent had extended their persons and lengthe worth, and most hopeful abilities, accompanied selves out into formidable and gigant with the strongest passion for true glory, are I am not for adding to the beautiful such as are most liable to be involved in the dan- nature, nor for raising any whimsical s gers arising from this license.-Now, taking the ture upon her plans: I must, therefore, said premises into our serious consideration, and that I am highly pleased with the coiff well weighing that all such emergencies (where-fashion, and think it shows the good se in the mind is incapable of commanding itself, and where the injury is too sudden or too exquisite to be borne) are particularly provided for by laws heretofore enacted; and that the qualities of less injuries, like those of ingratitude, are too nice and delicate to come under general rules; we do resolve to blot this fashion or wantonness of anger, out of the minds of our subjects, by our royal resolutions declared in this edict as follow:

"No person who either sends or accepts a challenge, or the posterity of either, though no death ensues thereupon, shall be, after the publication of this our edict, capable of bearing office in these our dominions.

"The person who shall prove the sending or receiving a challenge, shall receive to his own use and property the whole personal estate of both parties; and their real estate shall be, immediately vested in the next heir of the offenders, in as ample manner as if the said offenders were actually deceased.

"In cases where the laws (which we have already granted to our subjects) admit of an appeal for blood; when the criminal is condemned by the said appeal, he shall not only suffer death, but his whole estate, real, mixed, and personal, shall from the hour of his death be vested in the next heir of the person whose blood he spilt. "That it shall not hereafter be in our royal power, or that of our successors, to pardon the said offenses or restore the offenders in their estates, honor, or blood, forever.

"Given at our court of Blois, the 8th of February, 420, in the second year of our reign."-T.

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at present very much reigns among th part of the sex. One may observe that all ages have taken more pains than me the outside of their heads; and inde much admire, that those female archi raise such wonderful structures out of rib and wire, have not been recorded for th tive inventions. It is certain there ha many orders in these kinds of build those which have been made of marb times they rise in the shape of a pyra times like a tower, and sometimes like In Juvenal's time the building grew orders and stories, as he has very described it:


Tot premit ordinibus, tot adhuc compagibus
Edificat caput; Andromachen a fronte vide
Post minor est; aliam credas.
Juv., i

With curls on curls they build her head bef
And mount it with a formidable tow'r;
A giantess she seems: but look behind,
And then she dwindles to the pigmy kind.-

But I do not remember in any part of n
that the head-dress aspired to so grea
vagance as in the fourteenth century
was built up in a couple of cones or sp
stood so exceedingly high on each s
head, that a woman, who was but a pi
out her head-dress, appeared like a col
putting it on.

Monsieur Paradin s these old-fashioned fontanges rose ar the head; that they were pointed lik and had long loose pieces of crape fast tops of them, which were curiously fr hung down their backs like streamers.

The women might possibly have c Gothic building much higher, had no monk, Thomas Conecte by name, a

*This refers to the commode (called by the tange"), a kind of head-dress worn by the ladi ginning of the last century, which by means of their hair and fore-part of the cap, consisting of fine lace, to a prodigious height. The transi to the opposite extreme was very abrupt and su Numb. xiii, 33.

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