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body, because every man thinks he is so to him. | He does not seem to contribute anything to the inirth of the company; and yet upon reflection you find it all happened by his being there. I thought it was whimsically said of a gentleman, that if Varilas had wit, it would be the best wit in the world. It is certain, when a well-corrected, lively imagination and good breeding are added to a sweet disposition, they qualify it to be one of the greatest blessings as well as pleasures of life.

long dead has a due proportion of praise allotted him, in which, while he lived, his friends were too profuse, and his enemies too sparing.

According to Sir Isaac Newton's calculations, the last comet that made its appearance in 1680, imbibed so much heat by its approaches to the sun, that it would have been two thousand times hotter than red hot iron, had it been a globe of that metal; and that supposing it as big as the earth, and at the same distance from the sun, it would be Men would come into company with ten times fifty thousand years in cooling, before it recovered the pleasure they do, if they were sure of hearing its natural temper. In the like manner, if an Ennothing that would shock them, as well as expect-glishman considers the great ferment into which ed what would please them. When we know our political world is thrown at present, and how every person that is spoken of is represented by intensely it is heated in all its parts, he cannot one who has no ill-will, and everything that is suppose that it will cool again in less than three mentioned described by one that is apt to set it in hundred years. In such a tract of time it is posthe best light, the entertainment must be delicate, sible that the beats of the present age may be exbecause the cook has nothing brought to his hand tinguished, and our several classes of great men but what is the most excellent in its kind. Beauti- represented under their proper characters. Some ful pictures are the entertainments of pure minds, eminent historian may then probably arise that and deformities of the corrupted. It is a degree will not write recentibus odis (as Tacitus exprestoward the life of angels, when we enjoy converses it)-with the passions and prejudices of a cosation wherein there is nothing presented but in temporary author-but make an impartial distriits excellence; and a degree toward that of de-bution of fame among the great men of the premons, wherein nothing is shown but in its de- sent age. generacy.

T.

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Edward and Henry, now the boast of fame,
And virtuous Alfred, a more sacred name,
After a life of generous toils endur'd,
The Gaul subdu'd, or property secur'd,
Ambition humbled, mighty cities storm'd,
Or laws establish'd, and the world reform'd:
Clos'd their long glories with a sigh to find

Th' unwilling gratitude of base mankind.-POPE.
"CENSURE," says a late ingenious author, "is
the tax a man pays to the public for being emi-
nent." It is a folly for an eminent man to think
of escaping it, and a weakness to be affected with
All the illustrious persons of antiquity, and
indeed of every age in the world, have passed
through this fiery persecution. There is no defense
against reproach but obscurity; it is a kind of
concomitant to greatness, as satires and invectives
were an essential part of a Roman triumph.

it.

If men of eminence are exposed to censure on one hand, they are as much liable to flattery on the other. If they receive reproaches which are not due to them, they likewise receive praises which they do not deserve. In a word, the man in a high post is never regarded with an indifferent eye, but always considered as a friend or an enemy. For this reason persons in great stations have seldom their true characters drawn till several

years after their deaths. Their personal friendships and enmities must cease, and the parties they were engaged in be at an end, before their faults or their virtues can have justice done them. When writers have the least opportunities of knowing the truth, they are in the best disposition to tell it.

It is therefore the privilege of posterity to adjust the characters of illustrious persons, and to set matters right between those antagonists, who by their rivalry for greatness divided a whole age into factions. We can now allow Caesar to be a great man without derogating from Pompey; and celebrate the virtues of Cato, without detracting from those of Cæsar. Every one that has been

I cannot forbear entertaining myself very often with the idea of such an imaginary historian describing the reign of Anne the first, and introducing it with a preface to his reader that he is now entering upon the most shining part of the English story. The great rivals in fame will be then distinguished according to their respective merits, and shine in their proper points of light. Such a one (says the historian), though variously represented by the writers of his own age, appears to have been a man of more than ordinary abilities, great application and uncommon integrity: nor was such a one (though of an opposite party and interest) inferior to him in any of these respects. The several antagonists who now endeavor to depreciate one another, and are celebrated or traducea by different parties, will then have the same body of admirers, and appear illustrious in the opinion of the whole British nation. The deserving man, who can now recommend himself to the esteem of but half his countrymen, will then receive the approbations and applauses of a whole age.

Among the several persons that flourish in this glorious reign, there is no question but such a future historian, as the person of whom I am speaking, will make mention of the men of genius and learning, who have now any figure in the British nation. For my own part, I often flatter myself with the honorable mention which will then be made of me; and have drawn up a paragraph in my own imagination, that I fancy will not be altogether unlike what will be found in some page or other of this imaginary historian.

It was under this reign, says he, that the Spectator published those little diurnal essays which are still extant. We know very little of the name or person of this author, except only that he was a man of a very short face, extremely addicted to silence and so great a lover of knowledge, that he made a voyage to grand Cairo for no other reason but to take the measure of a pyramid. His chief friend was one Sir Roger de Coverley, a whimsical country knight-and a Templar, whose name he has not transmitted to us. He lived as a lodger at the house of a widow woman, and was a great humorist in all parts of his life. This is all we can affirm with any certainty of his person and character. As for his speculations, notwithstanding the several obsolete words and obscure phrases of the age in which he lived, we still understand enough of them to see the diversions and

characters of the English nation in his time: not shakes her fan at me with a smile, then gives her but that we are to make allowance for the mirth right-hand woman a tap upon the shoulder, then and humor of the author, who has doubtless presses her lips with the extremity of her fan, then strained many representations of things beyond lets her arms fall in an easy motion, and stands in the truth. For if we interpret his words in their readiness to receive the next word of command. literal meaning, we must suppose that women of the All this is done with a close fan, and is generally first quality used to pass away whole mornings at learned in the first week. a puppet-show: that they attested their principles "The next motion is that of Unfurling the fan, by their patches: that an audience would sit out in which are comprehended several little flirts and an evening, to hear a dramatical performance writ- vibrations, as also gradual and deliberate openten in a language which they did not understand: ings, with many voluntary fallings asunder in the that chairs and flower-pots were introduced as faŭ itself, that are seldom learned under a month's actors upon the British stage: that a promiscuous practice. This part of the exercise pleases the assembly of men and women were allowed to spectators more than any other, as it discovers on meet at midnight in masks within the verge of the a sudden an infinite number of cupids, garlands, court; with many improbabilities of the like na-altars, birds, beasts, rainbows, and the like agreeture. We must, therefore, in these and the likeable figures that display themselves to viewcases, suppose that these remote hints and allu- while every one in the regiment holds a picture in sions aimed at some certain follies which were her hand. then in vogue, and which at present we have not any notion of. We may guess by several passages in the speculations, that there were writers who endeavored to detract from the works of this author: but as nothing of this nature is come down to us, we cannot guess at any objections that could be made to this paper. If we consider his style with that indulgence which we must show to old English writers, or if we look into the variety of his subjects, with those several critical dissertations, moral reflections,

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No. 102.] WEDNESDAY, JUNE 27, 1711.
Lusus animo debent aliquando dari,
Ad cogitandum melior ut redeat sibi.
The mind ought sometimes to be diverted. that it may re-
turn the better to thinking.

"Upon my giving the word to Discharge their fans, they give one general crack that may be heard at a considerable distance when the wind sets fair. This is one of the most difficult parts of the exercise: but I have several ladies with me, who at their first entrance could not give a pop loud enough to be heard at the farther end of 2 room, who can now discharge a fan in such a manner, that it shall make a report like a pocketpistol. I have likewise taken care (in order to hinder young women from letting off their fans in wrong places or on unsuitable occasions) to show upon what subject the crack of a fan may come in properly: I have likewise invented a fan, with which a girl of sixteen, by the help of a little wind which is inclosed about one of the largest sticks, can make as loud a crack as a woman of fifty with an ordinary fan.

"When the fans are thus discharged, the word of command, in course, is to Ground their fans. This teaches a lady to quit her fan gracefully when she throws it aside in order to take up a pack of cards, adjust a curl of hair, replace a fallI Do not know whether to call the following let-ng pin, or apply herself to any other matter of ter a satire upon coquettes, or a representation of their several fantastical accomplishments, or what other title to give it; but, as it is, I shall communicate it to the public. It will sufficiently explain its own intentions, so that I shall give it my reader at length, without either preface or postscript. "MR. SPECTATOR,

"Women are armed with fans as men with swords, and sometimes do more execution with them. To the end, therefore, that ladies may be entire mistresses of the weapon they bear, I have erected an academy for the training up of young women in the exercise of the fan, according to the most fashionable airs and motions that are now practiced at court. The ladies who carry fans under me are drawn up twice a day in my great hall, where they are instructed in the use of their arins, and exercised by the following words of command: Handle your fans, Unfurl your fans, Discharge your fans, Ground your fans, Recover your fans, Flutter your fans. By the right observation of these few plain words of command, a woman of a tolerable genius, who will apply her self diligently to her excercise for the space of but one-half-year, shall be able to give her fan all the graces that can possibly enter into that little modish machine.

importance. This part of the exercise, as it only consists in tossing a fan with an air upon a long table (which stands by for that purpose), may be learned in two days' time as well as in a twelve

month.

"When my female regiment is thus disarmed, I generally let them walk about the room for some time; when, on a sudden (like ladies that look upon their watches after a long visit), they all of them hasten to their arms, catch them up in a hurry, and place themselves in their proper stations, upon my calling out, Recover your fans. This part of the exercise is not difficult, provided a woman applies her thoughts to it.

"The fluttering of the fan is the last, and indeed the master-pieces of the whole exercise; but if a lady does not mis spend her time, she may make herself mistress of it in three months. I generally lay aside the dog-days and the hot time of the summer for the teaching this part of the exercise; for as soon as ever I pronounce, Flutter your fans, the place is filled with so many zephyrs and gentle breezes as are very refreshing in that season of the year, though they might be dangerous to ladies of a tender constitution in any other.

"There is an infinite variety of motions to be made use of in the flutter of a fan. There is the angry flutter, the modest flutter, the timorous flut "But to the end that my readers may form to ter, and the amorous flutter. Not to be tedious, themselves a right notion of this exercise, I beg there is scarce any emotion in the mind which leave to explain it to them in all its parts. When does not produce a suitable agitation in the fan; my female regiment is drawn up in array, with insomuch, that if I only see the fan of a discievery one her weapon in her hand, upon my giv-plined lady, I know very well whether she laughs, ing the word to Handle their fans, each of them frowns, or blushes. I have seen a fan so very

angry, that it would have been dangerous for the | by his heart, and speak as he thinks, and do not absent lover who provoked it to have come within express more kindness to every man tha men the wind of it; and at other times so very lan- usually have for any man, he can hardly escape guishing, that I have been glad for the lady's sake the censure of want of breeding. The old English the lover was at a sufficient distance from it. I plainness and sincerity-that generous integrity need not add, that a fan is either a prude or of nature, and honesty of disposition, which coquette, according to the nature of the person always argues true greatness of mind and is usuwho bears it. To conclude my letter, I must ac- ally accompanied with undaunted courage and quaint you that I have from my own observation resolution, is in a great measure lost among us. compiled a little treatise for the use of my scholars, There hath been a long endeavor to transform us entitled, The Passions of the Fan; which I will into foreign manners and fashions, and to bring us communicate to you, if you think it may be of use to a servile imitation of none of the best of our to the public. I shall have a general review on neighbors, in some of the worst of their qualities. Thursday next; to which you shall be very wel- The dialect of conversation is now-a-days so come if you will honor it with your presence, swelled with vanity and compliment, and so surfeited (as I may say) of expressions of kindness and respect, that if a man that lived an age or two ago should return into the world again, he would really want a dictionary to help him to understand

"I am, etc.

"P. S. I teach young gentlemen the whole art of gallanting a fan.

"N. B. I have several little plain fans made for his own language, and to know the true intrinsic this use, to avoid expense."

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My friend the divine having been used with words of complaisance (which he thinks could be properly applied to no one living, and I think could be only spoken of him, and that in his absence), was so extremely offended with the excessive way of speaking civilities among us, that he made a discourse against it at the club, which he concluded with this remark, "that he had not heard one compliment made in our society since its commencement." Every one was pleased with his conclusion; and as each knew his good-will to the rest, he was convinced that the many professions of kindness and service, which we ordinarily meet with, are not natural where the heart is well inclined; but are a prostitution of speech, seldom intended to mean any part of what they express, never to mean all they express. Our reverend friend, upon this topic, pointed to us two or three paragraphs on this subject in the first sermon of the first volume of the late archbishop's posthumous works. I do not know that I ever read anything that pleased me more; and as it is the praise of Longinus, that he speaks of the sublime in a style suitable to it, so one may say of this author upon sincerity, that he abhors any pomp of rhetoric on this occasion, and treats it with a more than ordinary simplicity, at once to be a preacher and an example. With what command of himself does he lay before us, in the language and temper of his profession, a fault which, by the least liberty and warmth of expression, would be the most lively wit and satire! But his heart was better disposed, and the good man chastised the great wit in such a manner, that he was able to speak as follows:

"Among too many other instances of the great corruption and degeneracy of the age wherein we live, the great and general want of incerity in conversation is none of the least. The world is grown so full of dissimulation and compliment, hat men's words are hardly any signification of their thoughts; and if any man measure his words *See Archbishop Tillotson's Sermon on Sincerity, from John, chap. i, ver. 47, being the last discourse he preached, July 29, 1694. He died Nov. 24, following.

value of the phrase in fashion-and would hardly at first believe at what a low rate the highest strains and expressions of kindness imaginable do` commonly pass in current payment: and when he should come to understand it, it would be a great while before he could bring himself with a good countenance and a good conscience to converse with men upon equal terms, and in their own way.

"And in truth it is hard to say, whether it should more provoke our contempt or our pity, to hear what solemn expressions of respect and kindness will pass between men, almost upon no occasion; how great honor and esteem they will declare for one whom perhaps they never saw before, and how entirely they are all on the sudden devoted to his service and interest, for no reason; how infinitely and eternally obliged to him, for no benefit; and how extremely they will be concerned for him, yea, and afflicted too, for no cause. I know it is said, in justification of this hollow kind of conversation, that there is no harm, no real deceit in compliment, but the matter is well enough, so long as we understand one another; e verba valent ut nummi, "words are like money;' and when the current value of them is generally understood, no man is cheated by them. This is something, if such words were anything; but being brought into the account, they are mere ciphers. However it is still a just matter of complaint, that sincerity and plainness are out of fashion, and that our language is running into a lie; that men have almost quite perverted the use of speech, and made words to signify nothing; that the greatest part of the conversation of mankind is little else but driving a trade of dissimulation; insomuch that it would make a man heartily sick and weary of the world, to see the little security that is in use and practice among men."

When the vice is placed in this contemptuous light, he argues unanswerably against it, in words and thoughts so natural, that any man who reads them would imagine he himself could have been the author of them.

"If the show of anything be good for anything, I am sure sincerity is better: for why does any man dissemble, or seem to be that which he is not, but because he thinks it good to have such a quality as he pretends to? For to counterfeit and dissemble, is to put on the appearance of some real excellency. Now the best way in the world to seem to be anything, is really to be what he would seem to be. Beside, that it is many times. as troublesome to make good the pretense of a goodquality, as to have it; and if a man have it not, it is ten to one but he is discovered to want it and then all his pains and labor to seem to have it, are lost."

In another part of the same discourse he goes on to show, that all artifice must naturally tend to the disappointment of him that practices it.

"Whatsoever convenience may be thought to be in falsehood and dissimulation, it is soon over; but the inconvenience of it is perpetual, because it brings a man under an everlasting jealousy and suspicion, so that he is not believed when he speaks truth, nor trusted when perhaps he means honestly. When a man has once forfeited the reputation of his integrity, he is set fast, and nothing will then serve his turn, neither truth nor

falsehood."-R.

No. 104.] FRIDAY, JUNE 29, 1711.
Qualis equos Threissa fatigat
Harpalyce.VIRG. Æn., i, 316.

With such array Harpalyce bestrode
Her Thracian courser.-DRYDEN.

It would be a noble improvement, or rather a recovery of what we call good breeding, if nothing were to pass among us for agreeable which was the least transgression against that rule of life called decorum, or a regard to decency. This would command the respect of mankind, because it carries in it deference to their good opinion, as humility lodged in a worthy mind is always at tended with a certain homage which no haughty soul, with all the arts imaginable, will ever be able to purchase.

"MR. SPECTATOR,

"Going lately to take the air in one of the most beautiful evenings this season has produced; as 1 was admiring the serenity of the sky, the lively colors of the fields, and the variety of the landscape every way around me, my eyes were suddenly called off from these inanimate objects by a little party of horsemen I saw passing the road The greater part of them escaped my particular observation, by reason that my whole attention midst of them, and seemed to have been dressed was fixed on a very fair youth who rode in the by some description in a romance. His features, complexion, and habit, had a remarkable effeminacy, and a certain languishing vanity appeared in his air. His hair, well curled and powdered, hung to a considerable length on his shoulders, and was wantonly tied, as if by the hands of his mistress, in a scarlet ribbon, which played like a streamer behind him; he had a coat and waist coat of blue camlet trimmed and embroidered with silver; a cravat of the finest lace; and wore, in a smart cock, a little beaver hat edged with silver, and made more sprightly by a feather. His horse, too, which was a pacer, was adorned after the same airy manner, and seemed to share in the va nity of the rider. As I was pitying the luxury of this young person, who appeared to me to have been educated only as an object of sight, I perceived on my nearer approach, and as I turned my eyes downward, a part of the equipage I had not seen before, which was a petticoat of the same with the coat and waistcoat. After this discovery, I looked again on the face of the fair Amazon who had thus deceived me, and thought those features which had before offended me by their softness, were now strengthened into as improper a boldness; and though her eyes, nose, and mouth seemed to be formed with perfect symmetry, I am not certain whether she, who in appearance was a very handsome youth, may not be in reality a very indifferent woman.

46

Tully says, virtue and decency are so nearly related, that it is difficult to separate them from each other but in our imagination. As the beauty of the body always accompanies the health of it, so certainly is decency concomitant to virtue. As beauty of body, with an agreeable carriage, pleases the eye, and that pleasure consists in that we observe all the parts with a certain elegance are proportioned to each other; so does decency of behavior which appears in our lives obtain the approbation of all with whom we converse, from the order, consistency, and moderation of our words There is an objection which naturally presents and actions. This flows from the reverence we itself against those occasional perplexities and bear toward every good man and to the world in mixtures of dress, which is, that they seem to general; for to be negligent of what any one thinks break in upon that propriety and distinction of of you, does not only show you arrogant, but appearance in which the beauty of different charabandoned. In all these considerations we are to acters is preserved; and if they should be more distinguish how one virtue differs from another. frequent than they are at present, would look like As it is the part of justice never to do violence, it turning our public assemblies into a general is of modesty never to commit offense. In the masquerade. The model of this Amazonian huntlast particular lies the whole force of what is ing-habit for ladies was, as I take it, first importcalled decency; to this purpose that excellent mo-ed from France, and well enough expresses the ralist above-mentioned talks of decency; but this quality is more easily comprehended by an ordinary capacity, than expressed with all his eloquence. This decency of behavior is generally transgressed among all orders of men; nay, the very women, though themselves created as it were for ornament, are often very much mistaken in this ornamental part of life. It would, methinks, be a short rule for behavior, if every young lady in her dress, words, and actions, were only to recommend herself as a sister, daughter, or wife, and make herself the more esteemed in one of those characters. The care of themselves with regard to the families in which women are born, is the best motive for their being courted to come into the alliance of other houses. Nothing can promote this end more than a strict preservation of decency. I should be glad if a certain equestrian order of ladies, some of whom one meets in an evening at every outlet of the town, would take this subject into their serious consideration. In order thereunto the following letter may not be wholly unworthy their perusal.

gayety of a people who are taught to do anything, so it be with an assurance; but I cannot help thinking it sits awkwardly yet on our English modesty. The petticoat is a kind of incumbrance upon it; and if the Amazons should think fit to go on in this plunder of our sex's ornaments, they ought to add to their spoils, and complete their triumph over us, by wearing the breeches.

"If it be natural to contract insensibly the manners of those we imitate, the ladies who are pleased with assuming our dresses will do us more honor than we deserve, but they will do it at their own expense. Why should the lovely Camilla deceive us in more shapes than her own, and affect to be represented in her picture with a gun and a spaniel; while her elder brother, the heir of a worthy family, is drawn in silks like his sister? The dress and air of a man are not well to be divided; and those who would not be con tent with the latter, ought never to think of assuming the former. There is so large a portion of natural agreeableness among the fair sex of our island, that they seem betrayed into these romantic

habits without having the same occasion for them with their inventors: all that needs to be desired of them is, that they would be themselves that is, what nature designed them. And to see their mistake when they depart from this, let them look at a man who affects the softness and effeminacy of a woman, to learn how their sex must ap-of the court? He will tell you the names of the pear to us when approaching to the resemblance

What is a greater pedant than a mere man of the town? Bar him the play-houses, a catalogue of the reigning beauties, and an account of a few fashionable distempers that have befallen him, and you strike him dumb. How many a pretty gentleman's knowledge lies all within the verge

of a man. T.

"I am, Sir, your most humble servant."

No. 105.] SATURDAY, JUNE 30, 1711.

-Id arbitror

Adprime in vita esse utile, NE QUID NIMIS.

TER. Andr., act. 1, sc. 1.

principal favorites, repeat the shrewd sayings of a man of quality; whisper an intrigue that is not yet blown upon by common fame; or, if the sphere of his observations is a little larger than ordinary, will perhaps enter into all the incidents, turns, and revolutions, in a game of ombre. When he has gone thus far, he has shown you the whole circle of his accomplishments; his parts are drained, and he is disabled from any further conversation. What are these but rank pedants?

I take it to be a principal rule of life, not to be too much and yet these are the men who value themselves addicted to any one thing.

Too much of anything, is good for nothing.-ENG. PROV.

most on their exemption from the pedantry of colleges.

I might here mention the military pedant, who My friend Will Honeycomb values himself very always talks in a camp-and is storming towns, much upon what he calls the knowledge of man-making lodgments, and fighting battles, from one kind, which has cost him many disasters in his end of the year to the other. youth; for Will reckons every misfortune that he speaks smells of gunpowder; if you take away Everything he has met with among the women, and every ren- his artillery from him, he has not a word to say counter among the men, as parts of his education; for himself. I might likewise mention the law and fancies he should never have been the man he pedant, that is perpetually putting cases, repeatis, had he not broke windows, knocked downing the transactions of Westminster-hall, wrangConstables, disturbed honest people with his mid-ling with you upon the most indifferent circumnight serenades, and beat up a lewd woman's stances of life, and not to be convinced of the quarters, when he was a young fellow. The en-distance of a place, or of the most trivial point in gagin, in adventures of this nature Will calls the conversation, but by dint of argument. The state studying of mankind; and terms this knowledge of the town the knowledge of the world. Will ingenuously confesses that for half his life his head ached every morning with reading of men over night; and at present comforts himself under certain pains which he endures from time to time, that without them he could not have been acquainted with the gallantries of the age. This Will looks upon as the learning of a gentleman, and regards all other kinds of science as the accomplishments of one whom he calls a scholar, a bookish man, or a philosopher.

Our

For these reasons Will shines in mixed company, where he has the discretion not to go out of his depth, and has often a certain way of making his real ignorance appear a seeming one. club however has frequently caught him tripping, at which times they never spare him. For as Will often insults us with his knowledge of the town, we sometimes take our revenge upon him by our knowledge of books.

pedant is wrapped up in news, and lost in politics. If you mention either of the kings of Spain or Poland, he talks very notably; but if you go out of the Gazette, you drop him. In short, a mere courtier, a mere soldier, a mere scholar, a mere anything, is an insipid pedantic character, and equally ridiculous.

Of all the species of pedants which I have men. tioned, the book pedant is much the most supportable; he has at least an exercised understanding, a head which is full, though confused-so that a man who converses with him may often receive from him hints of things that are worth knowing, and what he may possibly turn to his own advantage, though they are of little use to the owner. The worst kind of pedants among learned men, are such as are naturally endued with a very small share of common sense, and have read a great number of books without taste or distinction.

The truth of it is, learning, like traveling, and all other methods of improvement, as it finishes good sense, so it makes a silly man ten thousand times more insufferable, by supplying variety of matter to his impertinence, and giving him an opportunity of abounding in absurdities.

He was last week producing two or three letters which he wrote in his youth to a coquette lady. The raillery of them was natural and well enough for a mere man of the town: but, very unluckily, several of the words were wrong spelt. Will laughed this off at first as well as he could; but Shallow pedants cry up one another much more finding himself pushed on all sides, and especial-than men of solid and useful learning. To read ly by the Templar, he told us with a little pas- the titles they give an editor, or collator of a manu sion, that he never liked pedantry in spelling, script, you would take him for the glory of the and that he spelt like a gentleman, and not like a commonwealth of letters, and the wonder of his scholar: upon this Will had recourse to his old age! when perhaps upon examination you find topic of showing the narrow-spiritedness, the that he has only rectified a Greek particle, or laid pride, and ignorance of pedants; which he car- out a whole sentence in proper commas. ried so far, that upon my retiring to my lodgings, I could not forbear throwing together such reflections as occurred to me upon that subject.

A inan who has been brought up among books, and is able to talk of nothing else, is a very indifferent companion, and what we call a pedant. But, methinks, we should enlarge the title, and give it to every one that does not know how to think out of his profession and particular way of ife.

their praises, that they may keep one another in They are obliged indeed to be thus lavish of countenance; and it is no wonder if a great deal of knowledge which is not capable of making a man wise, has a natural tendency to make him vain and arrogant.-L.

of current money, which was the stated price at which it was A newspaper, so called from gazette, the name of a piece originally sold.

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